Leota's Garden (51 page)

Corban’s parents had lived in a big house in an exclusive neighborhood with a guard at the gates, but that hadn’t changed his father. The man had always been driven before a strong wind. Then one day he was gone, blown away by a massive heart attack. He died at his desk. His mother grieved for a few years, then remarried. She was making new traditions now. Thanksgiving in Paris. Christmas in Geneva.

Someone else always cooked.

A cold thought suddenly went through his mind, unbidden, making his chest tighten.
Am I like my father? Driven to prove myself? For what? And for whom? What am I doing? Where am I going?

“Good dinner, Annie,” George said, rising. He left his plate on the table and didn’t bother pushing in his chair.

“George,” Jeanne said, clearly annoyed.

“I’m just going to check the score.” He turned the television on and made himself comfortable on the sofa.

“Where’s a blackout when you need one?” Jeanne’s mouth was tight.

“We had blackouts all the time back during the war years,” Leota said. “The siren would go off and we’d pull down all the shades and turn out the lights. Frightened the children half to death sometimes. Melba was our block captain. She lived two doors down. She’d go out and walk up and down the street and make sure there were no lights on. Your grandmother—”

“No one ever bombed us,” Eleanor said impatiently.

“Not if you don’t count Pearl Harbor, dear.”

Eleanor’s face reddened. “Pearl Harbor is an ocean away, Mother. And the war’s been over for decades.”

Corban wanted to lean over the table and slap her. Where did she get off talking to Leota in that nasty tone? Gritting his teeth, he reminded himself he wasn’t part of this family, and it wasn’t his business.

Annie glanced at her grandmother. “I’d like to hear about the war years.”

“Why?” Eleanor said sharply. “We were dirt-poor. Mother was never home. And Grandma and Grandpa Reinhardt were always bickering.”

“They were?” Leota frowned.

“Usually over you. And money. Or rather the lack of it. We were a strain on their budget, in case it never occurred to you. Three extra mouths to feed. Grandma Helene was
not
pleased to be left with the responsibility of two children, and she made no secret of it to either of us.”

“Mother!” Annie’s face was white.

“Let it go,” Leota said, putting a hand over Annie’s. Leota didn’t say much about anything after that. She sat quietly, picking at her Thanksgiving dinner while Annie and Jeanne tried to move the conversation through safer channels. No matter where they went, though, they found themselves in a minefield of Eleanor’s making. As soon as Eleanor finished eating, she began stacking dishes. The clattering of porcelain and silverware seemed to announce the meal was over, whether they were finished or not. “I’ll clean up,” Eleanor said and pushed her chair back.

Annie’s eyes welled with tears.

“I’ll help you,” Arba said, starting to rise.

“No, thank you. I’ll take care of it myself.”

Arba hovered halfway out of her seat until Leota smiled at her. “Stay put, dear. It’s nothing personal. Eleanor just likes to do things her way.”

Fred looked down the table. “I’m sorry, Leota. Annie . . .”

“It’s not your fault, Fred,” Annie said quietly and bowed her head.

As soon as the football game was over, George stood and announced it was time for his family to leave. Although Mitzi and Marshall protested, one look from their father silenced them. Eleanor, the grand martyr, had just come from the kitchen.

“What about dessert, George?” Jeanne’s eyes flashed anger. “We haven’t served the pies yet.”

“Fine. We’ll have pie and then leave.”

“We’d better be going, too, Fred.” Eleanor didn’t even bother to take a seat. “I’m exhausted.”

An embarrassed silence fell. Arba rose from the stuffed chair near the corridor. “Why don’t you sit and rest a bit, Mrs. Gaines? Take the weight off your feet.”

Annie stood ready to serve. “What will you have? Apple, mincemeat, pumpkin, or sweet potato?”

“Sweet potato!” Arba’s children said in unison.

“Apple! Pumpkin!” Mitzi and Marshall joined in exuberantly.

Eleanor grimaced. “Must they shout like that?”

“How about a little slice of each?” Leota said.

“There you go, girl.” Arba grinned.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “None for me, Anne-Lynn. I’m too tired to be hungry. When everyone’s done, I’ll wash the plates.”

“Apple,” George said, stone-faced. Maybe his team wasn’t winning.

“Corban, what will you have?” Annie said.

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll wait until later.” With luck, the Ice Queen would leave and his appetite would return. Nothing like a contentious woman to sour a man’s stomach.

When Annie went into the kitchen to serve the pies, she saw the roasting pan sitting on the nook table. It was scrubbed so clean it looked sandblasted. Annie opened the refrigerator for a look. What had her mother done with the turkey and leftovers? Heart sinking, she opened the cabinet beneath the sink. Sure enough, her mother had stuffed the meaty carcass into the garbage can, along with the candied yams, mashed potatoes, and peas. So much for turkey sandwiches, turkey casseroles, and turkey soup.

Arba, who had come in to help cut and serve the pies, stood behind her. Annie swallowed hard and quietly closed the cabinet door, fighting the hurt and humiliation that wanted to overwhelm her. Her eyes burned hot with tears. “I’m so sorry, Arba.” How could her mother scrape everything into the trash like that?

“What’re you sorry about, girl? This isn’t your doing.” She stood, hands on her hips, and looked around. “Well, at least the kitchen’s clean.”

Annie gave a soft, broken laugh. “Oh . . .” She covered her face. How would Grandma feel when she found out?

Arba put her arm around her. “Honey, that was the best Thanksgiving dinner I’ve had since my mama went home to the Lord. Don’t let anyone take your joy away, not even your mother!”

Still trembling slightly, Annie nodded. “Thanks, Arba.”

“I’ll make the coffee,” Arba said.

Annie cut the pies in silence. When all the plates had the slices
requested, she carried them into the living room two by two and delivered them. She wouldn’t look her mother in the face. The hurt had given way to anger. She prayed her mother would keep silent until she left.

“Coffee would be nice,” her mother said.

“Arba is making it.”

“I’ll help her.” She started to rise from the sofa.

“No, you will not. You’ve done enough already, Mother.”

“You needn’t be so rude, Anne-Lynn. All I did was wash the dishes.”

Annie looked at her then. She lowered her voice. “That’s
not
all you did, Mother. You did a lot more than that.”

Her mother blushed, her gaze skittering away. Fred looked up at Annie, his expression troubled and questioning. “Your pie.” She forced a smile and handed him a plate with sweet-potato pie. Her mother kept her head down.

As Annie left the room, she imagined what was going on in her mother’s mind. She was probably mulling over the words, chewing on them, ruminating until she could find some way to spit them back in her own defense. Annie refused to feel guilty this time. Whatever her mother decided to say, she was not going to allow the words to pierce her heart and spoil this day.

Corban came into the kitchen. “I’m on my way out. Thanks for dinner, Annie. It was great.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” She knew her grandmother enjoyed sparring with him, and she had the feeling the others would soon be on their way.

“I have to study.”

She looked at him. “I know this isn’t the time, Corban, but I’d like to know what’s troubling you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” His eyes were dark with anger.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. Friends help one another.”

He smiled slightly. “So I might give you a call sometime.”

“I’ll be here all weekend. You know you’re always welcome.”

He gave a nod and left without another word.

Arba served coffee while Annie gathered empty dessert plates. She could feel her mother’s gaze following her, willing her to look in her direction. She went back into the kitchen, stacking the dishes carefully in the sink. Time enough to wash them later after everyone left.

“We’d better be on our way,” Arba said, gathering her children. She leaned down and kissed Leota’s cheek, whispering something in her ear.

Leota smiled and patted Arba’s cheek tenderly. “You’re a sweet girl,” she said, then sat obviously pleased as she received kisses from Tunisha and Kenya and a handshake from Nile. “I’ll see you at three on Monday,” Leota said.

George took Arba’s departure as a sign for his own. He went for the coats Annie had hung in the guest room. Marshall and Mitzi thanked Grandma Leota for the nice day, though they were too shy to kiss her good-bye. Leota made an effort to rise from her chair when George came back into the room.

“Don’t get up, Mother. We’ll show ourselves out. Thank you for the fine day.” He grazed her cheek with a quick kiss and put his hand at Jeanne’s elbow, nodding toward the door.

“You don’t mind if I say good-bye to your mother, do you?” Jeanne stepped around him and leaned down, smiling. “This is the best Thanksgiving we’ve had in years, Mama. I hope we do it again.”

Annie’s eyes smarted with tears as she heard her grandmother’s mumbled reply. “I’ve prayed for years to have the family together again.”

“Me too,” Jeanne said in a husky voice. When she straightened, her eyes were moist. She came around Leota’s chair to Annie and hugged her tightly, whispering in her ear. “Good job, honey. And don’t give up the ship.” She patted her cheek and then joined George as their family went out the front door.

Annie looked at her mother then. She met her gaze and remained on her feet, waiting.

“I guess it’s time we left, too.” Her mother stood, chin high. “Fred?”

He stood and came to Annie, hugging her tightly. “I don’t know what your mother did to hurt you, Annie,” he whispered, “but I’m sorry about it.”

“I’ll get over it.”

“I know.” He kissed her cheek.

Her mother had gone for the coats. She came back into the room and held Fred’s out to him. He shrugged into it and took hers, opening it and holding it for her so she could slip her arms into the sleeves and draw it on. Annie stood next to Grandma Leota’s chair, her arm resting on top of it. Her mother gave her a hard-eyed look of displeasure. Then
she looked at Grandma Leota. “Thank you for the nice day, Mother,” she said coolly. “Anne-Lynn, I’ll call and speak with you later.”

“Give me a day or two, please.”

Her mother’s eyes flashed, and then she went out the door, Fred following at a slower pace.

“What was that all about?” Grandma Leota said when the front door was closed and they were alone.

“Nothing for you to worry about, Grandma.” She hoped her mother would give her time enough to pray and let go of the anger and hurt. If she didn’t, they would both regret it.

Her grandmother sighed. “The house is so quiet now. I’m glad you’re still here.”

Annie knelt down beside the chair. “We’re going to have the whole weekend together. Remember? I’m not leaving until Monday morning.”

“We can have leftovers for the next few days.”

“I’m afraid not, Grandma. They’re all gone.” She had quietly taken the garbage out back so that her grandmother wouldn’t see what her mother had done. “Except some mincemeat pie.”

Grandma Leota smiled and leaned closer. “Thank you, dear. Thank you for all you did today. It was as close to a perfect day as I’ve had in years.”

Annie almost wept. “We did get them all under one roof again, didn’t we, Grandma?” All except for Michael.

“Yes, we did. And no one killed any of the others.” Grandma Leota’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Though there were a few moments . . .”

Annie gave a soft, broken laugh. “I love you, Grandma.”

“I love you, Grandma,” Barnaby said from the front bedroom. “I love you, Grandma.”

“Oh, dear,” Grandma said in disgust. “That bird is at it again.”

Annie laughed as all the tension of preparing and surviving Thanksgiving burst like a dam. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“I love you, Grandma!” Barnaby was demanding attention. It was as though he were saying, “Hello in there. Don’t forget about me!”

“I’ll get him, Grandma,” Annie said. “As soon as his cage is draped, he’ll quiet down.”

Grandma Leota tipped her recliner back. “If not, just put the vacuum cleaner in the middle of the room. It shut him up the last time!”