Noni nodded her head and gave a small chuckle. For the first time in weeks, Bernie felt like her old Noni was back, the one who made her furious with her endless advice, the one who made her breathe when life had seemed to smother her with unbearable loss, the one she loved more than anything.
Bernie reached into the bag and pulled out a small box and handed it to Noni, then patiently waited while she meticulously picked at the bow and tape to unwrap the package neatly, her quivering fingers working hard at the fine task until finally she dropped the paper to the floor and removed the small lid from the white box. “Oh, Bernadette,” she sighed. “This is too lovely for me.” She held up the pretty watch, then clutched it to her chest. “I love it. The numbers are nice and big, so I can see them.”
“Yes, and all twelve of them are on there, just like you like. How do you like the band? It’s tortoise shell and easy to snap off and on.” She reached over and showed Noni how the bands pulled apart and snapped back together, no fiddling with a small buckle, or stretchy gold band that sometimes pinched the old woman’s fragile skin.
“It’s perfect. Just like you.” She held her wrist up and admired her gift then lifted her arm for a quick hug. “What’s in that other box?”
Bernie loved the childish eagerness of Noni on Christmas. “I guess you’ll have to open it to find out,” she said, handing the larger gift to Noni.
“I bet it’s slippers. All the old ladies around here will be wearing their new slippers tomorrow.” She picked at the gold bow, handed it to Bernie, then moved on to the taped ends again picking and pulling until she freed the box from its gold foil wrap. “I wouldn’t want to be left out of the slipper parade.”
“We’ll see,” Bernie said, tugging on her ankle, pulling her stocking feet close.
Inside the box was overflowing with gold, red, pink, green, blue, and silver foil-wrapped candies. Brach’s candies to the brim. “Oh my,” Noni said, “oh my goodness.” She looked to her granddaughter and grinned. “Don’t tell Lolly; she’ll never leave me alone.”
“Is that all there is?” Bernie asked. “Dig around in there.”
Noni reached her hands down into the box and found the black velvet slippers. “They’re beautiful,” she said, lifting them out, letting pieces of candy spill all around her, in her lap, on the floor. “Oh boy, look what I’ve done.”
Bernie laughed as she picked up the stray candies, taking time to unwrap a vanilla caramel for herself. “I hope you like them,” she said, “the slippers, I mean. I know you like candy.”
“Thank you, Bernadette. They’re gorgeous, like you. Now, if you will open that top drawer, I believe there might be a little something for you.”
Bernie knew it would be something from the gift shop; it always was. It didn’t matter if it was yesterday’s meatloaf wrapped up in a napkin. She felt like she had her Noni back, her sassy, grouchy love of a grandmother, and that was the best gift possible. Bernie opened the drawer and found the gift. Inside was a beautiful handkerchief, hand-embroidered with her initials.
“Mrs. Kennedy’s granddaughter made it. She let us tell her what to put on there, so it would be special.” She was proud of her gift, proud of her Bernie.
“Thank you, Noni. I love it, more than you know.” She bent down and kissed her grandmother on the forehead and squeezed her frail hand. “Now we’re both fancy,” she said, folding the handkerchief into thirds and tucking it into the pocket of her blouse so that the embroidered initials stood out.
“So, tell me what you’ve been up to,” Noni said.
“It might take a while,” Bernie said. “I have had a pretty good couple of weeks.” She settled back into her rose-covered chair and took a deep breath.
“First, I settled the Luna case—you know, the little boy whose parents were killed in the car accident.”
“Oh yes, the little Mexican boy.”
“Uh-huh, the one who was living with his grandmother in Mexico.” She smiled at the reference to living with a grandmother, hoping Noni would feel her unspoken gratitude. “Well, Carlos will get 1.8 million dollars in a structured settlement and his grandmother, Señora Luna will get two hundred thousand.” She clapped her hands together once and threw her head back. “Can you believe it? I still can’t believe it. Policy limits, I got the policy without going to trial.”
“Oh, Bernadette that’s wonderful. How much do you get?”
“Well, just a percentage, but let’s just say it’s going to be a nice paycheck when the money comes in. Very nice. You know, I have a sneaking suspicion that our mediator comes from a family of migrant farmworkers. He was very sympathetic to Carlos and Mrs. Luna, said he hoped the American dream would still be a possibility for such a fine young man. Can you believe it?” Bernie gazed at the ceiling, her mind and heart still reeling from the mediation, the celebration, Don, even the look on Crystal’s face when she handed her the biggest Christmas bonus she’d ever seen.
“Will they stay in Mexico with all that money?”
“I don’t think so. Carlos is a citizen, but Mrs. Luna is not. There’s this woman, Angelica Corona, who has been very good to them. I didn’t trust her at first, but she’s kind of grown on me. I told her I would help her get guardianship if the grandmother approved. And, even though it’s not legal, I think Mrs. Luna might just stick around longer than she’s supposed to and maybe try to get a green card. She has money to hire a good immigration attorney.” She lifted her shoulders, grinned mischievously. “What can it hurt to try? And, to tell you the truth, I think she wants Carlos to be here, even if she stays longer than she’s supposed to. Seriously, who’s going after a little old lady?”
“I always said you were the best lawyer. I’m proud of you, Bernadette, so proud.” Her dark eyes, cloudy with old age, filled with the sting of tears. “You are too good for me.”
“What do you mean, too good for you? I’m who I am because of you.” She stretched one hand out and patted the old woman’s forearm.
“That might be true, but there’s so much you don’t know.” Noni turned her face away, avoiding her granddaughter’s gaze. “Your real mother . . .”
“Noni, let’s not talk about all that. I know who Julie Randall is, that she’s my birth mother, but none of that matters. She didn’t want me back then; you did.”
Noni raised her hands to her face, her new watch hanging loosely on her frail wrist. “I think it’s time, dear. I don’t want to ruin your week, our Christmas, but I think it’s time. This might be my last Christmas. I can’t die with this weight on me.” Her chin trembled violently as though she nibbled the air. “I have to tell you.”
“Stop it, Noni. I don’t like it when you do your I’m-dying-any-minute-now bit.” Bernie dropped her feet to the floor, pressed her palms against her thighs. This was supposed to be a pleasant evening, no drama, no tension. Couldn’t Noni for just once let things be, just enjoy the evening for what it was? Bernie let out a loud exasperated sigh, refusing to let anyone ruin her good mood.
“It’s true, though. Every year, all of us here think about who was here last Christmas who isn’t this year. It was a long list this year. It makes me think.”
“Well think about something else, then.” Bernie rose to her feet and gathered the loose bits of wrapping paper from the floor and shoved them into the bag. “It’s Christmas, Noni. Don’t spoil it. Please.”
“Bernadette, sit down,” Noni said, a command she had given hundreds of times in the past thirty-eight years. “I want to tell you something. Please, just let me do this now. It will be a gift to me.”
Bernie sat down slowly, her jaw set and spine stiff as she leaned back in her chair of roses, prepared to listen to whatever Noni had to say. She sat quietly while Noni told her about the night Julie Randall came to the hospital, how Bernie had a little broken arm, how filthy they both were, how she knew Julie was lying.
So many of the pieces of the puzzle of Julie Randall’s story began to fall into place, but there were
still gaps and holes. Missing pieces. Noni knew some, but not all of Julie’s story. Bernie did not want any more pieces of her life swept under the rug. She deserved to know the truth, and that meant getting both sides of the story, putting it all together.
“I thought I was doing a good thing,” Noni whispered in her gravelly voice, rough with age. “Your mother, well, Patty, that mother, was going to leave Ron, your dad. She was always a bit flighty, you know, kind of a dreamer or something, wanted more than she had no matter how much there was. Well, she was going to run off with her boss, of all things. I didn’t want her to go to hell. The church doesn’t allow divorce, so I told her and Ron I had found a baby for them, a baby who was hurt and needed them to care for her, so they could be a real family. They had tried to have a baby for years, and nothing happened, so I knew Patty would want you. If she had a baby she never would be fooling around with that man; she would never want a divorce. Mothers don’t leave their children.”
Noni paused and sat quietly for a moment, her breathing heavy with guilt. “I told her I knew that a baby would save her marriage, that I would pay for everything. I didn’t want her to commit such a sin that she would lose everything. Even God. Her soul. So, she stayed, and they had you to love, and I thought everything was good. I didn’t think about my own sin. Until the other one, your other mother, showed up.”
“It was a good thing that you did, Noni, not a sin. You just did what you thought was right, finding me a better home, giving me a better life.” She wanted to say so much more. She wanted to scream. Instead, she sat and soothed her shaken, trembling grandmother, stroking the old woman’s arm, her back, then her hand. “What’s the harm in that? You’re worrying about nothing.”
“Well, I was not so fair to Miss Randall, I’m afraid. I made it so that she was, oh, how do I explain? It was so long ago, times were different. I didn’t really give her any other option.” She looked at Bernadette, searching for understanding, not wanting to say more than she had to about those days at the hospital, the pain in that young mother’s face, the way she cried and carried on.
“Are you saying you forced her?” Bernie looked confused. “What do you mean, ‘no option?”
“Well, I will let her decide what to tell you about that time. She wasn’t in a good place back then. I know she wants to tell you what happened, so talk to her, let her tell you her own story, and please, tell her I’m sorry I hurt her.” Noni paused to lift her hand to her mouth before going on. “Bernadette, I’m sorry I made your life so horrible, with everything that happened, but I only did what I thought was right.” She shook her trembling head from side to side. “How could I know what would happen?”
“Noni, why didn’t you tell me? All these years, I’ve wanted to understand what happened, where I came from.” Bernie sat bewildered, unmoving as the weight of all this information sunk in. From the hallway, a child screamed and small footsteps could be heard slapping down the wooden floor. A mother called for her to slow down or she would hurt herself. Mothers and daughters. Families by birth or by design, there was a maternal mystery Bernie could not fully understand. “Noni, why would you keep all this a secret from me?”
“I didn’t want you to go away from me,” Noni finally answered. Her fingers fidgeted with the folds in her dress, picking and patting, smoothing and stroking, as though she was scraping to open another taped-up package. “I was scared,” she whispered. “You were all I had left.”
The two women sat silently, each of them lost in their own private turmoil; Noni desperate to know if she would lose the only love she had in her life, Bernie struggling to understand a history of lies and deception that had shaped the very heart of her. The very heart of her. Where did that really come from? Noni? Mom and Dad? Julie? Or was it her own making, her own life choices?
“So, what about Mother and Dad?” she asked, taking Noni by the forearm, compelling her to speak. “Do you know about that, too? I mean, you kept this from me. Do you know why Dad shot her?” Her grip on Noni’s arm tightened, urging her to answer. Every beat of her heart pounded red hot through her, socking her in the guts, the throat, the head. All those stories under her bed. All those years of clipping bad news, wallowing in it.
Noni closed her eyes, shook her head from side to side, pained by the memory of the most tragic of their days. “Yes, I . . . I think maybe I know, but who really can know what happened that day but Ron and Patty?”
Bernie leaned forward, pressed her elbows into her thighs and buried her face in her hands, fighting back angry tears, feeling the scarlet heat rise to her face. “What happened?” she whispered through gritted teeth, her jaw fixed and tight. “Tell me. I can take it.”
“Oh Bernie, your mother, she just wanted and wanted. She was seeing that man again, her old boss. She was going to go, said she was going to leave you with Ron, that you would be better off with him, so I finally told Ron about how I got you to make her stay the first time, but it was up to him this time. He didn’t know about the first time, or that I arranged for you to be theirs. He just got so angry. Stormed out of the house, you probably remember that. I don’t know what happened that morning, but I can only guess what Patty must have said or done. I loved her so much, but she could make you . . .” Noni again looked away, searching the closed door for some hidden wisdom and shook her head in bewilderment. “Still,” she continued, turning back to meet Bernie’s pale grey stare, “he had no right to kill her. No right to take her from us forever.” Noni didn’t cry, just sat waiting and trembling, finally ready to face her own fate.
“I don’t know what to say, Noni. I don’t know what I feel about all this, but I guess I should thank you for at least telling me now.” A weight like a stone fell from Bernie’s chest to her belly, making her legs feel like lead, heavy and immovable. If Noni were younger, she would get angry, tell her to go to hell, get lost, something, but it was too late for that. Noni was old.
Bernie sat quietly, her thoughts shifting to Judge Melton’s closing words at the end of the Luna mediation, the large award already agreed upon. He’d sat at the conference table, Bernie and the Lunas on one side, all of them absolutely giddy; Reilly and his clients on the other, somberly getting through the final moments.
“Life is full of accidents,” the retired judge had said. “Sometimes it’s just a little thing like tripping over a curb, or cutting the wrong length of a board, or cutting a finger. Nothing too serious. Nothing more than a little carelessness. Nothing too difficult to fix. But sometimes, a little carelessness, even with the best of intentions, can cost a life, and that can never be fixed. All we can do is try to compensate for that loss in the best way possible, and in this case, a young child and an older woman can only be compensated monetarily. We cannot give them any more than that. I just hope that is enough to allow this young man and his grandmother to find their solace, their way to some kind of resolution of their loss, a chance at a future.”
His words at the time had caused Bernie’s spirit to soar. They now only caused her confusion. Money would not have made any difference when she lost her parents, but her grandmother had offered and given her that solace. Noni. She could not hate her. Not even now.
“There’s so much we’ve been through just because I didn’t know,” Bernie said, talking to herself as much as to Noni. “All that therapy, all those nights. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just tell me back then?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t ever want to tell you, figured that other woman got over all of it long ago, moved on with her own life, probably back with her abusive husband. So, I didn’t tell you. Why should you know all that bad stuff from before? Then she showed up here in Fresno. I just about died right there when I saw her. It was in your car, Thanksgiving.” Her tired eyes closed tight with the memory.
Bernie flashed back to the night of Noni’s horrible attack of diarrhea, the weakness and illness. Noni was right, she didn’t have many Christmases left. It was time for all of this to end.
&nbs
p; Sister Anna knocked on the door before sticking her head in. “Good evening, ladies. Are you going to join us for our feast? It’s all ready and waiting for you.”
Bernie looked at Noni, so frail in her chair, then up to the ever-smiling nun, the nicest one at Nazareth, Noni’s favorite. “Yes,” she said, “we’ll be right there.”
After Sister Anna closed the door behind her, Bernie stood up and moved behind Noni. “I’ll push you in,” she said. “No need for you to crash into the Christmas tree.”
“Thank you. Thank you.” Noni’s voice cracked as she spoke, and she lifted her trembling left hand, her wrist adorned with her new watch, to wipe her murky eyes. “I love you Bernadette.”
Sister Anna walked arm in arm with Mr. Wilson from down the hall, keeping pace with his short shuffling steps, patting his stubby hand. “Ah, there you are,” she said. “Doesn’t Isabelle look lovely tonight?” she asked Mr. Wilson, lifting her voice to a louder pitch for his failing ears.
He grinned at them, nodded sweetly. “Merry Christmas,” he said.
“Will you be joining us tomorrow, too?” Sister Anna asked Bernie. “We’re having a Barbershop quartet for entertainment. They’re terrific.”
“No, I’m afraid I’ll have to miss that,” Bernie said. She paused, placed her right hand firmly on Noni’s shoulder, and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to visit family up in the Bay Area, just across the Golden Gate.”
“Oh,” Sister Anna said, “I didn’t know you had other family.”
“Me neither,” Bernie said, enjoying the confusion that washed across the nun’s face.
Noni offered only a weak smile in agreement, her weak chin still trembling. Bernie felt lighter somehow, freed from the burdens of a life beyond her own. Though there was still more to learn, the echo of a lifetime of painful secrets and lies was silent at last. She pushed Noni down the corridor, happy to be there, happy to be going away.
The Circle Game Page 29