Simple Gifts (25 page)

Right now he was looking at the world champion of both, and I wasn't proud of the title.

“You're right.” I gathered my pride and replaced it with mock sarcasm. “I take it you have something you want to say to me.”

“You take it correctly.” He drew a chair closer and sat down. Crossing his hands, he studied his fingers. “Marlene. What I'm about say is unkind and I apologize, but you know you're the daughter I never had.”

“I know…I love you, Joe.”

“Very well and good, and I love you. But sweet talk won't get you out of what I'm about to say.”

“Fire away.”

“You are a spoiled, willful child in an adult body. Beth was too old to raise you, and Ingrid too wishy-washy. I watched you grow up in a world where everyone bent backwards to accommodate you because of Herman.”

I didn't like Herman's and my situation spoken about with such open candor. Our situation was mostly addressed in whispered snatches. I squirmed, prickly beneath his penetrating gaze.

Joe's eyes softened, gentled. “Herman gave you life, but I like to think I helped shape that life, and you're not living the life we shaped together.” He reached for my hands and his touch calmed me. Hands that had soothed childhood cuts and bruises, encouraged my dreams, and softened my letdowns. Disappointment warred with pride in his eyes.

“You're a lovely woman, and I'm going to tell you what others have only skirted around all your life. You got a rough deal; Herman had a worse one. I can't explain why God allows mental disability or senseless diseases—only he knows the answer. I do know that one day we'll have new bodies, and sickness, death, and pain will be no more. You were given the mental and physical abilities to overcome your family medical history; Herman is now free of his burden.” His hold tightened. “Listen to me, daughter. You're still young. If God desires, you'll have many years ahead of you, years to realize your dreams, years to enjoy life, to love, to race with the wind. Go to Vic. Confess what he already knows, and make your apologies. I can't say with certainty what he'll do, but I know what the effect will be on you. You'll bloom into the woman God intended, a woman full of love and grace. All you have to do is allow the bitterness to drain away.”

His words were like cleansing needles piercing ugly wounds. Not easy to hear, but healing. Lifting my eyes, I faced my accuser. “Do you think Vic will forgive me?” I clung to his hand, fearing that if I let loose of Joe, I'd let go of Vic too.

“Forgive you, yes. Will he forget, and will his love be strong enough to overcome the past? That's what you want, isn't it? To complete the dream that you and Vic began as children, to join as one, to grow old together?”

Pride fell away and I was so glad to rid myself of the burdensome garment. The missing weight left me buoyant, ready to do and face what I must. “I've dreamt of nothing less since the day I left Parnass Springs.”

“Then for heaven's sake—and the sakes of everybody else who's been forced to stand by all these years and watch this drama play out—
go
to the man and tell him your feelings.”

“Oh, Joe, he'll be so furious with me. All these years I've allowed him to think that Noel was still in my life.”

“He's
already
furious with you! And the world! He's a good man, Marlene, but he has his limits.” Joe sighed. “I pray daily you'll settle this lie, because it's strangling what could be a wonderful thing.”

I reached for a napkin to blow my nose. “What if I go to him and he rejects my apology? His relationship with Julie was founded on trust.” It'd be a cold day in August when he'd trust me again. “He loved her so deeply.”

“He did.” Joe's confirmation didn't do much to bolster my motivation. “But love comes in all forms, Marlene. You should know that. Your love for Herman was different than your love for Sara. Vic shared a deep and steadfast love with Julie, but Vic also remembers and grieves the love of his youth—the love of his life. And that's you, no matter how hard he tries to deny that fact, even to himself. Go to him, honey. Take advantage of what God has so richly put in your life. Not many find a love that spans year after year, trial after trial—and you and Vic
have
had your trials.” He released another deep sigh. “Melba and I had that love. It's a rare gift, Marlene. Don't throw it away.”

A priceless gift, love, and I'd had more than my share in life and failed to be grateful for it. Beth, though single and eccentric, and Ingrid, though staid and bitter at life, had nonetheless sacrificed to raise an infant.

Herman in his simple mind had allowed me angelic love; how many could claim that?

“I have so many apologies to make.”

Joe shrugged. “Name me a person who doesn't? Isn't it fortunate we serve a forgiving God? Now go and be the Proverbs 31 woman.”

He'd had me up till then. I was anything but a woman early-to-rise to serve my household with glee. But I could do better. And I knew exactly where I was going to start. I would confess my lie to Vic and face the consequences.

I hugged this man, without whom I could never have faced life. “Thank you.”

He hugged me back. “Thank you for listening. Now go do what's right.”

“I will.” And this time I meant it.

That evening I showed Ingrid the cigar box. Her fingers stroked the worn lid. “Herman's treasures. The things he kept in here were important to him.”

She opened the box and looked inside. I knew what she saw; things saved by the loved stepson who would never reach his full potential. She lifted the items, one by one. The pictures of me she placed to one side. “He was so proud of you.”

“I know that now. I was too young back then to understand. Ingrid, do you think I was spoiled?”

“Back then, you mean?”

I nodded.

She sat in silence. “The past is gone; I'd say you grew to be as good as most. Maybe better.” She picked up the cheap ring. “Herman's wedding band.”

I stared at her, not sure I'd heard right. “His
what
? Herman was…
married
?”

“He thought he was. He and Lexy. Couldn't convince him any different. He wore that silly ring until it got too tight. I'd thought he'd lost it, but he put it in here.”

Whoa! Hang on just a ding-dong minute here. Herman believed he was married to Lexy Parish. That was…

My eyes went wide. It was exhilarating!

My father thought he and my mother were married! Molestation had nothing to do with my conception, my birth. I was born out of commitment and love, not the adolescent hormones of two mentally challenged people. “Is that why I came into the world?”

She nodded. “He said they had the right. Seems he and Lexy loved children, maybe because they were both infants themselves. When the doctors told us about the pregnancy, it like to have killed us, but then we pulled up our socks and carried on.”

That they had.

Herman's morals had been straight and honorable all along. He thought, in his simple way, he'd married the woman he loved. Suddenly I saw it as clear as day.

The heritage my father left me wasn't one of mental lack or scandal. Not hardly. My father's heritage was one thing. Love.

That realization firmed my resolve even more. It was time for me to act on my true birthright.

I left Ingrid's and drove by the vet clinic. The security light was off, and Vic's pickup was gone. The truck wasn't in Joe's drive when I left.

Where was he?

I called twice more before exhaustion drove me to bed. I slept fitfully. Confession weighed heavily on my mind. I tossed, getting up twice to peer out the window to the darkened cottage behind Joe's place. Vic's home remained dark.

Oh Vic, come home. Please come home.

Thirteen

I
was up and dressed before dawn Saturday morning. I picked up the phone and dialed Joe. His sleepy voice came on the line. “'Lo?”

“Hi. I notice Vic's truck is gone.”

“Yeah, you just missed him. He sat up all night with a sick animal—I heard him stop by a few minutes ago to shower and change, and then he was off again. Can I help you?”

“No, I need to talk to him. You have any idea when he'll be back?”

“He said something about vaccinating some cows. Good gravy, Marly. Do you know what time it is?”

“Very early. I apologize, Joe. Do you expect him back soon?”

“Should be back by early afternoon, I'd guess.”

Joe wasn't thrilled that I'd roused him out of bed at this hour, but Joe was Joe, and for some inexplicable reason, he'd understood my need when I asked my next question.

“Joe, do you know where I can find my mother? I'm assuming that she is alive?”

I waited for his shock. Maybe even outrage. Instead, I heard him fumble for his glasses, then rustle some paper. What was he—?

“Woodland Health Care. It's an hour's drive from here. Here's the address and phone number.”

He'd looked it up in the phone book. Good ole Joe.

“Thanks.”

I moved so fast, I was probably halfway to Walgreens by the time Joe stumbled back to bed. I bought a small stuffed bear and candy kisses, and then, heart pounding, drove to the nursing facility. My resolve almost failed me when I arrived, and I sat in the car for thirty minutes trying to get enough courage to go inside.

Lord, please…help me. Am I doing the right thing? Don't let me make matters worse.

Sunlight filtered through budding oaks at the Woodland Health Care facility as dawn broke the eastern sky. My eyes swept the brick facade that had been my mother's home the majority of her life. Towering trees, an immaculate lawn, beds of colorful annuals already planted. The serene landscape lent a certain calmness and acceptance that immediately seized me.

And I knew. This
was
the right thing to do.

A warming breeze ruffled my arm, warning me that my light Windbreaker would be too heavy later. The weatherman on the radio was predicting “unusually high temperatures for this next-to-last day of April. And an 80 percent chance for thunderstorms by evening. Folks,” he cautioned, “this is a big system, one we'll be watching closely.”

Switching off the radio, I reached for the shopping bag I'd filled with the stuffed toy and Hershey's Kisses. Did my mother like chocolate?

She's a woman, isn't she?

Could I do this? Did I really
want
to do this?

The smell of breakfast lingered in the hallways when I walked into the facility. I sniffed—bacon and something sweet. Light streamed from a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows encircling the north end of the building. Carpeted seating areas were spotless from the work of morning cleaning crews. As health facilities went, this one was exceptional. The Parishes must pay a handsome amount to keep their daughter here year after year.

I located a bank of elevators, then the reception desk. Joe hadn't known much about Lexy Parish, other than he'd heard that she had been moved to Woodlands shortly after my birth. I handed the slip of paper with
Parish
written on it to the smiling, pink-smocked lady behind the desk.

“Lexy Parish? Yes.” She typed in the name and a moment later wrote a room number on a pad. “Take the second elevator to the third floor and turn right.”

Instead of a home, the facility suddenly felt like a hospital. Yet when the double doors opened and I stepped out into an atrium, I immediately relaxed. Birds flittered overhead. The soft but unmistakable trickle of a waterfall followed me down a warm, symmetrical-patterned tile walkway lit by soft landscape lighting. Benches nestled among exotic plants and palms that reached to the high-vaulted sky roof. My heart beat in my throat as I approached room 312—which, from what I could see through the slightly ajar door, wasn't a room but an apartment. I could hear the hum of a vacuum.

My nursing instinct kicked in, and I walked through the door before I realized I wasn't at work. Backing out quickly, I took a deep breath. No one had seen me. I'd stepped into a nicely appointed but empty sitting area.

I tapped on the door.

The vacuum hummed. I knew my timid knock wouldn't be heard above the noise. I stepped inside the room and rapped on the door facing. Still no response. Beyond the sitting room, I spotted a second room. Strip away the cold metal hospital bed in the middle of the floor, and the room would be a tastefully accentuated bedroom with three long floor-length windows on the east. Front row seats when Christ came again.

“May I help you?”

I jerked around and faced a housekeeper carrying a load of fresh linens.

“Ms. Parish? Is she accepting visitors?”

“Lexy? Sure, she's in here.”

I trailed the young woman into the bedroom, my meticulously thought-out speech gone, my mind as empty as a pawnshop pistol.

My eyes focused on the woman sitting in a high-backed, damask floral-covered chair facing the window embankment. For a moment I thought Ann Parish was visiting and I panicked. What would I say to the elder Parish? How would I explain my impulsive visit?

How did I explain it to myself? I'd woken this morning with an insane urge to see my mother before I left. Not once in forty-three years had I experienced this drive, but suddenly it was imperative that I meet the woman who'd given birth to me. The woman Herman had loved and thought he'd married.

Now I was standing in the same room as my mother. The foreign sensation took my breath.

“Lexy? You have an early visitor today.” The maid carried the linens to the bathroom as the woman in the chair turned to look at me—and I realized Ann Parish was right. My mother and I had the same warm, liquid eyes.

“Who are you?” Her voice was high-pitched, childish, the words slightly slurred.

Who was I?
I didn't know if she knew that she even had a daughter. Summoning a smile, I stepped forward. “How are you today, Lexy?”

A smile lit the corners of her eyes. She was exquisite. Makeup impeccably applied even at this early hour. Thick, dark braided hair. She wore a simple band on her right hand. Even as I drew closer, I recognized the ring—the twin was wrapped in white tissue in the bottom of Herman's cigar box.

She reached out for my hand. I caught hers, and for a split second we embraced. “Lexy. My name is Lexy. What's your name?”

“Marlene.” She didn't know me, and I didn't know her. I didn't feel any sudden rush of emotion—tears of a long-anticipated sentimentality. A basic twinge, maybe, curious definitely. This lovely woman looked nothing like I had expected. Maybe I'd expected a monster—some hideous-looking thing that drooled. As a health professional I should have known better. But for all of my training and experience, I hadn't ever been able to rid myself of those childhood fears. Those images that haunted me.

Now, as I looked at my mother, I saw how wrong those ideas were. Other than the surroundings, and a certain hint of something not quite right in her eyes, the woman sitting before me looked like any other woman her age.

“Marlene.” She smiled. “I like that name. Wanna sit beside me?” She patted a seat beside her and I sat down, my gaze roaming the row of silver-plated picture frames on the table beside her. I recognized Grayson and Ann Parish. There was a picture of an older couple, perhaps my great-grandparents, standing beside a porch rail trailing red roses.

I nodded toward the mementos. “Is that your family?”

Her eyes switched to the frames. “Uh-huh. My momma…and my papa. Grandma…and grandpa.” The words were slow, halting.

“Yes. Very nice.” I returned her smile, and then fumbled for the shopping bag. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” Childlike anticipation lit her eyes.

Why didn't I bring flowers? A simple bouquet of spring flowers instead of a stuffed toy. I almost didn't pull the bear out of the sack until she dipped her head to see around me. “Oh! A bear!”

I drew the toy out of the bag and gave it to her. You'd have thought I'd given her the Hope diamond. Her eyes misted. She tugged at the blue and green plaid shirt and jaunty hat, grinning. “For me? I
like
bears.” She hugged it to her.

Herman liked bears too. He carried some kind of stuffed animal everywhere he went—including my prom.

“I hoped you might.” I took out the chocolate kisses and again she was thrilled and offered me one. We sat in the tasteful bedroom and sucked on chocolate pieces. It was nice; a good daughter-mother thing we could share.

After a while, I noticed she seemed tired. When I attempted to take the bear, she drew the gift to her chest, holding tightly to the treasure. “My bear.”

“Yes, he's yours. Would you like for me to help you back into bed?”

“Uh-huh. Can I keep my bear? No take-backs?”

“He's yours to keep.” I slipped my arm around her waist and helped her into the bed. Out of habit, I straightened her pillow, put her call button close to her hand, and then tucked a blanket securely around the mattress. She clutched the bear to her chest.

“Will you come back and see me?”

“Of course I will. I had a lovely time. Thank you for sharing the chocolate.”

She chuckled, a soft, whispery sound. “I like chocolate.”

Yeah, Mom. A girl can never get enough chocolate.

I left the room a better person. Lexy Parish had no idea she'd just spent a few minutes with her daughter. I didn't know if she even understood that she
had
a daughter. The Parishes seemed to think that a statue of Herman in a town an hour away would be detrimental to their daughter's happiness, but I now knew that was propaganda—the protective parent kind. The statue would be detrimental to Grayson and Ann's happiness; Lexy wouldn't know or care.

But I did. I knew
and
I cared. The Parishes, by all appearances, were good people. The past should remain just that: the past.

I pushed the elevator button feeling better about myself and my past. I'd met my mother. Something I'd needed to do a long time ago. All my fear was for nothing. Sara was healthy—my mom wasn't the monster I'd pictured her to be. Dad was even turning out to be an okay guy.

The elevator doors opened, and I walked straight into Grayson and Ann Parish.

“Oh!” I stepped back quickly. “Oh!” I met my grandparents' startled faces. What did I say? How could I explain my appearance?

“Marlene?” Grayson was the first to recover. The door began to shut. He stuck out a hand and blocked the motion. Ann slipped out, and he followed. When the door closed, the three of us stared at each other. Then we all spoke at the same time.

“You must be wondering why—”

“Marlene?”

“How did you
know
where she was?”

“How? Joe told me. Joe Brewster.”

Grayson took my arm and led me to one of the benches. A tearful Ann followed.

“I'm sorry. I know I have no right to be here, but I'm leaving town soon and I just thought since I'd never be back…I just thought…” The last thing I wanted was a scene.
I just thought
—that was my problem. If I wouldn't act on my impulsive thoughts, I'd be in better shape.

“No.” Grayson's stern voice corrected me. “You have
every
right to be here.”

“Grayson!”

“No, Ann. Enough is enough. Regardless of the circumstances, Marlene is Lexy's daughter. She has every right to meet her mother.”

Ann sat down beside me, fumbling in her handbag for a tissue. I located one first and handed it over. “This is awkward. So terribly awkward.”

She delicately blew her nose. “Grayson is right. Did you tell Lexy…?”

“No! No. I didn't say a word.” I searched my grandfather's eyes. “I didn't. She asked who I was, and when I changed the subject, she never mentioned it again.”

The three of us sat in silence. Birds darted overhead. Everything
seemed
so normal yet our worlds had just collided.

Ann cleared her throat. “Why did you come?”

“I don't know. Until this business about Herman and the statue, I'd never thought much about her—Lexy. This morning I woke before dawn with this sudden need to see her. So I got Joe out of bed, stopped by Walgreens and purchased a teddy bear and a bag of Hershey's Kisses, and made the hour's drive here.” I paused and drew a heavy breath. “She's very pretty.” I looked at Ann. “She looks like you.”

Nodding, she wiped her nose. “And you look so much like her when she was your age. She named you, you know.”

“No.” I didn't know anything about my parents, not really. I leaned over and touched her arm. This had to be so hard on her. “I'm so sorry that Herman—”

“No.” Grayson corrected me a second time. “Not Herman. Herman and Lexy. Both were responsible. We've skirted around the fact for years, and it's high time Lexy shared the responsibility.”

“But—”

“Ann.” Grayson quieted his wife. “Our daughter is not normal; she has many problems, but you and I both know the truth. What happened forty-three years ago resulted from an act carried out by two consenting parties.”

My mind flew to the cigar box and the ring. “Are you aware that Herman and Lexy believed they were married?”

Ann looked up, her forehead creased.

“It's true.” I told them about the cigar box, and the matching rings. Herman believed he had married his friend, Lexy.

“Lexy's worn that ring ever since.” Ann's eyes met Grayson's. “She insisted they were married.”

“And we never believed her.”

“They couldn't have married. There was no ceremony.”