Leota's Garden (3 page)

She saw the wince of hurt flash across Annie’s face. Good. Better to cut clean and make reality come clear. Better to hurt her a little now than see her daughter throw away all her chances for a bright, affluent future. She could continue her silly art classes as elective courses.

“Mom, please hear me out. I’ve prayed for a long time about this, and—”

“Anne-Lynn, don’t you dare talk to me about God again! Do you hear me? The worst thing I ever did was send you to that church camp. You haven’t been the same since!”

Tears welled in her daughter’s eyes, but Nora refused to weaken. She couldn’t if she were to see her daughter beyond these crossroads. Anne had to take the right path. Nora knew that if she gave in for one moment, every hope she had ever had for Anne would be lost.

“I love you very much, Anne-Lynn,” she said, taking a soothing tone. “If I didn’t, I’d let you do whatever you want. Trust me. I know what’s right for you. Someday you’ll thank me. Now go up to your room and think things over again.” Seeing Anne open her mouth to speak, she raised one hand. “No more right now. You’ve hurt me enough as it is. Now please do as I’ve asked.”

Anne rose slowly and stood at the table, her head down. Nora watched her, measuring whether she was going to have to fight more to make sure Anne didn’t throw her life away. She was such a beautiful girl, tall enough to be a model, hands perfect for playing the piano,
grades high enough to go to any college in the country, but not a bit of common sense. Nora’s eyes burned with unshed tears she didn’t bother to hide. What cruel irony was this? Did Anne now mean to strip her of all her dreams?

“Mom, I have to start making decisions for myself.”

Nora clenched her teeth, sensing the gulf widening between them. “Since you’re so fond of the Bible these days, perhaps you should look up the part about honoring your father and mother. Since you have an absentee father, you’re to honor
me
. Now go to your room before I really lose my temper.”

Anne left quietly.

Trembling again, Nora leaned back against the kitchen counter. Her heart was drumming a battle beat. It had never occurred to her that Anne would resist the plans made for her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so pleased about Anne’s graduating from high school early. That had given Anne too much time to think of other things to do.

Relaxing slightly, Nora sighed. She’d been so proud of Anne, eagerly telling her friends how she had graduated in January with a 4.0 GPA, actually higher than that with the few college classes she had completed. But how can you have a better-than-perfect average?

She should have gotten Anne into something to keep her mind occupied. Then Anne wouldn’t have had time to go visiting Susan in her flat and thinking how grand and exciting an independent, poverty-stricken life would be.

“I’m going to move in with Susan. . . .”

Susan Carter! That girl would never amount to more than a hill of beans. The Carters were nice enough, but they lacked class. Tom and his blue-collar job, and Maryann with her low-paying nursing job. How they managed to feed and clothe six children was beyond Nora’s understanding. It was a pity Tom Carter didn’t have more ambition so Maryann could have stayed home and minded her children. Their son Sam had landed in jail, and Susan was trouble waiting to happen.

Nora went into the dining room and took a crystal-stemmed wineglass from the mahogany china cabinet. Returning to the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of chilled white Chablis. She needed something to calm her nerves. She filled her glass, then recorked the bottle and replaced it before going out into the sunroom.
She sat on the white wicker chaise longue with the plump flowered cushions and stretched out her slender legs.

The old resentments bubbled. What Nora would’ve given to have the opportunities she was giving Annie. And did her daughter appreciate them? No. Like a spoiled child, Anne-Lynn wanted her own way. She wanted to make her own choices. She hadn’t yet said, “It’s my life and I want to live it.” But it all came down to the same thing.

“I won’t allow it. She’s not going to ruin her life.”

Inhaling through her nose, she released her breath slowly to calm herself. Then she sipped her wine. She needed to think about Annie and what she would do if this pipe dream continued. There was the rest of spring and summer. Anne-Lynn had too much time on her hands. That was the problem. Well, that could be solved easily enough. Nora would make sure Anne was committed to something. Tutoring at the middle school through June and then helping during summer school would look good on her records.

Her head ached. She could feel another migraine coming on. If Anne came downstairs again, she’d have her make up a cold compress. Maybe that would make it clear to her how this stress affected her mother.

Oh, why did Anne-Lynn have to rebel now? Just because she had turned eighteen last week didn’t mean she was ready to run her own life! It was Susan planting ideas in her head. Or Anne’s father. Nora had a good mind to call him and tell him what she thought of his latest interference. Cal! Middle-class people went to Cal. Perhaps if he had suggested Stanford . . .

The last four years had been so wonderful. Anne had buckled down after the turbulent, emotionally charged preteen years when Nora had often wondered if her daughter was going to run away and live on the streets. Anne had excelled at everything, pleading only once to quit ballet and music. But when she was told no, she went along with the program laid out for her. She had studied and worked hard at school, was popular with the other students, and received more than her share of calls from male admirers. But there were only a few Nora had allowed her to date. After all, she didn’t want Anne marrying some ordinary Joe from the Bay Area.

Wellesley. That’s where Anne-Lynn would meet quality people, where she would mix with students from Ivy League colleges—and marry the right kind of person.

Why did Anne-Lynn want to throw it all away now?

“I’ve prayed . . .”

Those words grated more every time Nora heard them. She downed the rest of her wine and rose to pour herself another glass.

In the beginning, Nora hadn’t thought much about Anne’s “conversion.” True, the word had rankled. It was like a slap in the face, an insult. What did the girl suppose Nora was? A heathen? Hadn’t she made the family attend church services regularly? Anne’s biological father had been a deacon once, and though Fred didn’t have time, he gave generously to the church. Nora frowned in annoyance thinking about it again. She had served on women’s committees many times and filled bags with canned goods whenever there was a food drive.

And then, all of a sudden, after one summer camp, Anne-Lynn comes home and says, “I’ve become a Christian, Mom. I accepted Christ Jesus as my Savior and Lord at camp. Pastor Rick baptized me. I’m so happy, and I want you to be happy, too.”

She’d
become
a Christian? What did she think she’d always been? A pagan?

Nora had let it go. Although she viewed it as a silly proclamation, she did begin to notice some welcome changes taking place in her daughter’s attitude and behavior. If Anne wanted to attribute it to Jesus, fine. As long as the rebelliousness and stubbornness ceased, that’s all that mattered to Nora. Anne listened and did as she was told. She even said thank you, kept her room neat and clean, and offered to help around the house. A blessed change, indeed, after several years of fits of preadolescent moodiness. If Anne came home from camp a young lady willing to do what she was told, well, then, thank God for it.

Only occasionally did Nora see a look come into her daughter’s eyes that indicated she was caught in some sort of inner battle.

Everything had been so wonderful over the past few years. Anne had become the daughter Nora had dreamed she could be. All of Nora’s friends envied her such an accomplished, lovely girl—especially when their own daughters were talking back, experimenting with drugs, sneaking out with boys, running away, or getting pregnant and having to have an abortion.

Anne was perfect.

Anne was her pride and joy.

And she was
not
going to be allowed to make any foolish mistakes.

Upstairs in her sunny room, Annie sat cross-legged on her bed, beneath the lacy, crocheted canopy. Clutching a pink satin pillow against her chest, she fought the tears spilling down her cheeks. Why did her mother always have to make her feel so guilty? No matter how hard she tried, no matter how well she did, it was never enough. One mistake, one thought out of line with what her mother wanted, and Annie knew she’d be told again how ungrateful, rebellious, stubborn, and stupid she was. When words didn’t prove strong enough to maintain control, a migraine came on with a vengeance. Her mother was probably downstairs right now tending herself with a glass of white wine and a cold compress while lying on the chaise longue in the sunroom.

And it’s my fault,
Annie thought, feeling hopeless.
Every time I try to break away, this happens. When will it stop?

Oh, Lord, You know how hard I try to take captive every thought and focus on You. Mom knows how to press every button. Why is she like this? Jesus, You know I’ve tried to understand my mother, tried to please her, but nothing is ever enough.
Worse, nothing made sense anymore. Her mother complained about how much money and time she spent on Annie, but she wouldn’t allow her to get a job or live on her own.
She’s the one who insists I go to Wellesley. You know how much that costs, Lord. I can’t go when I feel You nudging me toward studying art, but Mom won’t even listen. Lord, she says she likes Susan, but now she’s calling her a hippie and saying she’s not good enough to be my roommate.
How could her mother say she was proud of Anne’s scholastic achievements one minute and in the next breath tell her she was stupid and incapable of making decisions about her own life?

“Since you’re so fond of the Bible these days, perhaps you should look up the part about honoring your father and mother.”

Did honoring mean to do everything you were told without question? Did it mean swift capitulation? Did it mean giving up yourself for the sake of living out someone else’s dreams? No matter what those dreams were?

Annie knew if she went to Wellesley as her mother wanted, the plans for her future wouldn’t end there. Mom would be calling and asking whom she was dating, if the young man had “potential.” Of course,
what that meant was high test scores, excellent grades, and a major that would guarantee a financially healthy career. Law. Medicine. Business. Her mother would want to know if the young man came from a “good background.” Someone descended from a passenger on the
Mayflower
. Someone with a family tree. Someone whose successful parents had lots of
old
money and high social standing.

She shook her head. Mom could be open-minded. She wouldn’t mind it if her daughter dated a descendant of immigrants as long as the family was well respected and well known.

A Kennedy, perhaps?

Guilt gripped her. She was being irrational. Her mother wasn’t
that
bad.

Am I becoming like her, Lord? When I tear loose, am I going to do to my children what she’s doing to me? Or am I going to lose all reason and find myself saying to them someday, “I didn’t have any freedom, so you can do whatever you want”? Oh, Father, forgive me, but I’m beginning to hate her.

The last thing Anne wanted was for anger and bitterness to take hold of her, but it was so frustrating! Her mother wouldn’t even listen to her. And it was only getting worse.
I thought I could grow up and move out, be on my own, but it’s as though she has her claws sunk into me. The harder I struggle, the deeper she wounds me.

“God, help me . . . please.”

Honor. What did it mean?

Maybe if she went to Wellesley . . .

No, that would just delay the inevitable. Even if she went to Wellesley, she would still hear how much her mother had sacrificed for her future. And if she didn’t go to Wellesley, she would never hear the end of how ungrateful she was for the opportunity she had wasted.

Lord, I’m in a no-win situation. What do I do?

Every which way she turned, Annie felt blocked. Like a calf making a run from the herd only to have the drover ride her down and nail her with a lasso. The fire was burning and the iron red-hot, but it wasn’t God’s name her mother wanted branded into her flesh. “Property of Nora Gaines,”
that’s
what she wanted. But would that be enough?

Nothing she did was right unless it was done her mother’s way.
“Get back in the corral, Annie. I know what you were meant to be, and I’m going to make sure I drive you to it.”
But did she know? What was it her mother really wanted?

I don’t know what to do, Lord. I feel You drawing me one way, and Mom’s dragging me back in the other. How do I break free to do Your will without hurting her? Why can’t she let go?