On the one hand, he had been touched almost to tears that Delia had taken the prized piece of Ally's birthday cake not for herself, but for Charity. That small act had spoken volumes to Matt of Delia's kindness, of the generosity of her spirit.
That she had taken it upon herself to hire a private duty nurse to care for his mother, that was something else entirely.
He had deliberately not mentioned it to Laura, though he wasn't exactly sure why he had avoided doing so. Maybe because Delia was, after all, Laura's birth mother, she might feel obligated to defend her, to explain on her behalf. Matt wanted to hear it from Delia herself why she felt she was entitled to make such a decision. If Delia had conferred with Laura first, Laura may have chosen not to discuss it with him for any number of reasons, not the least of which being that she might have been afraid he'd tell where Delia could put her money.
Or, on the other hand, maybe Laura was feeling a little bit tom between the two women. It was, he concluded, a complicated situation.
The visitors lot was almost filled when Matt arrived at Riverview at three-twenty. Even so, there was no way to have missed the Mercedes sedan. It stuck out from between a Honda and a Subaru station wagon like a red rose in a vase full of white carnations. He parked the truck, gave a verbal reminder to Artie about minding his manners, and went into the nursing home.
The hall leading to the dayroom was quiet, and the soles of his Nikes squeaked softly on the tile floor. As he approached the room, the sound of a woman's voice became audible. He paused in the doorway and took a look around. There were twenty or thirty residents gathered around the chair where Delia sat, her glasses perched on her nose, her legs, in tailored navy blue slacks, crossed at the knee. Her voice was clear and animated. Matt took a step inside and listened as she read from the hardcover book which she held open with both hands:
" 'The bucket that had hung from the frayed rope was gone, the rope cut cleanly. She leaned over the edge of the old well, wondering if the wooden bucket had fallen down, down, down past the old stone walls.' "
"When I was a little boy, we had a well on our farm," an elderly man sitting to Delia's left interrupted her.
"So did we," another nodded.
"I lived on a farm, once." It was Charity's voice. "And we had a well. My father covered it up when my sister Faith fell in and drowned."
Matt's chest constricted. That his mother would remember that! Charity could not have been more than six or seven at the time her older sister had died. It had been years since she had talked about Faith.
"The water in our well was very cold," the old man continued as if he had not heard. "It was sweet to drink on a hot summer day…"
"Faith had yellow hair," Matt heard his mother say. "The yellowest hair I ever saw. My mother used to braid it in two fat plaits. On Sundays she let us wear ribbons in our braids, me and my sister Faith and my sister Hope."
"Faith, Hope and Charity," an old woman seated next to Charity said in the kind of loud voice used by people who are themselves hard of hearing. "That was in the Bible."
"Now, do you want to chatter," a gentleman wearing a blue cardigan sweater and a slouched straw hat stood up, "or do you want the book lady to read a little more?"
"Oh, read more, please!"
Delia shifted slightly in the chair, gave everyone a few seconds to reposition themselves, then continued on with her reading.
Matt sat down on a chair just inside the door, studying the back of Delia's head. Several times she had raised a hand to the back of her neck and rubbed it slightly, as if to rub away some stiffness, but she kept reading until the clock in the hallway chimed four bells. She had been interrupted several more times by members of her geriatric audience when their memories had been jogged by something she read, but she never seemed to mind. She simply waited patiently until they were ready for her to continue. Then she would read some more until someone else had a flash from the past and spoke up to share it.
When the bell rang, Delia finished the sentence she was reading and closed her book, saying, "And that's all till next week."
Several in the group groaned their displeasure that reading time was over for the day, but most simply nodded. The aides stood and prompted everyone to "Thank Mrs. Enright."
"Thank you, book lady," several said as they passed Delia on their way out of the room.
Charity wheeled herself past Matt without looking at him.
He stood and leaned against the wall, debating whether or not to speak with Delia now, or if perhaps he should wait for her by her car.
He had taken too long to decide. Delia turned toward the door unexpectedly. If she was surprised to see him, she hid it well.
"Matthew," she greeted him with a even smile.
"Mrs. Enright." He nodded to her.
She stopped to speak to one of the aides, then gathered a light jacket from the back of her chair. Folding the jacket over her arm, she handed the book to the aide and said, "Why not keep this here until next week?"
"Do you mind if I finish it between now and then?"
"Not at all," Delia smiled, "as long as you don't give away the ending."
"I promise." Looking pleased, the aide hugged the book to her chest.
"Well, Matthew," Delia looked up at him when she reached the door, "are you going my way?"
He nodded. "I suppose I am."
They walked together through the lobby, Delia waving at this one or that, employees and residents, all with the same friendly greeting. As they neared her car, she said, "I'm guessing that this was not a coincidence, that you just happened to stop by today…"
"I knew you would be here."
"Then I take it you have something to say to me." Her voice was soft, not challenging, not apologizing.
"First, I want to thank you for the kindness you have shown to my mother…"
Delia smiled wryly, as if mildly amused.
"The birthday cake, the balloons…," he said.
Delia waved a hand, as if it was all inconsequential. "Ally was upset that her grandmother would not be there this year. She said she always gave her the piece of her birthday cake that had her name on it. I thought she should still have that."
"Well, I appreciate your thoughtfulness."
Again, that amused smile.
"But…?" she prompted him.
"But I think you went too far when you hired a private nurse without consulting me or Laura." His jaw set hard and his eyes narrowed. "I'm assuming you didn't tell Laura…"
"No. I didn't discuss it with Laura."
"How did you get them to do that, bring in a nurse without getting Laura's permission?"
"Laura's permission wasn't needed. The doctor agreed that it was absolutely necessary."
"Who does she think is paying for it?"
"There's a special fund that's been established at Riverview to provide extra services to residents who need them. Others benefit as well, not just your mother."
"Let me guess who funds this 'fund.' "
"I believe the donors are anonymous." Delia averted her eyes.
"Look, Delia, this is very generous of you, and I think I understand why you did it, but all the same…"
"Do you?" She looked up at him in a way that suggested that perhaps he didn't understand at all. "And what do you think you understand?"
"I'm guessing it might help to help ease your guilt."
"My guilt?" Delia's eyes flashed, but her voice remained steady. "And what guilt might that be?"
"Giving away Laura." His quiet words faltered. He hadn't wanted to be so blunt, wished she hadn't made him say it.
Delia shook her head slightly. "You'll have to do better than that, Matt. I stopped feeling guilty the day I met Laura in the library in Bishop's Cove."
He stared at her, clearly not understanding.
"You feel guilty when you feel you've done wrong. As soon as I met Laura, as soon as I saw what a lovely person she was, I knew that I could leave behind whatever guilt I ha
d felt. She had obviously been brought up well, with a great deal of love. I knew then that I had done the right thing. Of course, until I saw her, I didn't know that, all those years…"
"You don't regret having given her up?"
"Ah, regret is something else entirely. I believe we were speaking of guilt." Delia smiled slightly. "It took me years to understand, but once I accepted the fact that nothing I could have done or said would have made any difference, it was a lot easier to forgive myself."
"I don't understand."
"The decision to give Laura up for adoption had been made by my parents, Matthew. I had just turned seventeen. They took it upon themselves to arrange for my baby to be immediately turned over to her adoptive parents upon leaving the hospital. I was not told until it was time for me to leave, and I waited for them to bring my baby to me…"
Delia's bottom lip trembled almost imperceptibly.
"I'm so sorry," he heard himself say.
"It took me a very long time to sort through it all. For years I hated my parents for what they did to me."
"How could you forgive someone for doing that?"
"Forgiveness is yet another issue." She smiled wryly. "Let's just say that in time I came to understand what motivated them to do what they did. It was the nineteen-sixties, and things were very different back then. I was the only child of a prominent minister of a prestigious church in a wealthy community. My parents reacted in the only way they knew—to make the whole episode go away and then pretend that it had never happened."
"It's ironic, isn't it, that Laura married a minister?" Matt said.
"Oh, the thought's occurred to me. But my father meant well, Matt. He thought he was doing what was best for me—and of course for him and my mother, as well. He may have been misguided, but he wasn't evil. Now, Laura's husband…"
Matt met her eyes, and realized that they were in total agreement on that one subject.
"Anyway, to put that aside for a moment, anything I may do for Charity has absolutely nothing to do with guilt."
"Then why…?"
"Let's just call it honoring a debt." She said simply.
"Because she adopted Laura."
"Because she loved her so selflessly, and gave her the home that I could not give her. Because she was there for her, because of everything she gave Laura over the years, all those things that have gone into making Laura the wonderful woman that she is today."
"Do you think that's enough reason to go behind our backs and interfere with her care?"
"I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't think of it as interfering. Charity needs someone to stay with her at night. She mustn't be in a situation where she might fall or injure herself." Delia took a breath and looked up at him and said, "And besides, I felt that this was between Charity and me."
"She's our mother, Delia. She's our responsibility."
"Are you in a position to take on that additional bit of responsibility?" she asked kindly.
He bit his bottom lip but did not respond.
"I know that Laura has her hands full right now with the inn and with Allie. I thought that if I just took care of this one little thing, it would be one less thing that Laura had to worry about."
"Why not just ask?"
"Because people always feel obligated to say no when you offer to spend money on their behalf. If they do 'permit' you, they feel beholden. I didn't want that. I just wanted Charity well cared for, Matt. I just wanted her to be safe." Delia paused, and when she looked up, Matt saw tears in the corners of her eyes.
"Why should it be so important to you?"
"There is a bond between us, between Charity and me." Delia tried to smile but her eyes clouded and the tough twitch of her lips betrayed her. "Every night for thirty-five years, I tried to picture what my daughter looked like. I tried to picture her as a baby held close by loving arms, being rocked to sleep to a lullaby I would never sing to her. I tried to picture her as a toddler, with a thousand questions that someone else would have to answer for her. I tried to see her starting school, her hair pulled up in a ponytail that someone else's hands had tied up with ribbons…"
Her voice caught and her the hot tears fell like fat snowflakes but she appeared not to notice.
"And all the time I prayed that her mother would love her every bit as deeply as I did, would do all those things for her that I wished I could do. Charity was the answer to all of my prayers, Matthew. She was everything I had prayed for, and more."
Matt took the carefully folded cotton handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to Delia. She dabbed at her face gratefully, then continued.
"When I was here last week, I overheard one of the nurses talking about your mother walking in her sleep. It's apparently not uncommon for someone in her condition. Of course, I became alarmed that she might fall and injure herself. I asked how they would prevent her from sleepwalking, and there didn't seem to be much of a plan, other than some type of restraint to keep her from getting out of bed. It occurred to me that perhaps if someone was with her through the night she would be safer, but when I checked around and found out how expensive it was to have someone come in to stay, I thought… well, I thought I would like to do that for her. For any of the residents who need special care. So I set up a fund. It is no hardship for me, Matt, but it would be a hardship for Laura. Perhaps it would be for you as well. So I thought I would just take care of it. I figured it was just between Charity and me."
"Do you always just take it upon yourself to 'take care of things' for everyone?"
"Yes," she smiled somewhat sheepishly. "I'm afraid that sometimes I do."
"Mrs. Enright…"
"Delia."
"Delia, I think I'm beginning to understand why you did this, and I appreciate the fact that you cared enough to step in. But the fact remains that our mother is our responsibility."
"Might I propose a solution?" She touched his arm lightly. "I have all intentions of continuing this fund. It's benefitting several others. But if it would make you feel better, supposing I keep track of the expenses for Charity's nurse. Then, perhaps, you might start paying me back a little at a time, whatever you can afford."
"That's pretty generous of you."
"It's the very least I can do. For Charity. And for Laura." And for you, too, for all you may not want my help. "Of course, there is something I would ask of you in return."
"That being?"
"I would like you to put whatever prejudice you have toward me and my family aside for a while. Try to keep a more open mind. Give us some time to prove to you that we've no intentions of hurting Laura… nor do we want to take her from you."
"How could you know how I feel?" His throat tightened unexpectedly.
"Matthew, we share something very precious, whether or not you realize it. Something besides Laura's love. We both cherish our families. I might very well have the same concerns, if strangers invaded my family."
He met her gaze.
"You need time to learn to trust, Matt. I don't blame you. Just don't be so afraid of losing something that you have, that you overlook the precious things you might gain." She folded her arms across her chest. "Give us six months to get to know us, Matt. That's not so very much to ask."
"And in the meantime, I'll be paying on the loan for the night nurse…"
"Yes. That arrangement will continue, regardless of what you decide at the end of six months. Charity's well-being should have nothing to do with how you feel toward me."
It was a hard offer to walk away from. His mother did need the night nurse, and Delia had been generous enough to provide for the needs of other residents as well. And Laura was having enough trouble holding up her share of the monthly bill from Riverview as it was. Right now, the last thing his sister needed was one more big bill to worry about each month.
"Mrs. Enright—Delia—you are a very generous, very thoughtful woman. If you would draw up some sort of agreement, I'd be happy to sign it."
"I'll take care of it
today. Shall I mail it to you in care of the inn?"
"No," he thought it over for a long moment. Delia was right about not wanting to worry Laura. Any correspondence to him from Delia was sure to evoke curiosity on Laura's part, and Delia was probably right about not worrying Laura right now. And then, after his recent chat with Dr. Espey, he wasn't sure about how much longer he'd be in Shawsburg. "Send it to me at Pumpkin Hill, if you would. And Delia, maybe we could keep this between us. Right now, Laura does have a lot on her hands…"
"Then between you and me this shall stay." She extended her right hand to him, saying, "Deal?"
"Deal." He took her hand, smiling at the firmness of her grip. Delia Enright was a woman of substance in more ways than one.
"You know, we could work out our agreement right now. I just remembered that I have a laptop in the trunk of my car." She searched her purse momentarily, withdrawing the remote which unlocked all of the car doors. Opening the trunk and sliding out the leather computer case, she said, "Matt, be a dear and open the glove compartment. There should be a box of Godiva chocolates… yes, that's it. Now, let's just walk down to that picnic area and we'll type up our agreement. And then, if you're not in too great a hurry, I'd like to share with you some information I recently received concerning that despicable man Laura married. Oh, and bring the chocolate, if you wouldn't mind. We may be a while…"
sixteen
Matt had been fighting the urge all the rest of that week and over the weekend.
On Tuesday he caved in.
Oh, he told himself that it was the barn space that he needed to take a good look at. Hadn't Doc Espey suggested that before Matt abandoned his dream of opening a clinic at Pumpkin Hill, he should try to figure out what it would take to convert the old barn into a modern veterinary facility? Didn't he encourage Matt to see if it was doable, and then to approach one of the local banks to obtain a loan to cover the renovations? Sure, he had, and good advice it was. Why, Doc had even offered to co-sign the loan.
That Matt would most likely run into their tenant had nothing to do with the fact that he left Shawsburg right after his three o'clock appointment, that he'd planned ahead and brought Artie with him that morning rather than run home after work to fetch him, or that he'd worked through lunch to make sure he'd get out on time.
Moon Dance Page 23