"But you weren't?"
"No. I was ready too. I wanted kids. At least four."
"So what happened?"
"I just couldn't get pregnant. It wasn't for lack of trying."
"Oh."
"We spent a lot of money on infertility treatments, and my obstetrician kept trying to give me hope."
"But ..."
"But nothing worked. I finally went to a gynecologist who told it to me straight." Caroline downed the last of her pina colada. "She said I'd never be able to have children because of an abortion I'd had about ten years earlier."
"Oh, Caroline." Janie could see that Caroline was crying. "I'm so sorry."
She sniffed. "Yeah, so was I."
"But what about adoption?"
"Max is pretty traditional. Not to mention Jewish. He really wanted his own kids. So when I told him about the abortion, well, it was pretty upsetting to him. Like I hadn't come clean." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "It's not that I was trying to hide anything from him. More like I wanted to forget it."
"That's understandable."
"If I'd had that first baby ..." Caroline cried harder. "He ... or she ... would be thirty-two by now. Can you believe it?"
To Janie's surprise, she was crying too. Whether it was weariness, the hot tub, the pina colada, or empathy for Caroline, she couldn't be sure, but she felt so sad for her friend. She reached out and hugged Caroline. "I'm so sorry," she said. "If it's any comfort, it hasn't been easy having children. I mean, I hate to complain, but my daughter, well, she's a mess. Drugs. Haven't heard from her in months. Not easy."
Now they were both crying, hugging each other and crying loudly. Really, Janie thought in a moment of clarity, if someone walked in right now, they would surely wonder. But Janie didn't care. For once in her life, she couldn't care less what anyone thought.
Chapter 13
MARLEY
Marley was definitely not herself this week. Not on Monday afternoon, when she got home to her stuffy apartment and a pile of junk mail. And not on Tuesday, when she showed up for work and not one single customer darkened the door of the art gallery. And not on Wednesday, when she was decidedly in a snit.
She couldn't even blame the weather, because it was absolutely gorgeous, especially for Seattle. She'd been trying to distract herself from her emotions by focusing on work. She wanted to get everything absolutely picture perfect for the Georgia Martini showing this coming weekend. Like an obsessed woman, she fretted over every little detail, spot cleaning already spotless walls, vacuuming carpets that didn't need it, ordering wine and cheese and crackers like she thought that the president and his cabinet were going to unexpectedly show up, checking and rechecking the lighting-the works.
"Wow," Kevin Leonard, owner of the shop, said to her Wednesday afternoon when he caught her polishing the doorknob to the bathroom. "You're like the Energizer Bunny. That minivacation must've really agreed with you."
She turned and glared at him. "Are you complaining?"
"No." He held up his hands and backed off. "It was a compliment."
"Because if you'd like me to slack off, I'd be-"
"Not at all, Marley. I love that you care about the gallery."
"And you're right. It was a minivacation. Make that micro-mini. I really should've taken a few more days." She sniffed indignantly. "In fact, a good friend of mine is being buried today. And I didn't even stay long enough to pay my respects."
He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Marley. You should've told me."
She softened a bit. "Well, I knew you had the big show."
He nodded. "But I could've gotten Warren to come in."
"Warren?" Marley narrowed her eyes at him. Warren was Kevin's domestic partner and, although she liked him, he was probably the most extreme homebody Marley had ever met. She'd always suspected he had some kind of social phobia or OCD going on, and it was hard to believe Warren would agree to work at the gallery. "Are you kidding?"
Kevin nodded. "Yes, he's been seeing a new shrink. And she tells him he needs to face his fears and get out there. I even think he'll come over this weekend to help with the show."
Now Marley not only felt unnecessary but indignant as well. "Why didn't you tell me that sooner?"
"I didn't know it was an-"
"It's called communication," she told him sharply. "My exhusband was really bad at it too."
He put a hand on her shoulder. "Marley, I can tell you're out of sorts and I'm sorry. Is it too late to catch a flight and attend your friend's funeral?"
She looked at her watch. "Of course it's too late."
"Well, why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off?" He smiled. "The place is spotless, and if a customer comes in, I'll be here."
"Are you serious?" Normally Marley would jump at any unexpected time off. But this time she wasn't so sure.
"Yes, yes." He gently nudged her toward the back room. "I'm sure we'll both be happier."
"Okay." She opened a storage cabinet and retrieved her bag, peering curiously at him. "You're not firing me, are you?"
He laughed nervously. "Are you kidding?"
"Okay. If you're sure." She tucked her purse under her arm and, feeling slightly off balance, went out the back exit and got into her car. Although she knew it was absurd, she could've sworn that he really was firing her. For all she knew, he was happy to be rid of her. Perhaps he had planned it that way from the start. Warren the social- phobe was going to replace her.
Marley felt lost and old and useless as she drove through town to her apartment. Any normal person would take full advantage of time off on a day like this. But all she wanted was to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head. No, to be honest, she wanted something else, too. She wanted to be in Clifden. She wanted to be with her old friends. She even wanted to be at Cathy's memorial service, which was an impossibility. The service was supposed to start at three, and it was nearly two now. Even so, before she went inside her apartment, she dialed Abby's phone number.
"It's so good to hear your voice," Marley told Abby after they said hello. "I feel so sad that I'll miss Cathy's service. I wondered, if I sent a check, could you put my name on some flowers?"
"Of course."
"Thanks." Marley sat down on the bench outside her front door. The sun was baking the cedar deck, and she noticed that her favorite red geranium was nearly dead from lack of water.
"How are you doing?" Abby's voice sounded so warm and compassionate that Marley felt even worse.
"Do you really want to know?" She picked off the dead blooms, tossing them over the railing to the overgrown shrubbery below.
"Of course!"
"Well, not so good."
"Really?" Abby sounded concerned. "Is it your health?"
"No, it's more my spirits. Sagging. Definitely sagging."
"Why?"
Marley considered this. "I'm not even sure."
"I hate to say it, but at our age, it can sometimes be a hormonal imbalance."
"That's occurred to me."
"Paul's gotten pretty good at figuring out when to cut me a wide berth." Abby chuckled. "Not sure what I'll use as an excuse once perimenopause ends."
"You think it'll ever end?"
Abby laughed louder now. "Well, it did for my mom."
"I was thinking about your mom," Marley admitted.
"My mom? Why on earth were you thinking about her?"
"I was wishing I had her life."
"What?" Abby sounded stunned. "Are you serious?"
"I wouldn't mind having a little cabin on the beach like hers. The freedom to do art whenever I want. Friends to gather around me. Honestly, it sounds perfectly idyllic. And pathetic, right? Being jealous of an octogenarian!"
"Oh."
"You probably think I'm nuts." Marley sighed. "And you wouldn't be alone in that department. I think my boss is ready to give me the boot."
"Not really?"
"He gave me the day off."
"But that sounds like a good thing."
"Except for the look in his eye. Like maybe he'd be relieved if I never came back."
"Well, maybe you just needed a break." Abby began cheerfully talking about other things, mostly the goings-on at Clifden. She probably thought it was a good distraction for Marley's sagging spirits, but it only drove Marley deeper into the dark funk that engulfed her. Hearing about how Abby was helping Janie with house renovations, how they were all attending Cathy's memorial service, and how they were cooking dinner at Victor's beautiful beach house tonight all just made Marley want to throw a temper tantrum. Why couldn't she be there too? She felt so left out.
"Well, I really should get going," Abby said finally. "We need to get over to the church for Cathy's service. I have some photos to put up."
"I wish I were there too."
"You're here in spirit."
"Right." Marley just shook her head. "In spirit."
They said good-bye and hung up, and Marley continued to sit there on the bench, sweating in the afternoon sun and wondering just what was wrong with her. Who-or what-had stepped in and derailed her life like this? She picked the last of the dry leaves from the geranium and moved its heavy pot into a shaded corner, reminding herself to water it before the day was done.
"And get a life," she said as she stood up and dug her keys out of her bag. "And get real." She continued to berate herself as she unlocked her front door. What was wrong with her? She was acting like a four-year-old, having a pity party like this. Good grief, she'd been through harder times and come out just fine. What if she were in Cathy's place right now? What if she'd been the one to check out at the reunion last weekend?
Even that gloomy notion didn't make her feel much better as she went into her cluttered apartment, which felt even stuffier than yesterday. At least Cathy had been doing what she loved. She'd been living in Clifden, working in a job where she was appreciated, using her energy to make the town a better place for everyone. Besides that, she had died dancing! What a way to go.
Marley tossed her purse onto a chair and looked at the clock above the tiny kitchen table. It was nearly three. The church would be filled with mourners, all there to honor the fond memory of Cathy Gardener, all sad to know that she was really gone. Because Cathy, both during school days and well beyond, had always been loved.
Tears dampened Marley's cheeks again. She wished her melancholy was purely for Cathy, but her sorrow was almost entirely selfish. As incredible as it seemed, she felt slightly envious of Cathy. At least Cathy was surrounded by friends. It felt as if Marley had no one. Not even a cat.
Chapter 14
CAROLINE
Caroline dropped by her mom's house before the memorial service. Once again she took a cheeseburger and fries. It wasn't exactly health food, but it was better than nothing. Now more than ever, it seemed that her mother survived on little more than air-and it wasn't even fresh air at that! Caroline's plan was to "warm up" her mother before the social worker Lois Schuler had recommended, Beverly Miller, paid a visit.
But when Beverly arrived to do her evaluation, Caroline's mother became very childlike and uncooperative. Caroline tried to coax her into answering the questions, but that only made things worse. Not only did her mother want Beverly to leave, she wanted Caroline to go as well. "Get out of my house," she said over and over, waving her hands as if shooing a bad dog.
Caroline apologized profusely to Beverly, suggesting that perhaps another time might be better, although Caroline knew that wasn't true. Her mother's social skills seemed to deteriorate daily. Still, Beverly didn't seem a bit deterred. Apparently she'd been down this road with the elderly before. Instead of trying to engage the stubborn old woman, who was glaring at both of them, Beverly simply walked around, making benign comments about pictures or lamps or whatever. Finally Caroline's mother grew weary of the game and retreated to her bedroom. When she was safely out of the picture, Caroline gave Beverly the full tour, going into great detail to show exactly how her mother was living and why she was worried.
"I unplugged the stove," Caroline said quietly, "after I found an element left on high. And then I told her it was broken."
"That's wise."
"So she can use the microwave, but even that's a little scary. There's no telling what she might put in there." Caroline felt close to tears. "Honestly, I expect her to do something crazy and burn the whole house down, with her in it."
"More likely she'll fall down and break something. That's usually how it goes."
Caroline wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried.
"She refuses to get rid of her trash." Caroline opened the garage door to reveal what looked like a dump site. "It's disgusting."
"And unhealthy."
"I'll say." Caroline held her breath as she closed and locked the door. "It's not that she can't afford a trash service. She's just afraid that there's something valuable in there. Something she'll need someday. It's nuts."
"What are you going to do?"
Caroline shrugged. "What can I do? I live in LA. I can't run herd on Mom every day, even if she would let me. Sometimes she doesn't even know who I am. If I don't have a cheeseburger in hand, sometimes she won't even let me in the house."
"Has she been in for a physical exam lately?"
"Are you kidding? She's certain that her doctor is a quack."
Beverly was making notes. "You know she needs assisted care."
"I know, but she refuses to leave her house, and I don't see how I can force her, not without a straightjacket. I'm sure not going there."
"Is it possible that you could hire someone to come and-"
"I've tried that." Caroline held up her hands in a helpless gesture. "In the first place, who would want to work, let alone live, in this trash heap? A few applicants have seen the conditions and withdrawn. One time I thought I'd hit the jackpot with this sweet Latino lady. I suspect she was an illegal alien, but she was willing to live here, and she told me she loved doing housework and laundry, so I didn't really care. But my mother threw so many fits that after just a few days, the poor woman couldn't take it anymore. I just don't know what to do."
Beverly put her hand on Caroline's shoulder. "If it's any consolation, you're not alone. There are a lot of people in this same situation."
"I just feel so helpless. Like there's nothing I can do for her. And I'm worried she's going to starve to death or ..." Caroline was crying.
"We do have a support group in town."
"But I don't live in town." Caroline tore off a paper towel and used it to wipe her tears.
"Yes, I realize that."
"I'm afraid that Mom's not going to make it. I have to go back home on Friday. I worry it'll be the last time I see her."
"I'm sure that's a possibility."
"I just don't know what else to do."
"I'm assuming it's not possible for you to move back here, to help manage things for her?"
Caroline sighed. "I wasn't planning on it. But now I'm wondering if I shouldn't be more open to the idea. I mean, who else does she have?" Caroline thought of her shiftless brother, Michael. If he didn't have such a drinking problem, she'd put some pressure on him. As it was, that would be like adding fuel to his fire.
"It's just that people like-well, like your mother-they need an advocate. A guardian of sorts. There's a lot of paperwork and things to be done. The state could step in and take over, but I'm not sure you'd like that. If there's any way you can take some time off from work and stick around, the whole transition would probably go a lot smoother, and I think you'd feel better about it in the end. Of course, that might not be possible for you. I don't know your situation."
Caroline considered this. What would happen if she quit her job and moved back here? Really, there were worse things. In some ways it almost seemed as if life-or maybe God-was already pulling her in this direction, as if it was something she couldn't put off any longer. "Maybe I should just do it," she told Bev
erly. "Maybe I should quit my job, sell my condo, and relocate back here. Maybe that's the answer."
Beverly looked surprised. "Oh, I wouldn't be too hasty. It might not be necessary to do all that. Perhaps you could take a few weeks' leave of absence. Just long enough to get her settled in somewhere."
"No." Caroline firmly shook her head. "I am going to do this. My decision is made." When she said this, she felt as if a load had been lifted from her mind.
Beverly retrieved a folder of papers from her briefcase, then handed them to Caroline. "You'll need to start working on these things, filling out these forms, filing for guardianship and whatnot. It's all in there. You can call me if you have any questions."
"I'll get right to it." Caroline looked at the closed bedroom door, imagining her mother hunched up against the other side, trying to eavesdrop. "I just want to be sure that Mom will get the kind of care she needs, whether it's here or someplace else."
"Your mother is lucky to have you."
Caroline wasn't so sure about that, but she walked Beverly outside, thanking her and promising to be in touch. Then she went back into the house and told her mom it was safe to come out.
"Is that woman gone?" Her mother glanced around.
"Yes." Caroline pushed a strand of dingy gray hair away from her mother's eyes. The woman needed a haircut. Of course, she wouldn't let anyone near her with scissors.
"Did she steal anything?"
Caroline was tempted to say something sarcastic but knew from experience it would only backfire. "No, Mom, I watched her carefully. She didn't steal anything."
"Good." Her mom shuffled around the stacks of papers and things, poking here and there until she finally seemed satisfied that all was well and nothing was missing. How she could even know was a mystery. "You never know what people will do."
"No." Caroline sighed to think of the work ahead for her as she echoed her mother's words. "You never know what people will do."
Later that afternoon, as Caroline sat with her friends at Cathy Gardener's memorial service, she kept thinking about her mother and what seemed a hopeless situation. She wondered how she'd feel right now if this was her mother's service instead of Cathy's. While Caroline would be very sad and probably regret all the things she'd never said or done-as well as many of the things she had-she felt that, in a way, her mother had already left this life. Sometimes it seemed that she was "dearly departed," except that her body hadn't figured this out yet.
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