Changed Somehow

by Chloe Flanagan

  She tossed her rag down, and hurried over. “Let’s have a look at you.”

  Sweeping her eyes up and down, she shook her head. “Tsk. Tsk. Still an Amazon, I see. Bend down here!”

  Natalie choked out a laugh. “Oh, Betty.” She leaned down and let Betty, who stood a good six inches shorter, wrap her in a fierce bear hug.

  She squeezed her eyes against the sudden sting of tears and closed her arms around Betty. Dear Lord, what would she have ever done without this woman?

  Once Betty released her, the older woman studied her face with a furrowed brow. “You look … I don’t know. Sorta different.”

  Her furrowed brow deepened into a mock glare. “Of course, it’s been forever since you’ve been back!”

  “It’s only been a few months.”

  “That’s what I said. Anyway, you could’ve at least called! I never know if you’re out there starring in a play, or if you’ve run off and joined a hippie commune or something.”

  “It’s been a little bit of both, really,” Natalie quipped.

  “I’m not surprised!” Betty gestured at a booth. “Sit down, and tell me all about it. Are you hungry?”

  Natalie slid into the booth. “Not really, no.”

  “I’ll just bring you some pie then.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen, and Natalie chuckled. Betty had a personal ordinance that no one came into her diner without eating.

  When Betty returned with two slices of her legendary grape pie and two cups of rich, steaming coffee, they enjoyed them together while Natalie recounted recent events, starting with the play and the rehearsal.

  Betty listened sympathetically to the explanation of her failure, the confrontation with Marlowe, and even the breakup with Sebastian.

  She described the apartment and her first meeting with Glenn and Darla. Then in one long, messy monologue, she described her time at the camp, and those two or three glorious days right afterward.

  When she was finished, she gazed down at her now tepid coffee and absently swished the cup until the traces of creamer swirled. Surprised at Betty’s extended silence, she looked up to find that the woman actually had tears in her eyes. She’d never seen her cry before.

  “My goodness,” Betty murmured. “I prayed this would happen someday.”

  Natalie swallowed hard. “Prayed what would happen, exactly?”

  Betty leaned forward and beamed. “That someday you would come to realize how much God loves you … that you’d really let that love sink in, wrap around you, and transform you.” Reaching over, she patted Natalie’s hand. “And it has, hasn’t it?”

  Natalie met her old friend’s eyes, longing to affirm the hope she saw there, but she had to settle for honesty. “Betty, I really don’t know what’s happened. I do feel different, but transformation? Maybe it only goes so far.”

  Shakily, she picked up her coffee cup and drained its contents, heedless of its temperature. “Two days after that first date with Glenn, something happened. I saw EJ again.”

  “You did?” Betty’s eyes grew wide, and she sank back into her seat to listen to the rest of the story.

  It was simple enough to tell about the meeting with EJ, but she struggled to explain all the feelings that had followed. Feelings about how she’d treated EJ and … feelings about Timmy. Before she knew it, she was the one crying. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Betty. I wept for my little boy like I never once did when I lost him.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh, I did cry some back then. You remember that. But I don’t even know who I was crying for the most … the baby or myself. But I cried for Timmy this time. I must’ve relived a hundred memories from his life in just a couple of days. And I cried for everything I’d thrown away. I cried because …” she hesitated and threw up one hand, “because I’m ashamed of myself too, I guess. I can’t understand it. Why, after so many years? How could it take this much time for me to feel, really feel what happened? What’s wrong with me?”

  Betty’s face was pensive as she spoke. “Maybe it was just the right time for this. You know, when Timmy died, you pretty well made a break for it. You stuck around long enough for the divorce, but then you ran. And you’ve been running ever since, without giving yourself a chance to grieve or even think about what happened. But, sweetie, you can’t run forever. At some point, that process just has to happen.”

  Natalie stared down at her empty cup. Betty had a point. Why did it sound so sensible when she said it?

  “While you’re chewing on that, here’s something else.” Betty stretched, stood up, and then shuffled to the counter. She flicked a few buttons on the coffee maker.

  “Yes?” Natalie prompted.

  Betty frowned at her over her glasses. “Wait a minute, I need some more coffee.”

  “Sorry.” tapped her fingers on the table while Betty refilled both of their mugs.

  When Betty sat down again, she took a sip and continued. “One of my favorite Bible verses is from the book of Ezekiel: ‘A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.’”

  Natalie had been raising her mug to her lips when Betty started speaking, but now her hand paused midair as the words echoed through her mind. Her pulse quickened. A new heart …

  Betty closed both hands around her cup and scooted close to the table. “Maybe part of the reason this was the right time for you to start dealing with everything is because God has been preparing your heart. Maybe he was softening and renewing it, so you can deal with your past and move ahead into the future he has in mind for you.”

  Natalie looked off into space as she pondered. That old, nagging, too-good-to-be-true feeling started to rear its head.

  “This is probably going to be one of those concepts that will take you a few tries to get. Sort of like making omelets,” Betty predicted wryly.

  Natalie’s thoughts scattered at the sudden memory of her first failed attempts at making omelets back when she’d first started cooking. She crinkled her nose. “This is nothing like making omelets.”

  Betty laughed. “It’s not so different. You got the hang of things then, and you’ll get it now.” She started to raise her cup then set it back down with a clink. “But I am a little miffed at you.”

  “For what?”

  “For leaving Glenn in the lurch like you did! He sounds like a really nice man.”

  “He is a nice man. That’s why I thought it was best to let him off like I did: with a sensible story instead of dragging him through all the ugliness of my past.”

  “You mean you didn’t have the gumption to tell him about your past.”

  Natalie winced. “Maybe not. But there’s more to it than that. I care about Glenn so much, and I know that he deserves more than somebody like me.”

  “Somebody like you,” Betty mused. Then she leaned forward. “The Natalie I know used people. She didn’t care anything about the men she was in a relationship with beyond what she could get out of them.”

  Natalie squeezed her eyes shut, and her head dropped.

  “Now, listen!” Betty bent her head low next to Natalie’s. “I knew that Natalie all her life, and I loved her like she was my own.”

  A strangled sob escaped Natalie’s throat.

  “Sweetie, look at me,” Betty ordered. So she did.

  Betty’s eyes were misty again as she murmured, “That is not the same Natalie who walked in my door today.”

  28

  When Natalie arrived back at the house, she was surprised to realize that only a couple of hours had passed since she’d left. It felt like she’d been at Betty’s for ages.

  As she made her way down the hall to her old bedroom, a dozen thoughts swarmed through her head from the conversation at the diner. But the one that kept pushing its way to the foreground was Glenn, and the way she had ended things with him. Yes, once upon a time, she would’ve said or done anything to cut
someone loose once she was ready, but that’s not who she was now. And even if it cost her what little good opinion she might have left in his eyes, she needed to tell him the truth.

  She sat down at her desk, located some notepaper, and began to write.

  Glenn,

  I owe you an apology. When I implied I wanted to end our relationship because of another man, I deceived you. The truth is I had come to terms with the fact that we aren’t right for each other, but I didn’t have the courage to tell you why.

  Her eyes seemed to close of their own accord. “Please, help me do this,” she murmured.

  Then she took a deep breath and leaned back over her paper. She wrote down all the ugly details about herself and her past.

  She recounted her marriage and divorce, the baby, and her failure as a mother. She even touched on her behavior in recent years. She spread it all out as if she were a prosecutor building a case against herself.

  But, just as she had with Betty, she also attempted to explain what had happened to her at camp. It was important that Glenn knew that too.

  To make a long story short, I pretended to be a better person than I really was when I first started helping you because it seemed advantageous at the time. But somewhere along the way, I really did change. I believe God changed my heart. And I will always be grateful to Darla and the children, and most especially to you for the part you played in that process.

  I still don’t know what I am doing with all this, and I know I have a very long way to go. You deserve more than that. You deserve someone who is already wonderful, because you are a wonderful man.

  I’ll never understand how your cousin could ignore you. If I had you in my life, I wouldn’t want to miss a single moment.

  Please take care of yourself.

  Natalie

  She reread her work and sealed the letter. Before she could think better of it, she hurried down the street to the nearest mailbox and stuck the letter in the slot for Monday’s first pickup.

  Part of her was at peace about writing the letter, but another part was twisted in knots at the prospect of Glenn learning about the real her.

  It was hard not to torture herself with visions of his stunned or even horrified reaction, but she knew she had to try to leave it all in God’s hands. The best thing she could do was keep her mind occupied with other things.

  Once she was back in the living room, she sat down on the floor in front of the sofa and delved into another box. The cardboard was more frayed and brittle than the other boxes had been, and she made a mental note to buy some plastic storage containers that would preserve the contents better.

  The first thing she found in the box was a dark brown teddy bear with the stuffing falling out. Then there was a stack of magazines that appeared to be from the early eighties. This was obviously her mom’s old stuff.

  As she dug further, she found a large navy yearbook. From the date, she calculated it must have been from her mom’s senior year. She flipped through the pages, giggling at the crimps, perms, and mullets on every page.

  She paused on a page featuring the drama club. Right in the middle on one side was a picture of her mom. She stood on a stage wearing a long, flowing Elizabethan-style costume.

  Natalie marveled. Even from a still photo, it was clear that her mom had possessed an engaging stage presence. She was beautiful, tall, and graceful.

  Why had she never shown Natalie any of this stuff?

  “Right,” she snorted. Like her mom, of all people, would sit down to share memories with her like they were in some kind of Norman Rockwell painting. When had she ever shared anything about herself?

  After several moments of stewing, she finally shook off her irritation. She really needed to stop with the bitter routine. Returning her attention to the yearbook, she studied pictures until she came to the back. Dozens of faded signatures and well wishes cluttered the inside cover.

  Her attention caught on one large, sprawling inscription:

  Diane,

  You are the most talented student I’ve ever

  taught. Congratulations on your theater

  scholarship. I know we’ll see great things

  from you someday.

  Mr. Boden

  A scholarship? Her mom had never even mentioned that part before. For Natalie’s entire life, her mom had made vague references to how she’d gone off to the city to start her acting career, but she’d never discussed the fact that she’d actually studied theater. She’d gotten off to a much better start in her career than Natalie had. Who knows how far she could have gone? What kind of parts she could have gotten?

  But none of it had happened. She’d lost out on her dreams when she’d gotten pregnant and married her dad. Natalie had experienced a small taste of that kind of disappointment, but her mom had lived through years and years of it.

  She continued sorting boxes, but her mind wasn’t focused on the task anymore. In her memory, she was wandering through her childhood and beyond, through moments and behavior patterns she’d always resented: her mom’s harshness and criticism, her frequent irritability. These were things she’d approached with some bitter sense that her mom just didn’t get her or have much regard for her. But now she saw them for what they were: manifestations of her mother’s deep unhappiness and, most likely, her desire to see Natalie do more with her life.

  She leaned her head back against the sofa and groaned. She really had been the most self-absorbed person in the world.

  After a few moments of lamenting that fact, she murmured a prayer for forgiveness, then stood and pushed the boxes away. That was enough of memory lane for one day.

  Standing up, she checked her watch. It was a little over an hour until her mom got off work. Just enough time.

  29

  Natalie added diced chicken from the leftover Chinese food to a skillet. She’d already added vegetables from the freezer to augment the takeout broccoli and mushrooms and heated them all in oil. Next, she had added egg and the residual fried rice. The chicken was the final touch to her impromptu stir-fry.

  The mixture was well heated and ready to serve by the time the front door rattled to announce her mom’s return.

  “Mom, I’m in here,” she called over her shoulder when the door opened.

  There was a rustle in the doorway then, “Natalie, what’s going on?”

  Natalie turned. “I decided to make dinner. The table’s all set if you want some.”

  Her mom’s eyes widened. “Oh! Well, thanks. I’m not about to turn down a hot meal. Give me a second to go get washed up.”

  A few minutes later, they were seated at the dining table.

  “You spruced up the leftovers, huh?”

  “Yeah. I added some stuff and turned it into a stir-fry.”

  Her mom pushed the food around her plate. “Good thinking. If you put that much effort into your career, you might be a star.”

  Natalie’s hand gripped her fork convulsively, but she managed to force down an angry retort. She drew in a deep breath and released it as a hollow laugh. “Yeah, I guess I’ll try that sometime.”

  A slight grimace that looked surprisingly like regret flashed across her mom’s face, but she looked down quickly and took a bite. “Mm. That’s good.”

  “Thanks.”

  After a few minutes of eating in silence, Natalie glanced up to find her mom watching her. Natalie sent her a small smile.

  Her mom chuckled awkwardly and gestured at the table. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I ate in here. I usually just have dinner in front of the TV.”

  “Yeah, the places I’ve lived have either had tiny tables or no dining space at all. This is nice.”

  The silence returned. This time, she was the one studying her mom. She really did seem more tired than usual.

  Natalie bit her lip. She hated to shatter the calm by nagging, but concern pressed her forward. “Mom, have you given any thought to retirement plans?”

  Her mom slowly finished
chewing. “I think about it now and then. But I don’t know what I would do. I’ve been at this job for over thirty years now.”

  “I know, but you could do other things. Find a hobby, maybe?”

  Her mom rolled her eyes. “That’s great, Natalie. A hobby! Maybe I could go to the senior center for bingo night.”

  Natalie started to bristle, as she always did at her mom’s sarcasm, but suddenly an image sprang to mind of her mom at senior bingo night, trying to fend off advances from octogenarian men. A slight giggle escaped her. “No, that’s not what I meant. But there must be something else.”

  “There is something …”

  Natalie scooted closer to the table. “Yes?”

  “You know the old Brighton Theater?”

  Did she! How many times had she snuck into the old condemned theater and pretended to perform on the dusty stage when she was in middle school and junior high?

  “Yeah. What about it?”

  “It’s silly, really, but Betty wants me to partner with her in restoring it and opening it again.”

  “Mom! That’s a great idea!”

  “It’s just a thought,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “It sounds risky. Not to mention a lot of work.”

  “I’m sure. But it’s a lot of work on something you actually want to do, for a change.”

  Her mom gave a half smile. “I’ll think about it.”

  ◆◆◆

  The next morning, Natalie sipped her coffee, surveyed the remaining boxes in the living room, and endeavored to wrap her mind around the previous night’s dinner with her mom. After the discussion about the old theater, they had addressed other topics—all of them uncharacteristically peaceful. What exactly had shifted between them?

  Ordinarily, when sitting down to a meal with her mom, she would expect at least a few fireworks.