by Anita Higman
“Me too. Julie hates that about me. I was always reading her diary. I just couldn’t help myself.”
“Yeah, well, I can relate. So much so, that I went into Iris’s bedroom while she and Dragan were eating breakfast.”
“Really? That was sneaky.” I took a few steps closer to her so we wouldn’t be overheard. “What did you find?”
“All kinds of stuff for older ladies. Foot powders and arthritis cream. But on her nightstand I saw this book entitled 101 Ways to Mother. And she was being meticulous about it. Writing the ideas down on a notepad and making little scribbles. Like she was going to be tested on it.” A tear ran down Camille’s cheek. “Look at me.” She swiped the tear away, wincing and laugh-crying. “I’m some kind of human sprinkler head. I can’t even talk about this without boohooing.”
“It’s okay. Believe me. I know how it is to cry over everything. I used to—”
Somewhere in the bowels of the house a door went shut with an echoing slam.
“Must be Dragan. Wow, somebody’s cranky,” I singsonged. “Maybe she didn’t want to bring us our tea after all.”
Then someone hollered. But it wasn’t Mother’s voice.
“Let’s go see what’s happening,” Camille whispered.
She followed me out of the solarium and into the main part of the house, where the voices of two women arguing became clearer. I certainly didn’t want to get into a verbal tussle with Dragan, so we tiptoed into the back of the entry, which was far enough away not to be seen, but close enough to see and hear what was going on.
“It’s as if you’ve struck me with a rod,” Mother said to Dragan, “the way you’ve treated me after all I’ve done for you. I let you have pretty much free rein of the house, in exchange for a little help here and there. But you threw my generosity and even my friendship back in my face. I can tolerate your slovenly attitude and even that ghastly muumuu of yours, but I will not tolerate your thievery. And on top of that, I don’t like the way you talk to Lily or Camille.”
Dragan cocked her head. “Camille’s not really your daughter. Why do you care so much now?”
“Because I’ve had a heart transplant,” Mother said. “I highly recommend it. Unlike insurance companies, God works just fine with our preexisting conditions. And as far as my daughter, I gave birth to two girls. Camille had a good mom, but now I’ve been given a second chance to make some things right. If both of my daughters will let me, I will spend the rest of my life reminding them how much I love them.”
“What a nice happily-ever-after.” Dragan’s voice came off steeped in acerbity. “But well … I am sorry I stole from you.” She sniffed the air and rocked her head like it was quite the imposition to offer such an act of contrition.
“Uh-huh.” Mother’s voice was steeped in disbelief. “I think you’re mostly sorry you got caught.”
“Yeah, that too.”
Mother held out her hand for the feather duster that Dragan had in her steely grip.
“We had some good laughs, though, didn’t we?” Instead of handing the duster over to Mother, Dragan nervily set the duster on the entry table.
“Yes, we did have a few good laughs.” Mother opened the door for Dragan and made a sweeping gesture for her to leave. “I’m sorry you messed that up.”
“Look, I only took an old set of vases you didn’t need anymore.” Dragan made no move to walk through the open door.
“Actually, they were hand-blown in Italy and worth a small fortune. Family heirlooms, you see, and I planned to give them to my two daughters as gifts for their birthdays.” Mother smiled.
“Oh? I really am sorry then. Forgive and forget?” The woman opened her sleepy eyes and tried on a repentant expression. The contrition on her face fit as well as a size five shoe on a size ten foot. “I’m sure you’re expecting me to say more, but that’s all I’ve got,” Dragan said.
“I forgive you,” Mother said, “but you’re fired. I’ll mail you your last check. I do have a going-away gift though.”
“Oh, really?” Dragan livened up a bit. “What’s that?”
“This silly thing.” Mother lifted the cane over to Dragan as if she were holding a dead rat. “I don’t need it. Can’t even imagine why I let you talk me into buying it. But I know you’ll enjoy taking it to a pawn shop and seeing what you can get for it.”
Dragan gave her a scowl as dirty as her flip-flops.
“Now, please go before I call the police,” Mother said plainly as she opened the front door a little wider. “I’m sure you’re expecting me to say more, but that’s all I’ve got.”
And then that was it—the fire-breathing Dragan Humphreys left the premises and our lives.
Camille murmured to me, “Guess that wasn’t in the 101 Ways to Mother book.”
I stifled a chuckle. “No, but it should be.” Hmm. What a great life moment.
To say the scene between my mother and Dragan brought me joy was truly an understatement. Once again, as at the hospital, I still felt like Bob Cratchit seeing the transformation of Scrooge’s heart.
When the door shut, Mother turned around and looked right at us in our little niche. “You girls. You seem to think I’m hard of hearing.”
We laughed as we came out of our hiding spot. “You knew we were here?”
“Absolutely. Everything in here echoes.” Mother chuckled and then pointed toward the front door. “Níl easpa ann cosúil leis an dith chara.”
When Camille and I both looked clueless, Mother said, “It’s an Irish saying. It means, ‘There’s no need like the lack of a friend.’” She shook her head. “And I have been needing a real friend for a long time. I thought I could buy one. What a fool’s errand, eh?” She waved her hand at the door as if shaking off any remaining Dragan dust and said to Camille, “Say, do you think you could order me another one of those Aussie jammyton things?”
“You mean lamingtons?” Camille asked.
“Yes, that’s it. Lamington.”
“Sure, I’ll order some online.” Camille grinned. “How many did you want?”
“Oh, a few dozen ought to do it.” Mother slapped her hands together. “Now I feel like celebrating the firing of Dragan Humphreys. Who wants to celebrate with me?”
“Got ice cream?” I asked.
Pretending offense, Mother replied, “Of course I do.”
“You actually keep ice cream in the house?” Camille looped arms with me and let out a chortle.
“I have three flavors.” Mother tilted her head at us. “But I can always make some prune compote to put on top if we need it.”
We chuckled.
“And we can eat it while you help me to plan a dinner for your fortieth birthdays.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said.
“I’m not sure I know how to make anything fun,” Mother said, “but you two can help me. By the way, I found something.”
“What did you find?” Camille and I said it at the same time and laughed.
“Something in the attic, and I wondered if you two would want to look at it while we eat our treat.” Mother looked back and forth at us with an almost childlike pleading.
I tightened my grip on Camille. “Oh?”
“It’s an album of photos. Of you both together… before I… before I gave Camille away to Naomi.” Mother’s voice choked on the last words. “But I wasn’t sure if you both were ready to see them.”
Somehow I felt it wasn’t my place to answer. It was up to Camille.
Mother and I waited for her response.
As if our lungs were tied together and we were breathing as one, my sister and I took in a deep breath and exhaled.
Camille smiled. “It’s always the right time to be a family.”
Four weeks later I stood outside Terminal C at Intercontinental Airport to say goodbye to Marcus. It was one of those bittersweet moments in life when one had to say a temporary farewell so there could be a bigger, more permanent hello. I clutched at his lapels and then examined
his face to read every nuance of his expression. His eyes were full of affection as usual and something else—grief? Good. I wanted him to miss me like a crab would miss its shell. “You’d better come back, or I’ll have to come and get you.”
“The thing is, I have a great affection for Australia, but that great vast land is missing one important thing for my survival… you. So, Love, I’ll have no choice but to come back here to live.”
Marcus said the Aussie endearment, because now it never failed to make me smile. I loosened my grip on his lapels and then let him go. “So, am I still your treasure?”
“More than ever. I will only be gone for a couple of weeks. I just need to pack up my things and have them shipped here. I need to say some permanent goodbyes to my church friends. I need this time to shut down my life there. Then I’ll be back.” Marcus kissed me on the tip of my nose. “I also hope you’ll be wretchedly miserable while I’m gone. Promise me.”
“That’s a promise that’s easy to keep.”
“We have some time before I have to go. I’m early for my flight, and it doesn’t appear that anyone is trying to give you the boot out of this parking space, so hold my hand a bit longer. Please?” He took my hand in his.
It wasn’t a very romantic spot with the exhaust fumes, honking horns, and busy travelers, but being closer to Marcus was always a good thing, especially since in a matter of seconds, he would walk through those sliding glass doors and be gone from me.
“We did what we set out to do, didn’t we?” Marcus squeezed my hand. “We gave our families priority over our relationship. It has been a time of mending.”
“It was the right thing to do. So, did you hear anything recently from your mom?”
“We talked awhile this morning. Mom still hasn’t agreed to move back in with Dad.”
“The counseling hasn’t helped then?”
“It has,” Marcus said, “but it’s going to take time to rebuild their relationship. I’m grateful that Dad actually agreed to get some counseling. That’s a miracle in itself. And they both seem pleased that I’m moving back to Texas.” He grinned. “And even though Dad isn’t singing my praises about my work, he talks to me without looking like he’s going to have a stroke.”
“That’s a good start.”
“I’m glad we gave our families some time to breathe. They were worth it. But now, Lily, when I get home, I’m hoping this will be our season. Our time.” He lifted my hands to his lips and gave them a kiss so sweet and solemn, it was like a vow.
“It will be. I’ll let you take me to concerts and museums and movies. And I’ll make you picnics by the fire. Thanksgiving won’t be terribly far away by the time you get back. Won’t that be lovely? I’ll make you a huge turkey feast, and we’ll both eat so much we’ll have to put on pants with elastic around the waist.”
“And we’ll nod off and take long snoring naps like an old married couple.”
I grinned.
Marcus touched my chin with his knuckles in an affectionate gesture. “But I can tell something is bothering you. What is it? Tell me before I go.”
“You know me so well. But I don’t want to bother you with—”
“You’re my love. Please tell me.”
I looked away but then back at him since I knew he wouldn’t let me go until I’d confessed my worries. “Okay. I’ll tell you. I had such a nightmare last night. Well, one I’ve had on and off for months. I woke up gasping for air. I dreamed that my husband was alive, and he was still having an affair. And that Julie found out. It made her so stressed she became ill and had to leave college. I felt so trapped in his sin, in his choices, that I felt myself sinking into a blazing pit along with him. It felt so real and—”
Marcus drew me to him. “It’s all right. It was just a dream. However …”
I pulled away. “However?”
“Look, I don’t want to start a tussle right before I leave, but now that you’ve mentioned this nightmare I feel I must say something. I know you didn’t use our families’ struggles as an excuse to put our relationship on hold—”
“Of course I didn’t.” Did I?
“And I know when I first arrived here, we were rushing things between us. No, I admit that it was me … I was trying to rush things. But we’ve had more time together now, and we know what we’re about—”
“Yes, and I did promise to—”
“Lily, my darling, I haven’t made my point yet.”
“Okay.” I pressed my lips together, trying to squelch my nervous chatter. “I’ll be quiet for a moment.”
“I think with all of that progress, my point is … there is still something missing between us.”
My spirit trembled. “What do you mean?” I tried not to pout.
Marcus took hold of my arms. “You’re assuming the worst right now, but I’m trying to find a way to help you. I’m just doing it very badly. What I’m trying to say is that something still needs mending, and this time it’s not the other members of our families. It’s you, dear one, who needs restoration … healing. The bottom line is, because of your husband’s transgression, you still don’t trust me.”
“That’s not—”
“Now, now.” Marcus placed his finger ever so gently on my lips to shush me. “I don’t think you trust men in general. You think I’ll be loyal while things are fresh and new between us, while the blush is still on the lily, but when age comes or when times get tough, and they do sometimes get tough as you can see from my parents, that I might be tempted to be unfaithful to you like your husband. That I’ll find someone else to share my heart with … my bed with. Am I right, Lily girl?”
Who me, afraid? Guess that was still the story of my life. But did it have to be? Couldn’t I change my story? And couldn’t God? “Well, when you put it like that …” I took in a deep breath. “Okay, so maybe you have something there. A valid point. But I don’t want it to be that way. It’s not my intention. I want to put away what happened in the past. But it’s like trying to hide a gorilla in my closet. I close the door and forget about it most of the time, but the silly thing keeps thrashing about, trying to get out. Sometimes it’s more than I can handle.”
“I thought so. But I think I have the answer to this dilemma.”
“You do?”
“You’ve never had closure. Because of your husband’s death, you didn’t get to spend time with him, talking the affair through. Yelling it through or whatever it would have taken for you to move forward. I’m not sure marriages can ever fully recover from a breach in trust like that, but talking to him would have helped.”
One by one, my mind flashed the memories, especially the dreadful moment when I first found out about the affair. My stomach churned all over again. It was still so near the surface. Marcus was right. I had yet to move on. “Yes, I do wish I could have talked to him, but it’s too late now.”
“Didn’t you tell me that you knew the woman’s name? That it was someone your husband worked with?” Marcus asked. “Do you still know how to get in touch with her?”
I looked around. It seemed like such an odd place to talk about my husband’s affair and the woman, but since Marcus brought it up I said, “My husband accidentally left her address on his writing desk. So, unless she’s moved, it would still be possible to meet her. But what would I do … go scream at this woman? Stomp my feet?”
“No, but you could talk to her … if she’ll let you. Who knows, maybe she’d like the opportunity to ask for forgiveness. You never know. Maybe you could finally ask the questions you wanted to ask … face that beast of adultery that keeps showing up in your nightmares. And maybe by going to see this woman it will give you some closure.”
“Yeah, it could be a good thing I guess, as long as it didn’t dig up enough sharp emotions to keep me awake for years.”
“It might. You’re right. It is a risk.” Marcus fiddled with the handle on his suitcase as if he were about to go. “You know, a long time ago when I was younger and more
daring I went zip-lining across a canyon. I don’t remember a whole lot about the experience except something the guide said to me before I stepped off my safe little perch to fly across the canyon. He said, ‘Trust the harness.’ And that helped me to let go. I wasn’t nearly as afraid when I went across that chasm. You need to trust me, Lily, but more importantly you need to trust the One who made you. The One who has you safely in His arms … sort of like trusting that harness. It really makes the letting go a lot easier.”
“So, I can fly across the canyon and into your arms?”
He chuckled. “Well, that’s a fine idea.”
“You’re a good man, Marcus.” I placed my palm over his heart. “You reached out to me when I was needing to find my sister, and you’ve proven yourself to me in a lot of ways. But I admit, I still have this problem. You’re right. I appreciate you bringing it up … sort of.” I grinned. “And bringing it up at your own peril, I might add, since you didn’t know how I would react. But I’m glad you haven’t held this against me, this lack of trust. Since, well, you’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You helped me work through my problem. You know, of not being able to have anyone else in the car when I was driving. I did it because of your push. Now, I’d like to help you.”
“I’ll think about your suggestion, and I’ll ask God about it.”
“I know you will.” He straightened the bow at the top of my blouse. “Take good care of yourself.”
“I will.”
Marcus pulled out an orange piece of paper from his pocket and held it up.
“What’s that?”
Marcus folded the paper here and there, with a few squashes and creases in between until I realized what he was doing. He was making an origami lily. Then he pulled out a pen from his pocket and used it to curl the paper petals. When he’d finished it, he handed it to me and said, “Never forget that you’re my lily. I know I won’t.”