And that was it.
The technician said he’d call each of us individually.
Matt’s beeper sounded, we shuffled out of the office, and he reached out and grabbed my hands before turning down the hall. “Whatever the tests say, let’s stay close.”
My guard dissolved, and I squeezed his hand back.
“I’d like that.”
I stood alone in the hall when my cell phone buzzed. Alone and feeling a little bit of peace about the situation, which I hadn’t felt beforehand.
The vibrating of my cell phone interrupted my thoughts, and I felt guilty for not having turned it off, being in a hospital and all. I moved to shut it off, but then answered when I saw that it was Kitty. I thought she must be ready to go home.
“Lucy,” Kitty said.
Kitty’s voice over the phone sounded stilted. I knew she had been crying. “They are saying there isn’t much hope for Mary. Come down and tell her good-bye before we go. She might be much worse next time we see her.”
That place in my chest that’d been so full a moment ago emptied as I hurried down the hallway to offer my condolences to Susannah. Or whatever one would call it. What does one say when death is imminent but hasn’t yet arrived?
I sat in the waiting room, next to Susannah, struggling for the right words of comfort. I’d only been a little girl when Ruby left, but surely some things between mothers and daughters were the same no matter what age. I clasped Susannah’s hand, and she was quiet for a while.
“Lucy, I feel that God brought you and Kitty into my life just when he knew I was losing my mother.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“We should pray.”
Susannah said that as a statement, but I felt like it was a question.
“Anything is possible,” she reaffirmed. “Anything is possible through God.”
I felt the hole in my chest expand and tried to breathe deeply enough to fill it.
Susannah looked at me and whispered, “Will you say a prayer with me for her?”
Shame filled me as I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment and doubt. I looked across the floor and slowly shook my head, at a loss. “Susannah, I—”
My eyes fixed on the Jesus sandals coming toward me.
I felt glad and relieved that Max was there and could share reassurances with Susannah in place of my absent faith.
He smiled at me, and I croaked, “She wanted me to pray.” I was embarrassed how the words came out like an accusation or a plea for help.
Max sat beside me and his hand briefly brushed my knee, a reassurance I felt so inadequate to receive.
Troy sat on the other side of Susannah; then Max swiftly moved to a knee in front of me. He laid one hand on my arm and one on Susannah’s knee. Troy knelt also, and this time I was filled with respect.
As Max’s words of Christ, joined by Troy’s, were whispered into the small space between us, I began to get a sense that I was part of something at that moment that was bigger than me, something bigger than my search for Ruby or my father. I felt warm and safe then, like I was wrapped in one of Kitty’s quilts. And I felt renewed, like the moment when I breathed in the medicine from my inhaler. The whispers were like oxygen. Susannah grasped my hand tightly. I tried to send her the little strength I had and I listened. I was amazed at Max’s simple request, that Mary be healed “if it be your will.” Such a simple request, just a few words, but so big. And even more astonishing to me was the acceptance each person, save myself, voiced that whatever the answer was, it would be welcomed as his plan, his mystery.
His mystery, I repeated silently. Thoughts of Ruby flooded me: watching her through the glass when she died. Kissing her good-bye, her skin already almost cool. The way I carried and searched for her memory, knowing that she was somehow not fully lost to me. His mystery.
When it was over, Max sat beside me and held my hand as I leaned away from him toward Susannah. She curled one hand in her husband’s and one hand in mine, her head bowed forward. We all waited, I knew, to see if her father would come out of Mary’s room and what his news would be.
Time passed slowly, and I wished I could read Susannah’s thoughts. And in a way I could almost guess that she was thinking of the last time she spent time with her mother, maybe a walk or an outing to the park with Maria. That’s what I always thought of with Ruby—our last time together. I hoped they would have more…
Kitty walked in with a tray of snacks, coffee, and tea. Even though nobody could eat, the idea of normalcy was comforting. Having a warm plate, even of hospital food, meant Mary was still with us.
Max stood, needing to be useful I was sure, and I watched him move from Susannah to each of her family members gathered in the waiting room. He was quiet and sure, his worn leather Bible in his hand. They reached out to him in gratitude. I knew he had a gift that I could never interfere with if I truly cared about him. Max would never, should never, give up his religion for me, I decided. And if he could never permanently choose someone who didn’t share his faith, I would either need to convert or let him be.
His calling was bigger than me.
INTO THE VINEYARD
Lucy and Kitty
30
Kitty,” I said, standing helpless in our living room. She was already on her way to the kitchen, where she prepared her remedy for every sorrow. Tea.
“What are your biggest regrets?” I asked, finally breaking our silence.
“Besides the obvious?
The teapot whistled, and she turned to remove it from the stove.
She poured the tea carefully. “There is one thing,” she said, taking the chair opposite mine. “I’ve never told it to anyone, Lucy.”
She took a deep breath as I held mine.
I was silent, afraid that if I said anything, she might lose her confidence and not tell me.
“I know,” she continued, “that I’ve been really awful lately. I’ve been trying so hard to hide things, but there’s one thing I do feel I need to tell.”
Matt’s words came back to me. Don’t put your whole world on her shoulders. I looked Kitty in the eye. I reached across and held her hand, now getting worried about what the news could be. What more could she be carrying?
“You haven’t been awful to me, Kitty. I have been the one pushing you.”
“No. You’re as you should be—you have a desire to know things I’ve kept from you. I’m the one who is sorry.” The tears stopped her.
“What is it, Kitty?”
“About the abortion… I…” She placed her hand on her chest. “It’s true that it was Mike Larimer’s baby—Matt’s father’s baby. Blake was right about that.”
I felt sick to my stomach and struggled to maintain a non-judgmental look, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear about her affair with that man or how she might have been in love with anyone besides my grandfather. I had woven a beautiful fantasy in my mind of the relationship I was so sure they’d had.
“What Blake didn’t know—and I’ve never told another soul—is that there was never an affair.”
I crinkled my eyebrows, not wanting to hear the truth I thought I somehow already knew.
“Not an affair? Then how could…?” Realization finally dawned on me with a horrific thud.
“Are you saying…?”
Kitty nodded and stared into her cup, the shame blanketing the space around.
“He…” She couldn’t say the word. “It’s what I tried to tell you before, but I don’t think you understood, not really.”
“He raped you?”
It all made sense suddenly. I had misjudged her story, just as Blake had. Because the truth nudging at me had been too dark to believe. How does one comfort such a wounded person?
Unsure, I just stayed with Kitty all evening. We were spent—each of us—and there was nothing else to talk about. Moving to the back porch, we watched the sunset behind our garden in silence. The roses turned their antique color, which seemed so much what I imagined as
La Rosaleda.
But could the vineyard of my dreams still be that way?
Beauty was replaced by fear—I was afraid for Kitty for the first time. Maybe I shouldn’t try to get her to go back. How would Blake feel if he learned of the rape? He was, after all, a part of a different generation that was not as accepting. How could Kitty ever tell him when she could barely tell me? Maybe it really would be too much.
We watched the sunset long after it had dulled, and when Kitty refused to go in the house, I entered alone, opened the back window, and sat down at the piano.
I played my favorite tunes from When Harry Met Sally because they were happy songs and all I could think of at the moment and Kitty loved them. I played them with passion, hoping that in some way they would speak to her, because I didn’t know what to say.
“Are you nervous?”
I considered Max’s question as I stared out the window of his van. It was my first time riding through the Sonoma Valley, and I was amazed at the layers of hills. Max was shocked that I’d never been in this direction, but of course Kitty never would have suggested that we go anywhere near La Rosaleda.
The acre upon acre of grapevines amazed me, a multitude of colorful leaves. Like the trees in the Sacramento parks, I thought. I could smell the sweet grapes hanging in the warm sun in bright purple clusters. The towns we passed through seemed relaxed, but I couldn’t help thinking how they betrayed what the shops and restaurants clearly spoke of as upscale and exclusive.
Susannah had told me that the Valley, while frequented by the affluent, was known for not being as pretentious as its neighboring county, also known for grapes. I didn’t have any idea if that was true, but when we stopped for lunch at a roadside café, I did feel at home, even beside the man hopping out of his BMW. I smiled to myself. High-end cars were zooming past us, but I was seeing just as many run-down-looking Jeeps too.
The Jeeps probably belonged to the locals, Max said, the BMWs to the businesspeople from just out of town, and all the other sedans to the tourists.
“What about those in minivans?”
He was serious. “Those are carrying pretty girls who can’t drive, the girls compelled to date poor but trustworthy youth ministers so they can hitch rides when needed.”
“Smart girls,” I’d responded, and it had felt good to laugh together.
“I’m very nervous,” I said, finally answering his question.
“You should be.”
“Excuse me? That was hardly the reassurance I wanted.”
“I just mean it’s good that you know how serious this is. It’s going to be a big deal to you and to Blake. Who knows? It might open the doors for Kitty to walk through.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. I didn’t tell him why I would no longer pressure Kitty to go to La Rosaleda. I felt in my heart that Blake would understand, but it was truly up to Kitty, her choice, and there would be no more pressure from me.
Signs announcing La Rosaleda began to appear, and my stomach grew queasy. I closed my eyes and tried to focus, but my mind jumped around, not landing anywhere safe. When I felt the van roll to a stop, I discovered that Max had parked along the town square in La Rosaleda. I didn’t look around but instead looked down at my hands.
“How about we just walk around a bit?” he suggested. “We have plenty of time.”
I felt in my pocket for the key Kitty had handed me that morning. I’d told her that Max and I were just going for a drive to the wine valley. She’d nodded her head knowingly and handed me the key to her loft.
“Just check on it for me,” she’d said. “Come back this evening, and tell me how it looks.”
“Sure.” I was grateful she had given me her blessing to go.
“But behave yourself. The place is very romantic. You should learn from your grandmother’s blunders.” She laughed softly.
I was comforted by her attempt to joke. “Don’t worry, Kitty. Nothing is going to happen. Besides, Susannah has already warned me.”
Kitty smiled. “I really like that girl; I just wanted to remind you is all.” She’d reached out then and hugged me close, and I couldn’t tell if she was happy or worried about me going to La Rosaleda.
“Kitty, please come with me. It would mean so much if you could be beside me when I first see La Rosaleda,” I pleaded. “I know you want to go with me.”
She’d shaken her head and squeezed my hand. “No, dear. I simply cannot.”
“Please,” I implored softly.
She held out a pretty handkerchief and dabbed at my cheeks. “Not this time, dear. But you go. Be a good girl and…” She paused for a moment, struggling for the right words. “Tell him… tell your grandfather I said…” She bit her lip and reached for the words I knew she wanted to say, but in the end she chose safety. “Tell him hello, will you?”
I nodded as I pressed close to her. This woman was my grandmother, my mother, and my best friend; I knew that no matter what she decided about Blake now or in the future, I would always stand beside her, even if I hoped with everything in me that she wouldn’t choose the safe way out.
“If you call and I’m not here, I’ll be over at Mary’s house.”
My heart soared at the mention of Mary. I could hardly believe she had lived through not only that one night at the hospital, but through the weeks since she had been moved back home. She wasn’t cancer-free, but suddenly there was hope. “The important part,” Susannah had said, “is that God let her stay a little longer.”
Kitty shook her head. “It’s a strange twist of fate, isn’t it, that Mary is alive? But as long as she is, I want to help her.”
“Do you really believe that, Kitty?”
“What, that it’s strange?”
“No, that it’s fate.”
“Oh, I don’t know what I believe anymore, dear. I thought I did.”
“But Susannah, Troy, and Max—they all held hands and prayed for this.”
Kitty reached out and patted my hand. “I know it meant a lot to Susannah.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “But I think it might have meant more.”
She ran her hand along the edge of the handkerchief. “I don’t know. Maybe it did, dear.”
“I hope so,” I said and though Kitty nodded in agreement I knew she was having a hard time getting past her pride. How could she admit now that the prayer for Mary might have been answered?
“Ready?” Max nudged gently, opening the van door.
“Walking around sounds like a good idea,” I said nervously.
I waited for him to come around and open the door for me, remembering something Kitty had instructed before our first date: “Expect him to open doors, dear. It’s okay to let him treat you special. Too many men miss out on opportunities to respect women because women are always rushing to do every little thing themselves.”
I gazed around the small, noisy square. The concrete fountain of grapes in the center was surrounded by mimosa trees, their shriveling blossoms dropping in the breeze. Ducks huddled together beneath every color of rosebush one could imagine, and some of the roses rambled over archways and down winding paths. Shorter varieties edged the sloping sidewalks. Kitty’s roses.
Each street around the square was lined with nineteenth-century mission-style buildings, and it was easy to imagine elegantly dressed women in long gowns from the 1800s on the arms of gentlemen in suits and hats. Of course, maybe the square of La Rosaleda would have only been populated by roughened, hard-working people dressed in practical fabrics—I didn’t know—but I liked imagining the refined ladies.
I was struck with regret that I hadn’t done more research about La Rosaleda before showing up on its streets. Because despite my imaginings, there were people from all over the place. Professional types in business suits, older ladies in Chanel skirts and jackets, California girls in flowing rayon skirts with their hair in braids.
My eyes swept around the square, and I tried to imagine Kitty walking these same sidewalks years earlier, perhaps pushin
g Ruby in a stroller like so many women were doing this day. I wondered if I could be standing right where Kitty had walked hand in hand some summer evening with my grandpa as a young man.
Somewhere a baby cried, a car door slammed beside us, and I jumped.
“You okay, Lucy?” Max tucked his arm around my waist, and we continued our stroll.
“Just wondering what La Rosaleda was like when Blake and Kitty were young.”
We strolled past wine and cheese shops, bistros, boutiques, gift stores, classy restaurants, and an old movie theater still in operation. Eventually we came to a bed-and-breakfast on the corner of the northeast side of the square. A little sign in the window caught my eye. I looked at Max, surprised.
LA ROSALEDA BED-AND-BREAKFAST
HOME OF FRANCES-DICAMILLO WINES
THE ONLY PLACE YOU CAN SAMPLE THE FINEST WINE
IN THE SONOMA VALLEY
The door creaked as we stepped inside. Antique walnut floors. Large paintings. Bistro-style tables and chairs. A large brick fireplace at one end and at the other a spiral staircase with an ornate steel banister leading up to the next floor. Along the wall opposite the fireplace was a dark mahogany counter with a soda fountain, old-fashioned jars of candy, and a bistro menu. In the corner sat a small lady, bent over a guest book.
She glanced up, her wrinkled dark skin a stark contrast to the white tablecloth over the desk. Her sparkling brown eyes caught me off guard, and I saw the same dark coloring in her as in Kitty and in all the pictures of Freda and Ruby.
Her accent was strong as she said, “One moment please. I just need to check on the progress of my guests. I have slow ones today, but as soon as they check out I can tell you about the rooms available.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said quickly. “We’re just visiting.”
She studied my face. “You look familiar.”
I shook my head as Max lightly rested his hand on my shoulder, reassuring me.
The woman’s eyes flashed across the room to a painting I hadn’t noticed before.
I knew immediately from the dark eyes and hair, the old-fashioned-looking clothing, and the resemblance to Kitty—and all the paintings in my room at home—that the woman in the portrait was Freda DiCamillo. I caught Max’s eyes, and he shook his head slightly no. Feeling his caution, I didn’t say anything, but the lady in front of me must have thought I was a ghost.
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