Leota's Garden (60 page)

Oh, God, what is it about me that drives people away? All I’ve ever done is give my children everything I never had. All I want is for my children to have a better life than I had growing up.
All she wanted was for them to love her.

All you want is to be their god.

No, I didn’t say that.

She could hear the grandfather clock downstairs chime four. There was no use in trying to sleep. It was almost time to get up. She eased herself from beneath the covers and slipped into her robe and slippers.

The tree lights were still on downstairs, and the soft glow lit the stairs. She had wrapped the banister with boughs of pine, putting in touches of holly berries. It looked so lovely and filled the house with a woodsy aroma. The mantel looked perfect with the silk poinsettias tucked into more pine boughs, and the tall red, green, and white candles were the perfect touch. No professional decorator could have done a better job.

It looked as perfectly arranged as any store window.

It’s all for show. It doesn’t mean a thing.

Christmas means something to Annie.

She remembered her daughter’s telephone message. The words came back as clearly as if they’d never been erased:
“We’re both doing fine. We’d love for you to come by for a visit. I hope you know you’re welcome anytime, Mom.”

Mom.
Not
Mother
.
She called me
Mom
.

And she’d said it so tenderly.

Nora went into the kitchen and ground fresh, gourmet-blend coffee beans. She boiled an egg, then warmed a croissant in the microwave. It was too cold to sit in the sunroom, so she turned up the heater and sat in the den, looking out the glass doors at the manicured lawn, topiary pines, and cleanly mulched and weeded ground ready for bulb planting. It would look like a park in the spring.

A park for people to walk through and leave, not a garden where visitors relaxed and lingered. A park where people had to enter through the house and get permission from the owner . . . not a garden with a back gate for neighbors to use.

Nora closed her eyes. She could see her mother outside the kitchen window, on her knees, her hands in the soil.

It had been such a shock seeing her in that hospital bed. She’d looked so white, so confused, so pale, so frail.

The sunrise glowed pink-orange. The clock in the hall chimed seven. Where had the time gone? All the years of struggling and surviving one disappointment after another, of searching and searching for some kind of peace, some sense of accomplishment and purpose . . .

“I hope you know you’re welcome anytime, Mom.”

Mom.
She clung to that word like a lifeline.
Mom.

At 8 a.m. she picked up the telephone, called her daughter, and asked if the invitation was still open.

And, of course, it was.

Chapter 22

Christmas Eve morning, a UPS truck delivered two boxes, both addressed to Leota Reinhardt with Uncle George and Aunt Jeanne’s return address. The larger box contained a VCR. “What is it?” Grandma Leota stared, completely baffled. Annie tried to explain.

The second box had a note in Jeanne’s handwriting.
We’re sorry we couldn’t be with you for Christmas. Hope you both enjoy the movies. Love, Jeanne, George, Marshall, and Mitzi.
The box was packed full of movies:
The Bells of St. Mary’s
,
South Pacific
,
The King and I
,
Casablanca
,
Pocketful of Miracles
,
Ben-Hur
,
Miracle on 34th Street
, and
A Christmas Carol
.

“A treasure trove, Grandma. Which one would you like to watch first?”

“You choose.”

When Annie tried to install the VCR, she realized Grandma Leota’s television set was so outdated that there were no connections. How much did a new television cost? Only a couple hundred dollars, but dollars her grandmother clearly did not have. “Oh, Grandma. I’m sorry.” Was this going to be a day of disappointments? “I didn’t realize.”

“Won’t miss what I never had,” Grandma said, giving her lopsided smile. “Nice thought.”

Annie nodded, too choked up to speak. She’d never thought much about modern conveniences until living with her grandmother. No dishwasher—not that there was much need for one with only two people eating off the dishes—and the washer and dryer were older than she was. Annie had spent one day cleaning out the dryer vent. She had thanked God for His protection because the vent had been so packed with lint, it was a miracle it hadn’t caught fire and burned the house down. In fact, there were lots of things that needed to be done. The pipe under the kitchen sink had a leak. The roof gutters overflowed with water because the downspouts were clogged with leaves. One of the back steps felt soft from dry rot, which meant there were probably termites eating away at other parts of Grandma Leota’s house. The roof should be redone; Annie had noticed a ceiling stain in her bedroom.

Annie didn’t want to mention these things because she didn’t want to worry her grandmother. Or worse, have her grandmother mistake concern for discontent. If something had to be fixed, she’d find a way to take care of it without worrying Grandma Leota.

Lord, don’t let me get distracted by all these little unimportant things. So what if Grandma’s brand-new VCR doesn’t work. Forgive me for being disappointed. Poor Uncle George and Aunt Jeanne. They spent so much money on something Grandma can’t even use when she would have rejoiced far more over a five-minute telephone call from them.
Shaking her head, Annie brought a tray with hot chocolate and cookies into the living room. After serving her grandmother, she sat cross-legged in the easy chair and sipped her chocolate.

Annie’s father called at three. “I sent your present late. You won’t get it for a couple of days. You want me to tell you what it is?”

“Whatever it is, Dad, I’ll like it.”

“You’re too easy. How’s Leota doing?”

“Very well.”

“And you? Wearing yourself out?”

“I have plenty of help. I’ve told you about Corban.”

“And your mother? Does she help out, too?” When Annie remained silent, trying desperately to think of something to say that wouldn’t put her mother in a bad light, her father gave a derisive laugh. “Never mind,
Annie. I know her better than that. What she can’t control, she chalks off as a complete loss.”

“Daddy . . .”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m always saying that to you, aren’t I?”

“How’s Monica?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since she moved out.”

Oh, dear. “How long ago was this?”

“Last month. I thought I mentioned it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“She was pushing to get married. I’ve been down that road before and didn’t want to be on it again. A few years of living with your mother—”

“I don’t want to go down that road again either, Daddy.” He didn’t say anything to that, and she didn’t want to end the call on a sour note. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, honey. Maybe I’ll fly up in a couple of weeks.”

How many times had he promised to do that?

“You know you’re always welcome, Daddy.”

Nora and Fred pulled up in front of Leota’s house midafternoon on Christmas Day. Nora groaned audibly when she recognized Corban Solsek’s black sports car. “He’s here again.”

“Give the guy a chance,” Fred said, getting out of the car. He helped her out and took her hand as they went up the walkway and steps. Annie was outside on the porch waiting for them. She was smiling, her eyes shining.

“I’m so glad you came!”

Nora’s tension eased at the sight of her daughter. She looked so lovely in her long, green velour dress with a strand of pearls, her hair loose and curling over her shoulders. Nora looked for signs of strain, but saw only cheeks flushed with color and blue eyes shining with delight. And hope. It wasn’t until Nora returned the hug that she felt the change. “You’ve lost weight.”

“A couple pounds, I guess. Come in. It’s cold out here, and Grandma’s eager to see you both.”

Nora took note of the Christmas tree first. It was right by the front
door so it could be seen through the window. It was trimmed beautifully with old-fashioned glass bulbs, elves, and tinsel. Unable to look at her mother yet, she glanced around the room, amazed at the freshly painted walls, the polished furniture, the old carpet that now looked new, the table with pine branches and scented candles. A fire was crackling. The house no longer had that old smell of decay. It was filled with the pine scent of Christmas. Had the memories of this house not been so painful, she would’ve been utterly charmed by it.

“Corban bought the tree for us,” Anne said. “And he helped string lights along the eaves across the front and along the side of the house by the drive. I put lights all through the garden. It looks like a winter wonderland at night. I’ll plug them in as soon as it’s dark enough so you can see it.”

“Wait until you get the electric bill.” Fred laughed as he bent down to talk quietly with Leota.

Nora hung back. She had avoided looking at her mother for as long as possible, and now that she did, her heart sank. She looked so
old
. One side of her face sagged slightly.

“Who gave you the VCR?” Fred said.

“Uncle George sent it to Grandma,” Anne said.

Mortified, Nora wished she could hide the box of chocolate-covered cherries she had brought as a gift. What on earth was George thinking? Last year he’d sent a box of groceries. Actually, Jeanne had sent it. George didn’t even bother to sign his name on the Christmas cards. Their cards always came with
George and Jeanne
signed at the bottom, in Jeanne’s handwriting. And now this? A VCR? Were they trying to make her look bad?

“Do you need help hooking it up?” Fred looked eager at the idea.

Anne laughed and gave a slight shrug. “Actually, we can’t. Grandma’s TV was purchased before VCRs were invented.”

“Oh, well, that’s no problem. We’ll get her a new set. Nora and I were wondering what to get you, Leota. Now we know.”

Touched by his quick rescue, Nora slipped her hand into his. “You’re looking much better than last I saw you,” she said to her mother, then felt the heat climbing into her cheeks. She hadn’t been to visit since her mother had left the hospital.

Leota let the evening flow around her. When Eleanor followed Annie into the kitchen, Leota could only pray her daughter wouldn’t say something hurtful to Annie. They were like opposite sides of a coin. Eleanor took offense at the least provocation; Annie let everything slide. Eleanor was the warrior set on battling life into submission; Annie was a peacemaker, living with the hurt, swallowing the insulting remarks, and trying to rise above it and move forward.

I tried to do that, Lord. Maybe that’s why watching the dynamics of their relationship makes me want to take a page from Eleanor’s book. Oh, what I would say to her now if I had the tongue to do it!