by Nan Rossiter
“Oh, hon, there’re feeding tubes and breathing tubes that can prolong life…. But do you think that’s what your mom would’ve wanted?”
Beryl had been stunned—this wasn’t her decision to make … alone. She’d stroked her mom’s lovely face, now thin and drawn, as tears had filled her eyes. “Oh, Mum, what would you have wanted?” she’d whispered.
She’d called Rumer and Isak again, and they said they’d come right away … and they’d both assured her that Mia would not want to be kept alive with tubes. Through that night, Beryl had dozed on and off in the chair, but she’d never let go of her mom’s hand and, by the next morning, when she awoke with a start, she’d noticed that her breathing had changed again.
“Isak and Ru are coming, Mum,” she’d whispered, touching her soft, white hair. “They’re coming to see you.” Tears had streamed down her cheeks. “Please don’t go …” With her heart breaking, Beryl had gently kissed the hand that was so like her own and held it against her wet cheek. She’d gazed at the lovely face and whispered, “Oh, Mum, I love you so much.”
Within the hour, Mia had slipped away.
Beryl sipped her cold coffee and shivered. She looked up at the arrival/departure screen and realized that Rumer’s flight had been updated. Her heart pounded—she’d be landing soon!
4
A wave of people poured through the gate, bringing chaos and noise to the quiet waiting area. Beryl spotted Rumer first, her blond head bobbing along in the sea of strangers. Although Rumer was twenty-two months older, she could hardly be considered a big sister. Like Mia and Beryl, she was only 5’2” … when she was standing on her tiptoes and holding her head high. She was a blond version of Beryl, and she wore her wispy sun-streaked hair pulled back in a long, thick braid. Her cheerful, freckled face always had a ready smile, but as soon as she saw Beryl that night, her eyes filled with tears. The two sisters made their way through the crowd and fell into each other’s arms—their grief spilling over like water over a breaching dam.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Rumer whispered into her sister’s wispy dark hair. “I’m sorry you had to go through this alone.” Beryl nodded, trying to brush back her tears, but they just kept coming. “Oh, Ber,” Rumer murmured, pulling her closer. “I’m so sorry.”
After a while, Rumer pulled back and searched her sister’s eyes. “You know what I was thinking?”
Beryl shook her head and Rumer continued, “I was thinking you were there for both Mum and Dad.” She held Beryl’s face in her hands and gently wiped away her tears. “You were there for Mum when Dad died, and yesterday, you were there when Mum needed you most.”
Beryl considered her sister’s words and Rumer nodded, smiling through her tears before wrapping her little sister in another long hug. When they pulled apart, Rumer looked down at her sister’s mud-spattered blouse and smiled. “What happened?”
“Don’t ask,” Beryl said, shaking her head.
Finally, with their arms around each other, the two sisters left the terminal.
“So, how’s my nephew?” Beryl asked, opening the trunk for Rumer to drop in her old canvas duffel and the leather backpack she’d carried since high school.
Rumer smiled. “He’s fine—fresh as ever!”
“I hope you have pictures.”
“I do; they’re on my old phone, though, so they’re not very good. Honestly, he looks more like Will every day—same dark eyes and boyish grin. He’s only ten and he already has girls calling him every night.”
Beryl laughed, knowing her sister was going to have her hands full. “And … how’s Will?”
“He’s okay—busy. I hope they come.”
Beryl closed the trunk and looked up in surprise, not realizing there was a chance Rumer’s family wouldn’t come. “Why wouldn’t they come?”
“Will wasn’t sure he could get away, and I didn’t want to take Rand out of school for a whole week—he’d fall so far behind. Not to mention the expense …” Her voice trailed off, sounding sad, and Beryl searched her face. In the glow from the dashboard, she could see her sister’s eyes were glistening with tears.
Beryl reached for her hand. “Ru, what’s wrong?”
Rumer sighed. “Oh, Ber, I wasn’t going to say anything …” She paused tearfully. “Will moved out a month ago… .”
“Oh, Ru, I’m so sorry. Why?”
Rumer shrugged. “You know us. We fight all the time, and it’s been no better out there. Money is tight and it puts Will on edge. He works as much as he can—so much that he never has time for Rand—or me. We fight about that—we fight about not having any money—and now that he’s moved out, it’s even harder to get by. Paying for two more plane tickets will absolutely sink us.”
In the darkness, Beryl nodded. “You know, I hate to say this when Mum’s not even buried yet, but you should remind him that once we sell the house, you’ll be able to pay for the plane tickets … and probably a lot of other things.”
“I know, but who knows how long that’ll take—estates take forever to settle and we need the money now.”
“Well, I’m sure you could borrow it from Isak.”
Rumer laughed. “Blueberry,” she said, using their mom’s childhood nickname for her sister, “do you have any idea how much money I already owe Isak?”
Beryl shook her head and Rumer sighed. “Pretty soon, I’m gonna have to give her my first-born son!”
“Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having Rand around. After all, I don’t think she enjoys having an empty nest. Having only Matt to talk to at the dinner table is definitely putting a strain on their marriage.” Rumer laughed, knowing Isak wasn’t adjusting very well to having both kids in college—not to mention that her fiftieth birthday was looming.
“If anyone is material for a midlife meltdown, it’s Isak,” Rumer surmised with an affectionate chuckle.
Beryl nodded in agreement. “It was one thing when Tommy went off, but now that Meghan’s in college, too, she’s pretty lost.” The sisters were quiet for a while, considering how time marched on, sparing no one.
“I know it’s late,” Beryl said finally, “but we have to stop at the shop.”
Rumer, who’d been fiddling with the radio and just settled on a country station playing a Kenny Chesney song, looked over at her little sister with raised eyebrows. “Did you forget to feed Thoreau again?”
Beryl laughed. “Hey, I’ve had a lot on my mind. You’re lucky I remembered you!”
“By the way, did you get my message?”
“I did—after I was at the airport.”
“Oh, Ber, don’t you check your phone?”
“Sometimes …”
Rumer shook her head. “How are Thoreau and Flan-O?”
“They’re fine for two old coots! Flan is as flatulent as ever and, when it happens, she looks back at her hind end curiously like she doesn’t have any idea where the sound came from … or the wonderful smell. She’s too funny. When I brought her to the house today, she marched in like she owned the place.”
“Has she adjusted to living with you?”
Beryl laughed and shook her head. “Of course, nothing fazes that dog. She takes everything in stride—I should say waddle.” She paused. “Did I tell you I used to bring her to the nursing home?”
Rumer laughed. “No …”
Beryl nodded. “Yup, she’d trot down the hall, saying hello to everyone. The patients loved her. Even Millie, who never acknowledged anyone, always whispered hello to Flanny—that’s what she called her. She was such a character.” Beryl paused, then added softly, “I guess she still is… .”
Rumer looked over at her sister. “It was great that you could bring Flan.”
Beryl nodded, thinking of all the patients who had always been lined up in their chairs or wheelchairs along the hall. “They’re going to miss seeing Flan,” she said, suddenly realizing that her absence might actually affect the lives of the remaining residents. “Smiling John, and Ethel, who always bickered w
ith Ruth, but stopped when she saw Flan coming along; and Millie, who always saved a cookie for her; and George, who paced the halls; Frank and Jim and Betty, who never had any visitors.” Tears stung Beryl’s eyes and her sister looked at her in amazement.
“Ber, you know all the other patients’ names?”
Beryl brushed back her tears. “Silly, isn’t it?”
“No, sweetie, it’s not silly—it’s so you!”
“Well, they’re going to miss seeing Flan… .”
“You can still take her to see them. After all, it seems Flan enjoyed her role as therapy dog.”
Beryl nodded. “You’re right, maybe we will. Otherwise, Millie will end up with a whole pocketful of cookie crumbs just waiting for Flan to come see her.”
“You are too funny,” Rumer said, shaking her head.
Beryl parked under the streetlight outside the shop and Rumer looked up at the sign over the door. She had designed and painted the wooden teacup with the word Tranquility floating steamily above its rim, and given it to Mia for Christmas the year she’d opened the shop; and although she’d given it a fresh coat of paint in recent years, it definitely needed another one. Beryl followed her gaze and read her thoughts. “Maybe while you’re home … ?”
“Maybe,” Rumer said with a smile. “Although we’re going to be pretty busy.”
Beryl sighed in agreement. “You’re right.” She unlocked the door to the shop and turned on the light. Thoreau looked up, blinking his eyes. “Sorry, buddy.”
Rumer closed the door behind her and Thoreau, spying his old friend, hopped down and brushed against Rumer’s legs, purring loudly. Rumer knelt down and scratched his head. “How are you, old pie?” Thoreau jumped up, lightly placing his paw on Rumer’s knee, and greeted her, nose-to-nose. “Thanks for the warm welcome in the middle of the night,” she whispered, stroking his soft fur. The old cat purred happily while Beryl looked on.
“Hey, you, where’s my hello?” she teased.
Rumer grinned and whispered, “It’s okay if you don’t want to say hello to her. I know she forgot to feed you—again! I’d ignore her too.”
While Rumer and Thoreau got reacquainted, Beryl went behind the counter and filled his bowl. Thoreau heard the sound of kibble hitting plastic and darted after her. “Wow! Good thing we came by. Are you sure you fed him yesterday?”
Beryl paused, trying to remember. “I think so—these last few days have been a blur.”
“Speaking of food …” Rumer began.
Beryl looked up in surprise. “Have you eaten?”
Rumer shook her head. “I wasn’t very hungry—especially for airplane food.”
“You should’ve said something. We could’ve stopped.” She looked in the refrigerator. “I can warm up some croissants.”
“That sounds good.”
Then, in her best Downton Abbey accent, Beryl asked, “Can I interest you in a spot of tea?”
Rumer laughed. “What do you have in mind?”
“We have a new Lemon Myrtle.”
“That sounds good too. Need help?”
“Nope,” Beryl answered, filling the teakettle.
Rumer plopped down in the warm spot Thoreau had just vacated and looked around. The shop was exactly as she remembered.
Once home to a small market, the little storefront had sat empty for many years until Mia, seeing its potential, gathered her meager savings and what was left of Tom’s insurance and bought the space outright. She’d sold the two big freezers and, with the profit, completely transformed the interior.
Donning face masks and coveralls, they’d pulled down the cracking plaster walls and swept up the debris; then Mia had hired a local contractor to Sheetrock, tape, sand, and install wainscoting. Keeping the wide oak floor had been the easiest decision; Mia had rented a sander and refinished it herself, and although the finish had since worn through in the entrance and around the counter, most of it had aged to a warm honey hue. They’d painted the new walls and the original tin ceiling a creamy white, and offset it by painting the wainscoting a lovely ocean green. When it came to furnishings, Mia had finally settled on a classic arts-and-crafts style of café tables and chairs. Rumer still remembered poring over the catalogue with her sisters until they’d finally convinced her to buy the style she liked best. Even though it had been more expensive, it had obviously been a good choice because the cherry finish—wiped down thousands of times since then—still glowed in the soft, warm light of the lamps that hung over each table.
On the far end of the room was an old tile fireplace that Mia had always dreamed of having restored. She’d gotten as far as having an oak mantle installed above it and decorating it with tiny white Christmas lights woven into a faux garland of red berries. The effect was festive and cozy, and she ended up keeping the lights up year-round, adding stockings and ornaments at Christmastime. Above the fireplace hung a beautiful landscape painting, and beside it was a tall wooden bookcase where gift items—mugs, teapots, linen napkins, beeswax candles, and bluebird houses that a local craftsman sold on commission—were displayed. There was a second bookshelf with a sign above it that said BOOK EXCHANGE; this was a favorite draw for the regulars who liked to drop off their latest read and peruse the ever-changing selection for a new one.
There was a glass case in front of the counter that was usually full of tarts, pastries, croissants, and cakes, but Rumer noticed it was empty and decided her sister must have cleaned it out and put a hold on orders. The shelves displaying every kind of tea imaginable, however, were neatly stocked and arranged by country of origin. Finally, on the wall behind the counter, painted in mission-style lettering, was one of her mom’s favorite Thoreau quotes: “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.” It was the one last touch—along with some stenciled paintings of teacups and steam—that Rumer had painted.
Beryl peered over the counter, interrupting her sister’s thoughts. “Mug or china?”
“Mmmm … mug.”
A moment later, Beryl came around the counter carrying a tray on which was a sunny yellow teapot, two croissants oozing with melting chocolate, and two sea green mugs with the word Tranquility painted inside their rims. She put the tray on a table and Rumer joined her.
“Ber, did Mum ever tell you where she got that painting?”
Beryl looked up at the beautiful old painting above the mantle and shook her head. “She didn’t, but sometimes I saw her gazing at it for a long time—seeming to be lost in her thoughts.” The evocative painting depicted a rosy sunset filtering through lazy autumn leaves. Long shadows contrasted against long angles of sunlight that stretched across the canvas, drawing one’s eye to a small cabin tucked back in the sun-dappled woods. Beside the cabin was a tremendous oak tree that must have been centuries old. The windows of the cabin glowed warmly, and wisps of white smoke drifted from its chimney. Beryl had always been drawn to the scene. Who lived in that cabin? And what did he do with his time?
“I guess we’ll never know …” Rumer mused as Beryl scooted into the chair across from her.
“I guess not,” Beryl agreed with a sigh. She leaned back wearily. “I’ve missed doing this.”
Rumer looked up. “Doing what?”
“Sharing a pot of tea at the end of the day. I can’t remember the last time …” She stopped in midsentence. “I take that back. I do remember the last time—Mum was sitting in the armchair by the window and I handed her her favorite china teacup and saucer from the set that had belonged to Gram. I should’ve known better. She took one sip and the heat of the tea must have startled her, because she pulled it away from her lips and the cup slipped from her hand, shattering it. She was very upset.” Beryl shook her head sadly. “Oh, Ru, I wish I could’ve kept her home. Then none of this would’ve happened.”
“You can’t think that way, Ber. You don’t know that. You did the best you could.”
Beryl looked away, her eyes filling with tears. “I miss her so much.�
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Rumer reached for her sister’s hand. “I miss her, too, but you know she didn’t like depending on other people for everything … and not being able to remember anything.”
“I know—it’s absolutely the worst thing that can happen to a person.”
She shook her head sadly as she poured tea into the mugs. Then she nodded toward the croissants. “Eat one—while it’s warm.”
Rumer took a bite out of a croissant and chocolate dripped down her chin. She reached for a napkin and grinned. “Mmmm, you make the best chocolate croissants.”
“It’s Mum’s recipe, silly.”
Rumer rolled her eyes. “I know, silly.”
5
Isak slipped quietly out of bed, showered, smoothed Oil of Olay onto her face and neck, brushed out her thick auburn hair, lightly swept her lashes with waterproof mascara, dressed in the Elie Tahari slacks and blouse she’d laid out the night before, and tiptoed down the stairs. She dropped in a Keurig cup and, while it brewed, jotted a few words on a sticky note: Didn’t want to wake you. I’ll call when I land! As she poured the steaming coffee into her travel mug, she heard a sound and turned to see Matt leaning against the door frame, wearing sweatpants and a faded Columbia Crew sweatshirt, his blond hair tousled from sleep.
“No good-bye?” he asked.
“It’s Saturday. I thought you’d like to sleep in,” she answered, unflustered by her husband’s unexpected appearance.
“I could drop you off… .”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll just do long-term—it’s simpler.” She paused and looked up. “Thank you, though.”
“Where are your bags?”
“In the car.”
He sighed. “So, Tommy and I fly into New York on Thursday?”
“I think so—but we haven’t finalized anything, so I’ll have to let you know.”
“But we’re picking Meghan up, right?”
“Yes, her last exam is Thursday morning, so it should work out perfectly—if the timing of a funeral can be perfect,” she added, her voice edged with irony.
He nodded. “You gonna be okay?”
“Me?” she said with a laugh. “Always okay.”