Simple Gifts (16 page)

No wonder my life had turned out so badly. God was paying me back for my sinful ways.

I stood and paced.
Stop it, Marlene. You know better than that.
Indeed, I did. God's Word was clear. If we confess our sins, he is quick to forgive…

I paused. But did confession necessarily lift the consequence of sin from our lives? I was still paying for an unrepentant sin, for lying to Vic and Joe and Aunt Ingrid. And even though I knew that in my father's mind he'd tried to be the best dad he knew how to be, I'd harbored resentment toward him. Could it be…?

Was that the real reason I'd refused to have Herman's image placed on this lawn?

I sat up straighter, the notion like a physical blow. No. I wasn't that petty or unkind. I'd loved Herman.

And you were ashamed of him.

I was ashamed of his
actions
, not of him. There was a difference, wasn't there? True, I wanted—longed for—a traditional father, but after awhile I knew that wasn't possible. You were allotted one birth father, and though I couldn't pick him, God had given me Herman. I didn't pretend to understand God's ways—didn't pretend to know why my birth had to be more a burden than a blessed event—yet I believed he had a plan for my life.

Of course, I still had no clue what that plan was. But I was starting to see something.

I had a little holy housekeeping to do. It was time to get my own house in order before I tried to fix someone else's.

Sitting in the peaceful silence, a second truth became clear to me: I shouldn't prevent the town from honoring my father. When I left Parnass Springs this time, it would be for good. When Aunt Ingrid passed, there would be nothing to bind me to this place, no reason for me to ever return. My convictions were sound; I didn't want Herman ridiculed, but if the shelter could convince me they would oversee the statue and retain its dignity, then who was I to deny my father this acknowledgment?

I slid off the bench, more optimistic, as though an anchor had dropped from around my neck. My foot encountered something on the walk and I paused, lifting my heel to inspect.
Squirrel droppings
.

Scraping the goop off on the edge of the sidewalk, I sighed.

Squirrel yuck. Right in the middle of my holy housekeeping. God's sense of humor grounded me.

Eight

I
ngrid was lying in wait when I stepped into the house, now apparently ready to discuss my earlier conversation with R J “What'd Rexall say about my countersuit?”

I draped my coat and purse on the hall tree. “He didn't mention the suit, but I think you should reconsider. It's not biblical to sue anyone.”

“I didn't start this—Prue Levitt did.”

“You know, Aunt Ingrid, this issue has clearly gotten out of hand. Eugene would roll over in his grave if he knew what you were doing.”

“Like I'm going to worry about Eugene.” She sniffed. “He didn't worry about me.”

“Even more reason for you to let the matter drop. The past is over. The Bible says ‘do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' “

You mean like telling them the truth?

Ouch. Good point. But I was talking about Aunt Ingrid here, not myself.

“You're taking Prue's side?”

“No!” I turned, taking a deep breath. “I'm taking your side. Look at you. You're paralyzed from stress. Is a foot worth your health?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “My time's about up anyway.”

“Nonsense.”

“While we're on the subject—” she handed me a thick folder—“here's my trust and burial plans. I want Joe to sing ‘Shall We Gather at the River' at my services, and I don't want Mattie to play the organ. Get someone else. My plot is next to Eugene's foot. Don't bury me anywhere but there. And oh, you mentioned something about getting Herman a new stone?”

“I have to call about that, and I need to have Beth's redone. I'm not happy with the work.”

“Order me one when you call; a double one with both Eugene's and my name on it.”

“You can't do that, Aunt Ingrid.”

“Do what?”

“You can't have your name and your ex-husband's name on the same stone without Eugene's permission.” I didn't know the law, but I thought that was a bit presumptuous, even though Ingrid had never remarried.

“How do you propose I get Eugene's permission?”

“You don't! He's
gone!
“Good gravy!

“Is there some law against having my ex-husband's name on the stone?”

“I don't know. How would I know?”

“I have Eugene's permission.”

“How do you conclude that?”

“He took a vow to me till death do us part. Some legal paper doesn't change that. He parted. I'm still here, and I want his name on my tombstone.”

“Okay.” I reached for a pad and pen. “Here's what I'll put:

‘Here lies Eugene's foot, the only part he allowed Ingrid to keep.'

‘Here lies his ex-wife, Ingrid. Stubborn as a mule.' “

I waved the paper in front of her. “Is this what you want friends and strangers to read?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but leave out the stubborn as a mule part.”

I slapped the pen back on the counter. Some days it didn't pay to get out of bed.

After lunch I made several calls. To the monument company, where I ordered a new stone for Herman and a new inscription for Aunt Beth. I didn't bother ordering Ingrid's stone. Knowing her, she'd change her mind overnight. “Consistency” wasn't in her vocabulary. The second call was to the animal shelter.

“Mrs. Queens!” Relief hummed in Winston Little's tone. “I am so glad that you've called.”

“I've reconsidered, Mr. Little. If the shelter wants to put a statue of Herman on the lawn, I won't object.”

“I can't tell you how happy I am to hear your decision!”

“I'd like one thing though. Will you order a statue of Butchie as well, and put him at Herman's heels?” That way the two would be immortalized together—Herman would love it, and the multiple Butchies deserved it.

“Certainly! Marvelous suggestion!” I could tell by Winston's tone that he was beaming. “Ingrid said if we just gave you a little time you'd come around.”

“Oh she did, did she?” White heat seared my cheeks.

His tone dropped to apologetic. “Well, of course, like all of us, we want only the best.”

“I can't believe Ingrid would be so manipulative!” What was I saying? The woman was a
born
manipulator. A natural talent.

“Well…er…you know, your aunt wields a great deal of power in this town.” I could almost hear a smile surface on the other line. “But since you've agreed, there's no problem.”

No problem? It seemed to me like we had a big problem. She had treated me like a child and ignored my feelings. I was ticked.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Little. In view of this new information, I may have to rethink my decision.”

“Oh dear!”

“I won't be here to maintain the integrity of the site. I'll have to call you later.” I hung up. The sound of my uneven breathing and the ticking clock filled the kitchen. This was the last straw. I'd have it out with Ingrid right now. Regardless of how she felt, I would have something to say in the matter.

Whirling, I shouted. “Aunt Ingrid!”

I marched through the house ready to do battle. Herman was Ingrid's stepson but he was my father. My aunt might rule Parnass Springs, but she didn't rule me, and I refused to be pushed around. Hiding out in her bedroom, was she?

My cell phone rang, and I jerked it out of my pocket.

“Mom?”

“Can't talk right now, Sara—”

“Mom. You have to come home. I'm losing the baby.”

I cried most of the flight home early Friday morning. How could I have left Sara to take care of two toddlers under the age of three? I allowed myself the reasonable excuses, but I'd failed as a mother and I knew it.

My son-in-law met me at the airport and drove me to Chicago Hope Hospital where Sara had been admitted. When I walked into her room, my daughter was sitting up in bed, pale, but smiling bravely. “Oh, Mom.” She dissolved in my arms, weeping.

“It's okay, honey. I'm here.” I shrugged out of my coat and dropped down on the side of the bed. “I'm so sorry, Sara. I should have been here.”

“It's okay. False alarm. The baby's fine.” She sat up, sniffed, and blew her nose.

The welcome news almost took my breath. “You didn't lose the baby?”

“No. Thank God.” She grinned at Pete. “We were pretty scared there for a few hours.”

The mad rush to book a plane, the frantic scramble to get someone from Ingrid's church to stay with her, the flight, and the emotional wringer I'd been through left me sagging. I moved to the chair and sat down.

Sara frowned. “I can go home this morning—you okay, Mom?”

“Just tired, honey. Incredibly tired.”

“I'll bet. Pete, why don't you take Mom to the cafeteria and get her something to eat? It'll be a few hours before the paperwork gets done here.”

Pete led me to the hospital cafeteria where he got me a hot coffee and a ham sandwich. I was so exhausted my head spun.

“What happened?” I finally managed when I leaned back to catch my breath.

“Sara woke up from a nap and was having some discomfort. I decided it was best to let her doctor determine if it was anything serious.”

“Who has the kids?” I cupped my hands around the mug, relishing the warmth.

“A neighbor.” He checked his watch. “I need to phone and check on them. Sara should be released within the hour. I have patients waiting at the office.” He glanced at me. “A friend brought over our other car just in case. Can you drive Sara home while I go in to work?”

I nodded, still numb. All this rushing and worrying was too much for me. I was relieved that Sara and the baby were fine, still…

He pushed back from the table, draining his mug. “How was your vacation?”

“Lovely.”

“Thanks, Marlene.” He dropped a cursory kiss on the top of my head. “You're a peach.” He turned to walk away, then turned back. “You'll need to get the kids the minute you get home. The neighbor seemed a little antsy when I talked to her earlier.”

I nodded. Check. Get kids. Neighbor antsy. Welcome home, Marlene.

Petey and Emma seemed glad to see me. Nancy Billings, the neighbor, seemed even happier. “Hey, Marlene. Good to have you back. Sara's sure missed you.”

“I missed her too. Thanks for taking care of the children, Nancy.”

She sobered. “Did she lose the baby?”

“No. False alarm.”

Petey clasped his arms around my legs, knocking me off balance. “Me-maw, where
haf
you been?”

I glanced down at him. This beautiful boy was my first grandchild. How could I have left him? Emma toddled toward me. “Me-maw. Me-maw.”

I scooped her up in my arms. “Me-maw's home. Did you miss me?”

She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

Petey yanked my pants leg. “I chased the cat.”

That wasn't good. In Nancy's house the cat ruled. Nancy's Tommy was huge, gray, and overweight. If Petey chased the cat, Nancy must be beside herself. I glanced at her. “Tommy all right?”

“Shut up in the bedroom. Poor thing almost had a nervous breakdown. Don't believe he'll ever be the same.”

“Petey, you shouldn't chase the cat. Tommy's too old to run.”

He flashed a dazzling smile. “I wanna to.”

I nodded. Took after his mother. “I'm sorry, Nancy. First chance I get, I'll bring Tommy a catnip mouse.”

She nodded, a frown creasing her forehead. “He'd like that. He's under the bed, and I can't get him to come out. Just sits there shaking and staring into space.”

Yeah. I knew the feeling.

“Yes, well, he'll settle down as soon as we leave.” A twinge of irritation pricked my conscience. Petey was just a little boy who was used to playing with his cats. I reached down and took his hand. Emma's chubby arms clasped around my neck. “We have to go, Nancy, thanks a lot.”

“I'm really glad you're home, Marlene. Don't run off again.”

“No danger of that. I'm here to stay.” The thought made me want to cry. Never see Vic or Joe again? I said good-bye to Nancy and led the children across the yard to the house where Sara, and work, waited.

Sara's housekeeping skills had gone by the wayside with Emma's birth. When I unlocked the front door and ushered my daughter inside, I resisted the urge to ask if there'd been a burglary. I wasn't sure if the chaos was the result of bad housekeeping or if the house had been ransacked in their absence.

Sara headed straight for the sofa, features pale. I dropped Emma's diaper bag on the floor and herded Petey to his bedroom.

“I don't wanna take a nap!”

“I don't wanna make you! So give us a both a break and go nite-nite without a fuss.”

Emma bucked in my right arm, bursting into tears.

“It's okay, baby. You're going nite-nite too.”

“Haveta kiss mama.” Petey bounced out of the youth bed, and I caught his shirttail before he escaped.

“Later. Momma's resting now.”

While the weary household napped, I picked up the clutter and started a load of wash. The results of my absence were duly noted. Sara was behind in her chores. Cereal had dried on the high-chair tray. A Cheerios trail snaked through the downstairs' rooms.

Home. You had to love it.

I made a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of tea. My blood sugar was doing cartwheels, so I stuffed the sandwich down, keeping an ear tuned to the children's bedrooms. The past twenty four hours' events had worn them out and they slept soundly.

When my cell rang, I snatched it up and hit the button, then remembered to switch the ring to vibrate. Joe was on the line. “Just checking on you, Little Marlene. How's your daughter doing?”

“She's okay, Joe. False alarm.”

“Well, praise the Lord. We've all been worried about her. I stopped by Ingrid's earlier and she was asking if I'd heard anything.”

“Is Ingrid okay?”

“She's a tough old bird. She'll do fine, but she's driving Mrs. Henkins up the wall.”

She'd drive a drill sergeant up the wall. What was I going to do about her? Mrs. Henkins lived four doors down and she'd agreed to step in during the emergency, but I still had no long-term solution for Aunt Ingrid's care. During the flight home I'd done some soul searching and didn't like what I'd unearthed.

Me. Or the woman I'd become.

Raising Sara, struggling to make ends meet, I'd never stopped long enough to think, but the past ten days had allowed me a glimpse of the real me. A daughter that had failed her father. A niece who had little patience for her aunt's needs. A mother who nurtured her daughter's overdependence.

But most of all, a woman who willingly continued to live a lie.

I didn't like that woman very much.

“Marlene? You there?”

“Sorry. I'm here.”

“You're coming back, aren't you?”

No. I wasn't coming back. I knew at that moment I'd never go back. I'd arrange to have Aunt Ingrid flown here. She could stay with me until her paralysis lifted. The change would do her good, maybe even enhance her life. I'd list Beth's house with a realtor and appoint someone to oversee the needed repairs. Joe would look after Ingrid's home until we could decide if the move was permanent.