23
May 1966
To Anna's dismay, it took Lauren nearly a year to get over it. Even then, Lauren acted differently, treating Anna with politely quiet contempt. During the past year, Anna had attempted to rebuild the bridge. She'd written many cards and letters, both to Lauren and Sarah. She had sent Christmas presents and other packages, never receiving a thank-you or any response whatsoever. Oddly enough, it was Eunice who provided an outlet for communication throughout this unsettling time. She had heard all about the angry confrontation, and in a strange way, Anna thought that Eunice appreciated how she'd raked her daughter over the coals that day.
Consequently, Anna was surprised when, out of the blue, Lauren called the last week of May. The conversation, at first, was stilted and chilly, but slowly thawed, ever so slightly. "The reason I'm calling is to make plans for Sarah's summer."
"Plans?"
"Yes. Sarah has gotten it into her head that she should go out there to see you."
"Really?" Anna felt a rush of joy.
"Yes. She keeps talking about the river and the boats."
"I'd love to have her come for a visit."
"I honestly do not know why she is so bound and determined to go out there," Lauren said flatly, "but she will not let up."
"Sarah is more than welcome here," Anna said eagerly. "She can stay as long as she likes."
"Well, I wanted to send her to summer camp, but she's begging to see you instead. And, as Donald pointed out, it would be a lot cheaper. Although I do think that, expense or not, summer camp would've been preferable."
Anna knew this was meant to be an insult, but didn't care. Lauren could poke and jab as much as she liked—as long as Sarah got to come to the river.
"Anyway, Sarah will need to come out early next week. I thought I could put her on the bus, but Donald insists she's too young."
"I agree," Anna said quickly.
"I suppose I could drive her out, but that would mean I'd have to spend a night there and I'm not sure that I'm up for that kind of abuse."
"What sort of abuse do you mean?"
"Being subjected to your harsh criticism, of course."
"I have already apologized to you for losing my temper that day, Lauren. The things I said to you were true, but I did not intend to deliver them with such hostility. I hope that someday you'll find it in your heart to forgive me."
There was a long silence now.
"So, shall we expect you on Monday then?" Anna asked.
"Tuesday is more likely."
"And you only plan to stay over one night?"
"That is unless you decide to throw me out sooner."
"Oh, Lauren." Anna sighed. "When I think of all we've been through. All I've done for you. Don't you think you could let this offense go, dear?"
Now there was another long pause.
"Well, I hope you know that you will always be welcome here," Anna said warmly. "Whether for one night or many. And I am truly looking forward to seeing Sarah again. I'm so thankful you're not opposed to her coming."
"Like I said, it was her choice. And if I wasn't going to Europe with Grandmother, I never would've agreed in the first place."
The light went on now. Lauren was in a bind. She needed someone to watch Sarah for her. No matter. Anna was happy to comply. "So Eunice is taking you on a trip with her?"
"Yes. She acts like she's doing me a great favor, but I know perfectly well that I'm only accompanying her because she's getting too old to go alone. I am her paid companion."
"I hope you'll be able to enjoy the trip . . . at least a little." Anna was glad Lauren couldn't see her skeptical expression right now.
"Yes, well, I suppose. After all, we are going to London, Paris, Rome, Athens . . . I suppose there should be some pleasures along the way."
"How long do you plan to be gone?"
"Oh, didn't I mention it?"
"No . . ."
"We won't be back until late August."
Anna was shocked. "So, will Sarah be here the whole time?"
"Is that a problem?" Lauren's tone grew sharp.
"No, of course not. I couldn't be more pleased."
"Yes, well, you've always been the domestic type, haven't you? I figured you wouldn't care."
"And Sarah doesn't mind?"
Lauren laughed, but there was a hard coldness to it. "Hardly."
"Well, I look forward to seeing both of you."
"And now I have much to do. I will see you on Tuesday." Anna said goodbye, and although she didn't like the cool aloof sound to her daughter's voice, she did think that Lauren sounded a little bit older, a tad more mature, like perhaps she'd grown up some.
The summer of 1966 was perfectly blissful at Shining Waters Inn. Not only was Sarah perfectly delightful and no trouble at all, she was helpful and friendly to the guests as well. She seemed to innately understand that the purpose of the inn was to show hospitality and, in a youthful way, took some personal responsibility toward it. She was quick to run errands, fetch linens, take messages, deliver fresh flowers . . . whatever the task was, and completely unlike her mother, Sarah was always more than glad to make herself useful. It was as if she sensed that Shining Waters was as much hers as it was Anna's.
"Sarah seems wise beyond her years," Anna told Clark one evening after everyone had gone to bed. "I feel like she's as connected to this land and this river as I am, as much as my mother and my grandmother before me. And, you know, my people were a matriarchal society, so in all fairness, I will one day hand this property over to Sarah."
He chuckled. "Just don't go about handing it off too soon. I don't think she's quite ready for it yet."
"Speaking of being ready for something." She filled their coffee mugs. "Have you noticed anything different about your son lately?"
He gave her a quizzical look as she handed him his coffee.
"You haven't noticed him hanging around the kitchen more than usual?"
"He's always liked sneaking food." Clark opened the door for her and they went out onto the spacious second floor deck that he'd recently built for them. Attached to the house, it allowed them a spot to go out and enjoy the fresh air without having to use the stairs. This evening the river smelled ripe with new life, green and fertile and sweet. The vantage point from this deck was lovely, and watching the reflection of a sunset, the ripples of peach and rose, was like a slice of heaven. Anna sighed happily as she settled into one of the Adirondack chairs, also Clark's workmanship, and took a sip of the hot drink.
"So, what is it?" Clark sat next to her, laying a blanket over their legs to ward off the chilly air. "What's different about Marshall?"
"You honestly haven't noticed him spending a lot of time with Joanna?"
"Joanna?" He nodded slowly. "Now that you mention it. And he took her and the other kids to town for a movie tonight."
"I think he's in love."
Clark grinned. "Joanna's a very sweet girl."
"So you would approve?"
He chuckled. "Of course, why not?"
"Well, Marshall isn't finished with law school yet."
"Joanna's not finished with her college either." He frowned. "You're not suggesting they are serious enough to want to get married?"
"I don't know . . ." She grinned.
"Well, even if they are that serious, they're both adults. They can figure this out for themselves."
She nodded. "My thoughts exactly. Now if they were as immature as Lauren and Donald were when they got married . . . that would be different."
"Marshall's got a good head on his shoulders. And so does Joanna. Whatever they choose to do, they have my blessing."
"We have the perfect life, don't we?" she said happily.
"I think so. But it's not for everyone." He reached for her hand. "Take Mr. Owens in Cabin 4. He just could not believe we didn't have television out here."
"Yes, Mrs. Owens said the same to me." Anna sighed. "I asked her why she thought we needed it and she sa
id to stay current on the latest developing news events."
"Did you tell her we take three different newspapers, as well as a couple of weekly news magazines?"
"Yes. I showed her where they were kept. But she meant the TV news. She told me they watch it every night while eating dinner."
"You're kidding. They eat dinner and watch the news?" he sounded astounded.
"That's what she said. So I asked her what kinds of things they showed on the TV news. What was so interesting that you couldn't wait until the next day to read about it in the paper, or hear it on the radio, and do you know what she told me?"
"I have no idea." He sipped his coffee.
"She said they showed scenes straight from the Vietnam War. They put real footage of real soldiers who were actually killing others or being killed, right there on the television screen for everyone to watch. Can you imagine?"
"No, I'd rather not. I've seen some horrendous photos in the newspapers and magazines. I would not like to see them on TV. And certainly not while I was eating my dinner. That's grotesque."
"She also said they showed scenes of racial rioting, where people are being shot at or hosed down—it sounds just brutal." Anna shuddered. "It's hard enough to read about those things in magazines. I don't think I'd care to see it live. And she even told me about how important the TV was when President Kennedy was shot. It seems they experienced the whole thing on TV. Everyone stayed glued to their sets. Even the funeral was televised. So was the shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald. It seems nothing is spared from the television screen."
"Good reason to continue as we are without any televisions."
She nodded. "I agree. I told Mrs. Owens that it all sounded rather stressful to me. And, do you know what, she agreed."
He laughed. "And yet she complains that we don't have TV here at Shining Waters?"
"Contradictory, isn't it?"
Anna wasn't ready to say goodbye to Sarah in August. To make matters worse, Sarah seemed even more reluctant. "Why can't I just stay here with you and Grandpa?" she asked the night before Lauren was due to come. It was past bedtime, but Anna had taken her out there for a cup of cocoa and to look at the stars.
"Because your mommy and daddy need you to be with them," Anna explained. "And your Grandma and Grandpa Thomas must be missing you, and Great-grandmother too. We have to share you with the rest of the family."
"But I want to stay here with you."
"I would love to keep you forever," Anna admitted. "But that would be selfish."
"Mommy's selfish," Sarah stated.
Anna didn't know what to say. It was true. But it was disrespectful. "When I was a child I was taught to respect grown-ups," she said gently. "Even when I didn't agree with them."
"Why?"
Anna considered this. "Maybe it was because I didn't know everything when I was a child. I'm sure I thought I did. But the older I get, the more I realize how much I don't know."
"Huh?"
Anna laughed. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that sometimes people do things that are hard to understand. But if you try to be patient . . . sometimes you begin to figure out that there's a reason." Now Anna started to tell Sarah about her own mother. "I didn't understand her when I was a child. She did a lot of things I didn't like. And I know I did things she didn't like."
"Were you naughty?"
Anna nodded. "Sometimes I was."
Sarah laughed. "Did you get in trouble?"
"Sometimes. But when I got older, I felt sorry that I didn't try to understand my mother better. I realized that she had some hard things happen that I never really knew about." Anna realized that most of this was probably going over Sarah's head. "I know your mommy makes some mistakes. Everyone does. I think we all just need to learn how to forgive each other better."
"How do you do that?"
"Forgive?"
"Yeah."
"Well, you know how you feel when you make a mistake that hurts someone?"
"Like when I pushed Susan out of my favorite swing that time?"
"Yes." Anna nodded. "Remember how angry Susan was at you?"
"Yeah. Jill got mad at me too."
"Did you tell them you were sorry?"
"Yeah."
"Did they forgive you?"
"Susan didn't. She was too mad. She just stomped off and told her mom."
"How did that make you feel?"
"Bad."
"Did Jill forgive you?" Anna had already heard Jill's version and knew how it had gone.
"Yeah, she did."
"How did that make you feel?"
"Better."
"And it made Jill feel better, too, didn't it?"
"Yeah. She hugged me."
"So if forgiving someone makes everyone feel better, it's a good thing, isn't it?"
"Yeah. I guess so."
"So, sometimes you need to remember that with your mommy."
As Anna helped Sarah get ready for bed, she knew she needed to hear that little talk as much as Sarah did. She needed to forgive Lauren . . . again. She wanted to give Lauren a fresh slate when she arrived. But it wouldn't be easy. She was not looking forward to seeing Lauren tomorrow. She could imagine her rushing in, full of herself and her recent trip "abroad." Lauren had a knack for being a snob, and now that she'd spent a whole summer touring Europe, she would probably be looking down her nose at everyone and everything.
But the next day, and to Anna's surprise, she couldn't have been more wrong about her daughter. For starters, she seemed genuinely glad to see Sarah. She had barely stepped onto the dock when she ran directly to Sarah, swooped her up in her arms, and hugged her. Anna was so glad she could've cried.
"Welcome home," she said as Lauren walked toward her, still holding to Sarah's hand. "Did you have a good trip, in Europe, I mean?"
"It was really very nice," Lauren told her. "Educational too."
"That's wonderful." Anna opened her arms to hug Lauren. To her relief, Lauren reciprocated. "And your drive today?"
"It was fine." Lauren looked out over the river. "I forgot how pretty it is here, Mom."
"I caught a fish this morning," Sarah announced. "We're going to eat it for dinner."
Lauren laughed.
"How's Grandmother doing?" Anna asked, for lack of anything else to say. She was so shocked at this new side of Lauren. Not only was she acting more polite and grownup than ever, she was maturely dressed in a pair of neat navy pants and light blue sweater set. However, Anna noticed as she pulled out a white leather cigarette case, she was still smoking. But, to be fair, it seemed almost everyone smoked these days.
"Grandmother was happy to get home."
"We have your cabin ready," Anna told her as she glanced to where Marshall was unloading Lauren's bags. "Lauren will be in Cabin 9," she called out.
That evening, because it was Sarah's last night, they had a big bonfire with plenty of hotdogs and marshmallows on hand. Even Babette came, although her age was making it more and more difficult to travel much. But she brought a bottle of burgundy for the grownups and a crocheted hat for Sarah to take home with her. As the fire died down, the chairs drew closer and Marshall and Joanna got out their guitars and led everyone in campfire songs. Finally, after some of the guests had excused themselves and it was mostly just family and friends, Hazel told some of Grandma Pearl's stories. Anna couldn't imagine a more perfect evening . . . or a more perfect way to end the most wonderful summer.
24
As fall came, Anna realized that Babette was aging fast. Although she wouldn't admit it, she seemed to need help. Even the simplest household tasks were starting to overwhelm her. "Mrs. Thorne, she tells me I should go to a home," Babette confessed as she let Anna into her house.
"A home?" Anna asked as she went into the kitchen, looking for a place to set the heavy box of groceries she was delivering.
"For old people." Babette frowned. "Eets where her mama lives."
Anna tried not to stare at how disorderly the kitchen
looked. So unlike Babette. "Where shall I put this?" Anna tried to find a spot on the messy counters.
"I know, I know . . . ees clutter, clutter, clutter." Babette threw up her hands with tears in her eyes. "What do I do?"
"Come and stay with us for a while," Anna suggested.
"Ees too much trouble." Babette pulled out a kitchen chair. "Put the box here."
"It's not trouble," Anna assured her. "We run an inn. We are accustomed to guests. Besides, you're not a guest, you're family. Just come for the winter. Please?"
"But I am happy here."
"I know you've been very happy here." Anna glanced around Babette's living room now. She'd never seen it in such bad shape. Unfolded laundry was piled on the couch. Books and papers and things were on the floor, possibly presenting a tripping hazard. Anna knew Babette's balance was diminishing. Besides that, her eyesight was failing. Really, living alone was becoming too much for her. "Maybe you could get someone to come and live here then. Do you know of anyone?"
Babette shook her head.
"Please, Babette," Anna begged. "You are like a mother to me, and I would love to have you stay with us—just for the winter if you like. You can have the suite downstairs. And, if you feel up to it, you can help me with the cooking sometimes. Remember when you and Hazel ran the kitchen, back when Sarah was born? The guests raved about your cuisine."
Babette smiled. "Eet was a fun time."
"Come stay with us," Anna urged. "We'll have more fun."
"I will consider it, mon chéri."
To Anna's relief, Babette decided to give it a try. By the end of the week Clark was helping her to move into the downstairs suite. The first few weeks required some adjustments, but Babette seemed to appreciate having people around. And Hazel enjoyed having an older companion. By mid-November the two women established a daily "tea time." Every afternoon at three o'clock, they would serve tea and other goodies to anyone who was interested.
Besides writing Lauren weekly letters, Anna made a special effort to call her at least every other week. She hoped to keep the relationship moving in the right direction and realized that might be upon her to do this. During December, Anna realized that she spent most of their telephone time trying to bolster Lauren's spirits. For some reason, Lauren seemed unexplainably blue. But if Anna pressed her regarding the cause of her sadness, there seemed to be no real reason. Anna attributed it to the weather, hoping that Lauren would perk up come springtime.
River's Call Page 19