Leota's Garden (32 page)

You can tell a tree by its fruit.

Why did those words hurt so much?

And why couldn’t she get them out of her mind?

Susan sat on the couch crying. “Raoul never should’ve left Barnaby in my care! I think he’s going to die. Just look at him, Annie.”

Annie tossed her purse on the coffee table and went to the bird. “Hello, Barnie. Hello, sweetie.” Barnaby didn’t do his usual dance back and forth. He didn’t say anything outrageous. He didn’t move at all. His feet were clenched around the perch, his feathers puffed more than Annie had ever seen them. It was true. He didn’t look himself. “I wonder what’s the matter with him?”

“I know what’s the matter with him. I’m such an idiot! I should be shot!”

Annie glanced at her.

Susan blew her nose and looked at Annie with red, puffy eyes. “I borrowed that Shop-Vac Howard has. You know, the guy across the hall? The handyman? I was so steamed because Barnaby had made such a mess. I was vacuuming up all the seeds and dried-up chunks of fruit and vegetables and bird guano. Well, the phone rang.”

“And?”

“I bent over to answer. It was Sam and I was distracted for a second. Just a second, mind you. But it was long enough. I heard this big . . .
slurp
. Sam heard it, too, because he asked what it was. I looked and Barnaby was
gone
. He must’ve gone through the hose headfirst.” She sniffed and blew her nose.

“Maybe he broke some bones,” Annie said, worried. She touched him. He didn’t move.

“I guarantee he didn’t break anything. Just look at my hand.” She held it out. “I shut off the machine and opened it, and he was flapping and pecking and scratching. He drew blood! He was covered with seeds and bits of dried and rotten fruit and whatever Howard had been vacuuming. Dog hair, I think. I had to clean him up.” She cried harder. “I gave him a shower in the sink. I tested the water, Annie. It was lukewarm. He didn’t like it very much. And he looked so pathetic all wet. I didn’t want him to get pneumonia or whatever birds can get, so I dried him. With your blow-dryer.”

“Poor Barnaby.” Annie stroked his feathers gently. “What a day you’ve had.”

“Forget it. He’s comatose. He just sits there like he’s stuffed. He hasn’t made a sound all day. Not a peep. He just
stares
.” Susan buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “I keep waiting for him to keel over and croak.”

“Come on, Barnaby. Perk up, sweetie,” Annie said softly. The bird didn’t respond. He didn’t even bat an eyelash, if he had one.

“I’ve never liked him much, Annie, but I don’t want him to die.” Her eyes were red-rimmed. “Do you hear that, Barnaby? Don’t you dare die!”

The telephone rang. The bird twitched once and froze again. “Poor baby,” Annie said and leaned over to answer before the second ring.

“Annie, darlin’. I knew if I called often enough, you’d eventually answer.”

“Hi, Sam.” She smiled at his teasing.

“How’s Barnaby?”

“In shock, I think.”

“And no wonder. Imagine being sucked into a tornado only to land in a flood and then be dried in a desert whirlwind. Is he on his back with his feet up yet?”

“It’s not funny, Sam.”

“Don’t worry, honey. He’ll live. That bird is too mean to die.”

“You should see him . . .”

“As a matter of fact, I was thinking I should drive up and check on Suzie Q.”

“Uh-huh,” she said dryly.

He chuckled. “You gonna be around this evening?”

“I think I’ll take a jaunt to the beach.”

He sighed. “Are you avoiding me?”

“I’m running for dear life.”

“You’ve got me pegged all wrong, Annie.”

She laughed. “It was nice talking with you, Sam.” She handed the telephone to her roommate. “He’s checking on you.” Shrugging her backpack off, she set it on the floor beside the couch. She took an orange from the bowl on the counter and peeled it. Eating one section, she held another out for Barnaby. “Come on, Barnie. She didn’t mean to scare you.” He opened his beak, but she had the feeling it was a warning to leave him alone rather than readiness to take a bite of fruit.

“No,” Suzie said to Sam. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I suppose I could try. All right. All right!”

Annie looked at Suzie. Her roommate was not usually so cryptic on the telephone, and Suzie’s smile was faintly smug. Her good spirits seemed to be returning. The smile turned to a broad grin with a decidedly wicked gleam in her eyes.

“Right now? Oh, she’s trying to tempt Barnaby with a wedge of orange.” She laughed. “I’ll tell her you said that, Sam. Now, she’s frowning at me. Oh, really? Why doesn’t that surprise me? Okay. Okay! Bye.” She clicked the phone off and set it back on the coffee table with a thunk. “I have strict instructions to keep you on the premises this evening. Don’t even think about leaving.” She waggled her brows up and down. “My daring-and-do-well brother is bringing a friend with him, someone he says is the man of my dreams.”

“That’s blackmail, Suzie.”

She shrugged, unrepentant, eyes twinkling. “So be it. Besides, you know how much I’d love to have you for a sister-in-law.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. I’m eighteen!”

“Maybe it runs in the family. You told me once your mother was married at seventeen.”

“And divorced by twenty.”

She grimaced. “Oh. I forgot. Well, that doesn’t mean it’ll happen to you. When Carter men fall in love once, it lasts a lifetime.”

“Suzie, your brother is not in love with me.”

“The heck he isn’t. I’ve seen him through crushes before. This is different, entirely different. He’s gone completely gaga over you. I can feel the heat coming off of him whenever he’s around you.”

Annie felt the heat surge into her cheeks.

Susan’s expression softened. “Annie, it wasn’t that long ago that you had a crush on him.”

“I know.” She sank onto the couch and propped her feet up on the coffee table.

“So what’s the problem?”

“Why does there have to be a problem?”

“I know you. You’ve never been free enough to enjoy your own life. This is your chance.”

“I
am
enjoying life.”

“In a restrained, inhibited sort of way. With your grandmother, no less. How safe can you get?”

Annie laughed. “And you think Sam is the cure for my ho-hum life? Yeah, right.” She got up and headed for the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten since that morning, and she was hungry.

Susan got up and followed her, lounging on the stool and leaning her elbows on the counter as Annie took out eggs, cheese, mushrooms, half a green pepper, and a small tomato. “I’ll admit Sam was pretty wild, Annie. Is that what’s bothering you?”

“No. I like him just the way he is. I like him very, very much. I always have.” She rinsed the vegetables and put them on the cutting board. “I don’t know if I can explain, Suzie.”

“Try, would you please? Annie, I promise I won’t tell Sam anything you tell me. If that’s worrying you . . .”

“You can tell him if you think it might help him back off a little.” She smiled at her friend. “Most girls, you included, seem to have a burning desire to get married.” She shrugged. “I don’t.”

“Because your mother hasn’t been able to make a marriage work?”

Annie paused from dicing the bell pepper. “Please don’t talk about her that way, Susan.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault. I told you too much of what went on whenever I was upset.”

“You had to talk to someone.”

“But don’t you see? You’ve only gotten my side of the story. She wanted me to do well. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“She
drove
you to do well, and that’s not right.”

“I don’t know.” She started cutting again. “I’ve been thinking about my mother, trying to put everything together and make sense of why she’s the way she is. There’s a history between her and Grandma Leota that isn’t clear yet. I want to find out what happened to make my mother so bitter and resentful.”

“You can’t make excuses for her, Annie.”

“I’m not trying to make excuses. I’m trying to understand. Maybe if I can see things from both sides, I can help build a bridge between them.”

“Good luck.”

Annie knew it didn’t make sense to others, but the Lord was speaking to her heart. If she let her head rule her life, she would walk away and seldom, if ever, look back. The way Michael was doing. Maybe it was just protection; maybe it was selfishness. She didn’t know, and it wasn’t her right to judge her brother. Yet, sometimes she worried that she was doing the same thing. She knew her brother held no deep affection for her—no deep affection for
anyone
, especially not for the mother who had paved the way for his success. Annie didn’t want to become like that. Yet part of her saw the draw of not having to worry about anyone else’s feelings or needs, especially her mother’s.

During the first month away from her mother, the litany had played in her head:
I want my own life! If I make mistakes, they’ll be my mistakes. It’s my life. Let me live it my way!

But freedom didn’t bring serenity. She hadn’t been able to find any peace until she contacted her grandmother that first time. Since then,
things were changing. Like the seasons, the heat of summer was giving way to the cooling fall. She relished the time spent with Grandma Leota. She was learning so much from her, absorbing vignettes on life. All the while they were in the garden, Annie felt Grandma was talking to her on two levels.

“You need to open up the tree so that the air can circulate and the light can reach into it.”

Those words had struck something deep within her. Air and light. Good soil. Living water. Her heart ached, and she knew God was speaking to her though her grandmother.

No matter what Susan thought, Annie knew she was doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing. There was a rightness to it, a sense of homecoming. She couldn’t allow anything to get in the way of going forward on this path.

Sam wanted to draw her another way. Not that he meant to pull her away from God. She knew he didn’t. He loved the Lord, too, she had learned. He credited Jesus with pulling him up out of the pit he had dug for himself. And yet . . .

Annie sighed. Sam was handsome and charming and intelligent. He had a spirit of fun about him, a boyish delight in tackling life. He was attractive enough to set her pulse racing, but that didn’t mean she should allow herself to be swayed. She knew he was not part of the plan God was unfolding to her. She couldn’t explain
how
she knew, not even to herself, let alone to Susan. She just
knew
. If she went against that knowledge, she would miss the wonder that awaited her. Whatever it was . . .

Pruning.

She smiled to herself as she prepared the omelet. A simple thing like pruning.
“You need to open up the tree so that the air can circulate and the light can reach into it,”
Grandma had said, and all the while Annie was up in that old apricot tree, she kept thinking that people were the same way. God would cut away His people’s dead-end ideas, diseased philosophies, broken promises, and twisted dreams. Why couldn’t people allow the Creator of the universe to have His will with them so that He could prune and shape them into the people they were meant to be? For then, what a harvest of good fruit there would be come summer!

Oh, God, that’s what I want. Oh, Holy Father of life, You who cause things to grow, prune me. Cut and trim as You will. Lord, let Your Spirit come up within me like the living sap of a tree. Let it be Your heart that beats within my breast. Let the fruit of my life be a reflection of Your love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and gentleness. Father, I can’t do anything without You. I don’t even want to try. Be the gardener . . .

“That looks pretty good.” Susan was watching Annie fold the omelet in the pan.

“Are you hungry?” Annie slid the omelet onto a plate and offered it to Susan. “I can make another.”

“See what I mean?” Susan took the plate. “You should be telling me to make my own omelet.”

Annie laughed. “And have the whole apartment smell like burned eggs? I think not.” She handed Susan a fork and cracked two more eggs into the bowl. “You can do the dishes.”

Susan ate a bite and waved the fork at Annie. “You can’t undo years of animosity, Annie. You know your mother. And don’t give me that look. You can’t change people. You’re only going to get yourself hurt. It’s been three months, and she still hasn’t forgiven you for stepping out on your own. How do you think you’re ever going to get her to forgive her mother after decades of hating her for whatever it was she supposedly did? How?”

“I don’t know.” But one thing she did know: nothing was impossible for God. For some reason, He had put it in her heart to establish a relationship with her grandmother. Why would He do that unless He had plans? And His plans were always for a good purpose. “I know the Lord is working in all this, Suzie. And I want to be there to see what happens.”

Susan chuckled. “Leota is pretty cool. I was a little worried what she’d say about us showing up on her doorstep and taking over the afternoon. Not Sam. He figured he’d waltz in and take charge. Next thing he knows, he’s turning the soil in the back forty while I’m transplanting apricot and plum sprouts. That sure taught him a lesson! He told me he ached for a week. I’ll bet Grandma Leota was really something when she was young.”