Another Dawn (8 page)

“Sort of.”

“It was their fresh start. A new beginning in spite of the mistakes made in the past. So the afternoon after we heard that story in Bible study, your mother came home with a bag of mulch, and the next thing I knew, she was out here by this tree, putting the stuff out here. I came running out, thinking she was surely doing something awful, and demanded an explanation.

“ ‘Mrs. Fellows,’ she said, ‘I have never taken an apple from your tree, nor, to my knowledge, have my children. But they do walk across your lawn and I know you are concerned that it is damaging the tree roots, and I know that it is your yard, so you shouldn’t have my kids walking through it, so this is my way of starting over with this whole thing. I’m putting the mulch around the tree as my symbol of my promise to you that I will do my utmost to keep my children away from here.’

“All that time I’d thought it would feel really satisfying to have her realize just how wrong she was, but in that moment, I just started bawling. It wasn’t until then I realized how selfish and wrong I’d been. I was the one who needed to start over, to make a different choice, but there she was, humble as could be, asking me if she could start fresh.

“I went and got a shovel and helped her with the mulch. By the time we were finished, we decided to put some landscaping stones around it to help hold in the moisture. She started laying them around the circle, but I stopped her. I said, ‘What do you think of this?’ and I turned one of the stones up on its end, making it a standing stone, if you will, just like they used at Gilgal.”

I looked at the circle of upright stones, seeing them in such a completely different way than I ever had before. How I missed my mother in that moment. What an incredible woman she had been, and through Mrs. Fellows’s reverie I realized that there was even more to her than I had known. “So what made y’all decide to plant other things in the circle as well?”

She laughed. “It looked kind of funny, with just the stones stood up around the tree. And you remember old Mrs. Fouch down the street? She was such a teller of tall tales, we could both just picture her telling everyone how we were doing some sort of occult rituals out here, or something. We decided to increase the circumference so there was some topsoil on both properties and make it kind of a raised flower bed. It was the only way to play it safe.”

I laughed. “And it seems to have worked, because until now, I never even thought to ask the question about it.”

“You know what? You’re only the second person to have ever asked.”

“Really? Who is the other?”

“Young lady that just moved in down the street a while back. Sweet little thing she is, too. Her name’s Patti. Patti Fox.”

Now, didn’t that just figure? Of all people, Patti Fox had known the secret of my mother’s garden before I did. “Oh.”

“You know her?”

“Yeah, we went to school together.”
And she made my life miserable.

“I declare, the timing of telling her that story was definitely providential. It was a story she needed to hear. Who knows?” She shrugged. “Maybe God brings the question to mind to the person He knows most needs to hear it.” She looked at me and winked. “Something you need to do over?”

I laughed, but it was more a laugh of discomfort than humor. I definitely needed to start over with Jana. And maybe my father—although I wasn’t particularly convinced that was worth the effort of attempting. “Lots of things.”

“Well, now you know there is a chance. One thing you’ve got to remember about my story, though.”

“What’s that?”

“When the water parted in the Jordan for the second crossing, the water didn’t part until the priests put their feet in it. They had to actually move forward in faith and put their feet in the water before they saw any results.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I followed the sound to the back door, wondering which of the neighbors I would find there. I pulled back the lace curtains from the kitchen door and peeked out, hoping I wasn’t about to get stuck in a long conversation.

Rob smiled when he saw me. “Hey, you.”

I pulled open the door and gave him a hug. “Hey, yourself. What are you doing here?”

“I was on the way home from work and thought I’d stop by and check on things.” He brought his voice to a whisper. “You know, make sure Charles and you haven’t killed each other yet.”

“You think you’re being funny. Come on in. Dylan and Dad are both sacked out in front of the TV in the den, so we can go in the living room and talk.”

He took a step forward, then stopped. “No, I’d better not.”

“Why?”

“Jana made me promise I wouldn’t catch anything. She said if I caught Dylan’s flu and brought it home to Hannah . . .” He took a step backward. “Let’s just say the words
slow
, and
painful
, and
death
were all used in the sentence. Since everyone’s asleep anyway, how about we sit outside?”

I laughed. “Sure. I guess I don’t much blame her.”

The wraparound porch had a total of six rocking chairs down the length of it. I took the closest one and Rob took the one beside it. “So Jana tells me he’s not getting better, and now he has a rash or something?” Jana hadn’t been by since Dylan got sick, but she called for updates every few hours.

“Yeah, just on his face. I guess that kind of virus is going around right now, but what lousy timing for us, huh?”

“Yes, it is.” He rocked for another minute. “So Jana also tells me that you and Steve broke up.”

I stopped rocking then and looked at him. “Aha! She sent you here to talk about this, didn’t she? I can hear her now—‘Go see if you can talk some sense into that hardheaded sister of mine.’ ” I tried my best to imitate the higher pitch and sweeter accent of my sister, but it came out sounding rather nasal and irritating.

“You know your sister pretty well.” Rob rocked and laughed in perfect rhythm.

“And I know you. She may have bullied you into coming over here, but being the peacemaker that you are, you’ve been dying to get over here and see if you can’t help figure this all out.”

“Well, I do have to say, I’ve known you a long time, and I sure thought Steve was the perfect guy for you.”

“You just say that because Steve wears a sports coat and even an occasional tie if the situation calls for it.” I tugged at the sleeve of his neatly pressed suit. “This is not about him being perfect for me; it’s about male fashion.”

“I think I’m insulted. You know I don’t care about that.” He put his feet up on the porch rail. “I’m as laid-back as the next guy. Although I think we could all agree that we are relieved you finally found someone who favors something besides flip-flops and baggy shorts. But that is beside the point.”

“What is the point, then?”

“You love him, right?”

“Yeah.” I couldn’t look toward him. “But where’s it going to lead?”

“Well, I’d say if you stick to the usual plan, the answer to that would involve marriage, kids, and old age.”

“Or . . . infidelity and abandonment.”

“I’ve spent a fair amount of time with him—a couple of vacations in California, that ski trip to Mammoth, and when he came here a couple of Christmases ago—plus emails and phone calls in the interim. From what I’ve seen, I don’t think Steve’s that kind of guy. Do you?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. And I don’t want to find out the truth the hard way like I did last time.”

“You can’t let Chase ruin the rest of your life for you.”

We both rocked in silence for a while. Finally, Rob said, “Jana says Steve is your trifecta of perfection.”

“Trifecta?” I burst out laughing. “Only Jana would compare relationships to racehorses. What exactly is the trifecta of perfection?”

“Let’s see, what did she say? He loves your son” —he held up one finger— “he is responsible and has a good job” —he held up the second finger—“and this one is Jana’s, not mine, he is . . . what does she say . . . gorgeous.” He put his third finger in the air. “She says that about me, too, right? The gorgeous part, I mean?”

“Oh, all the time.”

“That’s what I thought.” He nodded smugly. “So now back to our subject. When are you going to give that guy a call? You know you really want to.”

I did. But then again, I didn’t. I had no idea what I wanted anymore.

“Okay, Rob, I think we’ve had enough of a serious talk that you can go home now and tell Jana you’ve done your part.”

He wiped his brow in mock relief. “Thank goodness. I hate all this mushy talk.”

I reached over and squeezed his elbow. “You really are the best. I’m glad my sister found you.”

My cell phone started singing “Paperback Writer” from its spot on the coffee table. I tensed as I reached forward to grab it. Time to face the facts. I took a deep breath before I slid it open. “Hello, Jasmine.”

“I know you asked for two weeks, but is there any way you can come back a few days early?”

Of course she probably needed my help with lots of things now that she knew the deal had fallen through. Had she really found out only today? I couldn’t believe that Steve and his group would have let this go for so long. I wanted to do anything I could to help her, but I looked at my son, lying on the floor and covered in an ever-growing rash, and my father—his leg outstretched, still barely able to get up and down by himself. “I really don’t think that’s a possibility. What’s wrong?” Like I didn’t know the answer to that one.

“Well, for one thing, the Oates family is due here in a couple of days.”

“There’s nothing about that statement that entices me to hurry back.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Have you put away the crystal and fine china from the shelves in the hallway? Last year, I found some of the kids juggling several pieces from there.”

“Believe me, I remember it clearly. Those kids are a nightmare.”

“My point exactly.” I realized then that there was more than one thing I’d managed to run from in taking this trip now.

“The real reason I’m calling is Mr. and Mrs. Pilcher. They’re due to arrive this afternoon and I know they have a list of requests for their suite, but I can’t find it anywhere. Do you know where we keep it?”

“Yes, I do. It’s in my file drawer, under the customer file, letter
P
, but don’t bother looking for it. Them, I know by heart.”

She exhaled in relief. “You have no idea how stressful it’s been around here lately.”

“It was unlucky timing on our part that the Pilchers should decide they want to visit the weekend before the Oates family arrives. Our pickiest guests back to back with our most destructive guests.”

“Tell me about it. I’m living that nightmare right now.”

“Take a deep breath. It’ll be fine.”

“Let’s have the list.”

“They want the Sunshine Suite, of course, and Rosalea knows to have it extra spotless for them. Fresh flowers should be beside the bed, on the coffee table and the dining table, as well as a small arrangement by the claw-footed tub. These need to be changed daily. A box of Patchi chocolates—I’ve got them in my office already, just look on my desk—should be in the suite to greet them, and extra towels in the bathroom. Make sure the French door is streak free and that the lanai is spotless.”

“They are so particular. It would really be helpful if you were here now, Mrs. Pilcher seems to like you.”

“You’ll do fine. She’s really a nice lady as long as you make certain everything is done according to her specifications. Speaking of which, Chef Jonathan should already have a memo about Mr. Pilcher’s lactose intolerance to make certain he plans the morning menu accordingly. The housekeepers need to be invisible. Last time, we had Kristyn page them when she saw the Pilchers leaving the property so the room could get cleaned without them running into each other.”

“Got it. I’ll go double-check the suite right now.”

I found it strange that she hadn’t even mentioned the buyout.

“Great. Uh, Jasmine, are you . . . is everything else okay?”

“Not really.” She paused. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to unload my troubles on you this week. I know you’ve got problems of your own there. But you did ask.”

“What’s going on?” I waited for what I knew was coming.

“The bathroom remodel has Collin all out of his routine. You know what a change in routine does to his meltdown threshold. It has been a nightmare. I’ve had to miss large chunks of a couple of workdays because of extreme escalations. Without you here, and with me not fully here, this week has been a nightmare all around.”

“Your bathroom remodel . . . it’s still going on?”

“Well, yeah. What, did you think it would be finished in a day or two?”

“No, I guess not.”

She still didn’t know. A week after I’d found out and she still didn’t know. “Have you heard any more from your real estate agent?” Surely there had been some sort of indication by now that the deal was falling through.

“Funny you should mention that. She called today and told me that the Wadley Foundation had been making inquiries about buying this place. Isn’t that the strangest thing? I’ve never even thought of listing it for sale, and now two different investment groups have become interested within a month of each other.”

My hopes began to rise with this last statement. Perhaps there would be a backup deal if things went bad. “The Wadley Foundation? I’ve never heard of them.”

“I don’t think you want to, either. I did a little research. They’re known for buying a place like ours, then dismissing the entire staff and bringing in their own people. It’s a good thing we won’t have to deal with the likes of them.”

“Yes, it is.” This was getting worse by the second.

“Listen, I was serious when I said things are really hard here right now. Please, if there’s any way, try and come back as soon as you can.”

“I’ll try my best.” I hung up the phone and shook my head. Why hadn’t they told her?

“Why does your cell phone always play that bone-jangling song when your boss calls? Any other time it just rings.” My father had one eye partially opened and pointed in my general direction as he lay back in his recliner.

“I did it as a joke, Dad. Get it? I get a call from work, but I’d rather be a paperback writer?”

He shook his head as if this were all complete nonsense. “What’d she want?”

“She called to ask if I could come back early, but I think all she really needed was a little moral support.”

My father said, “That right there is the problem with parents being too soft on their kids. That girl never had to work for anything in her life. Now her parents retire and give her the business, and she can’t handle it. So she decides to cash out, but in the meantime she leans on someone like you, someone whose parents actually instilled a little work ethic in her.”

“Dad, she’s got other issues. Lots of them.” More than even she knew.

“We’ve all got issues, but that don’t keep most of us from pulling our own weight.”

“She’s in intensive therapy sessions with her son three days a week, occupational and speech therapy after that. She pulls her weight in a different way.”

“By letting everyone around her pick up the slack. What if you decided you wanted to get Dylan in Harvard and the best way to do that was to go to class with him three days a week? You think she’d be so understanding about that?”

“It’s not the same thing.” I could have continued to argue with him that most of us don’t have a severely autistic son. Jasmine’s life on a daily basis was hard; there was never any other way about it. I really wanted to say all of this to my father, to scream at him until he understood.

But having promised myself that I wasn’t going to spend this entire trip arguing with him, I changed tacks. “Yeah, too bad you don’t own a hotel on the beach in Ventura. You’ve given me all the tools I need to run the place; you just haven’t given me the place.”

“You want a place like that, you’ve got to work and earn it. It means so much more when you build your business yourself. Didn’t nobody give me nothing. I worked hard and earned everything I’ve got.”

“So you’re saying if Jana and I had been boys, and we became plumbers, you wouldn’t have passed the business down to us?”

He shook his head. “I’d have made you buy into it, like Billy and Sam just did, even though they’ve been with me twenty years. It would have been easy to hand the place over to them, but I know by them investing their money in it, they’ll be more likely to take care of the business I built. I didn’t want to turn it over to someone who was going to let the place go.”

“Jasmine’s not letting the place go, Dad; she’s just overwhelmed.”

“When you’re running a business, you don’t have time to be overwhelmed. You’ve just got to keep plugging away.”

Plugging away.

How many times had I heard that phrase through my childhood? Too many to count, that was for sure.

I thought back to the elementary school science fair. I had been in the third grade, Jana in the sixth, and I had found the most advanced experiment I could find, involving heat conduction and different types of insulation material. I had no idea what most of it meant, but it sounded really official and splashy, and I’d written up a bunch of scientific facts. Jana, on the other hand, had done an experiment about which household surfaces tended to harbor more bacteria.

The night of the science fair I was pretty certain I would win the blue ribbon for my class. My write-up and display board were all so highly scientific. Jana’s experiment had taken a lot of time, but there was nothing really intellectual about her research, other than ordering some Petri dishes and swabbing several surfaces in neighborhood homes. I didn’t expect her to place at all. Finally, this would be the night I would hear my father say the words I’d heard him say to Jana on countless occasions: “I’m proud of you.” I skipped over to the school cafeteria turned science lab. “Come on, Mama, come on, Daddy, hurry up. Hurry up.” I couldn’t wait to see the award hanging from my display.

The sixth-grade experiments were at the front of the room. As soon as my father saw Jana’s, with the giant blue ribbon attached to it, he’d put both hands on her shoulders. “That’s my girl.” He picked her up and swung her around.

“Let’s go see the third-grade stuff. Come on, everybody.” I’d dragged my mother by the hand toward the appropriate section. The first thing I saw when we got there was the blue ribbon practically glowing on Roberto Langston’s project.
No, it couldn’t be
. Next to his, the red ribbon hung on Mimi Forrester’s Clean Drinking Water exhibit. Mine, three display boards down, held the brown “honorable mention” ribbon.

My father tousled my hair and said, “You’ll just have to work a little harder next year, sport. You’ve got to keep plugging away if you’re ever going to reach your goals.” An hour later, I could hardly feel my feet as I trudged home behind my family. Jana was walking beside my father, carrying the blue ribbon in her hand.

I’d spent year after year from that moment trying to do something to earn his love—at least his approval. It wasn’t until my senior year of high school—the year he killed my mother—that I decided I didn’t care anymore.