What She Left for Me (7 page)

“We need to clean the Rose Room,” Taffy told her niece. “Jana said she’d arrive today. I’ve put it off too long now as it is. If only I hadn’t promised time to the senior meals delivery, I could have spent it cleaning. But you know Elmira Rogers couldn’t be expected to continue her duties with a broken arm.”

“That room is perfectly acceptable. Let Jana clean it if it needs additional attention.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Taffy said indignantly. “This is my house. I wouldn’t ask a guest to come in and clean such a mess.”

“It sounded to me like Jana was asking to be much more than a guest,” Eleanor replied, unable to keep the disapproving tone from her voice.

“She
is
more than a guest. She’s family, and we’ll treat her as such. I’ve never understood the way you handle her. She’s your daughter and you’d think you two would be very close.”

“My relationship with Jana is no one’s concern but mine. But I can tell that her coming here will disrupt everything.”

Taffy laughed. “Good. I hope so. We’ve grown too quiet and boring.”

“I like it quiet. You should too. You’re nearly eighty years old, Taffy. You need to slow down and take better care of yourself.”

The old woman frowned and looked down at her body and back to Eleanor. “I’m in better shape than you are. I exercise for thirty minutes every morning and walk five miles a day. I have yet to see you walk around the block. Honestly, Eleanor, you should consider the specks in your own eye before worrying about mine. I read just the other day that olive oil is good for you. Why don’t you buy us some when you go to the store? We’ll eat French bread and olive oil every day and see if that doesn’t help your disposition.”

Eleanor stiffened. She had never fit anyone’s image of what she should be, and now her aunt figured that olive oil would make life better. If only Taffy could understand that the hurts of days gone by could in no way be benefited by olive oil.

“I’m sure moderation is the key to life,” Eleanor finally replied, getting to her feet. She put her cup and saucer in the dishwasher, then turned to find Taffy had already left the room. She could hear her aunt opening cupboard doors in the laundry room. Apparently they would clean the Rose Room whether Eleanor wanted to or not. It was a good thing she’d dressed casually, though she wasn’t sure her suede pants were exactly appropriate for housekeeping.

“I found them!” Taffy announced, coming back into the kitchen with two aprons. “Here’s one for you.” She tossed the apron at Eleanor.

“I’ll gather the cleaning supplies.” Her tone still bore disapproval, but Eleanor tied the apron on nevertheless and went to work. She knew better than to refuse. If she walked away from the job, Taffy would simply do it by herself.

“You know, the Rose Room has always been one of my favorites,” Taffy said as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. “I still think it’s a marvelous room. The southern exposure is good for one’s health, you know. Perhaps we should move you into that room.”

“Taffy, my health is fine. I had a physical not two months past,” Eleanor protested.

“Still, a little extra sun never hurt anyone. I read the other day that the sun provides valuable vitamins. Can you imagine that?” She stopped on the stairs, waiting for Eleanor’s response.

“Yes, I’ve heard about the value of the sun. But I’ve also heard about the dangers. Which is why I’ve told you over and over to use sunscreen when you go for your walks.”

“I don’t like smearing lotion all over my body. My pores can’t breathe,” Taffy countered. “That’s not good for you either. I read it in one of my ladies’ magazines. I told you they were worth having.”

Eleanor stifled the urge to roll her eyes. Taffy had subscriptions to at least thirty magazines. Eleanor had tried to get the old woman to cancel the orders and save her money, but Taffy only chided her for interfering with her quest for knowledge.

Taffy was again headed for the last bedroom on the west wing. Turning to the left, Taffy opened the door and pushed it back with great flourish. “Ah, the Rose Room.”

It was aptly named for the rose-printed wallpaper. Eleanor thought it a ghastly room, reminiscent of the Victorian age. Large cabbage roses and twining greenery were offset with green trim around the baseboards and windows. Overhead, the walls were topped with white crown molding and a white ceiling. Below, the hardwood floor was accented with a rose-and-green rug that had been created uniquely to match the wallpaper.

The room smelled musty and old. The furnishings had been stylish when first purchased in the 1950s, but Eleanor seriously doubted anyone but an antique collector would have interest now. And perhaps even they would shun the heavy oak monstrosities Taffy loved.

“My, but it is dusty in here. We should have started sooner,” Taffy said, pulling on her pinafore-styled apron. “Sometimes I don’t know how the time gets away from me.”

“We should consider taking on a housekeeper,” Eleanor commented, putting the cleaning supplies on the floor.

“Nonsense. Especially now that Jana is with us. Why, we will positively run right over each other in cleaning. A housekeeper would have nothing to do.”

Eleanor watched her aunt, silently wishing she could feel the same enthusiasm. Nothing ever seemed to discourage Taffy or get her down for long. For as long as Eleanor had known the woman, Taffy had always been a light of hope and encouragement. People used to come from all over the globe to spend time with her aunt, it seemed. Most were likely now dead or no doubt they’d still come.

“Oh my. Can you believe this old thing?” Taffy asked as she pulled a dated satin gown from the closet. “I had this for the presidential inauguration in 1953. We were good friends with the Eisenhowers, although Adlai Stevenson was also a dear. In fact, I have a recipe for pork chops that his cook gave me shortly after the election.”

She held up the faded blue gown and posed with it against her. “My, but I felt like dancing all night in this wondrous creation.” Then without warning, she tossed the gown to the bed and began to take off her apron. “I wonder if it still fits.” She pulled her sweater off, and before Eleanor could even comment, Taffy was working herself into the strapless dress.

“The most important thing about a gown like this,” Taffy said as she pulled up the side zipper, “is having the right accessories.” She leaned back into the closet.

“We’re wasting time,” Eleanor said, trying not to sound too impatient. Taffy was always chiding her for her lack of patience.

“Here they are!” Taffy’s muffled voice declared. She straightened and pulled out two long white gloves. “These were absolute necessities for this style. Look,” she said, pulling them on over her elbows. “Don’t they just make it perfection?”

Taffy took herself to the cheval mirror and admired her appearance. “Oh, I feel twenty again. Of course, I was a bit older than that at the inaugural ball, but not by much. I had the most marvelous time.”

Eleanor wanted to say something about those days being long gone but held her tongue. It was bad enough that the woman was twirling around like an eight-year-old. “Taffy, we really need to get this work done.”

“I don’t know why women don’t wear gloves more often. They feel delicious.” She suddenly stopped. “I didn’t think you cared about this room. You said we should let Jana clean it.”

“Well, now that we’re here, we might as well get it done. I’m just not looking forward to any of this. I can’t understand your joy over having someone who has made such a mess of her life coming here to disrupt our peace.”

Taffy cocked her head, as if pondering the truth of Eleanor’s comment. “Well, she may have a messy life, but messes are made all the time. The important point is to clean them up.” Taffy began pulling off the gloves. “Like this room. It’s a lovely room but hardly serviceable at this point. It just needs the mess cleared away.”

“Jana’s life isn’t a bedroom that can be cleaned, Taffy. She has some very big problems to confront—issues that won’t simply go away.”

Taffy placed the gloves on the bed, then unzipped the gown. “And this room could be as messy as the attic. Bigger messes just require more time to clean—more patience.”

“It’s not that simple and you know it,” Eleanor replied in her most serious tone. Sometimes she thought Taffy might be losing touch with reality.

“Human beings are never simple,” Taffy replied softly. “That’s why they need God. Only the Creator could understand His creation and what they need. Why, the Bible says that God can cleanse away all unrighteousness. So why would He have any trouble cleaning up a little girl’s life?”

“Jana’s no little girl. She’s a grown woman whose husband has run off with his secretary. She’s going to have to face a divorce and the problems that come with being betrayed in this manner.”

“But she doesn’t have to face them alone. She’s a Christian, and she knows that God will help her through these bad times. You used to think the same thing. You used to believe that God cared. Why, I remember when you found Jesus.”

“I found Him, all right,” Eleanor said in anger as she picked up a bucket. “And like everyone else in my life, He didn’t want me.”

“Eleanor! You know that isn’t true. How can you speak such a lie?” Taffy actually sounded angry. It surprised Eleanor.

“I say it because that’s the way I feel. My life has proven to me that God has no real concern for my well-being.” Eleanor headed for the door. “I’m going for some water.”

Taffy stared at the place where Eleanor had stood and shook her head. How could her niece be so hard-hearted? Sure, she’d endured more than her share of misery, but pain and sorrow haunted every life. Not just Eleanor’s.

Taffy finished dressing and began to fold the satin dress. How she longed to share some encouragement with Eleanor. Some glimpse of light that would give her strength for the journey. The light, of course, was Jesus, but Eleanor wanted no part of Him. She would often comment about Taffy’s upbeat personality and positive spirit, but she refused to believe it was as simple as abandoning her life to a higher power—to the only power worthy of her love.

And soon there would be two of them. Two bitter, angry, betrayed souls who were sure that love could never again come to them—never be faithful—never be worth the pain.

Taffy looked upward. “Well, you’ve got your hands full this time, Lord. Let me know if I can help.” She put the gown aside. “I wish I were younger; maybe then they’d take me more seriously when I suggest the way to find real peace.”

“Who are you talking to?” Eleanor asked as she reappeared with the water.

Taffy smiled. “You know me. Sometimes I talk to God, sometimes I talk to myself.”

Eleanor put the bucket on the floor and straightened. She gave Taffy a look that suggested she didn’t see the value of either option. “I’ll get the vacuum and then mop the floor. If you’ll strip the bed, I’ll wash the linens while the floor dries.”

“We must dust first,” Taffy said, glancing around the room. “I learned that from the housekeeper who cared for one of the former governors in New York. We were talking one day about housekeeping, and she, being a paid servant, felt no hesitation in expressing her opinion. She was of Irish decent, so she gave her opinion with great enthusiasm. I simply love the Irish—don’t you?” she asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. “She told me it was important to open the windows, dust the room, then let it settle for exactly ten minutes before sweeping the floors. I would imagine we should leave the linens in place while dusting—that way the dust will collect on the bedding and it can then be laundered.”

Eleanor considered the suggestion for a moment. “Very well.” She went to open the windows while Taffy smiled to herself. Eleanor didn’t always like her advice, but when she saw the logic of it, she generally acquiesced.

“You remember that woman, don’t you? The Irish maid. What was her name?”

“Mrs. Lindquist,” Eleanor said flatly.

“Oh, that’s right, she married a Swede. He worked in the garage. Big man, with thick blond hair and a drooping mustache. I wouldn’t have wanted to kiss that mug.”

Eleanor looked at her in shock. Taffy merely laughed. Sometimes it was fun to shock the sour look off her niece’s face. “Well, would you?”

“I never really considered it, nor do I desire to do so now.”

“Well, you do remember them, don’t you?”

“Of course. I was fifteen when I first accompanied you to their house.”

Taffy nodded. “You were indeed.”

Seven

The mention of being fifteen caused Eleanor a moment of serious panic. Sometimes she could stave off the past—almost forgetting the life she’d known before coming to live with Aunt Taffy and Uncle Cal. But other times she couldn’t.

Often the past came drifting in like a slow-moving cold front, chilling everything in its wake. But once in a while it roared down on her like a powerful tornado, devastating—destroying—leaving her in complete despair.

Eleanor had repeatedly told herself that the past couldn’t hurt her if she didn’t let it. Unfortunately, she hadn’t figured out a way to keep it from creeping in on occasion. Like now. Eleanor felt her thoughts drift back in time as she began to dust the framed pictures. She felt herself slip away, powerless to ignore the memories.

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