As she walked to the house, Anna let her tears fall freely. As a child she had hated to cry, thought it a weakness, but the older she got, the less she worried about such things. In fact, she reminded herself as she paused to look back, tears, like the river, sometimes brought healing too.
Anna couldn't have been more surprised when she received a phone call from Eunice in early November. Eunice wanted to know if the inn had room for her and Sarah to come for a visit the following weekend. "You and Sarah want to come here? To the inn?" Anna spoke loudly, wondering if this was a bad connection, or if she'd heard it wrong.
"Yes. Sarah only has three days of school next week and I thought it would be nice to take a trip out there."
"You're driving here?"
"No, no, I'm too old for that. I had hoped that Lauren would drive us, but she's not feeling up to it, so I have hired a car."
"You hired a car?"
"Do you have room or not?"
"Of course we have room," Anna assured her. "And you know you're welcome."
Eunice told her the date and time of their arrival. "And thank you for writing to me," she said finally. "I'm sorry I haven't written back yet. My hands are so shaky these days, it's difficult to write clearly anymore. But perhaps we can talk when I get there."
"Of course," Anna said eagerly. "I can't wait to see you, Eunice."
"Yes, well, thank you." Now Eunice said goodbye and Anna replaced the receiver and turned to Clark as he placed a log on the fire. "Will wonders never cease."
"That was Eunice?" His brow was creased with concern.
"Yes." Anna explained the details of the phone call.
"Very interesting."
"Remember how she and I talked openly last winter?" Anna reminded him. "Well, I get the feeling that she has something else on her mind." Anna was so excited she couldn't sit down with her book now. "The best part is that she's bringing Sarah with her, Clark. Four whole days with our granddaughter. I can hardly wait."
"I feel sorry that Mother won't be here." Clark chuckled as he turned a page. "I suspect she'd be rather amused by all this." Hazel had signed a teaching contract at a small private college in Washington. As much as they missed her, they knew how happy it made her to teach again. Sharing her wisdom with others always ignited her. Besides, they knew she would be back here in her favorite little cabin during the summers.
"Eunice has changed dramatically," Anna assured him. "In fact, I wish your mother could witness it for herself. But at least you'll be around to see how she's softened in her old age. And Donald said she's been having some health issues. Maybe she's worried . . ."
"She might want to mend her wicked ways before she runs into those pearly gates and St. Peter is pointing the opposite direction," he teased.
She shook a finger at him. "Have a heart, Clark. Poor Eunice is old and ailing."
"Sorry." He smiled sheepishly. "I'll try to be more like you, Anna. Forgive and forget, right?"
She came over to his chair, leaned down, and kissed him on his cheek, feeling the stubble scratching her chin. "Just be you. That's all I could want."
The next few days passed quickly as Anna pulled out all the stops to get the rooms in order for Eunice and Sarah. Sarah was no problem, since Anna decided to let her stay in her usual room upstairs. Anna knew how much she loved it there. However, she went to more effort for Eunice. She planned to put her in the downstairs suite that adjoined to the fireplace seating area. Really, it was their most comfortable space.
Even so, Anna thoroughly cleaned everything from top to bottom, washing the large sliding glass doors until they shone so clear that the river seemed just a breath away. And she made up the bed with a set of Babette's finest lace-trimmed sheets and down pillows, as well as a luxurious satin comforter and a French jacquard throw. She also put one of Babette's beautiful porcelain lamps on the bedside table, along with a crystal vase filled with fresh fall-colored mums. The suite wasn't exactly "lodge" style now, but she knew that Eunice wasn't overly fond of rustic décor anyway. Hopefully she would appreciate that Anna had made an effort to make her feel special and at home.
When the boat arrived, Anna was surprised at how much Eunice seemed to have aged since she'd last seen her. She seemed unsteady as Clark helped her off the boat. "Welcome," Anna said as she placed a firm hand beneath Eunice's elbow. "Watch your step."
"All right, first mate," Clark said to Sarah as she tied off the rope. "Can you help me with the bags?"
"Aye-aye, sir." Sarah made a mock salute then grinned at Anna. "Hi, Grandma!"
"Hello, darling girl." Anna blew her a kiss.
"I saw a fish jumping on the river," Sarah said with excitement.
"Wonderful!" Anna called out as she guided Eunice up the dock. "I'll just get Great-grandmother settled in her room while you help Grandpa. Okay?"
"A-okay!"
Anna slowly led Eunice, pacing her steps to match. "Did you have a good trip?"
"It was a very long drive," Eunice said.
"I'm glad the weather hasn't turned yet. We're expecting a little storm by this evening." She steadied Eunice as they stepped from the dock onto the path. "We're putting you in the downstairs suite," she explained. "Clark made a fire for you."
"That will be nice."
"I hope you can manage the stairs into the house . . . for mealtimes." Suddenly Anna felt worried. What if Eunice was too unstable to climb stairs? "Or else we can bring your meals down . . ."
"I just need to put my feet up a bit." Eunice said a bit breathlessly. "I'm worn out now, but I should be fine by dinner."
Anna got Eunice settled in her room, promising to return with a tea tray. As she hurried upstairs, she wondered if this visit was such a good idea. Although Clark had built a roof over the outdoor stairway, the weather could still sneak in on a stormy day and the thought of Eunice making her way up during a torrential rainstorm was a bit unsettling. Why hadn't she considered Eunice's age and health? Probably because Anna was so used to Hazel, who was a couple years older than Eunice, but as spry and energetic as ever. Eunice seemed to be fading fast.
To Anna's relief, by the time she returned with a tea tray complete with freshly baked pastries and fruit, Eunice looked a bit sturdier. Settled in front of the crackling fireplace, her feet were propped up on the ottoman and the jacquard throw was over her lap. All things considered, she looked at home and comfortable.
Anna arranged the tea tray on the table then sat down in the other club chair. "I'm so glad you could come, Eunice. I know we're rather rustic and this isn't exactly our best season, but I'm very pleased you and Sarah could make it."
Eunice nodded. "Speaking of Sarah, she and Clark dropped my bags off, and it sounds as if she's enticed him to take her for a quick fishing expedition before the storm comes. She is determined to catch us a fish for dinner."
"Bless her heart." Anna laughed as she poured the tea.
"This room is very nice," Eunice said. "Much more elegant than I remembered."
"Babette left me some lovely things." Anna handed her a cup. "I thought you might appreciate them."
"Thank you." Eunice took a sip. "And now I'm going to get straight to the point. I came here with a specific purpose in mind."
Anna simply nodded as she picked up her own cup of tea, leaning back in the chair, waiting for Eunice to continue.
"I realize that I owe you an apology, Anna." Eunice looked directly at her. "For years I have been very unkind to you. Before I die, and that might not be too far from now, I want to say I'm sorry."
Anna smiled sadly.
"I think back to some of the cruel things I said and did to you over the years . . . how I called you terrible names and put you down. Do you have any idea why I picked on you so much? Why I belittled you so much because . . . well . . . because of your Indian blood?"
"I'm not really sure." Anna frowned. The truth was, she'd often wondered why someone like Eunice, who could act the perfect lady at times, could be so unfeeling
and coarse at other times.
"I've given it a lot of thought this past year . . . one has time to spend time thinking as one's body slows down." She sighed. "I have come to the conclusion that the reason I attacked you for your Indian heritage was because it was the only weakness I could find to attack you for."
Anna said nothing as she studied the skin over Eunice's creased brow. It was so thin that it was almost translucent.
"At least it seemed a weakness to me, Anna. Now I suspect I was wrong."
Anna smiled wistfully. "I see my Siuslaw roots as a strength. Although my own mother did not."
"Yes, and I was always threatened by your strength," Eunice confessed. "For that reason I attacked you, tried to make you seem less than you were. But I see now that it was my own weakness that made me act so ungraciously. I do hope you will forgive me."
Anna pressed her lips together. Absorbing the enormity of this confession, she took in a long, deep breath. "You are completely forgiven, Eunice."
Now there was a long silence, and Anna noticed a tear slipping down Eunice's powdery cheek. She watched as Eunice fished a wrinkled handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at it. "It is so easy for you to forgive." Eunice slowly shook her head. "I have never understood how that was possible . . . to forgive others when they've wounded you deeply. It is not easy for me."
"I suppose it's something I learned as a child. My grandmother was always very forgiving."
"And your own mother?"
Anna sighed. "She was not always as gracious . . . not when I was younger anyway. But as she aged, she changed."
"Yes . . . age does change us." Eunice looked out the window, toward the river. "It really is beautiful here, Anna. I can admit to that now."
"Even on a cloudy day like this, I still love it here. There's no place else I'd rather be."
Eunice took a slow sip of tea then set her cup and saucer on the side table, folding her hands in her lap. "Did Adam ever tell you about his father, Anna?"
"I don't recall him saying much. I know that Mr. Gunderson built the lumber mill and was a good provider for his family. But I never got the sense that Adam had been very close to him . . . and I know Adam was in grade school when his father died."
"Adam's father was a cruel man." Eunice pressed her lips together and shuddered. "We never spoke of him, I'm sure, because we wanted to forget. He was a harsh taskmaster, and the truth is I was not the least bit sad when he died."
"I never knew."
"No, I didn't think so."
"Did you love him when you married?" Anna was surprised she'd asked such a personal question, but there it was . . . already out there.
"Love?" Eunice made a sarcastic sounding laugh, almost a cackle. "No, my dear, love had nothing to do with our marriage. I wouldn't call it an arranged marriage per se . . . but it wasn't far from it. The Gundersons were a wealthy timber family while my family barely scraped by." She sighed. "It may be hard to believe, but back then all I had going for me was my appearance." She laughed again.
"I've always thought you were a very attractive woman, Eunice."
"Thank you." She made a weak smile, smoothing her hands over the throw.
"Is it your late husband . . . that you have a problem forgiving?"
Eunice nodded sadly. "You see . . . I have been taking Sarah to church. She enjoys Sunday school and I attend the services."
"That's wonderful, Eunice. I'm sure Sarah must appreciate that." Anna reached for a cookie, breaking it in two.
"She does. But I am growing increasingly worried."
"Why?" Anna leaned forward, studying Eunice's troubled expression.
"The preacher at church spoke specifically on forgiveness not long ago. He stated that, according to the Bible, we are forgiven in the same way we forgive others." She held up her hands helplessly. "And, for the life of me, I cannot forgive Mr. Gunderson. I do not have the slightest idea of how one does that."
"Oh . . ." Anna dabbed her mouth with a napkin.
Eunice peered intently at her. "What shall I do?"
Anna laid her napkin aside, gathering her thoughts. "This is what I believe about forgiveness, Eunice. When someone hurts us and we refuse to forgive that person . . . we might think that our resentments will punish that person, or our hostility will place that person in some sort of prison. Do you understand what I mean?"
"I think I do."
"But that kind of thinking backfires. Our refusal to forgive someone just hardens our hearts, and we are the ones who are punished. We are the ones who end up in a prison of sorts."
Eunice twisted the handkerchief in her hands. "So how do you escape this prison? How do you forgive someone when you still hate him?"
"When I need to forgive someone . . ." Anna thought specifically of the times she'd had to forgive Eunice. "First of all, I ask God to help me to do what I'm unable to do on my own. After that, I remind myself that the person who hurt me might be suffering something I don't understand. I believe that creates empathy and empathy is very empowering. Finally, I try to release my own pain."
"How do you do that?" Eunice's eyes looked hungry.
"I try to consciously let go of the anger. Sometimes I've even imagined myself bundling it together and throwing it all into the river. Then I stand there and watch it float away . . . down to the ocean, never to return."
Eunice gazed out the window with a puzzled expression. "You throw it into the river . . . ?"
"I'm sure that sounds overly simplistic. But I appreciate simplicity."
"Whereas I, on the other hand, have been overly complicated. At this stage of my life, it becomes painfully clear. I fear that my complications have nearly suffocated me." She sighed and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. "And now, I think I must rest."
"Yes." Anna stood, gathering the tea things. "Rest well."
Eunice didn't answer, and Anna quietly slipped out. As she returned to the house, she replayed parts of their conversation and just shook her head. Eunice was making a real effort to straighten out all the fragmented pieces of her life. As Anna stood at her kitchen sink, she prayed that forgiveness would be within Eunice's reach . . . that she would be able to let things go. Anna prayed that Eunice would find real peace and healing.
26
Anna wasn't surprised to learn that Eunice had passed on just three days after Christmas. However, she was surprised that Sarah was the one who called with this information, and even more surprised that Sarah was the one who found her great-grandmother dead on her kitchen floor.
"She was making coffee," Sarah explained sadly.
"I'm so sorry," Anna told her. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah." Sarah sniffed. "I miss her, but I knew she was ready to die."
"You knew this?"
"Pastor Dalton came to visit Great-grandmother before Christmas," Sarah explained. "She told him that she was going to die soon. She asked him to talk to me about it. So I wouldn't be afraid when it happened."
"Dear Eunice," Anna said gratefully. "How thoughtful of her."
"But I still got scared," Sarah confessed. "I never saw a dead person before. Not in real life anyway. I've seen it on TV. But that's different."
"Yes. But you know that dying is just a part of living, don't you?"
"I guess so."
"Everything that lives must die. It's the way we get to the next part of life."
"Pastor Dalton said that Great-grandmother is in heaven."
"I believe she is."
Sarah let out a long sigh. "I hope so. I know some people thought she was too mean to go to heaven. But you don't think that, do you?"
"Not at all, Sarah. It took your great-grandmother a long time to learn how to be kinder to people. But in the end, she did learn."
They talked awhile longer, then Anna asked about Lauren.
"Do you want to talk to Mommy?" Sarah offered. "She's right here."
Anna looked at the clock to see that it was after five o'clock, Lauren's martini hour. "Sur
e, Sarah, I'd like to speak to her, please."
Lauren's voice sounded tired and gruff . . . as though she wasn't eager to speak to her mother.
"I'm sorry about your grandmother, Lauren. I'm sure it must be hard on you."
"I'm sure you're very sorry." Lauren's words dripped in sarcasm.
"I am sorry," Anna protested. "I'm sure it is a great loss to you. I know you two were very close for many years."
"You're probably glad she's dead."
"Oh, Lauren!" Anna wondered if Sarah was listening to her mother's words.
"You never did like her, Mom. You probably wish she'd died a long time—"
"Lauren," Anna said firmly. "Eunice and I got quite close recently. She came to visit me just last month and I will not listen to you going on like that. I hope that Sarah didn't hear you speaking that way."
Now there was a silence and Anna wondered if Lauren had hung up.
"I am sorry for your loss," Anna said again. "I'm sure that you'll miss her."
"Thanks for your sympathy." Now Lauren hung up.
Anna replaced the receiver and sat down at the kitchen table and cried. She wasn't crying over the end of Eunice's life. All things considered, it sounded as if Eunice had made a fairly graceful exit. No, these tears were for Lauren.
Poor, poor Lauren. What would it take to get to her? Would she follow in her grandmother's steps by waiting until she was in her final days to figure things out? Anna hoped not. She bowed her head and prayed, first for Lauren . . . and then for Sarah.
The next few summers seemed to arrive too slowly and then, just like that, they ended too quickly. But always the highlight for Anna was getting to have Sarah spend time with them, watching her mature, depending on her more and more to help with the inn, seeing Sarah's true character, her many gifts and talents steadily emerging . . . it was purely delightful. Even as Sarah came into her preteen years in the early seventies, Anna couldn't help but be amused to see her granddaughter's fashion focus change from practical tomboy to wannabe hippie. Complete with her little tie-dyed shirts, frayed jeans, love beads, and fringed moccasins, Sarah insisted she was only exhibiting her inner self in her outward style. And, really, Anna didn't mind the changes. Not nearly as much as Sarah's parents did, particularly Donald. Sarah claimed that she often had to sneak her clothes out of the house in a paper bag just to keep her dad from seeing.
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