by Lyn Cote
Spring touched her aunt’s arm. “What was Mother’s father’s name?”
“Bill Smith. But it’s a dead end, Spring. He died when his ship was attacked in the Pacific. So you see, there isn’t anyone—”
“Maybe he had brothers or sisters,” Spring offered.
“He might have. It was so long ago, I’ve forgotten…if I ever knew that to start with. I can’t give you much to work with to find out if he had any other family.”
Aunty reached for Spring’s hand. “But I wanted you to know. Your mother may want to know someday, and I might not be here to tell her the story.” Aunty tried to smile. “Connie had a first cousin in Oconomowoc, too, but she may be dead or long gone by now. I only remember her first name, Mary Beth.”
The sad story tugged at her heart, and Spring rose and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “Thank you for telling me. We might never find any blood relatives and we might never need them. Mother’s leukemia may never come back.”
Aunty fussed with her blanket. “I just hope I’ve done right to tell you.”
“Aunt Geneva, as you’ve said, times have changed. This should have been revealed years ago.”
“You’re probably right, dear. Connie wanted Gloria to take her baby. She knew Gloria had just married Tom and that they’d take good care of her.”
“Connie’s parents didn’t want their only grandchild?”
Aunty pursed her lips. “Our mother always said they were too concerned about what people would say. Their loss. Ethel was welcomed into our family with open arms.”
“Did Grandmother choose the name Ethel?”
“No, Connie named her.”
“I wonder why she chose that name.”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, dear, but I’m tired now.”
“I’m sure you are. Close your eyes. I’m going down to the cafeteria and get something to eat.”
“You do that, dear. I’m afraid you’ve lost weight again.”
Spring grinned. “Not a bit. I gained weight on the cruise, and Matilde has had me under surveillance. I have not gone hungry!”
“Soon I want to hear all about the cruise!”
“Soon,” Spring promised. She walked out into the hallway.
What would her sisters, Hannah and Doree, have to say about this? Was there any chance of finding blood relatives? The story didn’t seem to give them much in the way of leads.
Is that Your answer, Lord? Are we to leave this all in Your hands and quit meddling, too?
“All right. Are we all on the line?” Spring asked over the phone, sitting on her bed at Aunt Geneva’s house later that evening.
“I’m here,” Hannah replied.
“Me, too!” Doree exclaimed. “So what’s the deal? Did Aunt Geneva give you the scoop?”
Spring sighed. “Aunty is much better this evening. Thank you for asking.”
“Of course she is!” Doree declared. “Mom called me last night and told me that—”
Hannah interrupted, “I think Spring is trying to teach you how to begin a phone conversation. Certainly someone needs to do that. Aunty just had serious surgery after having had a heart attack—you should ask about her health first, not just start gabbing.”
Doree huffed into the phone, but said nothing.
Spring cleared her throat. “Aunt Geneva has told me the full story of our mother’s natural parents.”
“Wow!” Doree exclaimed. “I can’t believe you finally got her to tell.”
Spring talked over Doree’s voice. Tonight, Doree’s flippant attitude irritated Spring like a fingernail scraping against a chalkboard. “Aunt Geneva decided we should know, in case mother ever needed or wanted to know. Aunt Geneva says she is the only living person who knows what happened.”
“Does that mean that mother’s natural father is deceased, too?” Hannah asked.
“I’m afraid so.” Spring sighed again.
“When did he die?” Doree continued her interrogation. “Did he marry and have other children?”
Spring drew on her waning emotional reserves. What are you getting at, Doree? “He died when his ship was attacked in the Pacific in World War II.”
Doree enquired, “Did anyone attend his funeral?”
Spring frowned. “I doubt anyone from Mother’s hometown. He and our grandmother’s friend, Connie Wilson, were engaged but not married. I think he might have gone down with his ship. Would they even have held a funeral service?”
“What was his name?” Doree pressed.
“Bill Smith.” Spring couldn’t keep the exhaustion out of her voice. Stop it, Doree.
“Bill Smith? That’s an awfully common name,” Doree commented.
“What of it?” Hannah countered.
“Well,” Doree demanded, “so many Bill Smiths died in World War II, but maybe not our Bill Smith.”
Chapter Thirteen
“What do you mean by that?” Spring asked, frustrated.
“I mean that it’s not over until I find the Bill Smith who was or is our grandfather,” Doree insisted. “Mistakes in reporting men who died in action have happened in every war.”
“Do you really think that’s possible?” Hannah asked, sounding uncertain.
“I’m not giving up until every avenue is exhausted. This is too crucial to Mom’s health not to try,” Doree said. “Spring, give me all the details you can remember about our grandfather.”
Spring thought back over her aunt’s words. “He was stationed at the Great Lakes Naval Base near Waukegan, Illinois. Connie and he met in Milwaukee, where she was working at a defense factory. His ship was attacked in the Pacific in 1945.”
“That’s all you’ve got?” Doree didn’t sound peeved, merely thorough. “I’m going to use the Internet for this search. You’d be surprised the kinds of government records that are open to the public and only a click away.”
“Sounds like you know what you’re doing,” Spring conceded.
“If you get a chance—when it wouldn’t upset her—you might ask Aunt Geneva if she knew what state or town he was from.” Doree’s concerned, businesslike tone surprised Spring. Maybe their baby sister was maturing.
“I will.” Spring lay back on the bed, too exhausted to sit up. The cruise, Aunt’s heart attack, everything!
“Spring?” Hannah’s soft voice coaxed. “I know you’re probably really tired, but my wedding plans are proceeding on schedule. When Mom comes to Florida, she’s going to take your measurements for your maid-of-honor dress. I’ve chosen peach chiffon for the bridesmaids. It should look really good on you and Doree.”
Hannah’s June wedding. Spring had shoved it to the back of her mind, along with the fact that Mother would arrive in a few days. Now she tried to infuse her voice with some enthusiasm. “Peach will be lovely. I suppose you weren’t able to dissuade Mother from sewing the bridesmaids’ dresses?”
Hannah sighed with deep feeling. “It was a losing battle. She really wanted to do them, especially when I wouldn’t let her sew my wedding gown.”
“She’s still making the veil, isn’t she?” Doree put her oar in the conversation. “Her veils are always so elegant. And I hope you’re not doing something precious for bridesmaid dresses. I don’t want to have to bury the dress when I’m done.”
“You’re insufferable,” Hannah shot back. “For a crack like that, I should add lace and ruffles to yours!”
“I have a headache,” Spring announced, too worn down to take any more sisterly banter.
“We’ll let you go,” Hannah hurried to say. “I’m sure you’ve been under a lot of stress. But I’m so glad you were there when Aunt Geneva needed you. Tell her I’m counting on her to recover and come to my wedding.”
“I’ll tell her.” Spring rolled toward the phone’s cradle on the bedside table.
Doree piped up, “When will you be back in Wisconsin?”
This stopped Spring in the act of hanging up. Should she tell them? She hadn’t let anyone know of her intentions. “I
don’t know—”
“But isn’t your leave of absence up in a few more weeks?” Hannah asked.
She decided to test out the reactions to her decision. “I’m thinking of staying here—but don’t say anything yet.”
“For good?” Doree exclaimed. “Does this have something to do with that guy who went on that cruise—?”
“On that note, good night, dear sisters. I love you.” Spring hung up and closed her eyes. Hannah’s wedding, Aunt Geneva’s illness, Mother’s coming, the Golden Sands April Garden Show, Marco’s free clinic, Paloma’s portrait—her mind was crowded with such a multitude of things to do, but all she wanted to think about, to savor, was the vivid memory of Marco’s heart-stopping kisses.
Her phone rang. She picked it up, hoping Doree hadn’t thought of any more questions. “Hello?”
“Spring?” Marco’s rich voice asked.
She sat up, her pulse speeding up. “Marco?”
“I’m sorry to call you so late, but I thought you’d like to know—”
“Is something wrong with my aunt?” No, Lord, please.
“No, it’s about the clinic. Pete called and said he and Greg filed the application for nonprofit status for the Gulfview Free Clinic today.” The pride in his voice was palpable.
“That’s wonderful.”
“Pete says it will only take a week or two to be approved.” His voice sounded hesitant, shy.
Why? Was it because of how their relationship was changing? “This is exciting.” She forced enthusiasm into her voice, wishing they were speaking face-to-face. Ah, yes.
“It is.” He paused. “When we have a chance, we need to celebrate.”
“Yes,” she managed to reply. Her heart was so full, she couldn’t get any power from her diaphragm to speak more.
“I’ll bid you buenas noches, then.” His voice caressed her.
“Good night.” Spring hung up the phone once more. Closing her eyes, she imagined Marco beside her, holding her. At the thought, sensations—warmth and chills—alternately cascaded through her. Dear Lord, if Marco is the one for me, please tell me how to let him know I love him.
Then another wonderful idea for the free clinic popped into her mind. Would it work?
At the sight of the airport minivan, Spring flung open her aunt’s front door. “Mother!” She rushed out and threw her arms around her mother.
Ethel, in the navy-blue traveling suit Spring knew so well, stopped in the midst of giving the shuttle driver a tip and returned the hug. Then she turned back to the driver and thanked him. He looked at the tip, carried her bags to the door and left smiling.
Spring experienced crosscurrents of joy at seeing her mother. She worried, however, that she might accidentally let the facts of the search for her natural grandfather slip. Blocking these from her mind, she picked up the heaviest suitcase and ushered her mother inside. “I would have been happy to pick you up at the airport.”
“No, I’m used to the shuttle and I only had to wait about fifteen minutes for it. How are you, dear? How’s Aunty?”
“I’m fine!” Aunt Geneva called from her new recliner out in the Florida room at the back of her house. “Put the bags in your room, then come out here. Matilde has made fresh iced tea with lemon for us, and cucumber-and-dill sandwiches.”
Soon the four of them relaxed in the long, breezy room overlooking the garden. March rains had brought every leaf to a brilliant green and every bloom to a vivid pink, red or white. The shimmering turquoise Gulf framed the garden still life.
“This is the life.” Mother sighed. “I just left two feet of snow in Wisconsin.”
“I told you years ago that you and Garner should move to Florida,” Aunty said in an I-told-you-so tone.
Mother smiled. “We love Wisconsin. But I did need a break this year. You know I would have come down sooner, but Spring said I should wait until you were home. You’re looking good. How are you feeling?”
“Like a new woman, or, at least, I will when I’m completely recovered.”
“Well, I hope that’s in time for Hannah’s wedding.”
“I wouldn’t miss it! And we may have another wedding in the near future,” Aunty said with a nod toward Spring.
Spring blushed. I should have expected this!
Mother glanced at Spring. “Is it that young man you persuaded to go on the cruise?”
“Sí!” Matilde answered for her. “Marco Da Palma, the stepson of a dear friend of mine.”
Paloma in blue jeans and red T-shirt walked in. “Matilde, I finished mopping the kitchen and all the bathrooms. What do you want me to do next?”
“Come and have a glass of iced tea,” Aunty invited. “This is Spring’s mother, Ethel Kirkland.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Kirkland.” Paloma smiled, then pointed to herself. “I’m Marco’s little sister.”
Mother returned the smile and greeted Paloma.
“Matilde, if Paloma has finished her chores, I’d like to get some more work done on her portrait,” Spring said. “I’ve been so busy. But it’s so close, I need to get it done.”
“Of course!” Matilde got up. “Paloma, drink your tea, while I help Spring set up her easel. We only have a few Saturdays to go!”
Mother chuckled. “I see nothing has changed at your house, Aunty. Never a dull moment!”
On the Golden Sands veranda overlooking the green golf course, Spring sat back and sighed with contentment. She was about to initiate the plan she’d thought of to help Marco’s clinic. At first, she’d dreaded being on the April Garden Show committee, but now she thought she detected the hand of God. The garden show would be the perfect vehicle for the plan that had unfolded in Spring’s mind. She smiled at Aunt Geneva, Verna Rae and Eleanor, who ranged around the table.
“Ladies, I have a change in plans for this show I need to discuss with you three. I think this garden show is just what the doctor ordered….”
Spring watched Marco, tall and lithe, as he took a practice swing on the first tee. Another week had passed, bringing them closer to each other and to the April Garden Show. What would Marco think of what she’d set in motion?
Marco swung, connected with the ball and sent it flying over the fairway toward the green.
“Excellent!” Spring beamed at him.
He stood with his hands on his hips, watching the arc of his ball. “Not bad for a beginner.”
She chuckled. “You’re a natural and I hate you.”
He grinned back at her.
She’d noticed Marco doing this more and more often. The dreadfully serious Dr. Da Palma was doing a vanishing act right before her eyes. “So golf isn’t as bad as you thought?”
“It’s addictive—and you knew that, didn’t you,” he said in a falsely accusatory tone.
She twirled the ends of an imaginary handlebar mustache. “Ha, ha, ha. It’s all a part of my dark stratagem to make you have fun! I’ve got you in my clutches now, Doctor.”
His sizzling smile to this silliness made her legs weak. She inhaled deeply, gathering her paper-thin resistance to this handsome man’s potent charm.
His cell phone rang.
Spring tried not to look peeved, but they had yet to finish a golf lesson without at least one interruption.
Scowling, Marco pulled it out of his pocket and opened it. “Dr. Da Palma speaking.”
Warm sunshine on her face, Spring closed her eyes and breathed in the salty Gulf air. The day couldn’t be more perfect—if only Marco wouldn’t be called away.
“Really!”
Spring hadn’t ever heard Marco sound so excited. She opened her eyes wider and took a step closer.
“That’s great! I can’t believe it went through so easily. How can I thank you? Great. Sure. Thanks again.” He snapped the phone shut.
She took another step closer.
“That was Pete—”
She gave a little hop of anticipation. “The nonprofit—”
“Status has been granted!” He thr
ew his arms around her. “It’s going to start—what I’ve dreamed of! And I owe it all to you!”
Breathless, she returned his embrace. “Not to me. I just got you started. God’s blessing is written all over this. Pete and Greg just picked up the ball.”
“I can’t believe it!” He swung her up into his arms and kissed her.
Spring’s breath caught in her throat. Marco, I love you. When will I have the courage to tell you? And what will you say when I do?
“Welcome! Bienvenido a nuestro fiesta! Welcome to our fiesta!” Anita greeted them in the driveway of her home.
Arriving at the fiesta to celebrate the clinic’s achieving nonprofit status, Spring had dropped off her passengers and parked farther down the crowded block, then walked over. Now with her aunt, mother, Verna Rae and Eleanor at her side, she glanced around. The men had congregated in the front yard, sitting on the steps and grass. Santos waved cheerfully. She waved back as she scanned the male faces around Santos. No Marco.
After Spring introduced her mother, Verna Rae and Eleanor, Anita led them up the drive to the canopy in the backyard.
“Por favor, help yourselves to the food and drink. I’ll find some chairs for you over in the shade.”
“We’re so thrilled for Marco!” Aunty announced. “You have a wonderful son! We think the world of him.”
“Gracias.” Anita blushed. “The members of Golden Sands all did so much for Marco. I can’t thank you enough for helping my son with his education.”
“It was our pleasure,” Eleanor said. “We love to see worthy students achieve their ambitions.”
Verna Rae nodded vigorously. “It’s the American dream, and we like to do our part to see it keeps happening.”
The backyard overflowed with women and children. Spring waved hello to Paloma, who was surrounded by her young friends. Tía Rosita and Lupe from Mamacita’s were pushing two little girls on the swing set. They waved to Spring. The happy scene reminded her of a church picnic. She glanced around discreetly for Marco.
“Hello.” He appeared at her elbow. “I’m so glad all of you could come.”
All the ladies with Spring fluttered around Marco, congratulating him. Spring couldn’t control her face, which insisted on breaking into a ridiculously wide smile. Mother stood apart until the rush died down.