Leota's Garden (38 page)

Corban felt a heaviness in the pit of his stomach. Leota Reinhardt was trying to teach him something, and for the life of him he wasn’t sure what it was.

“It helps me understand Mother a little better, Grandma. There’s so much she doesn’t know. Maybe if she did . . .”

“She has to
want
to know, sweetheart. The soil has to be softened before planting. Watering has to be done before a seed takes root.” She touched Annie’s cheek tenderly. “My, how an old woman rambles on when she has such a kind audience. Now, how about some of that herbal tea?”

Annie rose, leaned down to kiss her grandmother’s cheek, and went into the kitchen.

Leota looked straight at Corban then, challenging him in some way. He sensed that she was trying to make him see past himself.
What is it, old woman?
he wanted to cry out.
Say it straight out. Tell me! I want to know. I want to see. I want to understand.

She smiled, an irritating little smile that told him she wasn’t going to make things easy for him.

All she said was, “I have hope for you, Corban Solsek.” She waited another moment; then she rose stiffly from her chair, turned the television on to a game show, sat again, and leaned her head back. With that, she closed her eyes and said not another word for the rest of the evening.

Chapter 13

Nora walked the mall. The Christmas store was open, but she walked past, disgusted. It wasn’t even Halloween, Thanksgiving a distant six weeks away, and yet soon the holly and Santas would be cropping up like weeds in every store window. Every year Christmas came earlier, bringing with it an inner sadness. Why was it Christmas always depressed her? No matter how big the tree, how bright the decorations, how frenetic the festivities, she felt alone and lonely.

Pausing by a toy store, Nora remembered the excitement of buying presents for her children when she was younger. Michael had loved LEGO toys from the time he was old enough to stack blocks. Over the years, she had purchased more and more complicated—and expensive—collections of the connecting plastic blocks. Where were they now? Stored in the garage in case a grandchild might someday want them? Or had Michael taken them with him when he moved away? She couldn’t remember.

The dolls in the store window reminded her of shopping for Anne . . . and the frustration that went along with it. One Christmas she had stood in line to buy a Cabbage Patch doll for her precious daughter. When the store announced there was no more stock available, she had
forked over two hundred dollars to a lady who had purchased three. Greedy witch. When Annie had opened the pretty package and seen the doll, she had said a quiet thank-you, nestled it back in the box, and placed it under the tree.

“Don’t you like it? Every little girl wants one of these dolls. You have no idea how difficult it was to get one for you.”

“It’s nice, Mommy.”

Nora hated being called
Mommy
. She had reminded Anne-Lynn over and over to call her
Mom
or
Mother
.
Mommy
was for babies.

Anne had taken the doll to school with her. When she returned without it, Nora had been angry. She had been so certain Anne had lost it and wondered how she could be so careless. “Do you have any idea how much that doll cost me? Two hundred dollars! I should’ve just bought you one of those cheap Raggedy Ann dolls!” Then, to make matters worse, Anne-Lynn had cried and confessed she hadn’t lost it. She had given it away to a little girl who had received only a puzzle for Christmas. Standing at the toy store window now, Nora remembered how furious she had been over that. And why shouldn’t she have been? She had waited for hours, paid a ridiculous price for something every normal little girl wanted . . . and what did her daughter do? She gave the gift away as though it meant nothing to her.

Just as I mean nothing to her.
Tears pricked Nora’s eyes as she stood gazing through the glass into the toy store.
All the things I’ve done for my children, and do they appreciate it? They don’t care one iota about me or my feelings. All they care about is themselves. When did Michael last call me? On Mother’s Day last year? Oh, Anne calls, but always from Leota’s. Why does she keep asking if I’d like to come over for tea? Just to hurt my feelings? Just to let me know how much time and love she’s expending on my mother? Mother and Anne both know I don’t want to go over there for tea or anything else!

She bit her lip, the tears welling, her throat tight and hot. Her children were both so selfish! Did they know how cruel they were?
I should cut them right out of my will. That would wake them up! And it would serve them right, too. They’ve abandoned me. I should abandon them. In fact, I should leave a letter to them and have the attorney read it aloud, telling them why I’ve cut them off.
That would make them sorry. . . . That would make them writhe with guilt over how mean they’d been to her. If she had some fatal disease, like cancer, and she suffered for months . . .

Maybe they’d feel sorry then. Maybe Fred would be sorry, too.

She drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. Problem was, she was healthy. Physically. She had kept her weight down, exercised, eaten right. And yet she had just been to the doctor, wanting to know about the palpitations and stomachaches and headaches.

She was dying. She knew it. Even her bones ached. She must have cancer or something worse. She had gone through a battery of tests. Medical technicians had taken blood, made her drink barium, and done X-rays. When nothing was found, she insisted the doctor order an MRI. Today she had gotten the results.

“I can find nothing wrong with you, Nora.” His diagnosis: stress, which was causing psychosomatic symptoms. He suggested a psychiatrist. Furious, she told him she had been in counseling for years and it had done no good. Her life was worse now than it had ever been before. She’d burst into tears and said she wished she
were
dying. She wished she
did
have cancer. “Then they’d all be sorry for the way they’ve treated me!”

The doctor had talked with her for some time, encouraging her to check herself into some kind of care facility in the Santa Cruz Mountains, where she could rest, talk with a counselor, and reevaluate her life.

He thinks I’m crazy.
She pressed a hand to her temple. Well, maybe she was. Maybe she was headed for a nervous breakdown. If she was, it certainly wasn’t her fault. Nobody loved her. Nobody had ever really loved her. Not even her own mother . . .

God, why? I don’t understand. I’ve tried so hard. I’ve done everything right, and it’s all gone wrong. Nothing I do turns out the way I want. Two men I loved ended up hating me. Two children I’ve borne don’t even want to talk to me.

Maybe I’ve always loved others too much. I should’ve been loving myself more instead of pouring time and money into my husbands and children. I should’ve been taking care of myself.

She turned from the store window and walked on, passing other ladies wandering in the mall. Some had children in strollers, some were walking with friends, and others sat on the pretty benches watching people pass. Nora paused again, looking in another window crowded with gift items.

Why shouldn’t she shop for herself? Why shouldn’t she buy something if it would make her feel better? Hadn’t she always purchased little
gifts to cheer others up? It was time she cheered herself up. Entering the store, she wandered among the displays, picking things up and setting them down. She spotted something in a distant corner. It made her smile. The item was cute and utterly impractical. It was also expensive, considering what it was, but she liked it and that was all that mattered today. It was time to pamper Nora instead of Nora pampering others. She had plenty of cash, but she decided to put the item on a credit card. Fred always gave her an allowance, but she figured he owed her this much after his reticence of late. She made her purchase and left.

The warm, fuzzy feeling passed quickly. By the time Nora reached the parking lot, she wondered why she had wasted fifty dollars on a stuffed bear. What would Fred say when he saw the bill? Of course, it wouldn’t say
bear
on the debits. It would just list the store.

Sitting in her car, Nora took the bear from the bag and stared at it, hoping to resurrect the faint pleasure she had felt when she saw it in the first place. Maybe she had been thinking about future grandchildren. Her eyes welled, and tears spilled over. If her children ever did have babies of their own, maybe then they’d understand how she felt. They would know what a good mother she had been. They would know how she’d sacrificed for them. Maybe then—

A sudden picture filled her mind: Leota on her knees in the garden. Leota looking toward the house, tears running down her cheeks.

Where was I? Why didn’t I go out to her?

Nora shut her eyes tightly.

I was helping Grandma Reinhardt. That’s what I was doing. I was always helping Grandma. She said she didn’t know what she’d do without me.
Anger stirred again.
My mother never helped. All she ever did was take care of her own needs and wants. She never cared about anyone but herself.

Yet the picture remained. Along with it, another memory flickered. She could almost feel Grandma Reinhardt’s hand on her arm. “
Nein.
Your mama thinks it is fine to waste time planting flowers, but I have work to be done. You be a good girl and help with supper.”

Nora’s anger seeped away, leaving confusion and anguish. Stuffing the teddy bear in the shopping bag, she tossed it into the backseat. Jamming her key in the ignition, she started the car.

And then it surfaced again, the loneliness she had tried all her life to escape, the loneliness she wanted so desperately to press down where
it wouldn’t be recognized. It welled up so strongly that she gripped the steering wheel. She could hardly breathe through the pain of realization. Tears blinded her.

I have a husband.

I have children.

And still, I’m alone.

Fred was home. His car was parked in the garage when Nora pulled in. She was filled with dismay and guilt at the sight of it. She had wasted the entire afternoon wandering in malls, window shopping. All for what? To feel better? She felt worse. Now Fred was home early, and she had no idea what to fix for dinner. Had she taken anything out of the freezer this morning? Probably not. Who thought about dinner when the doctor was going to tell you that you were dying of some dreaded disease?

Taking the bag with the bear in it, she got out of the car. She unlocked the side door from the garage into the house, letting out her breath slowly, trying to prepare herself for anything. As she entered the kitchen, she saw an open box of pizza on the counter. Two slices missing. Fred was sitting in the family room, watching the evening news, a glass of wine on the side table. He’d changed from his suit and was wearing khaki slacks and a navy-blue sweater. He always dressed nicely, even when lounging around the house. He was one of those men who grew more handsome with the years.

Please, God, don’t let him stop loving me the way Bryan and Dean did. Please.

Fred looked at her, eyes troubled. “What did the doctor say?”

“Is that why you’re home early?”

“I was worried about you. It’s pretty late.”

She set her purse on the counter. “I had some shopping to do.” Her mouth trembled. “A gift.” She didn’t tell him it was for herself.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Nothing wrong. I’m healthy as a horse. The doctor thinks I should be committed.”

His mouth tipped. “You might think about it.”

Nora burst into tears. Covering her face, she stood in the kitchen
sobbing. She wished she were dead. She should drive into a tree or off a cliff into the ocean. Then her children would be sorry for treating her so badly.

She felt Fred’s arms slide around her. He drew her close. “I love you,” he said softly. “You drive me crazy, Nora, but I love you.”