Leaves of Hope (20 page)

“My goodness,” Jan mumbled.

“We’re having dinner this evening in town,” Beth hurried on. “You see, Miles had invited Thomas to join us, but then Miles took off, so I said I thought we should go out to eat anyway. The town is so quaint. I’ve only seen it passing through, but I can’t wait to walk around and explore. You would just love Darjeeling, Mom. They’ve got all kinds of craftwork. Brass, fabric, leather. The women wear amazing glass beads and embroidered shirts. You can see prayer flags flying on the hills. Most of the people are Buddhist, but there are Hindus here, too. Only a few Christians are brave enough to stand up publicly for their faith, and you can see why. Did I tell you about Thomas’s wife? She was a Hindu convert to Christianity, and her family killed her! She went back to her home village for a visit. When she didn’t return to the estate, Thomas went looking for her, and there was an investigation, and it turned out they had murdered her! Just because she had become a Christian. Isn’t that awful?”

Jan had managed to seat herself in one of the chairs on the porch. She pushed her hand down on the table edge, impressing the metal pattern into her palm. It was too much. The information kept coming and coming, and she couldn’t process it.

“His wife is dead?”

“Nirmala was her name. She was the doctor for the estate. They never had any children. She’s the one who led him to Christ.”

“I’m so sorry. That she died, I mean.”

“Mom, I’m going to tell him tonight. Do you think that’s a good idea? I don’t want to ruin it. He seems to like me. He thinks I’m Miles’s girlfriend. He’s assuming we had a spat. I can’t just leave tomorrow without setting Thomas straight. But what if he reacts badly? What if he…rejects me?”

The hurt in her daughter’s voice drew out Jan’s mother instinct. “Oh, Beth, honey, he won’t do that. I told you in that note in the teapot that Thomas was a good man. I can’t imagine what he’s like now—not from all these things you’re saying—but I’m sure he’s still kind. He’ll be surprised, maybe even shocked, but he’ll be nice to you.”

“You weren’t sure before. In our last phone conversation, you were worried that I might get hurt. Do you think he’ll be angry?”

Jan rubbed her hand across the rough tabletop. “If he is, it won’t be directed at you.”

“I won’t let him blame you, Mom. I promise.”

“
You
blamed me, Beth. You’ve been very angry with me for keeping your birth father a secret. Why wouldn’t Thomas blame me? Why
shouldn’t
he?”

“Because I can explain everything to him. I understand it better now. I do.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have chosen to do what you did, but I see why you acted that way. I know you were afraid, and I realize that Thomas hurt you by leaving.”

“I should have told him.”

“I wish you had.”

“But then everything might have turned out so differently. Maybe he would have felt compelled to give up his dreams, marry me and work in the Wood family rose business. He would have been miserable, and he’d have blamed me, and maybe we would have ended up divorced. He might never have met his Indian wife and become a Christian. And John wouldn’t have been your father—such a wonderful father—and we would never have had Bobby and Billy…”

“Mom, don’t cry. Please.”

Jan sniffled. “It might not have been the right decision, but it’s the one I made. And if Thomas is angry about it, let him blame me. You tell him it’s my fault, not yours, Beth. Do you hear me, honey?”

“Okay.”

She felt herself grow stronger. “You remind Thomas he made choices, too. We bear equal responsibility for what happened. And you tell him that what happened was
you
—Bethany Ann Lowell—and you’re not a mistake. You’re wonderful and beautiful and just about perfect. You tell that man I loved him, and I would have done almost anything for him. But not that. Not leave my home and my family and fly off to some island when I was pregnant with his child. We both played our parts, and now we can both be adult about this and face the consequences of our actions. All right?”

Beth didn’t speak for a moment. “All right, Mom. I’ll tell him.”

“Don’t let him turn his anger on you.”

“I won’t.”

“If he wants to fuss and pout, let him be mad at me.”

“Okay.”

“And you just remind him that I was only nineteen when he was begging me to go off to Sri Lanka. Nineteen!”

“Mom?”

“And tell him that I would have answered his letters—which I
did
get, and I
do
have—but I happened to be sick as a dog and terribly confused and everyone was treating me like dirt for getting pregnant. So that’s why I didn’t write. Tell him that. And you can also remind him that I had always wanted to be a teacher, and he knew it, so why did he think I would just—”

“Mom?” Beth cut in.

Jan pinched her lips together, breathing hard.

“Mom, maybe you should talk to him.”

“No! Oh, Beth, I couldn’t possibly do that.”

“It sounds like there are a lot of things the two of you need to say to each other.”

“I don’t need to say a thing. Just don’t let him get angry at you. That’s all. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

“Well, I’d better hop in the shower and then get ready for dinner. I wish you were here.”

Jan shivered. “Beth, honey, you know I could never go all the way over there.”

“Pray for me, Mom. Pray that I tell him the right way. Pray about how he might feel toward Nanny and everyone who kept the secret.”

“I will, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see. He’s a good man.”

As they said their goodbyes and hung up, Jan turned to find Jim Blevins standing behind her. He had a hammer in his hand and a couple of nails sticking out from one corner of his mouth.

“H
eard anything from him yet?”

“He hasn’t called.” Beth reached across the dinner table for her bottled cola. Her lips burned, and she blinked back tears generated by the fiery hot curry dinner she’d just eaten. A swig of her soft drink didn’t help at all.

“I’m not worried about Miles,” she said. “He’s a busy man.”

Thomas nodded. His fingers were stained yellow with turmeric as he took another piece of round, flat bread. Chapatis, they were called, and he had shown Beth how to use one to scoop up a mouthful of rice and curry with her fingers. Sitting inside a restaurant on a bustling street in Darjeeling, she wondered how eating with chopsticks came to her easily, yet she couldn’t quite get the knack of hand-feeding herself curry.

“Men get cold feet sometimes,” Thomas observed. He tore a chapati in half and went to work on the last of his dinner. “Especially when they’re in danger of falling in love. I nearly lost Nirmala that way. I was crazy about her, but I’d been hurt in the past. So I kept taking one step forward and two steps back, you know? She finally got fed up with me and went to Bombay for a few months to enroll in a course and update her medical license. By the time she got back, I had wised up.”

Beth held the glass soda bottle tightly between both hands. “Who had hurt you before?”

He looked out the window. “College girl in Texas. Beautiful. Red hair. Bright blue eyes. Gangly little thing with long legs and pretty feet. Oh, I loved that gal. But some things just don’t work out.”

“Well, why not?” Beth demanded. When he glanced at her in surprise at her tone, she swallowed. “I mean…if you loved her so much, why didn’t you make it work?”

“Are you asking because Miles claims to love you, and you don’t understand why he left?”

“Probably,” she breathed. “That’s part of it.”

“In my case, I had dreams that were just too big for Miss Jan. She was a homegrown Texas rose who wanted to stay put. I couldn’t wait to get away from my family’s business. Try out my wings. See if I could fly on my own. As it turned out, I flew off without the love of my life and never laid eyes on her again.”

“Surely you wrote.”

“Yes, but she didn’t answer. I guess I had scared her away for good.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Well, no point in getting off track here. I think if Miles Wilson knows what’s good for him, he’ll be calling you before long. To be honest, the man has earned himself a reputation as a bit of a playboy, and I can tell you’re not that kind of girl. He’s probably figured out that you’re the best thing ever to come along in his life, and he’d better straighten up and fly right if he wants to keep you.”

“Like you did with Nirmala?”

“Oh, no. That’s different. I had changed my ways before I ever fell in love with her. Not long after I started at the estate, I began hearing rumors that someone was stirring up problems among the laborers. People told me the staff doctor was a troublemaker—holding meetings and trying to ruffle the waters. I envisioned some kind of political activist—maybe a union organizer or a socialist radical. When I slipped into the back of one of Dr. Shah’s meetings, I couldn’t have been more shocked. There on the floor in a soft pink sari sat this exotic Indian creature—and she was teaching from the Bible.”

“Who had come to listen?”

“Some of the women. The pluckers. They’d been to the clinic for various things, and Dr. Shah had invited them to a Bible study. She didn’t want me in the room—said she didn’t believe women ought to teach men Scripture, but once I’d heard her speak, I couldn’t stop going. Not long after that, one plucker’s husband became a Christian, and he started a Bible study for men. Then things really got going. Talk about trouble. The Buddhists were angry. The Hindus were angry. The Muslims were angry. Lawford was angry. I managed to calm things down enough to let the groups keep going.”

“What about you?”

“It’s strange. I had left Texas in search of change, but nothing I did made a difference. By that time, I knew change had to come from another source. I repented of my past sins, and I pledged to follow Christ. I had no idea exactly what that meant, but I was put to the test right away. It was a struggle. Every day.”

“I know what you mean.”

He smiled almost sadly. “Too bad we Christians get attacked so often, but that’s part of carrying your cross. Nirmala never soft-pedaled the consequences of becoming a Christian. Anyway, I was attending the men’s group, and I hardly ever saw her. Then, after a vacation in Calcutta, I came down with malaria. While the good doctor was treating me, I fell head over heels in love with her. Nirmala wasn’t so quick to give her heart to an ugly ol’ cowboy, especially one with cold feet, but eventually she came around. We got married, and everything seemed to be going well. Then she decided to go home and visit her family. I never saw her alive again.”

Beth reached across the table and laid her hand on his. “I’m so sorry.”

He nodded. “Me, too. Nirmala always used to tell me that suffering was a good thing. She said it was a way that we humans could identify with the price Christ paid for our sins. I never really understood what she meant until I lost her.”

“You’ve suffered a lot.” Beth knotted her fingers together in her lap and wondered what effect her news would have on Thomas. Would she be adding to his pain? Or could knowing he had a daughter bring him joy? Would he feel his past sins hadn’t really been forgiven by God? Or might he see Beth as a blessing?

Thomas shook his head. “Enough of this. Tell me about Texas. I haven’t been back in years. How are things in the Lone Star state?”

An open door. Beth decided to walk through it.

“I doubt it’s too different since you were there,” she said. “I’m from Tyler, too.”

His dark eyes flashed. “You’re kidding! Why didn’t you say something before now? Do you know any Woods?”

“My babysitter was a Wood. My two brothers and I called her Nanny, but her real name was Nancy.”

“Nancy? My mother’s name was Nancy. What street did your babysitter live on?”

It was going too fast, but Beth couldn’t figure out how to slow it down.

“Aldrich Lane,” she said.

“That’s where I grew up!” He was beaming from ear to ear. “Your babysitter must have been my mother, Beth! If that doesn’t beat all.”

“Nancy Wood was my grandmother.” She spoke the words softly, then she watched as the animation in Thomas’s face went from surprised delight to confusion.

“Your grandmother? But that would mean my sister is your…? Mom never told me….”

“I’m not your niece. My mother’s name is Jan. Jan Calhoun Lowell.”

He stared at her.

Beth found she couldn’t meet his eyes. Fighting unanticipated tears, she looked out the window. “My mother was pregnant with me when you left Tyler for your job in Sri Lanka. She married John Lowell, and they raised me as his daughter. I have two brothers, Bob and Bill Lowell. My dad died two years ago of Lou Gerhig’s disease. This past spring, I opened a box in my mother’s house and found the antique tea set you had given her. The one you bought in London. That’s when she told me.”

“She told you that I…that we…that I’m your…” He blew out a breath, pushed back from the table and stood. “Whoa. Uh, excuse me just a minute. I need to…uh…”

Before Beth could react, he had fled the restaurant. She grabbed her purse and tried to summon a waiter. What if Thomas vanished? What if he ran away, like her mother said he had done before? What if he abandoned her the way Miles had? She needed to pay the bill.

“Hey!” She waved at a waiter taking an order near the back of the restaurant. People in the room scowled at her. “I’m sorry, but…”

And then Thomas was back inside, pulling money from his wallet and tossing it on the table, taking her arm and lifting her from the chair, leading her out the door and walking her down the sidewalk so fast she could barely keep up.

“Janice Calhoun,” he said. “She’s your mother?”

“Janice Amelia Calhoun Lowell. Yes.”

“Nancy Wood is your grandmother?”

“Yes.”

“And Jan told you that I…that she and I…”

“You’re my father, Thomas.” Beth pulled her arm from his hand and stopped walking. “You’re my birth father. John Lowell is my dad. He’s the one who raised me, and if you don’t want…if it bothers you to…It’s okay if you’d rather not talk about it anymore. I came here, because after I found out, I needed to see you. I had to know…. Mainly, I wanted to make sure you were a Christian, and now that I know you are, I didn’t have to tell you about the rest. But I did. So…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He set his hands on her shoulders. “Beth Lowell? You’re my daughter?”

“It’s Bethany Ann Lowell on my birth certificate.”

“Jan was pregnant?”

“Yes. Barely.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?” he exploded, his hands flying up into the air, then clamping down on his head, his fingers threading through his hair. “That’s…that’s unbelievable! She was pregnant, and she didn’t tell me? And my mother! Are you telling me my own mother knew all this? She was your
babysitter?
Why didn’t she say something to me? All that time? All those years?”

“It was a secret,” Beth told him. “They agreed not to talk about it to anyone. Mom said Nanny could babysit me as long as she didn’t tell you.”

“What?” he barked. “Why wasn’t I told? I had a right to know! I was the father. I went off to Sri Lanka and no one said anything! I wrote to Jan and she never even answered!”

“She didn’t write because she was too sick and confused. And everyone was upset with her for getting pregnant.”

“But I could have…I could have helped. I would have married her. I wanted to marry her.” He shook his head. “This is not right. They should have told me. My mother took this secret to her grave. Why did Jan do this? What did she think I was, some kind of loser? Did she think I couldn’t take care of her? Did she think—”

“I don’t know what she thought!” Beth cried out. “I don’t know anything. You should talk to her yourself, because you’re both blaming each other, and it’s not fair to me. I’m the daughter. I wasn’t there.”

He studied her. “You’re my daughter?”

Beth’s shoulders sagged. “I told you that.”

“But you came here with Miles Wilson. He told me he met you in the Nairobi airport. You’re his girlfriend.”

“No, I’m not. Not really. Well…one time he did say he was falling in love with me, but now he’s gone, so I have no idea how he feels. Miles helped me find you. He offered to bring me here. Are you upset with me?”

“With
you?
” Thomas shoved his hands into his back pockets and looked up at the night sky over Darjeeling. “Bethany Ann,” he said. His voice was deep, husky. “Bethany Ann. A daughter. I always wanted children, and I thought…Nirmala and I…it didn’t happen for us, and we…”

Beth frantically wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. Sorry about you and Nirmala. But I’m here. Is that okay?”

He focused on her again. “It’s more than okay, Beth. You’re precious…and sweet and…But this is just a lot to absorb, you know. I need to go back to my house and take some time to think it through.”

“Of course.” She recalled fleeing the lake house the first time she heard the news. And later she had yelled at her mother and run down to the water’s edge. Beth couldn’t blame Thomas for being in shock. But her secret hope—the small dream that he would throw his arms around her and welcome her into his life—was fading fast.

He was striding ahead of her now, toward the staff car he’d driven to town. Fewer people walked the winding streets at this late hour. A night breeze fanned down from the high peaks, sweeping away the smells of curry, tanned leather and animal waste. It was cold. Beth shivered as she slid onto the car seat beside Thomas.

“I can give you my mother’s address and phone number,” she said. He drove in silence out of Darjeeling toward the tea estate. She tried again. “She lives beside Lake Palestine now. After my father died, she taught school in Tyler until she could retire early. Then she sold the house that my brothers and I grew up in and moved to the lake. She paints and grows roses.”

Thomas shifted gears, maneuvering the narrow, rutted roadway. Beth could see his Adam’s apple moving up and down, as if he were trying to swallow something but couldn’t. She wondered if it was anger. Or sorrow. It certainly wasn’t joy.

“Mom kept the teapot in the bottom of a cardboard box.” Beth decided to keep talking. It was better than riding in the still emptiness between them. “I wasn’t supposed to find it until after her death. But one time when I was visiting, I noticed the box and I opened it. She had put a note inside the teapot. It had your name on it. Mom had written that you were my birth father, and she said you were a good man.”

“I see.” He fell silent again.

“We’ve had a rough time since I found out. Mom didn’t want to face her past. She had thought she could hide everything and pretend that we Lowells had been this perfect American family. But we weren’t perfect. No family is.”

“That’s true,” he mumbled.

“She’s starting to soften about it now. I think she might even regret having kept you a secret from me. At first she didn’t want to talk about you at all. But now she tells me things.”