The Many Lives of June Crandall

by Suzanne Whitfield Vince

  Carolyn spoke in a soft voice that matched the look in her eyes. Grace met her gaze and held it. Instinctively, she knew she could trust her. She wanted to talk about it. Needed to talk about it. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

  "There was a boy...Robert Sampson...I was fourteen when he raped me." She glanced up at the counselor, half expecting to see shock or horror on her face, but found something else instead. Carolyn was smiling, and in her smile Grace saw everything that had been missing in her life since Rose died. Acceptance, compassion, empathy.

  Grace covered her face with her hands and wept. Carolyn sat beside her and held her until her tears subsided.

  "I'm so sorry that happened to you," Carolyn said. "I can''t even imagine how frightened you must've been. Thank you for sharing it with me."

  Grace sniffled and nodded shyly, then spilled the whole story about Rotten Robbie. When she finished, Carolyn asked her about the dream that followed.

  "I was a young girl named Hiroko, in Japan. It was the mid-1800s and my mother had died. My father couldn't take care of me, so he sold me. I lived in a bordello and I met a girl there who became my best friend. She loved me and took care of me and showed me how to be a ...... prostitute." Grace giggled.

  "What's funny?"

  "It just feels weird to say that. I mean, I was a prostitute, and it was very real in the dream, but it sounds strange to say it out loud."

  "Tell me about your friend. Was it June Crandall?"

  "Yeah. I remember laughing in my dream because it didn't seem very Japanese. But she was nice. She looked just the same as the woman who was my mother in my first dream. Anyway, one night a man attacked June, so I killed him. June and I ran away, and a friend of hers hid us and helped us to safety."

  "I see. So once again, June was your protector. How did you deal with your feelings about Robbie's attack? Did you speak to anyone about it?"

  Grace shook her head.

  "Not even Sister Maggie?"

  "Especially not her."

  "Why is that?" Carolyn asked.

  "I don't know, I just didn't. I didn't talk to anyone, not even my best friend Valerie. I dealt with it my own way."

  "Which is?"

  "I write when I have a lot of feelings about stuff. Write and sketch, and those things help me feel better."

  Carolyn made some notes and stared at the page for a long moment. "How are you feeling now about what happened that night?"

  Grace tugged at the collar of her sweatshirt. "I don't know--it happened. I've moved on."

  "It's not healthy to stuff your feelings away and pretend that nothing happened. I'd like to help you, if you'll let me."

  "Can you undo what happened?"

  "No, but let me ask you this. Do you feel responsible for what happened?"

  Grace's head snapped up. "Why would you think that?"

  "Do you?"

  Grace took a deep breath and pushed it out hard. "I guess a little, yeah. I mean, what I did to him in the snow cave that day was wrong. Maybe if I hadn't done it, he wouldn't have attacked me."

  Carolyn rested her elbows on her thighs. "Grace, you are in no way to blame for what Robbie did to you. He showed a pattern of aggression that escalated into violence, and you said he attacked another girl before you. He was a troubled boy, and you were a victim. Do you understand that?"

  Grace was slow to nod. That might be true, but it didn't change anything. She still didn't trust boys. Or men, for that matter. Never would.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Over the next couple of weeks, they talked about her time with the Smiths. She told Carolyn about Mike, the beating, and Rose's cancer. The pain of losing Rose was still fresh, and it was impossible to talk about her without crying.

  As was customary by now, Carolyn waited patiently while Grace cried, and in fact encouraged her to do so whenever she felt the need. Tears are healing, she'd said, which was a good thing because she'd been doing an awful lot of it lately. Sometimes she knew what she was crying for, and other times she just cried. But somehow she always felt better afterward.

  She was doing better in school, too--had gotten her GPA back up to a perfect 4.0--and was getting along better with the girls at the group home. Because she was close to aging out of the system--she'd be eighteen in two weeks--she would not be transferred to another foster home before she graduated.

  "Did you ever tell anyone about what Mike did to you?" Carolyn asked.

  "No. I didn't want to go back to the group home. I cared too much about Rose, and I felt like I could protect her more if I were there because I would rather he hurt me than her. She already had cancer at that point."

  They talked more about Rose and how profoundly she had impacted Grace's life, and they talked about the abuse. "I tried to be everything they needed me to be, but I guess my best wasn't good enough."

  "Grace, Mike's anger issues had nothing to do with you, or you being good enough. They were his issues that he took out on the women in his life because you were smaller and physically weaker than him. He was lucky to have you in his life to care for his wife the way you did.""

  Grace shrugged. "I guess so. I'm just tired of it all. I want my freedom. I want to decide where I live and what I do, and who I choose to let into my life."

  "I understand, and I don't blame you one bit. I want you to know that I admire you. Many people would not have been able to survive all you've gone through. I know you carry a lot of scars from all that's happened, but I still think you're a remarkable young woman."

  Grace smiled. It was a genuine smile. The first one she'd had in a while. "Thank you."

  They spent the rest of the session talking about the dream that followed Mike's beating, where Grace was the Irish girl, Molly Ann Quinn.

  "Have you thought about what it might mean? Why the name June Crandall keeps coming up?"

  "Yes, and I know it means something, but I don't know what. Do you?"

  "No, but in every dream, June is your protector. Perhaps each character represents a different aspect of your psyche--you know, all the things that have been absent from your life."

  "Such as?"

  "Such as the love of a mother, a best friend, even the love of a man."

  She had a best friend, but the love of a man? No way. "Yeah, like that'll ever happen."

  "You never know, Grace. Someday you might find the right one, and that love might even help heal you."

  Grace smirked. She had no intention of falling in love--ever--but she didn't want to argue the point with her.

  Carolyn wasn't able to see Grace for a couple of weeks. They met again on May 21st, Grace's eighteenth birthday. When Grace walked into the office, there was a pile of gifts with big shiny bows sitting on the sofa.

  Grace saw the gifts and turned to Carolyn. "Are those for me?" she asked, wide-eyed.

  Carolyn nodded.

  She couldn't believe it. She hadn't received a gift since she'd lived with the Smiths.

  "Well, go ahead and open them."

  Grace's face lit with excitement, and she tore into the packages. Carolyn gave her a set of drawing pencils, some paints and brushes for her to try her hand at painting, and several sketchbooks to practice on.

  "Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness." She gave Carolyn a hug. "It means a lot."

  They shared the little cake Carolyn had brought in and Grace settled into her usual corner of the loveseat. She removed a stack of envelopes, bound together by a rubber band, and placed them on the table beside the sofa.

  "What have we here?" Carolyn pointed to the envelopes.

  "I brought the replies from all the schools I applied to. I've been staring at them for a few weeks now, afraid to open them. I thought I could do it here."

  "Absolutely!" Carolyn said. "Shall we do it now?"

  Staring at the envelopes, Grace chewed her lip. "Um, okay. Yeah. Let's do it." She picked up the stack of mail and placed it on her lap.

  "What's your number one pick? What are you ho
ping to study?"

  "I've always wanted to go to NYU. I want to study journalism, and perhaps art. Maybe a double major."

  Carolyn's eyebrows rose and she nodded approvingly. "That's impressive. So, what's your second pick, if NYU doesn't work out?"

  "Well, I applied to Columbia and Rutgers, Boston College--to be closer to Maggie--and a couple of schools out West. Any of those would be fine, but I''d really prefer to stay in New York."

  Grace looked at the pile on her lap. "Where should I start?"

  "Your choice, but if it were me, I'd save my top pick for last."

  Grace grinned. "My thinking exactly." She ripped open the letters from UCLA and the University of California at Berkeley and frowned. "Rejections.""

  She opened the letter from Columbia and frowned again. "Another rejection."

  "Don't sweat it," Carolyn said. "Rumor has it the skinny envelopes are rejections, and the big ones are acceptances. If rumor proves true, you've got plenty of good news to come."

  Grace's face brightened and she tore into the envelopes from Rutgers and Boston College. "You're right! Oh my gosh, I can''t believe it!" Both contained acceptance letters with full-ride scholarships.

  One more to go. She peeled back the flap of the remaining envelope slowly. Carolyn, perched on the edge of her seat, pleaded with her eyes for Grace to hurry up. Grace teased her a little more before Carolyn said, "Oh for the love of God, would you open it already?"

  Grace laughed and pulled the contents from the envelope. As she read, tears filled her eyes and Carolyn gasped. Grace looked up and her smile filled the room. "I'm in."

  "Shut up!" Carolyn leapt out of her chair in excitement as the sound of their laughter filled the room.

  It felt good to laugh. "Thank you for doing this with me," Grace said. "I'm really glad you were here for me." It was easy to like Carolyn. It felt safe to like her, too, because she knew going into it that their relationship was temporary and there was no expectation placed on her. She could share as much or as little of herself as she wanted, and it was okay. There were no wrong answers.

  "Congratulations, Grace. You should be very proud of yourself. NYU is a tough school to get into. I'm just glad they saw what I see in you. You're a woman of strength, a woman of courage. Both are qualities that will take you far in life. I know we still have more time together after today, but I think this is a good time to impart some words of wisdom that you can take with you into the next chapter of your life."

  Carolyn went on. "Every experience you have in life makes you who you are, and there is something to be learned from each of those experiences. Sometimes it's hard to see the good in a bad situation, but if you look hard enough, the lesson is there. It will help you grow and it will make you a better person. Unfortunately, some lessons are learned the hard way, but they're lessons all the same.

  "I guess what I'm saying is that life isn't always fair. It's how we choose to respond to the challenges that life throws at us that defines us, and we always have a choice about that. Sometimes you have to stand up and fight for something. Other times, the path of least resistance is the best road. As you move toward independence and building a new life for yourself, I hope you'll remember that."

  "Thank you," Grace said. Carolyn had helped her understand that she was not responsible for the things that had happened to her, and believing that made her feel better. But still, two indisputable facts remained. One, people did bad things. Two, people left. And soon it would be her responsibility, and hers alone, to make sure those two things never happened to her again.

  In their last session together, Carolyn asked Grace whether she'd had any more of her dreams after the incident with Mike.

  "Only one. On the day Rose was buried. But this one was different."

  "Different how?" Carolyn asked.

  Grace considered the question, not exactly sure how to explain it. "Normally I can see everything from only one person's point of view, you know, like I'm only one person and can know only their thoughts. But this time I could hear the thoughts of both June and Bill."

  "I see. And who was Bill?"

  "I was, I guess. I'm not sure. I started out as Bill, and then I was June. I know that they were very much in love and were expecting their first child. But then, when the United States got involved in World War I, Bill felt it was his duty to enlist in the Army and do his part. June was devastated with his decision, but he went anyway.

  "June gave birth to me, and then died of complications from childbirth at the exact moment that an explosion killed Bill.

  "Oh my God." A wave of horror washed through Grace. "I watched my mother and father die."

  At her words, realization struck like midnight. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before.

  "I know who June Crandall is." She rose from the loveseat.

  "She's my mother."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Grace graduated from high school the week after her last session with Carolyn. She filled the suitcase Carolyn had given her as a graduation gift with a few carefully chosen items and snapped it closed. Then she boarded a plane to Los Angeles without looking back. She had earned her wings at last.

  She stared out the window of the airplane as it sat on the runway at New York's JFK airport and remembered her last session with Carolyn, when she realized that June Crandall was her mother. It was what her dreams had all been leading her to, of that she was certain.

  "But June Crandall has been many things to you in your dreams," Carolyn had said. "What makes you so sure that she is your mother?""

  "Because she was always taking care of me, the way a mother does. And besides, I don't think they were dreams. I think they were...memories.""

  Carolyn arched an eyebrow. "Memories? Are you saying that you think you lived in a concentration camp in Germany with your mother during World War II, and that you were actually a prostitute in a Japanese bordello?"

  "Yes. I don't know. Maybe. What do you think?"

  Carolyn tapped her pen against the pad of paper on her lap. "I think anything is possible. In most countries around the world, reincarnation is a given. We are a younger country and are starting to come around to the idea of it, but it's not as widespread a belief as it is in most other parts of the world. However, from what I understand from those who believe in reincarnation, a person doesn't carry the same name and face from life to life."

  Grace pondered that fact. "Well...maybe that was the only way she could reach me. Maybe she kept her name and her face the same in the dreams so I'd recognize her."" Yes, that was it. She was sure of it now. As sure as she'd ever been about anything in her life.

  "I just don't want you to get your hopes up about this," Carolyn said. "It's also very possible that these are in fact just...well, fugue states technically, but call them dreams That you heard the name June Crandall somewhere before your first dream, and that you attached an importance to the name that kept repeating in subsequent dreams.""

  Carolyn had been absolutely right to warn her against making such a bold assumption, but Grace knew she was right. She could feel it in her soul.

  When her plane landed in Los Angeles, she gathered her suitcase and took a shuttle to the convent in Pasadena. After paying the driver, she stood in the circular drive, taking in the welcome sight of the first place she'd ever called home. The six thousand square foot Mediterranean-style estate had been donated to the Catholic Church in the 1960s with the stipulation that it be used to care for orphaned children.

  Once the St. Francis of Assisi orphanage closed its doors, however, it was converted into a small convent, which also housed a soup kitchen to feed the poor and homeless of the greater San Gabriel Valley. Grace planned to spend the summer working in the kitchen, hoping to give back a small part of the love she'd received during the eight years she''d lived here.

  She made her way up the brick-lined path and before she even reached the front door, Mother Peter rushed out to greet her.

  "Oh, my dear
, look at you!" She took a small step back and gazed at the young woman in front of her. "You're all grown up, and, oh my, aren't you a pretty one! It's wonderful to see you, my dear. How are you?" She pulled Grace into her arms.

  Tears stung her eyes as she held the Mother Superior, smaller and frailer after so many years. As they stepped inside the old house, a wave of memories flooded back. Grace closed her eyes and took them in. How many times had she run through that front door and tossed her book bag aside, only to be reprimanded by one of the Sisters to close the door and put her backpack where it belonged? How many nights had she curled up on the oversized crusty brown turn-of-the-century sofa with Sister Maggie to watch a movie with the other children? A warm rush of emotion filled her, and when she opened her eyes, Mother Peter was smiling at her.

  "Welcome home, dear."

  "It's good to be back, Mother."

  One of the nuns showed her to her room and she was pleasantly surprised to find that she had been given Maggie's old room. She smiled inside, knowing that this was no coincidence. She'd finally written Maggie to tell her of her trip to California, and to apologize for not having written sooner. She shared only her excitement about this trip and her future. There was no looking back now. Only forward.

  She looked about the room and noticed the same sparse furnishings, but the drab beige bedspread had been replaced by a brightly colored comforter, and there was a large vase with fresh cut flowers on the dresser. There were even a few pieces of artwork on the crisp, white walls.

  She felt happy and safe here, and wished she could stay forever. She could, she knew, but becoming a nun was not in the cards. God hadn't treated her very well in her life, and she couldn't imagine marrying him. But being here for the summer would be good for her, like a bit of salve to her wounded soul. And if all went as planned, she would be reunited with her mother by the end of the summer.

  After settling into her room, Grace went to Mother Peter's office to catch up. They shared the highlights of the past ten years, and Grace told her she was going to see a lawyer later that week, and that she was hoping to find her birth mother. She asked Mother Peter whether she had ever heard the name June Crandall.