The Carson Springs Trilogy: Stranger in Paradise, Taste of Honey, and Wish Come True (143 page)

They both knew it was little more than a ritual to be observed. These days Betty just sat all day staring into space, lost in a world that existed only in her mind, filled with people and events long gone. But Anna continued to visit, with Liz occasionally tagging along. How was she supposed to face the future if she couldn’t reconcile the past?

“Great. We can stop for a bite to eat afterward,” she said.

“As long as it’s not the Tree House.” Liz mustered a small smile.

“I was thinking more along the lines of Burger King. I’m a little short on cash at the moment.”

“I’d loan you some, but …” Liz didn’t have to say it. Being a single mom meant always coming up short one way or another. They were halfway up the slope when she asked guardedly, “Have you thought about what you’ll spend it on?” For the most part, they’d avoided any discussion of the inheritance. It seemed macabre almost, the idea of profiting from a tragedy of such Shakespearean proportions.

“My lawyer’s bill,” Anna said without missing a beat.

“I have my eye on a brand-new BMW convertible.”

“I’d settle for a new transmission.”

Liz smiled, as if at the hopelessness of Anna’s ever being anything but thrifty. “You’ve got to think
big.
How about a new house, or a trip to Europe? You’ve always wanted to see Paris. You’ve been talking about it since we were kids.”

Anna thought for a moment, then shook her head. The one thing she wanted more than anything in the world no amount of money could buy. “Thanks,” she said, “but I’ve had enough excitement to last me for at least the next hundred years.”

N
OW THAT SHE NO
longer had Anna to worry about, Finch became caught up in the excitement at home: In less than a week, Laura and Hector would be on their way to Mexico to complete the final phase of the adoption. Meanwhile, the house was in an uproar and Laura a human roller coaster—belting out “La Vida Loca” in the shower at the top of her lungs one minute, and the next fretting over whether or not it would all fall through at the last minute.

Hector went about his business as usual—seeing to the horses, repairing things around the ranch, attending classes at night—but Finch could see that he was preoccupied, too. He’d be reading a book, and minute after minute would pass before he’d turn a page; or he’d become so absorbed in his thoughts while currying one of the horses, you could practically see your reflection in its coat when he was through. Where Laura had become almost as forgetful as Maude, turning the house upside down in search of misplaced keys or a pair of reading glasses, Hector, normally reserved, had become positively chatty, regaling them over dinner with tales of growing up in a family of sixteen. Needless to say, he was an old hand at changing diapers.

The party had been Maude’s idea. She’d wanted to throw one for Anna, who’d politely declined, saying all she wanted right now was some peace and quiet. Not to be denied, Maude had turned her efforts toward welcoming Esperanza into her new home with fanfare. Everyone had been invited, including Sister Agnes. Sam was in charge of flowers and Alice of party favors (she was keeping it a secret as to what they were). Claire would supply the desserts. And Ian was painting banners—one in English, the other in Spanish. Maude had even jokingly suggested that her sewing circle do a striptease, which brought horrified groans all around.

There was only one thing casting a shadow over the occasion: Lucien would be going back to New York as soon as school let out. His mother, just out of rehab, had lined up a summer internship for him at his uncle’s firm. Finch didn’t even know if he’d be back in the fall. Lucien had been evasive whenever the subject came up.

The thought nagged at her so that when Laura announced one day out of the blue that the time had come to pay a visit to Martha Elliston’s mother, Finch was glad for the distraction. The perfect opportunity had presented itself: Laura had heard the old lady was laid up with a case of shingles. Wasn’t it their Christian duty to look in on her? she said with a wink.

The following day they were barreling along Old Sorrento Road in Laura’s Explorer, a loaf of banana bread wrapped in tin foil and still warm from the oven cradled on Finch’s lap. Martha and her mother lived out near Mavis, it turned out, in a clapboard house painted canary yellow with blue trim, which came as a pleasant surprise, since Martha herself was so drab. They rang the bell. When no one answered, Laura tried the door, and found it unlocked. She poked her head in, calling, “Hello? Anyone home?”

A feeble voice from somewhere in the back of the house demanded querulously, “Who is it?”

“Laura and Finch Kiley from church!” Laura stepped inside, not waiting for an invitation.

They found the old woman in her bedroom down the hall, a small mound under the down quilt that covered her. An untouched breakfast tray sat on the nightstand at her elbow along with various vials of medicine. A tiny apple doll’s face peered up at them dubiously from a pile of pillows.

“We heard you were sick,” Laura said brightly. “We thought you could use some company.”

Finch had expected the old woman to be surprised—after all, they barely knew one another—but instead she wore the look of someone for whom surprises were a thing of the past. “I’m not much for company these days,” she said, pulling herself upright and patting a wisp of white hair into place. “But since you came all this way, you might as well sit down.”

Laura settled into the easy chair by the bed, but Finch remained standing. There was a faint unpleasant smell in the air, not just of sickness but of despair, as if the old lady had given up on more than the crossword puzzle that had slid, or been tossed, onto the floor. “My aunt had shingles once.” Laura launched into the awkward silence that had fallen. “She said it was almost as bad as when she’d had her babies.” A Freudian slip that brought a flush spreading across her collarbone and up her neck. “But she’s fine now.”

“It’s always something,” the old lady muttered darkly. “When you get to be my age, nothing works. Every bone in my body aches and I haven’t had a decent bowel movement in years.”

It was all Finch could do to keep from wrinkling her nose. Ugh. No wonder Martha always seemed so beaten down. Who wouldn’t, having to listen to this all day?

“Have you tried sauerkraut?” Laura was undeterred. “Maude says it works wonders.”

“Nothing works for me.” The old woman seemed almost proud of the fact. “I could drink a gallon of prune juice and eat bran till it was coming out my ears, and it wouldn’t make a dent.”

“Well, in that case …” Laura glanced at Finch with something close to panic.

Finch stepped forward. “We brought you some banana bread.” She held out the tinfoil-wrapped loaf, which the old woman eyed suspiciously.

“Does it have nuts in it?” she asked. “Because I’m allergic to nuts. One bite and I’d swell up like a balloon.”

“Maybe your daughter would enjoy it then,” Laura said in a last-ditch effort.

“She’s not here.”

“Well, when she gets back …”

“Don’t know when that’ll be.”

Finch eyed her in amazement. Mrs. Elliston spoke as though she didn’t know perfectly well that Martha was at school, where she always was this time of day. The thought of her trudging home to someone who didn’t even appreciate her hard work was almost more than Finch could bear. Anna’s mother couldn’t help it, but this old bag clearly enjoyed being a pain in the ass.

“It must be nice that your daughter’s a nurse,” she said, “you so sick all the time.”

The old lady shot her a narrow look, as if suspecting that Finch was being sarcastic. “We’re meant to suffer,” she said with a martyred sigh. “It says so in the Bible.”

“I don’t agree at all.” Laura spoke lightly, but Finch could see that the old lady had struck a nerve. “If God had wanted us to be miserable, He wouldn’t have given us so much to enjoy. Doesn’t the Bible tell us to lift up our hearts and rejoice?”

“ ‘Eternal glory in Christ after ye have suffered awhile.’ First Peter, Chapter Five, Verse Ten,” she quoted triumphantly. She’d perked up and seemed to be enjoying herself now. “There’s coffee on the stove; help yourselves if you like. Can’t drink it myself. Gives me heartburn,” she said.

“We should be going.” Laura cast another desperate glance at Finch.

“We only stopped in to see how you were doing,” Finch was quick to add.

“Martha put you up to this?” The old lady eyed them suspiciously.

“She doesn’t even know we’re here,” Laura told her. That much was the truth, at least.

But Mrs. Elliston didn’t look convinced. “Last week it was a woman from the agency—as if I’d want some stranger hanging around all day. You can’t trust them, you know. They all steal. With my friend Pearl it was every last piece of her family silver. I won’t have it. I told Martha as much. But she’s afraid something will happen to me, being here all alone.” At the same time, Finch doubted she missed an opportunity to rub it in that she was alone, and thought with disgust:
She’ll probably outlive Martha.
Wasn’t Maude always saying that it was the ones pickled in brine who often lived the longest?

“She’s a good nurse,” Finch blurted. “I mean, well, you should be proud of her.”

The old lady cocked her head, peering up at her like a wily old parrot. “Who says I’m not?”

“All I meant was …”

Laura stood up. “We really should be going.” She spoke more forcefully this time. “I’m sure you need your rest.”

“I’ll leave this in the kitchen.” Finch held up the banana bread.

“Be sure to lock the door behind you,” the old lady called after them. God forbid some other well-meaning soul should drop by to wish her well.

It wasn’t until they were outside that they dared look at each other. Laura let out a breath. “Whew! I wasn’t sure we’d make it out of there alive.” She rolled her eyes. “Next time I have a bright idea, remind me to drink prune juice instead.” She started to giggle, and before long they were both doubled over, hands cupped over their mouths to stifle their laughter as they made their way down the walk.

“I notice you didn’t mention Hank,” Finch said when they were in the car.

“Are you kidding? I was afraid she’d levitate right off the bed.” Laura turned the key in the ignition. She must have accidentally pressed down hard on the gas pedal for they went lurching out of the driveway with a squeal. “If she keeps it up, Father Reardon will have to perform an exorcism.”

This unleashed a fresh onslaught of giggles. “I’m glad we didn’t say anything,” Finch said when she could catch her breath. “I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea.”

It hadn’t really been about Martha and her mother, she realized. She’d thought she’d feel better knowing that her search for her family hadn’t been a complete bust. Instead, it had been brought home to her that sometimes, even when things look grim, the grass isn’t always greener on the other side of the fence. Suppose her real mother had been like Martha’s?

“I wonder what he saw in her—Hank, I mean,” Laura said. “It’s hard to imagine Grace Elliston as the kind of woman who’d be seduced.”

“Lorraine said she was pretty once.” Finch had a hard time imagining it, too.

“I suppose she blames Martha for ruining her life.” Laura shook her head. “I wonder if she’s ever stopped to think what a blessing it was.”

“I never thought I’d feel sorry for someone who
wasn’t
given up for adoption,” Finch said with a laugh.

“It was different in those days. It must have been hard for Grace.”

“Not as hard as for Martha. Um, aren’t you going a little fast?” Finch eyed the speedometer, which showed they were doing fifty in a thirty-five-mile-an-hour zone.

Laura shot her a sheepish look and eased her foot off the gas. “Guess I’m in a hurry to get home.”

“Me, too.” The plan had been for Laura to drop her off at school, but she knew there would be no school today.

Soon they were bumping along Old Sorrento Road. “Well, if you can play hooky, I guess I can, too,” Laura said. “What do you say we saddle up the horses and go for a ride? It’d be a shame to stay indoors on a day like this.”

Finch grinned. “Just what I feel like.”

The night before Laura and Hector were due to leave, Finch sat cross-legged on the bed in their room, watching Laura pack. Usually she tossed things into suitcases willy-nilly, but now she was taking her time, half a dozen outfits spread out over the bed while she agonized over which ones to take. She wanted to make the right impression, she said, not come across as some gringo snob.

“No one would ever take you for a snob,” Finch assured her.

“I hope you’re right.” Laura chewed on her lip as she studied two nearly identical outfits laid out side by side.

“Even if you were wearing the crown jewels,” she threw in for good measure.

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment, but thanks anyway,” Laura said with a laugh.

“You’re sure you packed enough for the baby?” Finch teased, eyeing the bulging duffel bag crammed with diapers, formula, receiving blankets, little overalls and footie pajamas, and a bonnet to guard against the Mexican sun.

“You’re right. I probably won’t need all that stuff.” Laura sank down beside her on the bed. It was unclear whether she was referring to the fact that she’d packed enough for triplets, or that the adoption could still fall through, even at this late date.

“It’s going to be okay.” Finch patted her arm.

“I know. I’m just nervous, is all. I still can’t believe it—a baby.” Laura pushed a hand through her hair, making it stand up in a staticky halo. “Just when I thought I’d be lonely with you going off to college next year.”

“Like you could ever be lonely in this house.”

“Still …” Laura was getting that look again, as if at any minute she was going to cry. “I’ll miss you.”

College, which had seemed so far away, was all at once a reality. Her throat tightened. “I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

“You’ll be so sick of changing diapers by then, you’ll be out of here like a shot.” A corner of Laura’s mouth turned up in a lopsided smile.

Finch flopped onto her back, looking up at a stain on the ceiling in the shape of a rooster’s comb. “I wonder what it’ll be like having a sister.”