Life Is A Foreign Language (37 page)

Craig Clarke, the GP, became her ally. They had met briefly when Nina visited the clinic with Michael. Now he was her self-appointed mentor, helping her steer clear of many avoidable mistakes.

Craig—who reminded her of Kojak—was tall, and had a healthy outdoors coloring and athletic muscle tone. She learned he was a marathon runner, often placing among the ten best.

On her first morning at work, Nina arrived early, but Craig was already there. He introduced her to her new colleagues.

Taking her across the inner hall, he stopped in front of a closed door. “We took a bit of a risk here. I hope you’ll be all right with this.”

She looked at the door, then glanced at Craig. “Is this my office?”

“Yes.”

She closed her eyes. “This used to be Michael’s.”

He turned the doorknob, leaving the door ajar. “Yes, this was his office. We put in new linoleum and changed the furniture.”

Opening her eyes, she pushed the door and looked inside, but didn’t cross the threshold.

The room was transformed—the Walt Disney figures gone, the walls painted eggshell white. The toys were still there, but the desk and swivel chair had been replaced by fake leather chairs and shelves holding books, magazines and drawing pads. A TV set and a VCR spelled state-of-the-art equipment, perfect for individual counseling. The stack of folding chairs against the back wall and a few beanbags made the room easily transformable for group sessions. A laptop computer and printer on a table and a desk chair completed the outfit. Every trace of Michael had disappeared.

Taking a deep breath against the dull ache in her chest, Nina nodded. “This is great. You did a wonderful job.” She was relieved she didn’t have to deal with the burden of transforming Michael’s domain to a neutral office.

“I’ll love working here. It’s so light.”

Looking around she didn’t see it. Nina scanned the room once more, but still couldn’t find it. She turned to face Craig. “I miss the big jar with lollipops Michael had on his desk. Know where it is?”

He walked to a filing cabinet and from a drawer took out the jar, now only half full.

Nina took it from him and placed it on the corner of the desk, making a mental note to keep it filled with lollipops.

“I’d like to serve coffee to those who want it. I have some stuff at home, which will come in handy.”

“We thought there might be things you’d like to take care of yourself.” He pulled out two of the beanbags and pummeled them into comfortable shape. “Come, let’s sit for a minute.

Nina dropped into one of the bags and wiggled around to adjust it to her body.

“What you’ll encounter here is probably somewhat different from your professional experience,” Craig said. “This is a melting pot of society’s rejects.” He made a broad sweep of his hand to indicate the vastness they dealt with. “Don’t feel you have to be fully functional immediately. Take your time.”

“Thanks. I’ll need to get used to working here. As you said, the patients are different from what I’m used to. Having worked in a business setting, I have to get used to clinical work again, but I’m excited about it. I’ll do my very best.”

“I’m sure. Michael knew a good professional when he saw one. You’ll be fine.”

Nina’s nervousness vanished. Within a few weeks she was in her element. The work in itself was no different from what she had done before, but the variance in patient base was huge. It called for other tools, caused her to modify her language, forced her to be creative, to innovate. She was unfamiliar with the social structure and local community resources, but discovered she only needed to ask one of her colleagues, and she had the information she needed.

She dealt with sexual abuse, all forms of child abuse. Teenage pregnancies were frequent and often drained her emotionally. They required evaluation whether the mother was mature enough to take care of her baby, or if adoption was the recommended solution. When the baby had to be given up for adoption, Nina could hardly stand it.

There was grief work with those who had sustained important losses—also cases of alcoholism and drug addiction. Issues of codependence. The big difference from France was in the volume. From time to time, Nina thought that working seven days a week would only skim the surface of people in need of someone to listen, orient them, work with them so they could learn to help themselves.

She was adamant about attendance in self help groups.

“One day,” she told her group of addicts and alcoholics, “you and I will part ways. The great effort you’ve put into your own recovery, the wonderful progress you’ve made will fall by the wayside if you don’t continue to nurture the solution, instead of feeding the problem, which is what you did before we met.”

These patients agreed to give it a try. Reluctantly at first. When they discovered the positive effect meetings in twelve step groups had on them, when they felt the warm welcome and love, they attended from desire, not compliance. When this happened, she was thrilled to witness them grow and change. She knew these people were safe from alcohol and street drugs for as long as they continued minding their recovery by going to meetings and staying clean.

In Annecy Nina had often been plagued by inadequacy and burnout. Here with desperate people who had lost so much, Nina came to love her work again. The difference was in the support and positive feedback she received from her coworkers.

Early on a sultry Saturday afternoon, Nina was out in the garden pruning overgrown hibiscus bushes. She heard steps on the driveway and turned to look.

She stood. “Hi, Chris. Nice of you to come by.”

He put an arm around her waist and hugged her. “I’ve come to interrupt. We’re all at Brian’s. You’re presence is needed.”

“Is that so? What for?”

“We have an appointment with the attorney on Monday about Dad’s estate. Before we meet with him we want to settle things between us. As you know, Dad didn’t leave a will.”

“Chris, I don’t want to be in on this. I was Michael’s future wife—it doesn’t make me next of kin.”

He was thoughtful as he gazed at her. Then his face brightened. He went down on one knee, crossed his hands and raised them to eye level, saying in a pleading voice, “Would you please come, Nina!”

She laughed, a hearty peal. “You win. Give me a moment to change into a clean T-shirt and a pair of sandals.”

He stood and bowed from the waist down, hands pressed together in the Oriental salute and accompanied her to the living room. “I’ll wait for you.”

When Nina entered Samantha and Brian’s home they were all there seated in the living room—Brian and Samantha, Chris and Linda, Peter and Ally. And Marley sitting on the floor. Standing, he met her halfway across the room, kissed her on each cheek then held his hand to her heart an instant, as was his habit. “Glad to see M’am Nina.”

Nina smiled; they had spent time together counseling only two days ago, but Marley made it sound as if he hadn’t seen her in ages. “Glad to see you, too.”

On the lanai Nina noticed Michaela’s pram. “Is she having her nap?”

Samantha nodded. Nina walked to the glass door, seeing one rosy cheek and Michaela’s long sweeping eyelashes. She longed to hold her—the need to hold and be held was like a hunger. Skin on skin, bone on bone—it was all in the past. She turned away from the door. It was time she learned to become her own nurturer, there was nobody who could do it for her now.

Brian cleared his throat. “Before we get down to business, I have something here that Nina should have.”

“What is it? A surprise?” She tried to strike a light tone, but felt something ominous in the air.

Brian walked to where she sat in the recliner, slightly apart from the others. He held out his hand with a white satin box resting in his palm. “The other day the hospital finally returned Dad’s clothes. This was in a pocket of his slacks. It belongs to you.”

Nina stared at it, unable to reach for it, unable to remove her eyes.

“Here, Nina. Take it.” When she still didn’t move Brian took her hand and placed the box on her palm. “Now, open it.”

No! I don’t want to. Please don’t make me. I know what it is, I don’t want to see it.
She was filled with fear—fear of the familiar pain and the tangible reminder of having lost Michael.

When Nina made no move open the box, Brian did it for her, removing the ring. He reached for her left hand and slipped it on the ring finger—a diamond studded Eternity band.

“Dad showed me this ring the morning of the Festival. He asked if I thought you’d like it. If you agreed to marry him, he planned on giving this to you in the evening during the dinner celebration.” He held his hand on her shoulder. Through blurry eyes Nina saw tears in Brian’s, also.

“I know this must be painful. Dad bought this engagement ring for you. He would want you to wear it. Please, Nina.” Brian’s voice broke.

She lowered her head to hide the tears. Brian stuck a napkin in her hand. She felt somebody sit on the arm of her chair; she didn’t need to look to know it was Marley. He took her hand in his and crooned softly while she cried.

When she calmed and the tears subsided she reached to press her cheek to his.

“T’is good, M’am Nina. Mon know you has his ring. He happy.” He took her hand with the ring and held it up for her to see. “Look? T’is beautiful, it is. He want eternity with you. He love you. You love him, you wear Mon’s ring.”

She nodded. Yes, she would wear Michael’s ring.

The other matters they wanted to discuss concerned Michael’s house. It would be sold, and the sons wanted to know what Nina wished to keep.

She thought of his home. “There’s only one thing I would love to have, if nobody objects.” And she asked for the little cushion with “Winnie the Pooh” and the embroidered letters “Home Is Where My Honey Is.”

“It used to be in his bedroom, on the recliner.”

“Is that all you want?” Peter asked.

“Yes.” She placed a hand on her heart. “I have everything else right here.”

They all looked at her.

“I have my memories. I have our love. The rest is immaterial. I want to remember Michael from the things we shared. I don’t need trinkets.”

The discussion went on. Their voices faded in and out of her consciousness. This didn’t concern her. She paid attention only when Peter made arrangements with Marley to go over to Michael’s house one of the next days to pick out some furniture. A bed and other things Marley needed to furnish the room in Peter and Ally’s home to make it his own, to make it the way he wanted.

“There’s the question of the ‘Nina Brochard’,” Brian said.

Hearing the name, Nina glanced at him. “Why is the rose an issue?”

“Several nurseries have made offers to buy all the plants to commercialize the rose. The Midpoint Country Club strongly insisted the rose belongs to them because it was first introduced publicly there. They offered a very attractive price for the legal rights to own it, name and all.”

Nina blinked in surprise. “What do you want to do? Why not leave all the plants where they are?”

“It’s an idea, for sure,” said Chris, “but considering how important the ‘Nina Brochard’ was to Dad, I think we should make sure it will survive. The house is up for sale. With a new owner, there’s no guarantee they’ll take care of the rose so it won’t mutate, or even die.”

She hadn’t thought of this. In fact, she’d hardly thought of the rose at all until now. Remembering Michael’s passion when he talked about his work and showed her the flower, it became all-important that no effort be spared to assure its survival.

“We have to take care of the rose, make sure it doesn’t fall into strangers’ hands,” Nina said. “Why don’t we all take as many plants as we can? All of us have gardens. We can transplant them, can’t we?” As they all looked at her she let her voice trail away.

“Would you take a few of them?” Samantha asked Nina.

“Certainly. You’ll have to show me how to care for it, but there’s space in my garden, so naturally I’ll take as many as I can.”

Nodding vigorously, Brian glanced at Nina. “I think it’s a great idea. We’ll select the sturdiest and healthiest plants. Nina, you’re a gardener, you’ll do fine.”

“It’s settled then,” Chris said. “Before we put the house up for sale we’ll get the plants.”

They all had another drink. Nina took the glass of white wine Samantha offered and settled comfortably in the recliner. She heaved a little sigh of gratitude; Michael’s sons and daughters-in-law were good to her. In a simple and natural way, they’d made room for her and adopted her as … as what? Michael’s widow? Hardly. As a step-mother-in-law, more likely. It wasn’t important to label the relationship. They made her feel she belonged. She finally belonged. They were generous, and Nina appreciated their consideration.

In the evening when she prepared for bed, she was about to take off his ring—then changed her mind and left it on her finger. It united her to Michael.

Chapter 43
 

At long last, the day arrived. Nina had hoped and despaired, planned and reflected; finally, Morgan and Natalie were to arrive. Tonight she would drive to the airport to pick them up, and she would have them to herself for a whole month.

Their room was ready, the one next to her own with the bathroom just across the corridor. She opened the door to the guest bedroom and was met with the sun streaming in through the window, reflecting off the lacquered white furniture with purple comforters, the color repeated in the lampshades.

Too restless to wait at home, she drove to the airport early. She got a decaf at Starbucks’ kiosk just before it closed for the night and walked the corridors until she saw on the monitor that the plane had landed.

And there they were. Morgan and Natalie—a bit bleary eyed, but both smiling their sweet smiles, strands of blond hair escaping their ponytails.

“Oh my darlings. Come, hug hard.” And she enfolded them both in her arms, crying and laughing.

“Mami, it’s great to see you and it’s wonderful to be here.”

After they collected the luggage, Nina led them to the car. When the sliding doors opened and they were met with a gust of hot air both girls stopped, drew air in their lungs and grinned.