Song of Renewal (18 page)

“How was Dad today?” Liza asked Charlcy later that afternoon when she came by from the nursing home.

“Mean as ever.” Charlcy’s laugh was boisterous and contagious. “He’s got a girlfriend.” Her astute blue eyes gauged Liza’s reaction, pleased with the responsive grin. “On his good days, that is. That’s when he gives her boxes of chocolates. On his bad ones, he cusses her out for stealing the candy.” She shrugged elaborately and spread her hands. “Poor woman doesn’t know which end’s up. But then, she can’t remember what all the fuss is about, anyway.”

Liza laughed until her stomach ached. “Oh, Charlcy. You are so irreverent. So bad.”

And Liza realized that this was Charlcy’s breastplate – irreverence and toughness. It had armed Charlcy, the champion, through the early years’ murky battle with an abusive parent.

Charlcy’s face grew serious. “Which is better, to laugh or to cry? I figure if you can get some humor out of bad situations, who’s to say it’s wrong?”

“Yeah.” Liza wiped her eyes, still chuckling. “Can’t argue with that logic.” She sobered up. “Thanks,” she whispered.

Charlcy’s head turned sharply. “For what?”

“For helping me to see sunlight in all this darkness.”

“Shoot! You’ve practically carried me through this nasty divorce thing. And lots of other things to boot. Like Lindi moving to Atlanta to try her wings and ending up in rehab.”

Liza sighed. Charlcy’s only child was now in her early thirties. “She’s got a happy marriage and a precious little girl. She’s a great mother. All’s well that ends well. You’ve weathered things quite nicely, sis.”

The wizened blues rolled in derision. “Yeah. Right. Thank God she met Chuck and he put up with her through it all, loved her anyway. He’s a candidate for Sainthood.” She snorted. “You had a lot to do with keeping me and my baby girl from killing each other at times, Auntie. Seems like ages ago.”

“Fifteen years is a long time,” Liza sighed and smiled. “Doesn’t seem that long.”

Then she hiked up her wrist and looked at her watch. “It’s bath time.” She and Charlcy enjoyed giving Angel her daily sponge bath. It pleased the staff that they assumed this duty and it gave the sisters a sense of contact that only hands on accomplished.

During those daily twenty minutes of cleansing, Liza blossomed.

Dr. Abrams came by on his rounds just as they finished. He checked Angel’s vitals, read her chart, and started to leave.

“Wait,” Liza said, reaching for her purse. She pulled out the cards. “We found these in Angel’s purse.”

He looked at the life donor cards. Then he looked at Liza, his eyes searching hers.

“I’m good with it,” Liza said. “That’s what she wants.”

He nodded. “Let’s pray it doesn’t come down to that.”

That evening, Liza drove home alone. Garrison had worked at the office and called to say he would be a little late. At the house, she went to the kitchen to find sandwich chow. Eating alone had never been her favorite thing, but she was adapting quite well. Garrison would be along shortly.

Ham, Swiss cheese, tomato, lettuce, and slices of rye bread swiftly morphed into a relatively nutritious dinner. Just as she sat down in front of the television, she heard Garrison’s Jag pull into the garage.

“Got any more of that?” he asked on his way to the kitchen.

“In the fridge,” she replied. At one time, she would have laid her food aside, bolted into the kitchen, and prepared his plate. But then, he would have joined her and helped, chatting about his and her day as they worked.

Not any longer.

Plate in hand, he came into the den, each of them seemingly on different planets. They both watched the evening news as though it were announcing the end of time. Liza kept hoping he would broach the subject of today’s eavesdropping incident at the hospital.

Finally, she laid her half eaten sandwich aside and came right to the point. “Why didn’t you tell me about the life donor card?”

He looked at her for long moments, guarded. “You never asked.” His reply was cool and flat.

“That’s ridiculous!” she exploded. “The doctors flooded us with questions as to her wishes. I can’t believe that you never mentioned something so…so important to Angel. How could you not share it with me?”

He stared off into space for several heartbeats, his features tightly shut down, then shrugged limply.

That fired her up even more. “First, you stood at the hospital door and eavesdropped. You could have let us know of your arrival but chose not to. Then after hearing Penny’s account, you simply stood there, making sure Penny and I knew of your presence.”

He gazed at the far wall, silence humming.

She huffed, exasperated. “You could have at least quietly left for a minute, pretended you hadn’t heard, spared poor Penny the embarrassment. But no, entitled one, you didn’t. Then when I needed some explanation, you just walked away.”

Liza glared at him, waiting. When he remained as silent as a sealed tomb, she shot to her feet and marched to the kitchen with her plate, dumped the half eaten food down the garbage disposal, and turned it on. She ground her teeth together as the machine whirred and grated.

“Blasted egomaniac,” she muttered, washing her plate and glass and slamming them into the dish rack to drain. “Thinks he’s above explaining himself to mere mortals.”

She let out the dishwater and dashed to get the dust mop in the pantry.

Her feet skidded to a halt. Garrison blocked her way.

“Pardon me,” she spat and started to skirt around him. His hand caught her arm.

She looked meaningfully at his grip on her. “Please let me go,” she enunciated with crisp hostility.

“Liza, I forgot.”

She blinked and looked up into his face. Embarrassment rode his expression. “Forgot what?” she asked, perplexed.

“I forgot to tell you.” His gaze flickered and he looked away, releasing his hold on her. He pulled out a bar stool and plopped tiredly onto it.

She pulled out a stool facing him. “To tell me
what
exactly?”

He looked at her then. His features now appeared inordinately weary, wiped of all defenses. Awash with humility. “Angel came to me that day when I was in the middle of the big Sheraton Hotel account deadline.” He ran both hands through his hair and threw back his head, eyes closed. “I heard Penny mention Angel today and I stopped, not wanting to interrupt. And when she began telling you about the day – ”

He looked at Liza then, his eyes miserable. “I honestly had forgotten about Angel coming to me that day. Angel was right when she told Penny she doubted I even realized what she was talking about.” He shook his head, his voice dropping. “I barely remember her and Troy being there at that time.

“It’s worse than forgetting,” he muttered with shame. “I honestly didn’t hear what she was saying. I was so caught up in my infernal deadline of the moment that her excited chatter passed right over my stupid head, got on my nerves. I had this monster headache and every syllable she spoke was like driving a spike into my brain. So I turned off her high-pitched voice, wishing she’d just hurry and leave so I could meet my deadline. All I remember of it was the word ‘donor.’ At the time, I never connected that word with ‘organ.’ I thought it was one of her endless cheerleaders’ fund-raising things, like you with your charities and causes. I signed the card without knowing exactly what it was, Liza.”

The starch went out of Liza. His naked remorse disarmed her. How many times had she herself missed the mark in life? Failed someone? It happened to everyone at some point.

She felt his anguish.

“I’d give anything to go back – ” His voice broke and he leaned his head into his hands, elbows on the bar, the picture of contrition.

Liza’s heart lurched and she started to go to him. Then, just as suddenly, she backtracked to how reluctant he’d been to forgive her. She froze, unable to reach out.

“I sympathize, Garrison. It’s a shock finding that no one is perfect, not even oneself, isn’t it?” She gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder on her way out.

As soon as she got to her bedroom, she found that she felt rotten.

Somehow, his comeuppance left her with a bitter aftertaste.

Later that evening, Garrison stood before his easel. He had come to full terms with his father-deficiency. He’d spent time going over all the times he recalled Angel coming to him, the times he’d pushed her away because of his workload or other reasons no longer worth consideration. It all, he now realized, went back to his young days of emotional isolation. He’d learned to retreat into himself, to insulate himself from the outside world, one that inflicted hurt.

God help him – he’d used that denial defense against his own daughter. Then he’d agonized over it until he could no longer bear it. So he’d repented to the Creator, to himself, and, in his heart, to Angel. Until he could do so directly to her, he knew he needed to forgive himself.

All he could do now was to hold on to the reality of her renewal. He no longer thought in terms of recovery. Old things passed away. All things new.

His paintbrush tonight stroked and coaxed as the painting transformed into a gateway to renewal. It floodgated memories of
when
. From down the hall, Liza’s favorite music wafted to him, harmonizing with the brush’s rhythm of creation, giving birth to new heart insights of things to come.

New things. Better things.

The music swelled, as if hearing his heart. Each stroke of color, of light and revelation, gave dimension. The painting... the dance music…they formed a new song.

“A song of renewal,” he murmured.

The brush shaped and highlighted Liza’s eyes. He’d worked painstakingly to achieve just the right expression, one of goodness and selflessness and fulfillment. When completed, this painting would freeze the Wakefields’ image of the lily pond outing, beneath the Love Tree, with them experiencing the sheer joy of being together.

Liza sprang to life, threatening to leap from the canvas as tears misted his vision. He blissfully swiped the moisture away and continued to add light to the scene…a stroke here… a brush there…until it shimmered gloriously, threatening to pull him in.

He threw back his head and laughed aloud, daring the dark specters that had hovered so long over his family to intrude on this moment’s happiness. “Go back to hell, where you came from,” he called out, deriding them. “You’re outta here!”

His boldness astonished even him. The call to love, nurture, and protect family overwhelmed him, deluging him until he felt he would drown in it.

He looked at the face on canvas again, reverently this time. His gaze finally settled on Liza’s eyes. Joy, love, and light spilled
from them. And then he saw something else there in the blue, blue depths. Trust. It mule-kicked his solar plexus and his heart tripped into syncopation.

“Garrison, old boy,” he husked, fighting powerful, surging emotions, “you’re on your way.”

chapter ten

Several nights later, Garrison heard music from the studio. It enticed him…like a siren’s song. What was Liza doing in her private moments? Curiosity stirred as it had in those college days, when they went to their separate dormitory rooms at night. It pricked and tickled his brain. As his hands propelled the life-giving brush from pallet to canvas, his mind conjured up a scene from the long-ago past. Liza’s fluid, graceful movements…her arms and hands flowing artfully, in harmony with her body’s interpretive expressions. Perfect coordination. She’d always had it. He ached for her touch.

Heck, just now, he’d settle for her undivided, civil attention. He was so not happy with the shoe being on the other foot and the what-goes-around-comes-around.

But if anybody deserved to eat crow, he did.

The music ended. He stopped his movements, laid down the brush, and managed to slip into the hallway just as she ventured toward the stairwell. He tried not to stare at her sensual shape beneath her silk robe as she moved toward him. She looked a little self-conscious, magenta marking her high cheekbones. But her lips echoed his tentative smile.