Things Remembered

by Georgia Bockoven

  She waited for a car to pass and then turned into Anna’s driveway. “If you were thinking about telling me how much better I’d feel if I got it all out, don’t bother. I’ve already heard it from the best psychiatrist my HMO would provide.”

  “I didn’t know you’d had therapy.”

  She stopped in front of the house so that Anna wouldn’t have to walk from the detached garage. “If you want to call five sessions with a man who couldn’t take his eyes off my chest long enough to look at my face ‘therapy,’ then I guess you could say I’ve had therapy.”

  “As much as I’d like you to believe this is for you, it’s not,” Anna said. “It’s for me.”

  Karla sensed it was an argument she was going to lose. Anna had time and stubbornness on her side. Without her grandmother’s cooperation, Karla wouldn’t get to finish half of what she’d planned to get done before she had to leave. “All right,” Karla said, yielding. “You can ask your questions, but I reserve the right not to answer if I don’t want to.”

  “Agreed.”

  Karla got out and went around the car to open Anna’s door. She was about to add to the list of conditions that the questioning wouldn’t start until they’d finished whatever Karla had planned for the day, when she saw how slowly Anna moved and decided it could wait. As she helped her out of the car and into the house, Karla was once again struck by how small Anna actually was. In her mind her grandmother was a giant figure, dominating the landscape of their time together. Karla wasn’t sure where this diminutive, fading woman belonged in her life.

  “Thank you for today,” Anna said as Karla helped her into bed and turned to leave. “I know how you hate anything to do with doctors and hospitals.”

  There were some things she couldn’t deny. She’d rather clean a friend’s house than spend five minutes visiting her in the hospital. “You’re welcome,” she said.

  Karla was inside her car, her seat belt in place, when she realized she hadn’t given Anna her cell phone number in case she needed to reach her. She returned to the house, wrote her number on a slip of paper, and went to Anna’s room. She was already asleep, propped up on a small mound of pillows, softly snoring, a pill bottle clutched in her left hand.

  Karla had already propped the paper against the telephone and started to leave when she noticed a hand-knit afghan at the foot of the bed. The house was warm now, but in an hour or two the redwood tree beside the garage would put the bedroom in shade. Karla carefully opened the blanket and laid it over Anna, trying not to disturb her.

  As she was leaving she heard a softly spoken, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  No one had ever called her sweetheart. No one but her mother. The voice sounded so much like the way she remembered her mother’s that she actually turned to look.

  She and Anna were alone.

  A terrible longing came over Karla. She was again the frightened fourteen-year-old who had lain in bed upstairs and cried silent tears for a mother who could not hear. Why now, when she was grown and strong and independent, had her mother finally answered?

  Chapter

  7

  Karla stopped by a Starbucks for a double espresso, went outside to one of the shaded tables, and called Jim at the shop.

  Her hand tightened on the receiver when the phone rang at the other end and Jim answered with a cheerful, “Coffee Shop on the Corner—Jim speaking.”

  “It’s Karla.”

  “It’s about time. I was beginning to worry about you.”

  “I just got here last night and I told you I wouldn’t call until I got to Anna’s.”

  “You’re usually so hands-on about this place. I don’t know, I guess I thought you’d be checking in more often.”

  “Is that why you tried to reach me at Heather’s?”

  “So she told you? When I didn’t hear, I thought maybe she hadn’t.”

  He would never change. Their whole marriage, whenever there had been something wrong between them, he would wait for her to make the first move, to initiate the conversation, to start the fight. Now he was waiting for her to tell him she knew about the girlfriend.

  “Are you there?” he asked.

  She stared at a woman dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, wiping sweat from her forehead as she went inside the coffee shop. Halloween was less than a week away and it was ninety-one degrees. “How’s the shop?” she finally asked, knowing she was only postponing the inevitable. “Any problems?”

  “Not so far. Although we’re down to our last ten pounds of French roast. When did you say the shipment was due?”

  “Friday.”

  “We may run out before then.”

  She couldn’t ignore the “we” any longer. By the warmth in his voice it was obvious that he meant someone other than the two part-time workers usually there. “Have you hired someone to help you?”

  “What makes you think that?” he asked slowly.

  “You keep saying ‘we’ as if you had someone there.”

  A long pause followed. “Heather didn’t tell you?”

  “What was Heather supposed to tell me, Jim?”

  He knew her too well for her to get away with leading him on. “Damn it, Karla, don’t make me do this.” His voice dropped to a more private level. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Since when?” She lowered her head and saw a penny lying faceup on the asphalt. “Forget I said that. The last thing I want to do is rehash old times. I do think you could have asked before you moved your girlfriend into my house, however. That was a new low, even for you.”

  “She surprised me. I had no idea she was coming. Say the word and I’ll find another place for us to stay.”

  It wasn’t the answer she’d been looking for. She’d wanted him to say he would send the girlfriend back to Los Angeles. “Sounds serious,” she said, knowing he would understand.

  “I think she’s the one, Karla. I know I’ve said it before, but I haven’t even looked at another woman since I met her. What’s even more amazing, I haven’t wanted to.”

  If she believed for a second that he had any idea how much his words had hurt, she would be devastated. Instead, she said, “I hope it works out, then.”

  “Amy’s been terrific about helping. She said to tell you what a great place you’ve got and how much she’s enjoying herself.”

  Karla wasn’t sure how much more she could take. “I can’t pay her, Jim.”

  “She knows that. She’s doing it for me. You know, learning the ropes and all.”

  “Why would she care about ‘learning the ropes’?” She might not have the right to feel possessive about Jim anymore, but the shop was hers. She shared that with no one.

  “I’ve decided I was an idiot for leaving this place. I love being back. Now don’t laugh, but I’ve been thinking about finding a corner somewhere to set up a shop of my own.”

  “In Solvang?” She couldn’t imagine anything worse.

  “I wouldn’t do that to you, Kay Bee,” he said using his old nickname for her.

  He wanted to be her friend. He actually thought he was her friend. She’d been so good at making room for him to be in that position in her life that he didn’t have any idea how she really felt about him. “You might want to look into it a little more. With the chains expanding the way they are, a lot of the independent shops are having a hard time staying in business.”

  “Maybe I’ll look into a franchise.”

  “From what I hear, they’re pretty expensive.” She meant to be helpful; instead she came across sounding negative even to herself.

  He wasn’t going to be discouraged. “I guess I forgot to tell you that I came into some money a while back, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t immediately run out and spend it all.”

  “That’s wonderful,” she said with forced enthusiasm. Now that he was becoming the man she’d always encouraged him to be, he was in love with someone else. “I really should get back to Anna now. You can call me there if something comes up.
Otherwise, I’ll get back to you in a couple of days.”

  “Are you sure it’s all right for me to call you there? What if she answers the phone? The way she feels about me, it’s not going to do that heart of hers any good to hear my voice.”

  “She has bigger problems than hearing your voice.”

  “So this whole thing wasn’t some ploy to get her wayward granddaughter to come home? She really is dying?”

  She didn’t want to face the answer by saying it aloud. “I’ll tell you about it another time.”

  His voice serious, he asked, “Is there something I can do?”

  “You’re doing it.” He could have been doing it alone, but it was plain that that bird had left the nest forever. Having Jim show up with a woman in tow was precisely the push she’d needed to get on with her life. “But I appreciate the offer.”

  “I know this is a crazy time to be saying this, but I never fully appreciated what we had until it was gone. I love you, Karla. I guess in a way I always will. You’re the best friend I ever had.”

  How was she supposed to answer him? What could she possibly say except the obvious? “I’m glad you feel that way. I do, too.”

  She promised to call and they said good-bye. Not knowing what else to do, she drove to a park near a new brick church, sat by herself on a bench under a heritage oak as old as the town itself, and cried until all the tissues in her purse were a soggy mess then got up and went on with her day.

  Karla was standing in line at the pharmacy section of the grocery store waiting to turn in Anna’s new prescription when she heard someone call her name. She turned and saw Susan headed her way.

  “How did the appointment go?” she asked, wheeling her cart closer.

  “Fine—as far as I could tell. It was one of those in-and-out things.”

  Susan eyed Karla. “You look like hell.”

  She hadn’t bothered to repair her makeup before going shopping. “Allergies.”

  “Doesn’t look like allergies to me.”

  “It’s been a rough morning,” she admitted.

  Susan came around the cart, and before Karla could figure out what she was going to do, put her arms around her in a long, care-giving hug. People turned to stare; even the pharmacist looked up from counting pills. Karla was embarrassed and speechless. She wasn’t the kind of person people spontaneously hugged.

  “Want something to take your mind off your troubles?” Susan asked.

  Karla’s first instinct was to say no. She always said no to people like Susan, because she felt out of her element with them. “Why not? I’ve got an hour or so before Anna said she usually gets up from her nap. What did you have in mind?”

  She pointed to the cart. “How does feeding oranges and graham crackers to fifteen preschoolers sound?”

  “Like riding a roller coaster through the fires of hell.”

  Susan laughed. “I like that. Mind if I use it sometime?” Pulling a card out of her purse, she handed it to Karla. “There’s a map on the back just in case, but you shouldn’t need it. We’re in the old Hadley house.”

  Karla looked at the card. “The Kids’ Place? What is that?”

  “My preschool—we talked about it last night, remember?”

  “I remember you saying something about a kids’ place, but I thought you were talking about your son and your house.”

  “I’ve been in business almost four years now.”

  “So you weren’t kidding about the oranges and graham crackers,” Karla said. “You should know, I’m not very good with children.”

  Susan laughed. “I don’t believe that for a minute. Heather said you’re wonderful with hers.” She saw that the pharmacist was ready and went to the counter with Karla. “But then, I’m offering you an hour’s distraction, not a job.”

  “I’d love to see the place.” When was she going to learn to say no and mean it? “I have one more stop, though. I’m looking for one of those pads that go on the shoulder strap of a seat belt. Any idea where I could find one?”

  “Try the Chief Auto Store on Fairway.”

  “Fairway?”

  “I keep forgetting how long you’ve been away. I’ll bet you’re glad to be back, though.”

  Karla didn’t know how to answer her, so she just smiled.

  Susan was wrong. Karla did have trouble finding the preschool. She circled the block twice before she recognized the old Hadley home. She’d been looking for something stereotypical, a place with cartoons on the walls and sandboxes behind a chain-link fence. Instead, what she found was a meticulously restored Victorian sporting gray and burgundy and cream paint with old-fashioned swings on the porch and flowerpots overflowing with yellow and burgundy and orange chrysanthemums scattered along the railing. An old farm wagon stood in the front yard filled with bales of hay and pumpkins and cornstalks, driven by a life-sized scarecrow.

  Karla wasn’t absolutely sure she was at the right house until she stepped on the porch and saw a discreet sign that said the kids’ place under the doorbell. Susan came to the door before Karla had a chance to knock.

  “I saw you pass by—twice,” she said with a grin.

  “This is not what I expected,” Karla said.

  “Good. That’s the idea.” She held the door open. “Come in. I’ll show you around.”

  Susan’s pride in what she’d accomplished came through in her voice and stance as they moved from room to room and she told Karla that The Kids’ Place wasn’t an impersonal baby-sitting service, but as close to a caring home environment as she could provide. There was one teacher for every four children younger than four, and one for every five of the four- and five-year-olds. The waiting list held enough children for two additional schools, but Susan was wary of expansion.

  “And this is the dining room,” Susan said.

  Karla looked at what had once been the back parlor. Five child-size tables were set with plates, napkins, and whimsical Halloween centerpieces. “Nice,” she said. “But then I love everything you’ve done in here, even the wallpaper.”

  “We got the place so cheap we were able to put more into fixing it up than I’d anticipated. At times looking for just the right knob or faucet was like being on a treasure hunt. I found the wallpaper at a restoration shop on a trip we took to visit Allen’s family in Connecticut.”

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Stephens.” A girl with black hair pulled into twin ponytails stood at the doorway.

  “What is it, Cindy?”

  “Janet wants to talk to you.”

  “Thank you. Please tell her that I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Karla watched as the girl she guessed to be one of the five-year-olds left. “I’ll bet she’s a handful.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “That mischievous twinkle in those big blue eyes.”

  Susan laughed. “If I allowed gossiping about the children, I could tell you a tale or two about Cindy. But since I don’t, about the best I can do is to tell you those twinkling eyes don’t lie. There isn’t a tree she won’t climb or a challenge she won’t accept.”

  The hour that Karla had worried would take forever to pass slipped away without notice. As disconnected as she usually felt around young mothers and their stories about child-rearing, she was fascinated by Susan’s philosophy on the subject. She believed that under an umbrella of love should be a lovingly structured environment. Manners and social graces were a given, taught at school by example and expectation and reinforced at home. The hands-on teachers were called by their first names to foster close relationships; Susan was called Mrs. Stephens to show respect for her position. It was assumed every child was brilliant and meant to shine in something and that the joy of accomplishment came from inside. Susan’s kids came to the preschool every day knowing they were special, because they were treated that way.

  Of all the children she met, Karla was most fascinated by Cindy—her easy laughter, her self-confidence, her fearless climb to the top of monkey bars, and her stoic acce
ptance of the pain that came with a scraped elbow.

  Later that night, while Karla was fixing dinner for herself and Anna, she found herself thinking about Cindy, wondering about her parents and what they had done right that so many others had done wrong.

  “I can’t remember the last time I slept so long,” Anna said from the doorway to the kitchen. “Or as well.”

  “I thought about waking you, but then you looked so peaceful I decided to let you sleep.” Karla dropped the steamer basket she’d picked up at the store that afternoon into a pot and lit the burner. “I’ve got a roast and potatoes holding in the oven. The broccoli should be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Why don’t we wait out on the porch? The sun’s about to go down and I don’t want to miss it.”

  “You go ahead. I’ll set the table.”

  “That can wait.” She waved for Karla to follow. “I can tell this one’s going to be a beauty. The kind that should be shared.”

  Rather than argue, Karla turned the flame as low as it would go and followed Anna outside. “I made an appointment at the bank today,” she said settling sideways on the railing while Anna sat in her rocking chair.

  “With Mrs. Foster?”

  “She’s on vacation. Andrew Clark is covering for her.”

  “I don’t like him,” Anna said. “He’s an overbearing ass and so full of himself his pants have gone up two sizes since he started working there.”

  “That’s called middle-age spread.”

  “When is Mrs. Foster coming back?”

  Karla sighed. Even with their agreement, she should have known Anna would set up roadblocks. “I didn’t ask.”