A moment after Olivia got home, Jack pulled into the driveway behind her. He’d been to an AA meeting and, as was his habit afterward, had gone for coffee with his friend and sponsor, Bob Beldon.
“How was the meeting?” she asked, walking back to join him.
“Good.” Jack wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her. “How’d everything go with your mother and Ben?”
She blinked back tears, and Jack leaned forward to get a better look at her. “Liv?”
“Not good…”
“Come inside and tell me about it.”
The early evening was dreary and overcast, and it reflected how Olivia felt. With his arm around her waist, Jack led her into the house through the back door.
While he removed his coat, Olivia put on the kettle for tea. This was something her mother had done all her life. Whenever it was time to have a serious discussion, Charlotte would reach for the teakettle and her favorite ceramic teapot with the butterflies painted on it.
Olivia remembered the day she’d come over to tell her mother that she and Stan were separating. Olivia had been emotional and weepy. That had been the most horrible year of her life, and her mother, teapot in hand, had been a constant source of love and support.
In a one-year span, Olivia’s oldest son had drowned and her marriage had fallen apart. She didn’t know what she would’ve done if not for her mother and, of course, Grace.
“Olivia?” Jack asked gently. “You’ve been standing in front of the stove for five minutes.”
“I have?” Embarrassed, she brushed the tears from her cheeks. “I was just remembering all the talks I had with my mother over tea,” she whispered.
Jack guided her toward a chair, then set out two mugs. At the moment Olivia felt incapable of performing even that simple task. Reaching across the table she grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “I’m sorry. I’m being ridiculous.”
“No, you aren’t,” Jack said.
“I was thinking about the day Mom made me tea when Stan and I decided we couldn’t stay married.”
“What brought that up?”
“I…I don’t know exactly. It’s just that she was so wonderful, so reassuring and supportive. That wasn’t the only time, either. I could always count on her to see me through whatever crisis I faced.”
“And you can’t now?”
She shook her head. “Everything’s reversed—I’m the one taking care of Mom. She needs me more than I need her. So does Ben.” She held the tissue to her mouth and swallowed a sob.
Jack stood behind her and rubbed her shoulders. “You have me and your brother and your kids.”
“Yes, I know. But this is…different.”
The kettle whistled and Jack returned to the stove. He poured the water into the pot and carried it to the table.
“This is all because of taking your mother and Ben to the house?”
“Oh, Jack, it’s so hard for me to watch my mother grow old… . She’s trying to pretend everything’s the same, but it isn’t. Today it was even more obvious that she and Ben can’t stay in the house much longer.”
“Do you want me to talk to them?” he asked after a short pause. “My parents both died years ago, so I haven’t been through this, but…”
“No. I appreciate the offer, but this has to come from Will and me. I can’t blame Mom. I wouldn’t want to leave my home, either. And then there’s the problem of what to do with the house itself.”
When they’d visited the assisted-living complexes, both Olivia and Will had felt encouraged and excited. It’d all sounded so positive, with a variety of programs that would keep her mother and Ben entertained and involved in life. She could visualize her mother leading the knitting group and Ben playing pinochle.
The facilities had exercise and physical therapy programs, musical evenings, reading and craft circles, excursions and more. At each place she must have counted at least five different activities for every day. The meals were well-planned and the menus were nutritious and appealing. Olivia wouldn’t mind eating there herself.
But convincing her mother of the benefits of making that move seemed beyond her.
The phone rang and Jack answered, glancing at caller ID. “It’s Ben or your mother,” he said to Olivia.
“Hello, Charlotte.” Almost immediately his gaze went to her. “Charlotte, of course. Now don’t worry, we’ll be right there.”
Olivia nearly leaped out of her chair. “What happened?” she asked in a panic.
“Everything’s fine,” Jack said calmly. “Apparently Ben fell. He can’t get up and Charlotte can’t help him.”
“Everything’s not fine!” She took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell her to call 9-1-1? Is Ben hurt? He might’ve broken his hip… . Oh, my goodness, Jack, this is serious.”
“Ben isn’t hurt. But your mother’s been trying to get him up, and she can’t do it. They’re both exhausted.”
“How could this have happened?” She ran for her jacket, then grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
“She said Ben slipped on the rug in the kitchen.”
Will had purchased the small rug and placed it in front of the new refrigerator, but it had a rubber backing and shouldn’t have slid.
“He didn’t remember it was there,” Jack continued as if reading her mind, “and he stumbled over it.”
“They should call 9-1-1,” Olivia cried. Jack put on his coat and followed her out of the house.
“Ben is embarrassed enough as it is,” Jack said. “And Charlotte told me he’s not hurt.”
“We don’t know that.”
“No, but we’ll find out soon enough.” They hurried to Jack’s car and were off, not even bothering to lock up.
Charlotte met them at the front door, pale and shaken.
Jack walked straight past her and into the kitchen, where Ben sat on the floor, knees bent and head down. “I feel like an old fool,” he muttered.
“It was an accident,” Jack said. “We’ll have you up in a second.”
With his hands under the older man’s arms, he hauled Ben to his feet, hardly exerting himself.
“Are you okay?” Olivia asked.
“Yes. Except for my pride, which has taken quite a beating.”
Charlotte pulled out a chair and collapsed into it. “I just didn’t know what to do,” she said, her voice trembling. “Oh, thank goodness you were able to come.”
Olivia crouched beside Charlotte and hugged her, whispering reassurances. It was just as she’d told Jack. Just as she’d known for a while. She was the parent now. She’d become her mother’s mother.
Twenty-Six
Monday afternoon, Rachel left work early. She went to the Cedar Cove library, where she sat in one of the big overstuffed chairs and awaited her stepdaughter’s arrival. She’d called Jolene’s cell to make this appointment; the girl had agreed to meet her but Rachel had no idea what to expect. Jolene had attended a counseling session, and it had been a complete waste of time, according to Bruce. She’d been sullen and silent through the entire session, refusing to participate in the conversation. The longer Rachel stayed away from her husband and stepdaughter, the more obvious it became that she wouldn’t ever be able to return. It was time to make other arrangements, permanent ones.
Rachel wondered if Jolene would stand her up and was somewhat surprised when the library door swung open and the girl stepped inside. She came alone, which was also rather unexpected, since Jolene usually traveled with a pack of friends.
She stood in the foyer and scanned the library until her gaze fell on Rachel. As soon as she saw her, Jolene’s eyes narrowed. Walking across the library, she carelessly dropped her backpack on the floor and sat in the chair next to Rachel’s.
“You wanted to talk to me?” she said without any greeting. Her voice was devoid of warmth.
“Yes, thank you for coming,” Rachel replied pleasantly, choosing to ignore her stepdaughter’s attitude.
“Why did you
ask me to come here?”
“Actually, I have several reasons.”
Jolene looked conspicuously at her watch. “How long is this supposed to take?”
“Not long,” Rachel promised. So far, the meeting was going exactly as she’d feared. The girl’s hostility was un-disguised. The battle lines were drawn and swords ready. Except that Rachel was about to hand over her weapon. She was finished.
Inhaling deeply, she came directly to the point. “Mainly, I wanted to tell you I’ve decided to leave the area.”
Jolene’s eyes flew to hers. “Does my dad know?”
“Not yet.” She would tell Bruce later.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Well,” Rachel said, “I thought you’d want to celebrate. You’ve beaten me, Jolene. You win. You can have your father all to yourself. I won’t be in touch.”
“What about the baby?” she demanded. “You can’t do that to my brother or sister.”
Rachel shook her head. “I grew up without a family. My aunt tried but she didn’t have a warm bone in her body. She was raised in an era when children didn’t speak unless spoken to. Her mantra was that cleanliness was next to godliness, so what she held most important was a spotless house. There was very little fun in my life and—”
“You told me all this before,” Jolene said, defiantly crossing her arms.
“You’re right. Sorry, no need to repeat myself, is there? All I meant was that my aunt taught me what not to do, what not to be.”
“What’ll happen with the baby?” Jolene sounded like an attorney representing her father’s interests.
“Happen?” Rachel shrugged. “Well, I’ll raise this child and love him or her to the very best of my ability.”
“What about my dad?”
“What about him?”
Jolene glared at her. “He has a right to the baby, too.”
“I’m not preventing your father from having contact with the child, Jolene, I’m protecting him or her.”
“Protecting him or her from what?”
Rachel hardly felt a reply was necessary. The answer should be obvious, even to Jolene. If Jolene hated Rachel this much, then she couldn’t trust her to feel any differently toward her child.
When Rachel didn’t immediately reply Jolene’s eyes widened as realization dawned on her. “I would never hurt a baby,” she insisted as though highly insulted.
“Perhaps not physically,” Rachel agreed, “but there are other ways of inflicting damage. I can’t risk that.”
Jolene’s gaze moved past her and she swallowed visibly. “Where will you go?”
She hadn’t decided. “I’m thinking of Portland.”
“Oregon?”
Rachel nodded.
“Why there?”
“It’s close but not too close, and far enough away that your father won’t be tempted to…” She let the rest fade.
“Dad’s been seeing a counselor.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I went, too.”
“So I heard.”
Jolene looked away, apparently embarrassed by her behavior at the counseling session.
Rachel hadn’t expected changes overnight, but there had to be some effort and Jolene seemed unwilling to bend at all.
“You need to talk to Dad.”
“I will.” Rachel hadn’t spoken to Bruce during the past three weeks. They’d exchanged a few emails, in which they’d kept each other up to date. After Jolene’s stunt—making herself ill—and then the wasted counseling session, Rachel felt convinced the situation was hopeless. If Jolene would rather throw up than let her father see his wife—well, what more was there to say?
“The counselor has Dad setting boundaries with me.” She said the words sarcastically. “It’s stupid.”
“Uh-huh.”
Jolene looked down at her feet. “You gave Dad back the money, too, didn’t you?”
Rachel was surprised the girl knew anything about that. “Your father told you?”
“No, Teri Polgar did. She came to the house and made a big stink about it.”
Rachel could well imagine that scene. Teri wasn’t one to hold back her opinions. No doubt she’d told both Bruce and Jolene what she thought of them, whether they wanted to hear it or not.
“Dad was pretty upset about it. You not taking the money, I mean.”
“Tell him—that is, if you want to say anything about our meeting—tell him the baby and I are doing well. I don’t need money. I can care for the baby on my own.” She didn’t want a thing from him. Eventually her pride would give way and she’d need to ask, but until then she was content to manage on her own without any help, financial or otherwise, from Bruce or Jolene. They’d both done quite enough.
“My dad loves you.”
The lump was back in her throat. “Yes, I know.”
“If you loved him you wouldn’t be doing this,” Jolene accused her. “You wouldn’t be keeping the baby away from him.”
Rachel wasn’t willing to be attacked for the difficult choices she’d had to make. But rather than defend herself, she disregarded the girl’s comment. Standing, she placed one hand over her stomach. “I appreciate you meeting me this one last time,” she said in a low voice. “Goodbye, Jolene.” She started to walk away.
“Wait,” Jolene cried.
“Wait?” Rachel echoed. “For what?”
“I…have something for you.”
Rachel wondered if Jolene was telling the truth.
“I told my dad you called and wanted to meet. He wrote you a letter. I wasn’t going to give it to you, but…I think maybe I should.” The girl reached for her backpack, unzipped it and dug around inside. After a moment she pulled out an envelope, then handed it to Rachel. “Go ahead and read it,” she said.
“Have you?” Silly question. Of course she had.
Jolene’s eyes dropped so quickly, that was answer enough. “Just read what Dad wrote.”
Rachel opened the blank envelope, which either hadn’t been sealed or had been replaced.
Dear Rachel,
I don’t know how to start this. I’ve tried writing this twenty times and gave up every time. When I realized you’d blocked me from calling you, I was angry at first. I’d hoped we could reconcile. Then I understood why you did it and I have to say I probably would’ve done the same thing. Nothing changed, despite all our efforts. It was the same problem over and over again, only worse.
I apologize that I didn’t step in earlier to help you with my daughter. Jolene has major issues, and I should have recognized them earlier. I’ve made some changes here at home and attended several counseling sessions now. You were right about that, too. I should’ve agreed to talk to someone much sooner… . If I had, it might have prevented this. Jolene went, too, not voluntarily, but at least she’s had to listen. It’s helping, I think, but I’ll be the first to admit we have a long way to go.
Teri Polgar returned the money.
I’ll abide by any decision you make.
Oh, Rachel, I can’t stop thinking about you and the baby. I’ve never felt such sadness. When Stephanie died, it was like someone had ripped off both my arms. This is different but just as painful. I’ve failed you and failed our child.
I don’t think there’s anything more I can say, other than to tell you again how much I love you. Although Jolene would never admit it, she needs you, too.
Ending this letter is impossible. Words are impossible. I know I’ve lost you but I can’t say goodbye. Bruce
The last two lines blurred as tears filled Rachel’s eyes. She swallowed, blinking hard, so Jolene wouldn’t know how emotional the letter had made her.
“Thank you for giving this to me.” Her hand trembled as she folded the paper and slid it back inside the envelope.
“Dad’s right,” Jolene whispered.
Rachel looked up and saw that Jolene’s head was bent. A tear splashed on her backpack and she jerked her hand across her face.
&
nbsp; “Your father is right?” Rachel repeated softly. “About what?”
Jolene shook her head, refusing to answer.
“If you ever need me, all you have to do is check in with Teri Polgar. She’ll get in touch with me and I’ll give you a call.”
“You’d do that?” Jolene asked.
“Yes.”
“After everything I’ve done?”
“Yes,” she returned without hesitation.
“Why?”
“First, you’re my stepdaughter, and second, you and I used to be close.” That felt like a long time ago, but Rachel could look back through the years and hold on to the good memories without allowing the more recent ones to taint her perspective.
“The baby…” Jolene began, and then paused. “You’ve got a tummy.”
“I see you noticed.”
“How could I not?” she said, and almost smiled.
The door of the head librarian’s office opened and Grace Harding came out. Behind her a puppy scampered, running across the library and directly toward Jolene.
Bending down, Jolene scooped the small dog into her arms. The puppy started to lick her chin. Squinting, Jolene laughed and held him away from her face.
“Beau,” Grace called out as she hurried toward them. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jolene said. “He’s just so cute.”
“He’s a darn nuisance. I keep forgetting to close the office door behind me. This is the second time today.” She reached for Beau, but Jolene continued to hold him.
“Would it be all right if I petted him for a while?” she asked, looking up at the librarian.
Grace glanced at Rachel as though to get her permission.
“Fine with me,” Rachel said.
Grace lingered a moment. “When are you coming back to the salon, Rachel?” she asked. “With both you and Teri gone, I’ve had a heck of a time finding someone to cut my hair the way I like.”
“I…won’t be coming back.”
1105 Yakima Street Page 21