Sister's Choice (28 page)

Grace exploded at last. “Really? Then while you’re hammering it in a little more, let me give you something to think about. Call it a riddle. Why does a good-looking young man like Tom Stoneburner refuse to succumb to all those pretty young girls who set their caps for him? Maybe you’re a country woman, but you’ve got at least that much sophistication, don’t you? I’m telling you I loved your brother. I probably would have married him if he’d asked me. But he didn’t. He loved me in his own way, but Tom used me. He wanted to show the world something, and he used me to do it.”

“What? What did my brother need from the likes of you?”

“To show the world he was a real man!”

“He
was
a real man. A real man who just needed a real woman!”

“Helen, there wasn’t a woman anywhere who could have made him feel more alive than I did. Don’t you get it? Tom couldn’t feel that way about a woman, period. You see if you can figure out the rest of it.”

Helen just stared at her again. Grace knew she had gone too far. She turned and opened the door, then stepped out on the porch, letting the screen door bang behind her. She fished for her cell phone in the pocket of her bright green pants and flipped it open to call Cash. Then she felt a hand close around her arm.

“Don’t you go off and run away now. Just spit it all out.” Helen’s voice was hoarse, and she coughed, a deep croak of a cough. “Say it out loud. What are you trying to make me believe?”

“Let go of me, Helen.”

“You can’t leave now. Just finish your say.” She dropped her hand. Then she surprised Grace. “Please…”

Grace closed her eyes. She tried to figure out how to undo the damage anger had done, but it was past time to lie. She tried to tell the truth in the kindest way she knew.

“Times were different then. A man had to be every part a man. Didn’t matter if he was brave, or hardworking, or loyal. Not if he wasn’t interested in girls. So a lot of men in those days—today, too, I guess—
pretended
they were interested, Helen. Or they tried to
tell
themselves they were. Tom was one of that last kind. He wanted to love me, and he did. Only not in the way he needed to. He wanted to be like all his friends. Like Obed. He wanted to fall in love with a woman. But he finally realized that he couldn’t, and he knew it wasn’t fair to me to go through life pretending. Tom was in love with somebody else.”

She opened her eyes. “And it wasn’t somebody like
me.
”

“You’re lying.”

“No matter what you think of me, do you think I’m the kind of woman who would make up something like this just to spite you? Why? Because we’re different kinds of quilters? Or because I want to give you something to really hold a grudge for? What would be my reason?”

“Tom wasn’t like that.”

Grace felt all the life seeping out of her. “Like what? He was one of the best men I ever knew, the very best, next to my Ben. He died fighting for his country, even though he was a sensitive soul who hated to kill a chicken or sell off those calves he raised for beef. He used to tell me how much he hated to see anything suffer. But anybody could count on Tom to do what needed to be done, whether he liked it or not. He was a man all the way down to the bone. He was just a man who was in love with another man, and a man who despised himself because of it.”

Helen felt behind her and found the arm of a chair. She lowered herself into it. Then she put her head in her hands.

Grace knew Helen was replaying all her memories of her brother, looking for proof that Grace was wrong. But she wouldn’t find it. They had all been so blind in those days. Blind, careless and judgmental.

“You should have told me before,” Helen said at last. “You should have told me years ago.”

“Why? So you could tell yourself Tom was no good? After he was killed, I wanted to preserve his memory. He deserved that. He never deserved anything less. And people are unkind, even hateful, about homosexuality. Even today.”

Helen sat up and met Grace’s gaze. “You thought I wouldn’t understand.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought. Do you?”

“Who was the man?”

“I don’t know. I just know there was somebody. I had to figure out a lot of the little things on my own and confront him. It was about as awful as you can imagine.” Grace sat down across from Helen. “He didn’t want me to know, but he didn’t want to lead me on. He told me this, he told me that, but it was only when I got a bit older that I finally understood
everything
he’d tried to say and couldn’t quite get out. Then it finally all fell into place.”

She waited. Helen didn’t speak. Grace could see her struggling with this bombshell, trying to figure out if it was true, trying to figure out if she could admit it might be. Then Helen’s shoulders slumped, and her words surprised Grace.

“Poor Tom.”

Grace repressed a sigh, but for the first time that evening, she felt encouraged. “Yes, poor Tom, for living in the times and place he did. Maybe even in those days he could have found a way to be himself, if he’d lived in the big city. But there was no place like that around here.”

Helen met her eyes. “Do you think that’s why he went to war when he did? Why he didn’t wait to be drafted? Do you think he was trying to prove something, or maybe get himself killed so he wouldn’t have to face his feelings anymore?”

When it came right down to it, Grace was surprised at how quickly Helen had accepted her explanation, but perhaps there was no reason to be. Helen had grown up with Tom, and now a lot of unanswered questions and actions that she had refused to recognize were finally being resolved. On some level, buried deep inside her, perhaps she had suspected the truth all along.

“I don’t think Tom wanted to die,” Grace said, putting her hand over Helen’s. “I think he wanted to serve his country. Just like his brother. Like the man he’d grown up to be. I think maybe if he hadn’t been killed, he would have proved something to himself, maybe gone on to find a way to reconcile all the different pieces of who he was. But he
was
killed, so now we’ll never know.”

“I would have loved him, any way he was.”

“Would you?”

Helen was silent for a while, as if she was searching deep inside her. “Maybe I wouldn’t have understood, not the way I do now that I’m old, and maybe I would have tried to change him. But I would never have stopped loving him. None of us would have.”

“I’m sorry he didn’t know that.”

Helen nodded a little. Then, as if to negate it, she shook her head. “And all these years, you’ve been keeping quiet about it. You never told nobody?”

“Not even Ben. I did that for Tom. He deserved the respect his sacrifice demanded, without anybody filtering it through their own prejudices.”

Helen was quiet for a long time, and when she spoke, her voice was soft.

“I guess I misjudged you. You’re a better woman than I thought.”

Grace figured that was as much of an apology as Helen had ever given anybody in her life. She was warmed by it. She nearly smiled, but didn’t, because one thing still bothered her.

“Just tell me, Helen, that you’re not going to think less of
him
now. Tell me I didn’t make a big mistake by letting you know the truth.”

“Tom was my brother, same as Obed. They were both heroes, just like my Fate. Nobody can take that away from me. I don’t think one hair less of him. I’m just sorry he died not knowing that.”

Grace squeezed Helen’s hand, and as the cool dusk turned to a chillier night, they sat in silence and listened to the symphony of crickets.

J
amie wrinkled her nose at the bowl of cereal in front of her. “With Hannah, I never craved any foods. I was too busy to worry about anything except making it through another hour of rehab. With Alison, I wanted cheeseburgers and Hershey bars. Not hard to find, but I had to go easy on both. I could have lived on them gladly, though. Nothing else appealed to me.”

Grace tsked in commiseration. “When I was pregnant with Sandra, I wanted Swiss cheese. And black-eyed peas. And pickled watermelon rind.”

“Ooh, watermelon rind. That sounds yummy. Is the rind crisp
and
sweet?”

“Crunchy crisp, and toe-curling sweet the way I make it. I’m sure there’s a jar or two in the fruit cellar still. We’ll have one with supper when you get back.”

“Maybe by then I’ll stop craving fresh raspberries.” Jamie pushed away her breakfast cereal, oat flakes dotted with little dried bits of an assortment of berries. It was the best she’d been able to do at the local grocery store. Several weeks ago she had seen tiny flats of overripe berries that had cost the moon, and with great condescension, she had passed them by. Ever since, she’d obsessed about the way they would feel in her mouth and against her tongue, that sweet “pop” of flavor that the handpicked local berries had provided in early summer. She’d gone back to the store to humble herself and buy the overpriced, overseas, overripe substitute, and even those had disappeared.

“It’s a shame you didn’t want them a few months ago, when they were available,” Grace said.

“A couple of months ago I wanted crisp, fresh apples.”

“You certainly have plenty to choose from now.”

The apple harvest was well under way, and the quiet drive up to the house was now crowded with work trucks every day. The crop was mediocre, due at least partly to drought conditions, and just good enough to keep the orchard out of bankruptcy. Jamie and the girls had spent hours watching the picking, sorting and processing. Along the way, they had completed Apples 101.

They had learned that, because of the difference in sun exposure, apples from different parts of the same tree might ripen faster, so harvest times could vary. They had watched Grace drop iodine on the cut surface of certain varieties to see if they turned blue, indicating that the proper degree of sugar had developed. For the same reason they’d learned to cut into the McIntosh variety to see if the seeds had turned brown. They’d learned about codling moths, leaf rollers and aphids, and the damage they could do. And they’d learned to fear fire blight, one of the worst diseases to hit any orchard.

They’d also tried their hands at picking apples from the lowest branches, learning to take the stem with the apple, without damaging the spur. Unfortunately, at this point, even the most loving management couldn’t change the fact that the trees hadn’t received the highest level of care. As they had been for several years, Cashel Orchard’s apples would be “processors” targeted for juice and sauce. They would not bring the best price.

“How about a cup of hot cider to go with that cereal you’re going to finish?” Grace asked.

Jamie smiled at the last part. “You don’t have to wait on me. I can get anything I need.”

“Why do you think I begged you to stay? I need somebody to wait on, child. Voices in the house, people who need me? That’s what motivates these old bones to get out of bed in the mornings.”

“You’re still sure you want us to keep living here? You haven’t gotten sick of us yet?”

“No chance of that, dear.”

Now that Jamie was allowed out of bed for most of the day, she could manage at the cabin. But when she had tried to pack and leave, Grace had insisted she remain at the orchard, and truthfully, Jamie preferred it this way. She liked Grace’s company and the help with the girls. And she had fallen in love with the old house, with its airy rooms, nooks and crannies. She felt at home here, and she loved being able to spread out.

Still, she was about to leave Grace’s house anyway, although only for a little while. She had scheduled a meeting for the day after tomorrow with her faculty advisor at the university. During her weeks of enforced rest, she had worked hard on her new ideas, and she wanted to see how they would best fit into her graduate curriculum. Although they had been in touch by telephone, the time had come to visit and show him what she had on paper.

“Well, the girls will have fun at the cabin while I’m in Michigan,” she said. “And Kendra and Isaac will get a taste of full-time parenting.”

“You’re certain you feel well enough for the trip?”

“It’s not as grueling as it sounds. It’s not a long flight to Detroit, and my friend Tara will pick me up at the airport tonight. I’ll stay at First Step, and they’ll take good care of me. And seeing everybody will do me good.”

“I’m just glad you have a doctor there you trust, just in case.”

“I have the best doctor in the world,” Jamie assured her. “Suz won’t let anything happen to me. You can count on that. In fact, we’re getting together for breakfast while I’m there.”

“Well, I hope that will be all the traveling you do. I’ll worry.”

Having lived through one scare already, Jamie understood Grace’s misgivings about her decision to travel now. But Dr. Raille had given the okay and warned Jamie that this was the time to make the trip if she had to. With twins, there was always the possibility of enforced bed rest near the end to prevent early labor, and the doctor had told Jamie to prepare. Once Kendra heard the plan, she’d wanted to drive Jamie to Michigan, taking the trip in easy stages, but Jamie had asked her sister to take care of the girls instead. Kendra and Isaac would move into the cabin while the girls continued with school.

Cash had been the only one who hadn’t weighed in on Jamie’s decision. When she’d explained what she intended, he had simply nodded and told her she was a big girl, and if she felt good enough to go, she ought to.

A man who trusted her to understand her own body and heart? That was a man worth knowing.

“I could make pancakes,” Grace said. “I have frozen blueberries. Will that help?”

Jamie pulled the cereal bowl back toward her. “No, there’s nothing wrong with this cereal. I’m going to finish it and enjoy every bite if it kills me. I’m eating a well-balanced diet and taking vitamins. This craving is all in my head. Tomorrow I’ll probably want lobster or truffles or something else not easily available.”

“And something you’d need a loan to enjoy.”

Jamie licked the back of her spoon, the way Hannah always did when she was trying to delay eating something that didn’t appeal to her.

She decided to get something off her chest. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you, Grace, but I’m more or less an heiress.”

“How can you be more or less? Either you are or you aren’t.”

“Well, I inherited more money than anybody has a right to, and I have less interest in having it than you might expect.” She looked up. “I could afford lobster and truffles three times a day and never feel the pinch. Although I would certainly get tired of it. Wouldn’t anybody?”

“I don’t know, never having tried it.” Grace brought Jamie the cider. “I knew your sister and brother-in-law were well off. They’re not sparing any expense on the house, although it’s certainly not one of those mini-mansions so many people would build there, just to show they could. But I didn’t have any idea where the money came from.”

“It’s not something we talk about. I lived without money when I ran away. Now I’m living with it. With it is better. But that’s as far as it goes.”

Grace made a wise guess. “And you don’t talk about it because you don’t want people to treat you differently.”

“It doesn’t change who I am. I grew up with it. It’s part of the package, and I’m used to it. Our family foundation supports so many worthwhile charities that I don’t even feel particularly guilty about spending an infinitesimal share of the leftovers.”

“Guilty about what leftovers?” asked a male voice in the doorway.

Jamie looked over her shoulder to see Cash coming toward her, but as lovely as it was to see him, what he carried in his hands was lovelier.

Her eyes widened. “Are those raspberries?”

“I am going to tell you exactly how hard it was to get these, so you appreciate every little bite.”

“No explanation needed!” She got to her feet and put her arms around him, reaching for the carton. “You wonderful man.”

He held the berries high to keep them away from her. “I have a friend in Pennsylvania. He grows them under special tunnels made out of plastic. It extends his season, so he can get top dollar for every single berry.”

“And you ordered these for me?”

“Overnighted them right to me. Packed like they were diamonds, too. He probably insured them, berry by berry.”

“You’re a prince among men.”

“Better than those leftovers you were mentioning?”

For a moment she wasn’t sure what he meant; then she realized, and was wary. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t mentioned the extent of her wealth to Cash or Grace before this. Part of it really was a basic belief that it didn’t matter. Money hadn’t made her parents happy, and conversely, some of the happiest people she had known at the university had cheerfully—as
she
had at the time—pooled pocket change for pizza and enjoyed it more for the sharing.

She was also so used to being a Dunkirk of the newspaper Dunkirks that she didn’t give the sum total she had inherited that much thought. But a substantial part of not telling Cash and Grace had been fear that it would change the way they treated her. It had before, with others.

“We were talking about money,” she said, pulling away. “I happen to have a lot of it, like my sister does.”

He didn’t seem impressed. “And you have some left over that you need to get rid of? Good. I’d suggest replacing that minivan of yours. It’s not going to last forever. At least buy some better tires.”

Grace looked from one of them to the other. “I believe Jamie is trying to tell you she could buy the minivan dealership if she wanted to. Or maybe the manufacturer.”

Cash scratched his head, then shrugged. “You don’t really want to manufacture automobiles, do you, sweetcakes? I can’t see you walking down an assembly line telling folks to work faster. And I can’t picture you as a used-car salesman, either. It just doesn’t fit.”

“Some people think I’m special because I’m rich,” she said.

“Then they don’t know you. You’re special just because you are.” He bent down to kiss her; then he handed her the carton. “Now eat your raspberries like a good girl.”

Jamie and the girls arrived at the cabin at three, although Kendra and Isaac weren’t due to arrive until three-thirty. Jamie had packed a carry-on with all her essentials, plus the papers she was taking to her advisor. She had a small suitcase filled with clothes, plus cans of Virginia peanuts and peanut brittle to take to the staff and clients at First Step. While she waited, she settled the girls back in their room, promised she would return by Thursday and reassured Alison at least a dozen times that Aunt Kendra and Uncle Isaac would take the absolute best care of her, such good care, in fact, that she would hardly notice Mommy was gone.

“I don’t want you to go,” Alison said yet again. “Good mommies don’t go away.”

Jamie struggled to be patient. “This one does sometimes. But she makes sure that somebody who loves you very much will be here to take care of you.”

Hannah tried to help. “Uncle Isaac will take us down to the river. And Aunt Kendra will put us to bed too early, but then she will read to us as long as we want her to if we don’t fall asleep.”

“I want to go with you,” Alison told Jamie, ignoring her sister.

Jamie knew better than to feel guilty, although she was inching in that direction. “I can’t take you on this trip, sweetheart. I’ll be too busy, and you wouldn’t have anything to do. You need to stay and go to preschool. You’re making Thanksgiving decorations, remember?”

“You don’t want me ’cause you have bruzzins.”

“The bruzzins aren’t much company yet, are they? And they’re Aunt Kendra and Uncle Isaac’s babies. You’re mine, remember?”

“You’re giving
me
to Aunt Kendra.” She puckered up.

Alison was well-adjusted and seldom clingy. Jamie saw the problem now. Family lines had become too confusing for the little girl. Jamie was giving the babies she carried to Aunt Kendra, why not give her Alison, too? When all was said and done, why not Hannah? Would Jamie really come back, or was Alison about to get a new mommy, like the babies would, once they were born?

“Alison, do you remember the story I told you about Sister Duck?”

Alison nodded, lips still pursed. Of course she remembered, because Jamie had told it at least three times a week since she first introduced it, adding details and embroidering it, until now the tale took a long time to tell. The girls asked for it repeatedly and made sure she embellished it properly.

“Well, did I explain that sometimes Sister Duck had to fly away? She had to find corn and worms—” Jamie tried to remember what ducks ate and couldn’t “—and stuff to eat. You know. Duck stuff. Anyway, whenever she did, she asked Mommy Duck if she would watch
her
ducklings. And Mommy Duck, even though she had baby ducklings of her own now, was always glad to. Because Mommy Duck loved Sister Duck’s ducklings, too. They were her Niece and Nephew Ducklings.” Jamie realized how complex this whole situation had become and cut to the ending.

“The important thing is that the ducks took good care of each other and loved each other very much. But Sister Duck and Mommy Duck never flew far away. They always came back, and they always came back to their own ducklings. Just like I’m going to come home and take care of you as soon as I’m done in Michigan.”

Alison seemed to absorb a little of this, although her bottom lip still perched against her chin. The telephone rang, which surprised Jamie. Almost everybody knew she was living at Grace’s now. She hoped it wasn’t Kendra announcing a flat tire or some catastrophe that would keep her from arriving in time for Jamie to get to the airport.