East of the Sun: a 20th century inspirational romance.

by Hope Franke Strauss

  “We were intimate.”

  “Oh my goodness. Are you…?”

  “No!” She flung her head back in anguish. “But I wish I were!”

  “Lillian, don’t say such a thing! Believe me, it’s awful living under that kind of shame.”

  “But at least then maybe he would marry me.”

  “Surely he must love you. What makes you think he won’t marry you?”

  “He said he loved me, but… he… just announced his engagement to someone else. In front of everyone. In front of me. Ohhhh!” She flopped onto her pillow.

  Ellie was appalled. “I can’t believe it. Why would he do something so horrible?”

  “She is the daughter of somebody important. She’s rich and beautiful. I’m a lowly, plain-looking nurse, the daughter of a nobody.”

  Ellie lay down beside her distraught friend, holding her, stroking her hair away from her wet face. “You aren’t lowly or plain. And you’re definitely not a nobody.”

  Lillian sniffled. “I’ll never love another.”

  “Sure you will.”

  “No. I love him, Ellie. I always will.”

  35

  Eden

  THE NEXT TIME Alice came to look after Eleanor, Eden did something she should’ve done a long time ago. She went to visit Aunt Lillian.

  Unable to deal with the stress of city traffic, Eden opted to take the Skytrain, a relatively new means of public transport in the Vancouver area. The train carried her high above a busy highway and past a cluster of skyscrapers. On a clear day like this one she could see the snow capped Coastal Mountain range in all its glory. She sighed, feeling very small in the whole scheme of things.

  She exited at the station closest to her aunt’s home and walked the two blocks to the single story building that stretched along one full block.

  The nurse at the station signed her in, asking who she was there to see.

  “Lillian Emerson.”

  The nurse’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “I’m her niece,” Eden explained. She felt embarrassed that it had taken her this long to come, but she couldn’t have imagined dragging her mother along.

  “Ms Emerson doesn’t get a lot of visitors,” the nurse said with a straight face.

  Probably none, Eden thought sadly. She followed the nurse down a quiet, clean hallway.

  “She doesn’t wake often anymore.” The nurse stopped in front of room 11. “Don’t be upset if she doesn’t recognise you.”

  Aunt Lillian lay in a hospital bed elevated at the head. Her hair was fully white, cut short and combed back behind her ears. The skin on her face folded around her eyes and pulled down in soft jowls around her mouth.

  Aunt Lillian may not have recognised Eden, but Eden could say the same thing about her aunt.

  She pulled up a chair and sat, unsure about what she should do. “Auntie?”

  Lillian’s eyelashes fluttered but remained closed.

  Eden gently laid her palm on the old woman’s withered hand. “It’s me, Eden.”

  She thought she felt a slight movement of her aunt’s hand, but wasn’t sure. Maybe it was her own jumpy nerves. The last time she’d seen Aunt Lillian was at her father’s funeral. At that time Lillian was robust and energetic. Eden remembered how she took charge and though she could come across as abrupt and brash, her aunt got the job done. No thanks to Eden.

  She was nothing like this fragile form lying in front of her. It was difficult for Eden to imagine ever being old. She ran her fingers across her smooth cheek. Her eyes were wrinkle free, and her chestnut hair had no grey strands in sight. It was easy to believe she would be young forever and she wondered if her aunt had ever felt that way.

  One day Eden would be the old lady lying in the bed with Sophie and Sophie’s children looking down.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t say this before, Aunt Lillian, but thank you. You were a good friend to my mother. You were there for her when I wasn’t. I’m sorry no one was here for you.”

  She kissed her aunt’s wrinkly cheeks and promised to come back again in a week. She couldn’t change the past, but she could be a better niece now.

  That night Marti brought Arnold over to meet Eden.

  “Eden,” she said proudly, “this is Arnold. Arnold, Eden.”

  “How’d you do?” Arnold said, shaking her hand. He was on the short side, no taller than Marti, and he wore glasses on a somewhat prominent nose, but his eyes sparkled with a warm friendliness too few people possessed and he proved to be intelligent and witty. Eden could see why Marti had fallen in love with this man. She’d managed to pull herself together after yesterday’s dark disappointment, enough anyway, to be a suitable hostess. Arnold didn’t seem to notice the chink in Eden’s composure, but Marti did.

  “Hard day?” she said after following her into the kitchen.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’re chomping gum like a cow.”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise I was doing that. I quit smoking.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Yeah, so now I’m hooked on this gum that’s supposed to wean me off nicotine.”

  “Doesn’t it work?”

  “If you chew fifteen pieces at a time.”

  Marti laughed. “So? Don’t think you’re getting off the hook that easily. What happened?”

  Eden hesitated, not wanting to spoil the evening with details of her troubles. Arnold was engaged in conversation with Sophie, and Eden admired his ability to interact comfortably with people of all ages, children included.

  “You really found a great guy, Marti.”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  Eden told her about the phone conversation she had with Cade the day before, and how he had not only refused her invitation, but also told her he was taking her daughter away as well.

  Marti tried to comfort Eden, while being fair to Cade at the same time. Belatedly, Eden understood how much it had hurt Cade when she’d taken Sophie away. She couldn’t believe how callous she had been. Well, he was getting his revenge now.

  36

  Eden

  SHE WAS A despicable woman! Eden had tolerated her mildly before, but now she despised her That smug expression of superiority, that flashy wool suit: you’d think she was a high and mighty lawyer instead of an ordinary secretary. Eden filled her glass, emptying the bottle of cheap red wine and clumsily set it back onto the coffee table.

  She’d snatched Sophie away, en route to the airport, without even the slightest display of remorse or apology. Cade would be meeting them in Prince George. Eden pouted. That miserable hag would probably be with him.

  “Oh, my sweet, little girl,” Eden moaned aloud. “I can’t believe I have to share you with her! This is going to be the most wretched Christmas of my entire life!” She lifted her glass to her mouth, slightly off target, and a dribble of red ran down her chin. She wiped it with the back of her hand.

  “It’s just you and me, Mom,” she slurred, patting Eleanor on the arm. “Yup, just you and me. Me, the sorriest sample of humanity on the face of the earth, and you… forgive me, Mom, but I have to say it. You live on another planet entirely.” Hiccup.

  Eleanor was dressed in her nightclothes with the bra strapped on over top. She grinned blissfully, her face dusted with the orange powder from the Cheezies she ate as they watched It’s a Wonderful Life. Eden, on the other hand, found nothing wonderful about it. Like a zombie, she sat on the couch with her glass of wine, a half-empty box of Kleenex, and a pile of dirty tissues. She’d shed no tears for Jimmy Stewart; at least things work out for him in the end. No, the tears were solely for her.

  “Oh, Mom,” she moaned, and rested her head on her mother’s spindly shoulder. “What are we going to do? What’s to become of us?”

  Her mother’s shoulder was too thin and bony to provide comfort. What she needed was a man’s shoulder: a firm, strong, muscular shoulder. Like Cade’s. She needed Cade’s shoulder! Her breath shuddered as she s
wallowed a sob and blew her nose again.

  Oh, what had she done?

  Someone had stuffed her mouth with cotton balls and stitched her eyes shut over night. Her tongue, thick and parched, moved like a dehydrated slug. With much effort, Eden swallowed. Her throat felt gritty and swollen, saliva forming in low quantities. She thought she was dying, but the drumming pulse in her head proved she was very much alive.

  Eden rolled onto the floor and crawled to her housecoat. She went to her pity-party solo last night and presently decided that the party was now over. She wouldn’t give Cade the satisfaction of watching her become unglued over this.

  The walls of the hallway wobbled as she made her way to the bathroom. She fumbled with the jar of Tylenol, retrieving two pills that she downed with a full glass of water.

  She used the facilities, and washed her hands and face. Now she had to face the whole day ahead of her, probably with a booming headache. Just her and her crazy mother.

  Which reminded her. Where was her mom?

  Eden put on her robe, which hang on the back of the bathroom door and searched the upper level before heading downstairs. She found Eleanor in the kitchen just as she was stuffing all the tea-towels into the oven and was about to turn it on.

  “Mom!” Ouch. Loud volume, especially from her own mouth, hurt. “You can’t do that,” she said in a near whisper. “You want to start the house on fire?”

  Eden shoved her out of the way and removed the tea-towels from danger. She’d have to disconnect the oven now. Looked like it would be turkey dinner à la microwave this year.

  Eden settled Eleanor at the table but not until after she absconded with the jug of juice and drank the whole thing. What Eden really needed was a shower. Then a coffee.

  “Mom, your show’s on.” TV as a babysitter would have to do for the next twenty minutes.

  After her shower; Eden found that her stomach had calmed down enough to request her morning coffee. Eleanor was in the kitchen again, feeding the cats. There were three tins already emptied on the counter. No wonder those cats were fat.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Eden said after her first long sip of coffee, “for how I behaved last night.” She didn’t expect an answer and never got one. Talking out loud, even if no one responded; helped to keep her sane.

  “I mean, it was awful what happened to Jimmy and all, but…. Anyway, it’s a new day, right? We’re not going to spend the whole of the holidays feeling sorry for ourselves. No. we’re not. I know! Why don’t we put up the Christmas tree? You could hang up the rest of those ugly decorations you have collected over the last few decades.”

  Fatso, who happened to be the skinniest kitty of the bunch, rubbed against her leg. She bent over and gave him a rub behind the ears.

  “Hey, you spoiled cat. Does that feel good?” She condescended to the pet-the-cat voice. “You guys aren’t supposed to be in the house.” She opened the back door. “Out with you.”

  Maybe Marti would like to help with the tree? Nah. Why would a newly engaged, unencumbered girl want to hang out with the likes of Eden and her senile mother?

  Eden dug out the box that contained the artificial tree from the storage area under the steps. It was hard to keep her spirits up. She and Cade had always cut down a fresh tree. When Eden lifted the lid, she was greeted with a blast of unfriendly odours.

  “Whew! Why have the fresh smell of pine when you can enjoy the cozy smells of dust and mothballs.”

  She cranked up the radio station now obliging its listeners with the top twenty Christmas hits. Sinatra crooned, “White Christmas,” while all the lower mainland listeners wistfully thought of snow. The local forecast was for more rain. No word of the fluffy stuff.

  Eden screwed the three post pieces together, tightened the tree stand and set it in front of the window.

  “Okay, Mom, here comes the hard part.” She tried to explain the colour-coded system. The branches with the red paint on the tips went in around the bottom first, then the blue tip and finally the green tips.

  “See, here’s a red one.” Eden inserted the wiry branch into a hole on the bottom level of the green pole, then handed one to Eleanor. She placed it randomly into a middle hole.

  “No, Mom. It’s supposed to go like this.” Eden demonstrated what she meant by removing the offending branch and placing it into an appropriate hole. She gingerly peeked through the worn cardboard box, looking for another fake branch with red markings. When she turned back towards the tree, she saw that Eleanor had returned the branch in question back into a hole in the middle section.

  “I see,” Eden said. “Okay, fine. Who needs instructions?” She let the paper fall to the ground and watched Eleanor as she cheerily popped in branch pieces where she pleased. Eden cranked up the radio and then followed Eleanor’s lead. In the end it was lopsided and far from perfect, but at least it was balanced enough to stay standing.

  “Now comes the fun part.” Eden pulled a chair in from the kitchen, placed the first bulb from the string of lights onto the top branch of the tree and began winding it around and around until the cord of lights ended somewhere not quite at the bottom of the tree but close enough to an outlet that it could be plugged in. Then precariously, she attached a worn out angel, who was also balding, on the top branch. She chuckled. A glowing, bald-headed angel.

  “Good. We’re almost done. Now for the decorations.”

  Eden hummed along with the radio, choosing decorations with pretended importance, feeling strangely contented. Eleanor seemed to focus on one spot on the tree, all of her decorations hanging in a clump. Eden scattered hers about to fill in the tree. When they were finished, Eden pulled the curtains to darken the room.

  “Are you ready?” She plugged in the tree lights.

  Eleanor clapped her hands together with pure childlike delight. Eden couldn’t keep herself from smiling. She re-arranged the couch so they could sit down and look at their masterpiece. Eleanor sat close beside Eden, who put her arm around her mother.

  “It’s a beauty, eh, Mom?” she said. The truth was, it was horrible, but in a lovely sort of way.

  “I think we should celebrate.” Eden reached over to the end table and picked up an unopened box of chocolates. She ripped off the cellophane, opened the lid and offered her mother the first piece. Eleanor took her time choosing, then Eden quickly picked one and plopped it whole into her mouth.

  The radio station they had been listening to switched its selection from Christmas favourites to golden oldies. Eden was admiring the tree and sucking chocolate when she heard it, the song, the one her mother had been singing at Aunt Lillian’s apartment. Eden snapped up her head to watch her mother’s face, wondering how it would affect her. She was smiling. She started to sing softly.

  “East of the sun, west of the moon...”

  It was the first time Eden had heard the song, it not being one of Frank’s more popular hits, but the chorus was easy enough, so she sang along.

  They would have amused the angelic realm, the both of them singing out of tune, in a darkened room with only the light of a very homely Christmas tree to illuminate their chocolate-smudged faces.

  When the song ended, Eden couldn’t resist giving her mother another squeeze. She really did love her mom.

  37

  Eleanor

  JOHN WILLIAMS cursed and tossed the empty bottle of Jack Daniels into the ditch. He had taken to these night-time strolls ever since…. No, he wouldn’t even give her the honour of his thoughts. She didn’t deserve to be their daughter. His and Louise’s. Oh, sweet Louise, he thought, I miss you so.

  His mind, foggy and fluid, clutched at fleeting thoughts, memories of a happier time. She was such a young pretty thing back then. A bright smile, gentle eyes. He should have known that she was fragile.

  He had taken her to the fall dance and they danced all the slow ones. She was soft and smelled so nice. It wasn’t long before they fell in love and he married her.

  John kicked angrily at a small r
ock in the road. They’d been happy. For three years they lived and loved, and she had meant everything to him.

  Sure, he was curious as to why no child had come, but secretly he was glad. He saw how the other guys at the mill had to share their wive's attentions with the children. Some had babies so frequently, it was a wonder there was a warm embrace left over for the fellow at the end of the day.

  Maybe they hadn’t any children but he’d had all Louise’s love and affection: a warm greeting after a hard day's work, a hot meal on the stove, comfort at night. He nearly burst his seams with pride and desire for Louise. His sweet Louise.

  It all changed when the baby came. Sure, he took to the little thing, red and wrinkled as it was, and rather homely. But Louise was pleased and that was the main thing.

  She never regained her strength after that. Oh, she tried. For a couple of years she was still able to meet him after work and cook his meals, but she grew increasingly weak and frail. Oh, how he wanted to scream at times, how he wanted his energetic Louise back, full of sparkle and charm.

  Then came the years of bed rest. All the tender love and passion they’d had had been slept away.

  If only for the child, their daughter, Eleanor. He did his best by her, he was sure of it. Worked hard, put food in her stomach and a roof over her head. And what’d she go and do? Humiliate him! Him and his darling Louise. Ran off and got herself knocked up! Nothing better than a tramp!

  Didn’t she know he needed her now? He was alone! So alone. After all he’d done for her. She ran off with that boy, boasting likely, of how she got her old man in the end.

  Yeah, well, who needed her? Who needed anyone? All he wanted was to be with Louise and there was only one way to get to her now.

  He climbed the ladder of the dock up to the second level. It was dark. It was a long ways down. He wouldn’t feel a thing.