Leota's Garden (71 page)

“No, Cal has a better graduate program, so I’ve decided to go there.”

“Yeah, right. I wonder why you want to stay so close to Oakland.”

Ignoring him, Corban watched Annie move among her guests. She was so beautiful she made his heart ache.

“Man, you’ve got it as bad as I ever did.”

Corban glanced at him. “What?”

“Annie. Your tongue’s practically hanging out.” He watched her for a moment and then gave Corban a rueful smile. “Take some advice from someone who’s been there. Give up.”

“Just because you didn’t get anywhere with her doesn’t mean I won’t.”

Sam laughed. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you? Even if you were a Christian, you wouldn’t have a prayer.”

Corban’s eyes narrowed. Sam Carter was full of ill tidings, not that he’d expected a rejected suitor to give him any encouragement. Still, he’d take the bait. “Why not?”

“Because she’s already married.”

“Married?” He glanced at Annie and then back at Sam. “What’re you talking about? She’s not married.”

“She’s as married as anyone can be, Corban, old boy. You just don’t
get it.” He smiled ruefully. “Took me a while, even after she told me up front I was wasting my time. I thought I could wear her down with my charm and good looks.” His expression turned tender as he watched her. “Has she talked to you about the Lord?”

“Sure.” Jesus Christ always came into their conversations somewhere. Even when he tried to steer things down other paths, she always came back to God. “I’ve been taking a comparative religions class.”

Sam laughed again. “Oh, that’ll impress her.”

Sam Carter could be more irritating than a rash. “I don’t know much about religion. I thought it might be interesting to find out more.”

“Religion is one thing. Faith is another entirely.”

“So Annie said.”

“All you have to do is watch Annie to see the difference. She say anything else?”

Corban looked away from Sam’s amused expression. She’d summed up the entire course in a few sentences:
“Every religion in the world is about man trying to reach up to God, like working your way up the ladder. They’re all about striving to achieve something for yourself. Christianity is the only religion about God reaching down to man and offering salvation as a free gift, with the added bonus of a personal relationship with the Creator God through Jesus Christ, who was there in the beginning.”

Corban sighed. “She talked about grace being a free gift.”

Sam lifted his can of soda in salute. “It’s free all right, but it didn’t come cheap. And there’s the rub, old man. Our sweet Annie’s passionately in love with the one who paid the price for salvation.” He cocked his head and smiled sardonically. “Think you’re up to competing with Jesus Christ?”

“Faith can bring people together.”

“True. But what’s the basis of your faith?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Before he met Annie, he’d never thought about having faith in anything but himself.

Sam grinned at him. “She’ll make a believer out of you yet, buddy. And then she’ll cut you loose.”

Corban glanced at him in annoyance. “Sounds like sour grapes.”

“No. I’m just hoping the next time I meet a girl like her, she’ll be the marrying kind.” Sam’s expression was tender as he watched Annie. “The thing with Annie is she just wants everyone to feel the same joy
and sense of freedom she does.” He shook his head. “She is something to watch, isn’t she?”

Corban couldn’t agree more. She was radiant, and some of that joy seemed to overflow to everyone she came near . . . except for Nora Gaines, who looked thinner and paler than the last time he’d seen her. Annie’s mother had looked like a scared little girl when she came out the back door. Now she was sitting with Susan’s mother, talking and looking less stressed out. Still pensive, but reachable. Annie joined them for a moment, took her mother’s hand and squeezed it, leaned down and kissed her cheek, and then went to talk with her aunt Jeanne.

George Reinhardt was talking with Tom Carter and Fred Gaines. Corban wondered how old George was faring now that his mother had gone on to meet Saint Peter at the pearly gates, leaving him a nice, fat bankroll. At first glance, he didn’t look any happier than he had the first time Corban met him.

Annie looked his way and smiled. Much to his chagrin, she smiled at Sam Carter, too. She wasn’t partial.

“It’s a pity Annie doesn’t need us,” Sam said, straightening away from the car.

“Maybe one of these days.”

“Don’t hold your breath. She’s got everything she wants right here in Leota’s garden.”

Corban had only an inkling of what that meant.

Annie set out platters of food on the dining room table and left the Fiesta dishes stacked to one side so that guests could serve themselves when they felt like it. Uncle George, as usual, was sitting alone in the living room, watching a ball game. He had a beer beside him, one he had taken from the six-pack he had brought. Sadness filled Annie as she watched him. He had been sociable for an hour and then retreated.

At least Jeanne was having a good time, talking and laughing with Arba. And last she saw Marshall and Mitzi, they were in the game room having fun with the other children. Life was going on all around Uncle George, but he seemed blind and deaf to it.

She thought of Grandpa Bernard and the things Grandma Leota had
said about him. Was Uncle George going to become like that? Locked inside himself with whatever demons plagued him?

Lord, what is he afraid of?

And what about her mother? She was trying so hard to be courteous and pleasant to everyone. Obeying the rules.

Oh, Grandma Leota, I wish you were here.
She pressed her lips together and finished putting out the silverware and napkins.

Her mother had talked with Uncle George for a little while and then gone into the bathroom. Was she still in there? No, the bathroom door was open. Annie found her in the second bedroom, looking at the wall where several pictures were hung.

“I’ve never seen this picture.” Her mother was looking at the one of Helene and Gottlieb Reinhardt on their wedding day.

“I found it in the attic. The one of Grandma Leota and Grandpa Bernard was in Grandma’s bedroom. And Fred gave me a copy of your wedding picture. I had to wheel and deal to get Dad to send me a picture, and I’ve left a space for Michael. Maybe I could have a copy made of his graduation picture from college.”

“I’ll do that for you.” She looked at the shadow box, and Annie wondered what she was thinking. Annie had put the Silver Star, Bronze Star, and Purple Heart in it along with some tools from a box in the garage: a measuring tape, a hammer, plans for the apartment, and some nails. Her mother’s gaze moved to the plaque in the center of the wall. Annie waited, saying nothing, giving her mother time. She had spent painstaking hours doing the calligraphy, making sure every word was spelled correctly. After all, it was in German and she didn’t speak it.

Denn also hat Gott die Welt geliebt dass er seinen, elingeborenen Sohn gab, damit alle, die an ihn glauben, nicht verloren werden, sondern das ewige Leben haben.

JOHANNES 3:16

“It shouldn’t be so easy,” her mother said quietly, guilt her mantle.

“The only thing the Lord won’t forgive is the refusal to believe and accept the gift of His Holy Spirit.”

“I believe, but . . .”

Studying her mother, Annie ached over the grief she saw in her face.
Eleanor Gaines would bear the consequences of her behavior over the years and live the rest of her life with regrets. But she didn’t have to live the rest of her life believing she had never been loved. God loved her. So had Grandma Leota. Her mother needed to know that. She needed to accept love so that she could move forward and do something constructive with her life. Grandma Leota had understood that and, with God’s guidance, she had provided for it. It was time her mother knew it.

Annie walked over to the old sewing machine sitting beneath the window that overlooked the driveway and rose-covered picket fence. “Grandma said you were a talented seamstress, Mom. She told me you used to go down to the fancy dress stores and look over the new styles, then come home and make improvements on them. She said you had the talent to become a wonderful designer.”

“Did she?”

“Yes, she did. She was very proud of you. Grandma said all the women in our family have been artists of one kind or another. Grandma Helene was a master with the embroidery needle and in the kitchen as a cook. Great-Aunt Joyce was a wonderful painter and graphic artist. Grandma Leota had a green thumb. You’re our clothing designer.” She saw the telltale moisture in her mother’s eyes.

Father, is she listening . . . really listening?

Annie knew her mother was trying hard to turn over a new leaf, to be better than she had been, to be brave. But that would never be enough. She needed to relinquish herself and let God show her what He had made her to be. Would she be willing to surrender her pride for that great purpose?

Today could be the beginning. Please, Lord, please. You’ve softened her. Will she take the seed?

“It’s yours, Mom.” Annie ran her hand over the polished wood of the antique Singer sewing machine. “You can take it anytime you want it.”

“It belongs to you, Anne-Lynn. Everything in the house belongs to you.”

She heard the hurt in her mother’s voice and knew she felt rejected despite the fortune in stocks she had been given. “Grandma Leota left things to me because she knew I’d pass them on when you and Uncle George were ready. This belongs to you, Mom. Grandma wanted you to have it.”

Her mother drew in a shaky breath. “How can you be so sure?” She looked so vulnerable, so hopeful. Like a little girl desperately longing for something just beyond her reach.

“Open it. See for yourself.” Annie walked over, kissed her mom, and left the room.

Nora trembled as she stood alone. She remembered the hours she had spent at this old sewing machine. She had found such pleasure and satisfaction in the work. She had lost herself in it. When had she stopped? Why? Was it the year she ran off and married Bryan? She had bought another sewing machine then, a newer one. But as the years rolled by, she had enough money to buy things off the rack. And there had never seemed to be enough time to sew. She was too busy driving Annie to school or music lessons or whatever else she’d planned for her to do.

Nora ran her hand over the old machine, seeing it now with new eyes. Just as her mother had retreated to her garden, she had retreated to this room, losing herself in her work, dreaming her dreams, hoping there was more to life than loneliness and rejection.
Oh, Mama, we weren’t so very different, were we? Why couldn’t I see that before?
Lifting the cover, Nora reached in and pulled the old machine up, locking it into position.

A white envelope was taped to the front of the machine.
Eleanor
was written in her mother’s handwriting. Hands trembling, Nora opened it.

My dearest Eleanor,

I knew one day you would return to yourself and open this machine again. I’m so proud of you. I remember standing in the doorway and watching you as you sewed. You had such amazing concentration. You took such care. You were never satisfied unless you’d done the job right. And you made beautiful things, darling, the kind of things only an artist can create. Artistic talent runs in our family, you know. Your father was a master carpenter. Just look at the fireplace mantel, the apartment behind the garage, the arbor to the victory garden. Grandma Helene could make the best strudel this side of the Atlantic. And your grandfather taught me how to grow things. You have a wonderful heritage.

I like to imagine you sitting at this sewing machine again one day and making costumes for church pageants, maternity clothing for poor young mothers, playsuits for children, and nice dresses for little old widow ladies like me. And the Lord will bless you for it. I know He will.