by Judy Duarte
Ellie was still alive when Amy had located the house on Sugar Plum Lane, but she was so far removed from reality that she might as well be dead.
Amy cast a sympathetic glance at the elderly woman, whose head was bowed as though weighed down by it all, too. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and easy.
Why had God taken Captain today and not Ellie?
It seemed like a senseless choice. Yet rather than ponder the ins and outs of a divine plan—whatever it might be—Amy bowed her own head, clasped her hands in her lap, and offered up a prayer of her own.
“Ellie’s been a good woman, a faithful believer, yet she never got a chance to meet Angel like she wanted to. She never even learned that the baby girl was named Susan, that she grew up to be a loving daughter, a talented musician, a budding artist….” Tears filled Amy’s eyes. “And that she was a wonderful mother.”
The grief that swelled in Amy’s heart wasn’t only for her mom, who she missed terribly, but for Ellie, too. The poor woman had waited nearly a half century to see her only granddaughter again, yet “Angel” had died before the two could meet.
Ellie had even tucked that request in her Bible, as though she’d been holding on to a promise—Ask and it shall be given unto you. But it hadn’t worked in this case.
“What would it have hurt,” Amy prayed, “to have let my mother find Ellie a year ago, when she was searching so hard for her roots? If they’d met back then, Ellie would have been more in touch with reality. And my mom would have still been alive.” Guilt rose in Amy’s chest, clawing its way into her throat, trying to reach for the words and pull them back.
Who was she to take God to task, to suggest that He’d been asleep on the job?
Her already bowed head slumped lower until her chin nearly touched her chest. “I’m sorry, Lord. I really didn’t mean to criticize You. I know that I can only see but a moment, and You have all of eternity in mind. So even though it still doesn’t make sense to me, I trust You to somehow make things right—in Your own way, in Your own time. Bless Ellie now. Give her Your peace and comfort. And when it’s her time to go, welcome her home.”
Amy had scarcely uttered an amen when the doorbell rang.
It was too early for Eddie and Maria’s return, so she suspected it was Steph bringing Callie home. She swung open the door and realized she’d been right.
“Hi, Mommy!” her daughter said.
“Hey, sweetie. Come on in.” Amy scanned the porch and lawn, then asked her friend, “Where’s Rachel?”
“At home with Jake.”
Before Amy could thank Steph, a swatch of fur brushed across her bare calf and she gasped. Her hand flew to her chest and she jumped aside, only to see that a blur of white and brown had rushed into the room.
“Oh, look,” Callie said, “it’s Patches.”
The cat took a running leap, landing right in Ellie’s lap, causing the unsuspecting woman to blink and lurch back in surprise.
Patches meowed and snuggled against her elderly mistress as if hoping for a loving pat, a kind word—recognition of some kind.
Poor thing, Amy thought. Ellie’s dementia had taken a toll on the stray, too.
“Patches loves you,” Callie said as she drew close to the old woman, showing the same kindness she’d seen Sara model.
While planning to commend her daughter later, Amy returned her gaze to Steph. “Thanks so much for keeping Callie today.”
“No problem. The girls had a wonderful time together. They’re more like sisters than friends.” Steph craned her neck, taking a peek inside the living room. “So this is it?”
“Yeah. What do you think?”
“It’s quaint and ripe with possibilities. I’m sure it would be fun to refurbish and decorate a house like this.”
Amy thought so, too.
“Is that the woman?” Steph asked, indicating Ellie, who studied the cat in her lap while the child stood next to her.
“Yes, and I’d give anything to be able to have a heart-to-heart with her, but I’m afraid that’s impossible. She doesn’t have any idea who I am.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
Steph nodded toward her car, which was parked at the curb. “Well, I really need to go. Jake’s been working late this past week, and we’ve hardly had any time together. So he’s getting Rachel ready for bed, and then, after she falls asleep, we’re going to put on a movie and spend some time alone.”
Amy knew firsthand how it felt to have a husband put in extra hours at the office, yet Steph seemed eager to get home and have a quiet evening with Jake.
Had Brandon been the one who’d worked late, Amy would have been primed for an argument when he got home. Then he would have defended his dedication to his job, and they would have had a quiet evening, all right—the kind silenced by anger and resentment.
“Thanks again,” Amy told Steph. “I’ll make it up to you someday.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m glad that I could help out.”
As Amy closed the door, she turned back to the living room, where Ellie sat on the recliner with Patches in her lap and a faint smile on her lips.
“You’ve been gone for days,” the elderly woman told the stray. “And I was worried about you.”
Patches hunkered down and curled into a ball, purring, no doubt, and clearly happy to be home at last.
“Ellie,” Callie said. “I saw your kitty yesterday, and she climbed way up in a tree in Sara’s backyard. I was scared and wanted to call the fire department to get her down.”
Ellie placed a hand on Callie’s cheek and blessed her with a warm smile. “Patches is a very good climber. See? She got down all by herself.”
The logical response took Amy aback, and she eased closer, wondering if Ellie was having a lucid moment—and praying that she was. As she neared the sofa, one of the old floor-boards squeaked and Ellie glanced up.
She scrunched her brow, and her tired blue eyes narrowed as she studied Amy with a quizzical gaze. “Have we met?”
“Yes. At Maria’s house.” On a whim, as Amy closed the gap between them, she added, “I’m Angel’s daughter.”
Ellie blinked, and something in her eyes sparked. She looked at Callie, and her head cocked slightly to the side. “Don’t you mean her mother?”
Please, Amy prayed silently. Don’t let this moment fade, Lord. Let me have just one conversation with her. We—Mom and I—have waited so long.
Amy dropped to her knees beside the recliner and reached for Ellie’s frail hand. “My mother—Angel—was born on September nineteenth, nineteen sixty-six, at Palomar Hospital. She was adopted by Carlo and Gina Rossi, and they named her Susan.”
Ellie’s head listed to the other side; she was clearly confused. But what else was new? The poor woman had been having trouble making sense of things for months.
Knowing that the conversation wasn’t going anywhere and convinced that she was wasting her time, Amy still couldn’t help giving Ellie’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Susan was the baby Barbara gave up for adoption, and I’m her daughter.”
Ellie looked first at Amy, then at the child, who continued to stand beside the chair and was stroking the cat’s fur.
“That’s Callie,” Amy said, her heart chanting, Please, please, let her stay with us. “She’s Angel’s granddaughter.”
Ellie reached for a tendril of Callie’s hair, letting it slide through her fingers. Then she turned to Amy, her eyes aglow. “She looks just as I’d always imagined Angel would. I only held her once, but I knew that when she grew up, she would favor Alice, Harold’s baby sister. Her hair was so light, her eyes so blue….”
Amy held her tongue for a moment, basking in grateful relief.
Callie, who chose that moment to wander to the coffee table, where she’d left her coloring books and markers yesterday, plopped down on the floor, unaware of the miracle that seemed to be unfolding around her.
Ellie watched the child open the box, and a
warm smile softened her craggy face. “I hope Callie has the same sweet temperament as Alice had.”
“She does,” Amy said, sure of it, even though she had no idea who Alice was. Callie was a good kid—sweet, kind-hearted—and Amy had been blessed the day she was born and placed in her arms.
“Harold’s mother was never the same after Alice was struck with diphtheria and…” Ellie caught her breath and glanced first at Callie, then at Amy and back to the child. “Well…I didn’t think the poor woman would ever stop grieving.”
So Alice had died.
Ellie continued to watch Callie, who’d opened her coloring book to a page with fairies. Then the old woman turned in her seat, facing Amy. “Where’s your mother? Is she going to stop by and see me, too?”
Amy had to tell her, yet she hated to break the news, especially when their precious connection was so fragile. But she couldn’t lie. “My mother certainly wanted to meet you, but she passed away about six months ago.”
Ellie’s expression sank. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“But your prayers for her were answered,” Amy said in a rush, hoping to keep Ellie engaged. “Angel was adopted by a wonderful couple who adored her, and she had a happy childhood, a good life.”
Ellie sat back in her seat, and a wistful smile stretched across her face. “I’m so glad to hear that. I pray for her every day.”
“I know you do.”
Ellie’s lip began to quiver, and her eyes filled with emotion. “I had to do that. It’s important for a child to grow up in a loving home.”
Before Amy could ponder the comment or respond, Ellie added, “I’d argued with Barbie about keeping the baby. I’d even suggested that she let me raise her, but she refused. But now, looking back, I realize then neither of us could have kept the baby. Under the circumstances, Joseph would have put two and two together. And he would have resented Angel, which wouldn’t have been good.”
Making the obvious leap, Amy asked, “Do you mean that he would have resented her because she wasn’t his child?”
“Yes. But it would have been worse if he’d found out who her father really was.”
Amy hated to press Ellie, especially when she was clearly tiptoeing on the fine line between dementia and clarity. But she needed some answers, too.
“Who was Angel’s father?” Amy asked.
“I promised Barbara that I’d never tell.”
“I’ll keep the secret.”
Ellie bit down on her bottom lip, as though struggling with the decision to end the silence, then she slowly shook her head. “You need to ask Barbara. I think she owes you that much.”
Perhaps. But maybe not.
Silence stretched between them until Amy finally asked the question she’d been pondering since taking on her mother’s quest. “How do you think Barbara will react when I introduce myself to her?”
“You haven’t met her yet?”
“Yes, but only as a tenant. She doesn’t know who I really am. And I haven’t told her because, well, she seems a little…cold.”
“That’s to be expected,” Ellie said. “She’s built up such a wall around her secret that she’s shut out all the warmth within and around her.” Ellie glanced out the living room window, as if she could see something in the darkness. “But she wasn’t always like that.”
“What was she like before?” Amy asked. “When she was young?”
“Happy, fun loving, confident. But she was all I had, and I doted on her something fierce. I’m afraid my indulgence made her headstrong, and when she was a teenager, she rebelled. I tried to take a firm hand with her at that point, but it was too late, and she pulled away all the more.”
“I’m sorry.” Amy didn’t know what she’d do if Callie grew up and rebelled, if she turned away from her family.
“I’ll never forget one night in particular,” Ellie said. “We had a terrible fight.”
“What happened?”
“I used to keep journals, and Barbie found one and read it. I’d been complaining, I suppose. Not to anyone in particular, but I didn’t have a husband to share those day-to-day worries with. So I put my private thoughts down on paper, and I’m afraid my reflections about Barbara back then weren’t very flattering. With maturity and in retrospect, I would have said things differently, but back then, I blamed a lot of my unhappiness on Barbara’s stubbornness and flaws. Yet now I realize she inherited a lot of that from me.”
“You’re headstrong, too?”
“Yes. I’m afraid I’m far from perfect. But it’s so much easier to point out the deficiencies in others than to see the same ones in ourselves and have to deal with them.”
“Barbara shouldn’t have read those entries,” Amy said. Yet she couldn’t shake the cloying scent of hypocrisy and guilt for having done the same thing herself.
“Maybe not, but nevertheless, she was hurt by my words and furious with me. She ripped at the book until she tore it in pieces, and I…Well, I hate to admit this, but I said some terrible things to her that night, things I regret to this day.”
“Did you apologize?”
“In a way, but I really ought to bring it up again.”
Amy wasn’t sure when Ellie would be able to have a heart-to-heart with Barbara. How many more lucid days would there be? How many more miracles like tonight?
“I hope you don’t get the wrong idea about Barbara,” Ellie added. “She’s a good girl at heart. And I love her more than life itself. In fact, I always will—no matter what the future brings.”
“Have you told her that?” Amy asked.
“I’m not sure.” Ellie furrowed her brow. “I suppose I did.” Her gray head dropped, and she gazed at the cat curled up in her lap.
Amy feared that Ellie might be drifting away again, back to the prison of her mind, but when she again looked up, emotion filled her eyes. “I have a few admissions to make, too. I pushed Barbie too hard at times. Yet even as a little girl, when she’d drag her feet when pressed to do something, she’d always do the right thing when I gave her time to think it through.”
“Does that mean, given time, that she’ll eventually be happy to meet me?”
“I think so. Her biggest fear is that Joseph will be upset when he finds out what she did. And with whom.”
“I certainly won’t make life difficult for her. I’d just like to meet her, to tell her about my mother. To thank her for giving her up for adoption. I can’t imagine my life without Grandma and Grandpa Rossi in it.”
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.” Ellie stroked the cat’s back, then gazed at Amy. “Family is very important.”
She was right. And that’s why Amy had been so unhappy with Brandon’s inability to grasp that concept.
“You know,” Ellie said, “I was pretty hard on Barbie at first. I found it difficult to believe that she’d do such a thing, especially when poor Joseph was overseas. But I don’t think that was the right approach.”
“What do you mean?”
“I should have been more supportive of her, more forgiving. I was all she had.”
“It seems as though she was all that you had, too.”
“Yes, that’s true. But I have my faith and the church. I also have dear friends, like Maria and Captain.”
Amy didn’t dare tell her that Captain had died. Not yet. She didn’t want to veer from the conversation they were having.
“I really should have married him when he asked,” Ellie said.
“Married who? Captain?”
Ellie’s gaze grew wistful. “He proposed a few years ago, but I’d been burned badly once before and feared a third marriage. Besides, I thought we were too old for that nonsense.”
“He would have been good to you.”
“I know.” Ellie leaned forward, and while stroking Patches, added, “And then I wouldn’t have had to grow old all by myself.”
“I’ll be here for you,” Amy said, surprising herself at what she was promising.
&nb
sp; “Thank you, honey. I appreciate that.”
They sat like that for a moment, embraced by the silence, by the memories. Then Ellie asked, “How about you, dear? Are you happy? Is your husband good to you?”
“I’m divorced. Well, almost. It’s not final yet, but it will be soon.”
“I’m sorry. Did your husband treat you badly?”
Not in the sense that Ellie’s second husband had treated her, and for a moment, Amy questioned her decision to move out and take Callie with her. But only for a moment. “He didn’t have time for us, but I wouldn’t say that he was mean.”
“And you’ve made up your mind?” Ellie asked. “There’s no chance that the two of you can work something out?”
“I’m afraid not.” Yet the words rang hollow, especially since Brandon had been so determined to make things right. “My husband grew up in a dysfunctional home and doesn’t have any idea what a real family is supposed to be like.”
“Sounds like maybe he needs you to show him.”
“I tried, but he was never at home.”
A knock sounded at the door, followed by the bell. “That’s probably Maria,” Amy said, sorry for the interruption.
“I’ll get it!” Callie scrambled to her feet and ran for the door.
Amy followed her daughter, who welcomed Maria, Eddie, and the kids inside.
“We came for Ellie,” Maria said. “Thanks for watching her.”
“The pleasure was all mine. She’s having a good evening. I introduced myself, and she knew who I was. We’ve had the most wonderful conversation.”
Maria brightened. “That’s great. I can’t remember the last time I was able to really communicate with her.”
“It’s been a real blessing,” Amy said. “An answer to a prayer.”
But when Amy turned toward Ellie, she was met by a blank stare. The light that had warmed her eyes just moments ago had died.
Chapter 19
Chuck had been fiddling with the TV remote and was just about to pitch it across the hospital room when a young man in an expensive suit walked through the door.
Tall, with dark hair, brown eyes, and a square-cut, no-nonsense jaw, he was impressive, to say the least, the kind of man a fellow took seriously. Yet that wasn’t what caused Chuck to sit up straight and take note of him. It was recognition.