River's Call

by Melody Carlson

  "Just Donald. He's acting like a big baby. Honestly, Mom, I'm not kidding when I say it feels like I have two children."

  Anna sat down on the chair by the window, looking out over the dusky river. "What's going on?"

  Now Lauren began to go on about how Donald came and went as he pleased, how he expected her to cook and clean and pick up his dirty socks. "Just because he goes off to the mill to work. To work? I've been to his office. All he does is sit there all day, talking on the phone or writing stuff down. That's work? I slave away here, washing dishes and floors and doing laundry at the Laundro-mat, because we do not have our own washer and dryer, and taking care of Sarah. And yet, he expects me to treat him like king of the castle when he comes home. Who made those rules, Mom?"

  Anna tried not to laugh. "I'm not sure, Lauren, but it does seem to be the way a lot of people think." She was thankful Clark was not like that, not that she planned to mention it to Lauren.

  "Well, people should start thinking differently. Really, Mom, I work my fingers to the bone and does Donald appreciate it? No, he just complains that the meat is tough, that there are dirty dishes in the sink, or that Sarah is crying. Well, she's a baby and that's what she does!"

  "How is Sarah?" Anna hoped to change to a happier subject.

  "She's teething. At least that's what Ardelle says. I'm not so sure. But she is fussy, fussy, fussy. Speaking of Ardelle, she is turning out to be as bad as Grandmother."

  "How so?" Anna took in a deep breath, leaning back and trying to relax.

  "She is always telling me what to do, how to do it, and that I'm not doing it well enough."

  "Oh . . ."

  Now Lauren was starting to cry. "Why does everyone think I'm such a failure, Mom? It's like all they can do is find fault. And how do they think that makes me feel?"

  "Not very good."

  "Yeah. I mean when I was with you, I knew I wasn't doing my best sometimes, but you and the other women didn't make fun of me. You never treated me rudely or called me names."

  "Well, I hope not." Anna wondered if that's what Ardelle was doing.

  "You guys showed me how to do better."

  "And you did do better, Lauren."

  "Well, according to Ardelle, I am perfectly hopeless."

  "I'm sorry."

  Lauren sniffed loudly. "What am I going to do, Mom?"

  "I . . . I don't know." Anna tried to think. "Is there one area in particular that you're struggling with?"

  "According to Ardelle and Donald, I don't do anything right. Tonight Donald and I got into a big fight because dinner wasn't ready."

  "What did you fix?"

  "A roast. I didn't get it into the oven until after five. But how was I supposed to know it would take more than three hours to cook? I still don't think it's even done yet."

  "Well, it will be good leftovers for tomorrow."

  "You mean if I don't throw it at Donald as soon as he comes home."

  "Remember, Lauren, you're a mommy now. You have to act like one."

  "I'm sick of it, Mom. Really, I am. I wonder where you go to quit this job."

  "You're having a bad day, Lauren. You should take the roast out of the oven, go and have a nice hot bath and—"

  "A bath? This duplex does not even have a real bathtub, Mom. It has a shower. That's it."

  "Oh, well . . . just take a nice shower and go to—"

  "A shower is not going to fix this, Mom!"

  Anna didn't know what to say.

  "Really, I want to throw in the towel. I want out of this. I want to be a carefree college coed again. I was robbed of all that and I want it back!" She groaned loudly.

  "What about Sarah?"

  "What about her?"

  "If you could get your life back, as a college coed, what would you do with Sarah?"

  "I don't know."

  "Don't you love her?"

  "Of course I love her. She is the only reason I'm doing all this, Mom. If it weren't for Sarah and the fact that she needs a daddy, I would get on a bus going somewhere far, far from here. And sometimes I honestly think she might be better off if we both just left him for good."

  "Really?"

  "Yes! Donald doesn't give a rip about how I suffer, trying to make this dump into a home. He's mostly gone anyway. What's the point?"

  "Then maybe you do need to consider doing it on your own," Anna said calmly. "Do you really think you could be a single mother, Lauren? I did it. Clark's mother did it. But it's not for everyone."

  There was a long pause now. "I don't know, Mom . . . I mean, I guess I really do love Donald . . . despite all his faults, and there are plenty of them. I'm probably making this seem worse than it is. But sometimes when I see him coming home in his suit and tie, well, I sort of forget how mad I am at him."

  "Then I suppose you're going to just have to try harder, Lauren."

  "Maybe so . . . ."

  "I wish we lived closer, sweetie. I wish I could come give you a hand."

  "Me too." She sniffed loudly.

  "Things are slowing down at the inn . . . maybe I could come for a little visit."

  "Really?"

  "Let me talk to Clark about it."

  "Oh, Mom, if you could do that—oh, it would make all the difference in the world. I know it would! This place is tiny, but I could put a cot in Sarah's room. If you wouldn't mind."

  "I wouldn't mind at all."

  "Oh, please, don't just think about it. Please, do it!"

  "I'll let you know. In the meantime, don't forget to take the roast out of the oven."

  "Right. I better go get it now. I think I smell smoke."

  "I love you, Lauren. Give Sarah a kiss for me." As Anna she hung up the phone, she hoped that the roast wasn't burning. Poor Lauren. Sometimes she was really her own worst enemy.

  Anna and Clark discussed a visit, looked at the reservations book, and finally found a patch of three days during the first week of October when no guests were booked. "Why don't you go then?" he suggested. "That's just over a week away."

  "You wouldn't mind?"

  "Not a bit. Maybe I'll even go with you."

  "But there wouldn't be room in their tiny duplex."

  "We'll stay in a hotel."

  She smiled. "Yes, that would be better."

  "And mother can keep an eye on things here."

  "I'll call Lauren in the morning and tell her the good news." She hugged him. "I can't wait to see Sarah!"

  "And your daughter?"

  She chuckled. "Of course I want to see Lauren too. It's just that she's a bit more difficult than the baby."

  He nodded. "I must agree with you on that."

  Anna knew that no matter how difficult Lauren could be, no matter how selfish or immature, she would always be her daughter and Anna would never give up on her. But for Lauren's own sake, she wished she'd grow up.

  19

  Lauren sounded very relieved to hear her mother was planning a trip to Pine Ridge. "But can't you come any sooner?" she pleaded.

  "I wish I could come today," Anna told her. "But we have a commitment to our guests."

  "So you're more committed to your guests than your own daughter?"

  "Of course not. But I can't just leave them here on their own."

  Naturally Lauren didn't understand this, and Anna realized it was pointless to try to explain it further. "If I could do it differently, I would."

  "Okay . . . I guess I can make it through another week," Lauren said unhappily.

  "I'm going to bring you all kinds of goodies," Anna promised. "I've got applesauce and green beans and peaches and jams. And Babette's made some dresses for Sarah, as well as some soaps and things for you. It will be like Christmas in October!"

  "Okay." Lauren still sounded glum.

  "Do your best, sweetie. If you get frustrated, put Sarah in her stroller and go for a walk, enjoy the fall foliage. And before you know it, I'll be there."

  Lauren made a few more gloomy comments and Anna told her it
was time to start fixing lunch. After she hung up Anna shook her head and wondered if someday Lauren would wake up, come to her senses, and realize all the goodness that was in her life.

  For Anna the days passed quickly and soon she and Clark were on their way to Pine Ridge. "Do you remember the last time I drove you over these mountains?" he asked.

  She smiled. "Yes, I was so nervous."

  "It feels like a long time ago. So much has changed."

  She nodded. "Lauren is so frustrated . . . I just hope I can be of help."

  "If you can't help her, I don't know who can."

  "She said that she feels like she has two children—Sarah and Donald."

  He chuckled.

  "I remember feeling like that too." She sighed, twisting the handkerchief that was in her lap. "When Adam came home from the war, he was a lot like a child."

  "You mean because of his physical injuries?"

  "Partly. He needed a lot of help doing things. His mind was like a child in some ways too. Not that his brain was damaged, per se. But his spirit was . . . well, it seemed that it was destroyed."

  "War did that to a lot of men."

  "And when I think back on it, the way he acted—somewhat selfishly and childishly—it reminds me a little of how Lauren acts sometimes. Not always . . . but sometimes."

  "She is Adam's daughter."

  "It's strange, isn't it? She never really knew her father. Not really. And yet she may be more like him than she is like me . . . even though she's known me all her life." She shook her head. "But, to be fair, she never really knew the real me. She saw a shadow of me, an intimidated me, the poor little woman me . . . the pitiful creature that Eunice walked all over." She felt a bit teary. "I was such a poor example to Lauren, Clark. Sometimes I feel completely to blame for all her problems."

  "I've told you before, you can't blame yourself for the way you raised Lauren, Anna, not any more than you can blame yourself for what happened to Adam." He reached over and patted her hand. "I know you, and I can't believe you weren't doing the best you could under some very hard circumstances."

  She nodded. "I know that's true. But it's hard not to feel guilty." She turned and looked at him. "Do you think all mothers feel guilty?"

  He made a half-smile. "Except for the ones who make their husbands feel guilty."

  She knew that his ex-wife had some games she still played. "Maybe so, but you don't have anything to feel guilty about when it comes to Marshall, Clark. He's a good boy."

  He barely nodded. "Thank God."

  She held her head higher. "Well, I'm going to think the best for Lauren. I believe she can be a strong person. And I'll do all I can these next few days to encourage her. I plan to help her establish some routines. I suspect that her housekeeping has slipped into some lazy habits. I'm sure that's aggravating to Donald. I don't want to place all the blame on Lauren, but I do think she has the power to set the tone for their home. It can be a happy place that functions somewhat smoothly . . . or it can be a miserable place where chaos reigns. Which would you rather come home to?"

  "What do you think?"

  "My point exactly. Somehow I want to convey that to her. Do you think it's possible?"

  "Someday Lauren is going to figure out how strong you are, Anna, how you've always been strong. And I think she'll want to be like you."

  Anna rehearsed some of the things she planned to say to Lauren as they drove. She was making all sorts of plans in her head. How she would take Sarah for a walk in the stroller while Lauren enjoyed some free time. How they would do some meal planning together and how Anna would help her to shop. They would stock her pantry with the kinds of items needed to prepare simple meals. She would organize the baby's room so that Lauren could find what she needed easily. Three days would pass quickly, but Anna would do everything possible to make Lauren's life smoother and easier before she left.

  She felt a familiar sense of nervousness as Clark drove the station wagon into town. However, she reminded herself she was no longer that poor Anna Gunderson, Eunice Gunderson's pathetic excuse of a daughter-in-law. She was now Anna Richards, Clark's wife and co-owner of a lovely inn on the Siuslaw River. She held her head a little higher as he turned onto Sixth Street. "There it is," she told him as she peered down the street. "The yellow duplex on the right."

  "Looks like someone is moving," he said as he pulled in front of the house where a small paneled truck was backed into the driveway. "You sure this is the right place?"

  "Maybe it's the neighbors," she said as she got out. But as she went up to the house, she noticed the two moving men carrying what looked like Sarah's white crib out to the truck. "Lauren?" she called out as she went into a living room that looked like it might've survived a small hurricane. "Hello?"

  "Mom?" Lauren appeared with a box in her hands. "What are you doing here?"

  "I told you I was coming today." Anna frowned at the disheveled house. "What's going on here?"

  "Sarah and I are moving out."

  "Where is Sarah?" Anna peered over to where some boxes were stacked.

  "Don't worry, Mom. I didn't pack her."

  "But where are you moving? And what about Donald? And when did all this happen?"

  "Donald doesn't know we're moving."

  "Doesn't know?"

  Lauren shook her head with a mischievous expression. "When he gets home, we'll be gone."

  "But where are you going? And where is Sarah?"

  "We're moving to Grandmother's. That's where Sarah is right now."

  Anna blinked. "With Eunice?"

  "Well, she's with Lou."

  "Lou?"

  "Lou, the nanny."

  Anna frowned. "The nanny?"

  "I can't explain it all right now, Mom. I have to get our stuff out of here before Donald comes home and blows his stack." Lauren waved to the moving men, pointing to a room. "Get the bedroom things out of that room too. Everything except for the pile of stuff in the closet. Then I think we're done."

  Anna stepped out of their way. "Are you sure this is the best thing to do?" she asked Lauren.

  "I'm sick of Donald's games," Lauren said.

  "You don't love him anymore?"

  She shrugged as she picked up a box of baby things. "I don't know. But I figure this will get his attention—once and for all."

  "And what do you think he'll do?"

  "Here." She handed the box to Anna. "Put this by the door."

  Anna carried the box to the front door where Clark was standing with a quizzical expression. "What's going on?"

  Anna quickly explained, as best she could, then handed him the box. "I think this goes in the moving van." She went back to Lauren. "I'm just confused," she began. "What gave you the idea to do this? You knew I was coming, right? I was going to help you. I wanted to help get this place—"

  "Grandmother brought me to my senses," Lauren said as she put jars of baby food in a box. "She came over here and told me that I was living like poor white trash." Lauren looked directly at Anna. "And I had to admit, she was right."

  "But you—"

  "And Grandmother told me that if I would come home and start living like a respectable young woman, she would treat me like one." Lauren handed the box to Anna. "And that sounded good to me."

  "So you are giving up on your marriage?"

  Lauren shrugged. "Maybe for a while."

  "For a while might turn into forever, Lauren."

  "Not according to Grandmother."

  Anna frowned. "How so?"

  "Donald works for Grandmother. She plans to bring him to his senses too."

  "Oh . . ."

  "And she's hired this lovely woman named Lou to be Sarah's nanny. That's where Sarah is right now. This woman has taken care of all kinds of kids and she even wears a white apron. Then there's Mabel to keep house and do the cooking. And Grandmother said she'll let me join the country club now. And I'll be in her bridge club, and I can have my friends over for parties and things." She sighed happily
. "Oh, Mom, it all sounds like heaven to me."

  Anna didn't know how to respond. She simply carried the box of baby food out, handing it again to Clark. "I'm afraid we came too late."

  He gave her a sympathetic look.

  "Lauren's made up her mind. She's going to live with Eunice. Sarah is there now. With her nanny." Anna swallowed against the lump in her throat.

  "Well, we better go over there and see her."

  "To Eunice's?"

  "She is your granddaughter, Anna." He looked over to where Lauren was coming to the door with a box in her hands. "You don't mind if your mother goes over to see Sarah, do you?"

  "No, of course, not." Lauren handed him the box. "Want to put this in the van for me? I'm about ready to go to home myself. I'll meet you."

  Anna just nodded. "See you there."

  Clark put his arm around Anna as they walked to the car. "You are going to be all right, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear. "Be strong."

  She simply nodded as he opened her car door, helping her in. Then as she sat down, she felt a few tears sneaking down her cheeks, and she dug out her handkerchief, quickly catching them as Clark slid into the driver's seat. "I feel like Eunice just won, Clark."

  "Was it really a war?"

  "No, of course, not. But there has always been a battle going on—between Eunice and me—fighting over Lauren. Now it seems that Eunice, with her power and her money and her willingness to allow Lauren to be less than her best, has finally won."

  "Maybe she's won this battle, Anna. But I don't believe she's won the whole war. Lauren has you as an example. Eventually she's going to figure things out. But maybe it's going to take some time."

  Anna considered this. "Maybe you're right. But it feels painful just the same. I had hoped for so much more for Lauren."

  "You know what your grandmother would say, Anna."

  She took in a long deep breath and slowly let it out. "That Lauren must paddle her own canoe."

  "And right now, Lauren is just taking the easy route, going downstream with the flow of the water."

  "That's true enough. But the easy route can easily wind up in rapids or a waterfall."

  He nodded. "And maybe that will be her wake-up call. In the meantime, it doesn't seem there's much you can do." He was pulling up to the big house now, sending an old feeling of unhappiness rushing through Anna.