The Four Seasons

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “You go on,” Rose said, stopping her with a hand on hers. “I don’t need you now.”

  “But, what if…”

  “Really, I don’t want you here. I love you, but try to understand. This is something I have to do alone.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t really know him. I’ll stay here for a little while, just in case you change your mind. What, five minutes?”

  “He isn’t some stranger. He’s Danny. And besides…” she said with a smirk. “What can happen in a mall over coffee and a cinnamon bun? Go on now. I’ll call you on the cell phone if I need you.”

  “Call me in exactly one hour to tell us when to pick you up. Sooner, if it doesn’t go well.”

  “Don’t worry.” Then Rose smiled. “But thanks.”

  Jilly leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Have fun.” Then, pulling back, she added, “But not too much fun.”

  Rose stepped out into the morning air, then closed the door with a confident swing. At the sound, Danny looked her way. He stood still, watching. She lifted her hand and offered a brief wave. His hand came up to wave back and she saw that he carried a single red rose.

  She walked toward him with slow, steady steps, as he did toward her. With each step she saw more of him. He had the look of a country boy. His body was lean and wiry, his face was tanned and weathered, and his hair was tawnier than brown and fell loosely at his temples. His shirt was a pale blue, open at the collar. Closer still, she saw only his eyes. They were the same pale blue as his shirt and they shone out from the tan as though backlit.

  He was searching her face with the same intensity and she didn’t shrink back from his scrutiny. His eyes were filled with wonder and appreciation and the gentleness of spirit that she immediately recognized. It was DannyBoy. She could have picked him out from a crowd.

  Walking toward him, she felt sure that this was what it felt like when people talked about dying and heading toward heaven—just walking toward the light.

  Jilly had one more stop to make before ending the quest. She drove out of Green Bay toward Du Pere to visit Anne Marie once more before leaving town. The directions were clear and the streets well-marked. It wasn’t long before she pulled up in front of a small yellow brick bungalow with pale blue shutters. Even though most of the houses on the block looked the same, Jilly would have picked this house out as Anne Marie’s even without directions. This house had window boxes spilling over with freshly planted annuals and a white picket fence bordering it. A wreath of dried flowers hung on the door.

  Anne Marie answered the door and Jilly was relieved to see that the bloom was back in her cheeks. Lauren didn’t hang back behind her mother’s skirts as she had the first time they’d met. She ran into Jillian’s open arms to deliver a kiss. Kyle was at work and Susan was at home, so the atmosphere was more relaxed.

  Jilly spent a pleasant hour looking at photo albums of Anne Marie and Lauren while they sipped coffee. It was just long enough to tie and knot the tenuous bonds they’d established. They didn’t have a relationship yet. That would take time, effort and honesty. But they did have a beginning.

  When she gathered her purse to leave, Jilly sighed a private sigh of relief that Anne Marie didn’t ask about her father. She would, someday, and when she did Jilly would work with Dennis and Birdie on the next step of this reunion. They all needed to proceed slowly.

  “You’ll call me right away about the baby?” she asked before leaving.

  “Of course. You’re the grandmother.”

  Jilly smiled and knew it would happen. She saw the commitment in her daughter’s eyes.

  At the door, Jilly hugged her daughter, then reached into her purse and pulled out a long white envelope. “My sisters and I talked and we want you to have this,” she said, placing the envelope into Anne Marie’s hand.

  “What is it?”

  “A legacy that is meant to go to you. You can open it after I leave. We can’t begin to tell you how valuable the time capsule was for us and we’re so grateful you returned it. We want you to know you’re a Season, too. Don’t ever forget.”

  Turning to leave, Jilly felt a sense of completion. By giving Anne Marie the remainder of Merry’s trust fund money, the Season sisters had fully honored Merry’s last wish. At the curb Jilly turned to wave once more. Anne Marie was standing on the front porch with Lauren, waving. Jilly’s heart captured the sight to tuck away and bring out at lonely moments, like the photograph of Anne Marie as a baby that she had been given today.

  As the Land Rover drove away, she looked through the rearview mirror for a final glimpse. She saw Anne Marie pull the check out from the envelope, bring her hand to her heart, then swing her head toward the car.

  Jilly grasped the wheel tight and grinned from ear to ear. Birdie was right, she thought as she made her way back. Being a mom was the greatest dream.

  27

  A MONTH LATER JILLY STOOD AT the black wrought-iron fence that bordered the small, redbrick house overlooking the sleeping town of Hodges. Her hand rested on the cool metal as she gazed up at the window on the second floor that was filled with light. She guessed Rajiv was already in bed. Was he thinking of her, she wondered? They’d shared some remarkable moments in that bed.

  There was enough vanity still beating within her to suppose he had wondered what had happened to her, or where she was now. Perhaps he even missed her as much as she discovered that she missed him. Or, he could be over her already. That thought sent her heart pumping every last drop of vanity from her pores.

  She wasn’t young anymore. She thought she might even be a year or two older than him. She wasn’t wealthy, either. She didn’t have an exciting career or even that elusive something known as potential that had lured men to her in the past. She was simply herself, Jillian Season.

  But her identity was hard-won.

  She looked again at the light in the window. He’s probably just reading a book and not wasting a moment thinking about her, she thought, and wondered for the hundredth time that day what she was doing coming back here.

  Except she couldn’t stay away. She loved this little place. The garden had exploded with color since she’d last been here. New leaves rounded the craggy branches of the ancient trees. Moonlight dappled through them as the branches waved gently in the evening breeze.

  She loved him.

  She held her breath and pushed open the heavy gate. It creaked loudly in the quiet night. One of these days she was going to have to oil that darn gate, she thought with a cringe. Predictably, there followed a high yip from the shadows.

  “Pirate Pete? It’s me.”

  She heard a low, throaty growl.

  “Pete, stop that! Come here, boy,” she cajoled in a loud whisper.

  The little dog walked stiff-leggedly toward her, his growl rumbling in his chest. When he caught her scent, however, his ears flattened with delight and he sprang forward wagging his tail and whimpering.

  “Such a homecoming! Did you miss me at least? I missed you, too.” Buoyed by the dog’s welcome, she rose again and made her way along the bumpy, uneven walk toward the back door. She passed thin patches of grass and weeds that threatened to choke out the tulips and hyacinth in the garden. Reaching the porch she saw that a flowerpot had been filled with geraniums, but it drooped sadly. The place looked forlorn and not well tended.

  Jilly brought her knuckles to the door and knocked. A moment later the light turned on in the kitchen. She smoothed out her hair when she heard footsteps approach, licked her lips when the lock clicked and sucked in her breath when the door swung open.

  He looked thinner. His dark hair was cut shorter and was tousled. A single dark lock fell over his forehead. He stood motionless with his hand still on the handle, blinking as one just awakened from a dream.

  “Jillian?”

  She shrugged and smiled crookedly. “I’m back.”

  He let go of the door and pushed the hair from his face. “So I see.” Then, dropping his arms, he said, “I was hop
ing you’d come back.”

  “You were?”

  “You know I was. I never wanted you to leave me.”

  Exasperated, she tossed her hands up in a futile gesture. “Then why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  “You weren’t ready to stay. You had things to get done. We both knew that. Besides, there is an ancient saying that translates to something about how you can’t hold on to what is not yours. Jillian, to stay was your decision to make.”

  “It’s true. It was too soon. Rajiv, so much has happened! I met my daughter. She’s lovely and I’m so lucky. Then I had to go home to take care of business details and help clear out the family house. We’re all moving on. We had a lot of decisions to make.” She looked at her hands. “I had a lot to make.”

  “What did you decide?”

  She bent to pluck a wilted bloom from the geraniums. Its pungent, spicy smell permeated the air. “It’s not so much what I decided as much as what I came to understand about myself. I realized I wanted to tell you all about what was happening to me. More than anyone else. That was strange for me, you see. I’ve never had this kind of relationship with a man before. I’ve never shared my private self. Sure, I married three times. But each time was for a reason that had nothing to do with love or commitment. Not even friendship, really. I was infatuated, perhaps even thought I was in love at the time, but in retrospect it was more of a business deal. I needed someone to handle my finances or to promote my career. I never allowed myself to get involved emotionally or let anyone get so close that I could get hurt.”

  “And now?”

  “And now…I want to be with you and it has nothing to do with what I can gain from the arrangement. It’s more what I can give to you. What we can give to each other.”

  “That sounds promising,” he said, stepping closer.

  “Well,” she said, bringing her fingers up to toy with the buttons on his shirt. “That’s not entirely true. I do want some things.” She looked up. “I want to see your face first thing every morning and the last thing every night. I want to hear your voice at my ear and feel your skin next to mine. I missed you, Rajiv. I love you.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed, then, opening them, moved forward to encircle her in his arms.

  “I don’t know what that really means,” she hurried to add, pulling back a bit. “I don’t know that I ever want to marry again. I don’t know that I’ll be any good at this love thing. But I do know this.” She cleared her throat and looked in his eyes. “I’d like a room, please.”

  He chuckled and drew her closer. “How long will you be staying this time?”

  “Longer than I ever have before.”

  His eyes filled. Rajiv stepped back to open the door wide. Then, with a proper hotelier’s nod, he ushered her into his home.

  Before closing the door behind them he said, “I think that can be arranged.”

  Epilogue

  IT WAS A PERFECT DAY FOR A WEDDING.

  Summer had arrived and with it an exuberance of spirit that matched the blazing reds, yellows and pinks of the Season rose garden. The sisters pulled together all their creative resources to stage an utterly romantic Victorian garden party complete with an enormous white tent, white linen and yards of thick white ribbons swirling around pale pink and white rose arrangements. It was a tour de force eclipsed only by the loveliness of the bride herself.

  At the appointed hour the violins began playing Vivaldi. The small crowd of guests hushed and turned their heads toward the rear porch, festooned with swags and more roses. Jillian’s face beamed as she began her slow, graceful descent down the porch stairs into the garden.

  Mrs. Kasparov beamed and waved her gloved hand as she passed. This was the last event for the Season family in the old Victorian. Next week, the house would belong to a new family who would carve out their own memories.

  The great-aunts and cousins clustered together with their spouses and children, presenting a formidable family support. Jilly loved them more than ever for their open-armed welcome of her daughter and family. She easily spotted Kyle, tall and proud, carrying Lauren in his arms. Lauren’s eyes lit up and her little legs pumped with excitement when she saw Jillian. Beside them, Anne Marie shone with the radiance of motherhood. In her arms she nestled her newest daughter. Seeing the infant’s pink face and red peach-fuzz hair, Jilly felt she’d come full circle. They had called the new baby Spring, a gesture that had touched Jilly and her sisters more than they could ever express. Merry would have been so thrilled.

  Then she saw his face, handsome and strong, with eyes burning just for her. The heat of a blush pinkened her cheeks as she thought, So this is what it feels like to be in love. At last. Rajiv was her lover, her confidant, her best friend. As she walked across the final length of green grass toward him, she couldn’t imagine life without him at her side.

  He offered her a deep, knowing smile as she passed him on her way to the rose arbor where the ceremony was to take place. Father Frank was standing under it, smiling as she approached. She took her place to the side, then turned to watch Birdie follow her, resplendent in the same celadon-green silk dress that she wore. Birdie strolled as regally as a queen, her broad shoulders back, her red hair shining and her glittering blue eyes settled firmly on Dennis.

  There was a pause in the music and once again an anticipatory hush settled over the group. Jilly raised her eyes expectantly toward the porch. The house door opened and a collective sigh whispered in the summer breeze as Rose stepped into vision.

  Jilly’s eyes stung; she’d never seen a more beautiful bride. Rose seemed to have stepped out from another time in the antique Victorian gown of white satin and chiffon. Her hair was pulled back from her face by a pearl-encrusted headband and cascaded down her back like a sheath of red-gold silk. In her hands she carried a bouquet of white roses. Her greatest adornment, however, was the joy and love radiant on her face as she proceeded on the arm of Mr. Collins toward her soon-to-be husband, Daniel Hinds. Her DannyBoy.

  How fitting that the wedding should take place here in Merry’s garden, Jilly thought. Merry had planted her flowers in the soil that had long ago filled the swimming pool, transforming what had once been a site of tragedy into a site of life and beauty and hope.

  The reading chosen for the ceremony was a verse in Ecclesiastes that had always been a mainstay for the Season family. Jillian closed her eyes as the priest read the familiar words.

  “All things have their season: and a season for every purpose under heaven.

  A time to be born, and a time to die. A time to plant, and a time to uproot.

  A time to kill, and a time to heal. A time to mourn, and a time to dance.

  A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them. A time to embrace, and a time to refrain.

  A time to search, and a time to give up. A time to keep, and a time to cast away.

  A time to tear, and a time to mend. A time to keep silence, and a time to speak.

  A time to love, and a time of hatred. A time of war, and a time of peace.”

  Jilly’s gaze traveled to her sisters and she thought how those words had never rung as true as they did now. Life was a cycle of change—and oh, how they’d changed. And how much they were still the same. She was not fooled into thinking that, now that she had found her daughter, and each of them had revisited the dreams of their youth, the cycle was completed. Quite the contrary. Another cycle was just beginning, as the four seasons followed one another in perpetuity. Listening to the couple exchange their vows, Jilly thought how hard they’d each toiled in the spring for this one summer of their lives. A summer rich with promise for each of them. With luck it would ripen into a fall laden with the harvest of their hard work and dedication, then at some point darken again in a winter of doubt, sadness and tragedy. Winter was part of the cycle. Whatever came her way, she prayed she’d persevere with faith that another spring would bloom.

  The bride and groom kissed while everyone applauded and shared
the high of the moment. Rose turned to face her sisters first over all. It was a glorious moment. In that look all their memories of the past and present dazzled, swirled and danced through their minds, their hearts, directly into their souls.

  Jilly, Birdie, Rose and Merry were united forever by bonds that transcended time. They were sisters. They were the Four Seasons.

  We hope you enjoyed this novel

  by Mary Alice Monroe.

  See the discussion questions on the

  following page to further enhance

  your reading enjoyment.

  QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  The complicated relationship between sisters offers opportunities for both intimacy and estrangement. Whether the relationship is close or conflicted or somewhere in between, that lifelong bond contributes to who we are. Discuss the impact of birth order and parental favoritism on sibling relationships.

  Sisters know one another from the nursery. Yet some sisters get stuck there, refusing to see their sister as the adult person she has become. How did the Season sisters view each other at the opening of the story? Can family members stop relating to anachronistic images and relate to the person living in the present?

  The emotions and memories of the Season sisters were locked in a time capsule. How can having a shared history help sisters overcome the sorrows and disappointments of childhood? Discuss how the grief and guilt they experienced in childhood was later expressed in shame, terror and pent-up rage.

  Jillian was pregnant in 1973. How would her options be different as a pregnant high school girl today? How might the reactions to her situation by her family, friends and community be different?

  Older sisters are often tapped to help raise younger children. What are the limits of a child’s responsibility in child care? What impact does this responsibility have on her relationships with her siblings? Do adult responsibilities rob the child of the innocence of youth?