The Sea of Aaron (21 page)

When Jasmine gave birth to her and Noah's son, a beautiful boy named Jonathan Robert—Jonathan being Aaron's middle name—Valerie had to force herself to celebrate. She was happy for the proud couple, but their joy was such a contrast to her own situation.

Taking the advice of her doctors, she had stopped working as a nurse and now held a part-time administrative job at Englewood Hospital, performing data entry and other clerical duties. Her co-workers thought she was crazy because they knew she didn't have to work, but they didn't understand the situation. There was no way she could just loaf around the house.

She had passed the three-month danger period—the time of the miscarriage years ago—and the outcome was looking even more positive than the doctors had anticipated. In fact, the hematologist had told her that the clotting factor in her blood had increased, due to the hormonal changes that naturally occurred in pregnancy, and it would probably stay at that improved level up until the time of birth. All of this was great news and she longed to feel optimistic and content, but she could not because Aaron's attitude had not changed and her marriage was still in limbo.

Aaron had not been exaggerating when he'd told her there would be no immediate resolution to their problem. Ever since that day at her apartment, she'd seen very little of him. He'd transformed back to the remote person she had known in the beginning—the one who felt it was unnecessary to keep in touch with a phone call. He was currently disregarding all the little concessions he had made when they'd been at peace with each other.

Although she was deeply hurt by the negative changes, she was remaining mute because she didn't have the desire or the energy to argue with him. In the back of her mind, she was hoping that eventually he'd get over his need to punish her.

Their new home, which was completely finished and furnished, mocked her. Aaron was never there to enjoy it. On the rare day or two that he was in the country, he preferred his place in Manhattan. Valerie had nightmares that he was once again involved with special ops. Why not? He had never gotten around to promising her that he would retire, and now it seemed he might use the rift in their relationship as an excuse to accept another dangerous assignment, possibly as a means of working off his anger.

On a Saturday morning in late August, Valerie unlocked the door of the remodeled Allard estate. She was back to referring to the house with an air of detachment, since it didn't feel like hers anymore. She was even considering renting the place out because neither she nor Aaron spent any time there.

The magnificence of the large living room, with its chandeliers and cathedral windows, overwhelmed her, and she recalled with heartbreaking sadness the day they had painted the room. Had it been only yesterday when they'd shared the love and the laughter? How could feelings so encompassing, so right, have vanished in a heartbeat?

She tiptoed up the winding staircase so as not to disturb the ghosts and entered the library, which still retained most of its original appearance, along with its vast assortment of books. The Bible collection that had been responsible for starting her down the narrow, twisted path of intrigue and heartbreak was displayed prominently on shelves in the reference area.

As she took a step toward the shelves, she looked up and noticed with a start that a new painting dominated the wall above the fireplace—a painting of the sea. Immediately recognizing it as the Sea of Galilee, Valerie observed that the water was far from the calm, shore-lapping serenity she'd seen when they'd visited Israel. In Aaron's artistic rendition, the sky was ominously black, the sea deeply indigo, dashed with silver, foam-crested waves that rose menacingly, threatening to engulf a small fishing boat.

She held her breath. When had he hung it? When had he actually taken the time to visit the house? Unless she was losing her mind, the painting had not been there a week ago, when she had last visited the library. There was no way she could not have noticed something so eerily mesmerizing—so hypnotic. As much as she tried to pull herself away, she could not stop staring at the tiny fishing boat that was being tossed mercilessly by the ferocious waves. She inched closer. In the enshrouded mist of the brilliantly stroked sea spray, a veiled shadow, a diaphanous figure, seemed to be strolling on the water. Jesus? She shook her head and squinted. No. There was nothing like that at all in the painting, just the waves and the fishing boat that was about to capsize.

“You're definitely losing it,” she muttered aloud. “Seeing things that aren't even there.” She touched the expensive gold frame, desiring to remove the large canvas from the wall because its metaphorical presence disturbed and angered her, but she could not bring herself to do it. Instead, she backed abruptly away from the painting and fled the room.

Aaron was supposedly somewhere in Algiers, due to return in two days. He had not actually said so, but she knew he was waiting for her to be the one to officially end their marriage. Perhaps he considered this to be an act of civility and grace on his part. Perhaps he thought she was pathetic. Perhaps he was right on both counts. Her doctor's advice to avoid stress was about as impossible as being told to stop laughing, crying or breathing, and Aaron's actions heightened her tension levels every passing day.

***

After leaving Long Island, Valerie forced herself to stop at the nursing home because she felt guilty for not visiting her mother in nearly two weeks. She found her in the empty solarium.

“You told me you weren't coming today,” Ruth Ann said from her wheelchair. She was near the window, where she had been basking in the blinding sunlight that streamed in from the parted curtains. An open Bible was on her lap.

“I haven't told you anything,” Valerie responded mechanically. “How could I when I haven't been here for at least two weeks?”

“You told me yesterday,” Ruth Ann insisted.

Valerie sighed. “It was probably your sister who told you. Aunt Marilyn said she visited you yesterday.”

“My sister?”

“That's right. I'm Valerie, your daughter.”

Ruth Ann narrowed her eyes. “I know who you are.” She opened the Bible and began thumbing the fragile pages. Valerie observed her with defensive detachment. It was just as well she had the Bible out; maybe they could discuss that instead of sitting and looking at each other with nothing to say.

“What scripture are you reading, Mother?”

“Psalms,” Ruth Ann replied.

“Are you going to read it out loud?”

“No. You don't listen like he does.”

Who's he?
Valerie wondered, but didn't feel like asking.
He
was probably her late husband.

“You're getting fat,” Ruth Ann declared suddenly.

Valerie ran her hand defensively across the front of her T-shirt. “I'm sure it's not that obvious yet, but I'm pregnant. I've told you that before.”

“Your husband's worried about you.”

“My what?” Valerie repeated, trying hard to suppress an eye roll. Her mother was still confusing Aaron with Joel. “Did you say my husband, or are you talking about your husband?”

“I said
your
husband, Aaron.”

Valerie laughed sarcastically. This was going to be a fun visit. Ruth Ann was as confused as ever. There was nothing for her to do but play the game. “What makes you think Aaron is worried? You haven't seen him in months.”

Ruth Ann peered at her above the rims of her glasses. “He came to see me. We talked for a long time and we read the Bible.”

“He did not visit you,” Valerie said irritably. “You met him only once, and that was a long time ago. Aaron's not even in the country, so he didn't visit you.”

“He was here,” Ruth Ann insisted, her voice rising. “And don't tell me that I didn't talk to him because I did.”

“When?”

“Couple of days ago.”

Muttering to herself, Valerie rubbed her eyes. “Okay…fine. You talked to Aaron. What did he talk about?”

“You. He's worried.”

“Mother, the only person Aaron worries about is himself. He's angry at me because he doesn't want to have this baby.”

You idiot! What's wrong with you?
Why had she surrendered to the ridiculous need to tell her senile mother something like that. What was she looking for? Certainly not sympathy or even commiseration.

“I didn't want babies, either,” Ruth Ann said.

Valerie had been prepared for her mother to make no comment at all and the response shook her. “Thanks, Mom. Maybe you'd like to explain why Greg and I are here, since you didn't want babies.”

Ruth Ann maneuvered the wheelchair around so her back was to her daughter, and she stared out the window at the distant hills. “Greg was an accident, but your father loved him anyway.”

“I'm sure Greg would love to hear that.” Valerie felt as though the oxygen was being depleted from the room, and she knew she should just bid her mother farewell for the day, but she remained glued to the spot, wondering what was going to be said next.

“I loved your father, and I had you because he wanted you,” Ruth Ann said. “He was good to both of you.”

“Yes,” Valerie agreed coldly. “Our father was good to us, but you seem to be admitting that you didn't care about us at all. I know it's not a perfect world, but aren't mothers…I mean normal mothers, supposed to love their children?”

Ruth Ann said nothing. She continued to stare out the window.

Valerie stood up, clenching her purse. She wanted to cross over to the window and yank the wheelchair around to make Ruth Ann look at her, but at the same time she didn't really want to see that blank expression—that look that confirmed the reality of her scathing admission.

“Fine. So you had us just to make Daddy happy, and then you completely tuned out of our lives. Since that's how you felt about us, why should we…I…care about you?”

“You don't care about me. You put me in this home,” Ruth Ann said bluntly.

Valerie felt her face flush scarlet with anger. “I what? How dare you say something so stupid and untrue. I didn't put you in this home. You put yourself here. You kept walking out of the house and forgetting where you were. You refused to eat. Once the police picked you up because you were walking in traffic. And then there was the time you almost burnt the house down. You've forgotten all those things, haven't you?”

She didn't expect an answer and she didn't get one, but she couldn't control the onslaught of venom spewing from her own tongue. “I had a right to my life, and I had to work. I couldn't be there 24/7 taking care of you, especially since you never even cared about me. You…”

She managed to stop in mid-sentence, when she realized that she was shouting like a lunatic and anyone could walk in and hear the outburst. Maybe if someone actually did hear it, she would be taken away in a straitjacket. She felt crazier than her mother. “I'm sorry,” she said, turning away, struggling to calm down. “I can't talk about this anymore without yelling, so I'm leaving.”

“I do care.” Ruth Ann maneuvered the chair around to face her again. “I did the best I could, and you shouldn't be so angry. You should be happy because God cares about you and so does Aaron. God says right here in this Bible that ‘thou shalt not commit murder,' so of course you can't get rid of the baby. But you need to stop being so angry and stubborn about this. Be kinder to Aaron. Talk nicer, more ladylike, and maybe he'll…”

Valerie hesitated at the door. “Mother, stop playing games. You don't know a thing about Aaron, and what's more, you don't even know what you're talking about. Goodbye.”

With her head spinning, feeling as though she were about to pass out, Valerie left the room and stumbled into the nearby bathroom, which much to her relief was devoid of people. Maybe she was about to have a miscarriage right here and now. Maybe she would have a heart attack. She pressed her back against the tiled wall and closed her eyes, resisting the urge to slide down to a squatting position because she probably wouldn't be able to get back up. She tried counting backward and gradually opened her eyes to discover that the room had stopped whirling. All she could hear was the buzz of the over-burdened air conditioning unit. No miscarriage. No heart attack.

“We're okay,” she whispered aloud, hand over the slight bump that contained the new life within her. “Just calm down.”

Finally able to stand straight without shaking, she went to the sink and splashed cool water over her face. She stared at herself in the mirror and was pleasantly surprised to find that her reflection didn't reveal a woman about to have a meltdown. Obviously pregnancy hormones were fueling her inner turmoil, and she would simply have to get a grip or face dire consequences.

When she felt composed enough, she left the room and continued down the hall toward the elevator.

“Valerie,” Sherry Jackson, one of the nurses on the floor, called out.

Valerie looked up with a start and smiled at the pleasantly plump Jamaican native. “Haven't seen you in a while,” Sherry said. “Just wanted to tell you that your mom's been doing quite well lately. She seems more alert, and she's even been socializing.”

“Really?” Valerie said, trying to sound interested as she approached the nurse's station where a young aide with long, braided locks also sat, talking on the phone.

“I'm thinking it might have something to do with the visitor, the male visitor she had about two weeks ago. Was he your brother?” Sherry asked.

“My brother?” Greg had called her from Chicago a few days ago and he'd given no indication that he was planning a visit. Before Valerie could come up with a startled explanation, the aide ended her phone call and chimed in. “Talk about hot…that guy was to die for.”