by Lyn Cote
Thea put her fork down with a clatter. “That’s dangerous. But how did it happen?” What next?
“Someone could have done it when I parked my car in town or at the airport.”
“Who would do something like that?” Thea demanded. Why couldn’t this end?
“Who knows? I had the sheriff dust for fingerprints on the tire, but nothing.”
Thea remembered the guilty look on Mr. Crandon’s face and her grandmother’s when she and Mrs. Chiverton had visited this morning. The two together mixed up a bad combination. Had they taken to writing poison pen letters, too?
Could they have hired someone to continue the pressure on Peter while they pushed the petition to change the camp’s zoning? Maybe someone who had decided to do more than just spray paint? Now even Mrs. Chiverton and Mrs. Magill were worried. Thea’s own uneasiness ballooned.
“I’m sorry I told you,” Peter said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It makes me angry, but I have no doubt we’ll find out who is doing this soon. And it’s not stopping me.” He gave her a pointed look. “I also came to invite you to next Sunday’s Open House at the camp.”
The idea caught her off guard. “An open house?”
“Yes, I’ve invited the whole town and several contributors.”
“Do you think it’s wise?” Stark anxiety surged inside her.
“Wise? Why not?”
“Aren’t you afraid the vandal will do something specially destructive for an important occasion?” Her stomach ached with worry.
“I’m not letting my friendly neighborhood vandal stop this camp. ‘If God be for us, who can stand against us?’“
Though familiar with the scripture, Thea’d never before heard anyone, who stood in the way of real danger, say it.
He lowered his voice, “Besides I’d like to flush him out before the camp opens. An open house might do that. That’s just between the two of us.”
Thea shook her head. How like Peter to answer an attack with an attack of his own. She lost what little appetite she had, but for appearance’s sake, Thea forced herself to take a bite of shortcake. But apprehension resonated through her mind like a dark, turbulent symphony. Dear Lord, please bring this controversy to an end. I’m not strong enough to take sides, but you know Peter. He deserves his dream to come true, doesn’t he?
“How did this happen?” Peter murmured into Thea’s ear. “I’d planned this to be strawberry-picking for two, not seven.” He stroked her cheek with a velvety berry leaf.
Thea smiled distractedly. The unexpected mix of Cynda, Irene, Aldo, Myra and her father blunted her awareness of Peter. Cynda was responsible for the twosome Peter had planned turning into a family affair.
Her father—tall, lean and reticent as ever—caught her attention even more than Peter today. Ever since her stepmother and father had arrived yesterday, Thea had sought an opportunity to confront her father about Cynda.
Like the morning dew evaporating in the sun, the weekend was slipping away. She couldn’t let this chance to help Cynda pass. Thea’s stomach churned, making her feel queasy in the hot June sunshine.
Nearby Irene was talking to Myra. Slim, blond Myra, dressed in designer jeans and a tailored blueand-white-striped blouse, was bent over beside Irene. Peter’s mother wore one of her bright smocks printed with huge, lively red strawberries which bloused over baggy pants. “Do you like strawberry mousse, Myra? I’ve got a great recipe for it.”
“Is it fat-free?” Myra replied.
Irene chuckled. “Oh, dear, fat-free mousse wouldn’t be worth eating, would it?”
Looking startled, Myra straightened up.
Despite her nervousness, Thea turned away to hide a smile. Myra was suffering culture-shock. Thea’s stepmother probably had never met anyone like Irene before, a woman unconcerned about fashion and figure.
It wasn’t the only change Myra had adjusted to this week. During this first visit, Thea had insisted her parents stay with her and Cynda at the house, not a motel as they normally preferred. She couldn’t put the reasons into words, but she wanted them close to Cynda and to her.
Glancing around, Thea found Peter grinning at her. She fought his attraction. She could only deal with so many issues at once. Bending over, she began to pick the small red berries to fill her basket. Thea wondered why this summer everything was fraught with tension.
The ideas she wanted to express to her father were foremost in her mind. How do I start? She felt more queasy. She didn’t want her questions to sound like accusations and how could she get a moment alone with her father?
“Is something bothering you?” Peter asked in a low voice.
Startled because she hadn’t noticed him slide closer to her, Thea bit her tongue. She winced. Peter’s deep brown eyes held such concern for her. Peter always had ideas for himself. Maybe he’d have one for her. “I’m trying to figure out when I can get my father alone. I need to talk to him, but they’ll be leaving tomorrow morning and company is coming for supper tonight, an old fishing buddy.”
“Why not now?”
“Here with everyone listening?”
Peter glanced around. “He’s over to one side already. Why don’t I kind of draw everyone away? Then you join your father.”
Thea surreptitiously surveyed the scene, the meadow of wild grass and strawberry plants around the remains of an old burned cabin. There was that bank of lilac bushes she could lead her father behind. “All right. Thanks.”
“Service with a smile.”
Bent over and still picking berries, Peter closed in on Myra and Irene and began talking animatedly to them about the berries being bigger over to the other side of the meadow and slowly herded them off to the left, away from her.
When Thea turned around, she saw Cynda gravitate to Aldo, taking him farther into the patch. Her stepsister probably was still trying to avoid her parents. That left her father alone. Thea’s heart beat a little faster, but this was a perfect time to talk to him without drawing attention to them. Soon she had “picked” her way over to him.
For a few moments, she just gathered strawberries near him and tried to think how to broach the topic of Cynda to him. “How’s it going, Daddy?” Daddy? Where had that come from? She always called him, “Father.”
Without lifting his head, he answered, “The berries are really big this year.”
At a loss of any other way to begin, Thea said, “Cynda is very unhappy.”
He nodded and went on picking.
“Cynda needs you.” I needed you. Again she was startled by words which seem to pop up from deep within her.
“Myra understands her better than I do.” He gathered more berries.
Thea’s instincts wanted her to let it drop, but her concern for Cynda prodded her on. “Cynda needs a father.”
He grunted. “Doug shouldn’t have put her visit off.”
“We can’t make her father do what’s right. But you could make the difference for Cynda.”
“It’s too late. She’s a teenager now. She won’t lis-ten.”
“You need to connect with Cynda.” Didn’t he realize how hard it was for Thea to confront him like this? He didn’t even appear to have heard her. Thea felt him withdrawing further from her, just as she did when she didn’t feel capable of dealing with something. I am my father’s daughter. Neither of them were confronters.
Her father stood up and showed her his long, shallow strawberry basket. “Look at this big one. Here try it.” He held the wild strawberry to her lips.
Like a flash, Thea glimpsed a scene from her childhood. In the same field of wild strawberries, her father, years younger, was offering her a berry. She heard herself say, “Daddy, is Mama really going to be all right now?”
Silence.
Then she realized she’d spoken out loud. A silence which vibrated with unexpressed emotion passed between them.
“Thea,” her father sounded as dazed as she. “You said that.…”
The years which had protect
ed Thea from the anguish of losing her mother had been wrenched away, exposing raw nerves. She trembled with remembrance. “The day Mother died. I’d forgotten we picked strawberries that day.”
Her father looked stricken. “I took you away from the house. Your mother wanted you to have an outing. After her emergency surgery, we thought everything was going to be fine.”
Taking hold of his arm, Thea drew him with her to the cover of the lilac bushes. “What happened after Mother’s death, Daddy? Why did everything change?”
He seemed to pull back, go within himself. He frowned. “Talking won’t make the past different.” He bent to gather more berries.
The lilac bushes stood between them and the others. The scent enhanced the sensation of déjà vu for Thea. The same bushes had been in bloom the day her mother died. She’d wondered in the past why she always came away subdued from picking berries here. “That’s not true, Father. We need to talk about the past.”
He didn’t meet her glance.
Thea couldn’t believe her own persistence, but this week marked the anniversary of her mother’s unexpected death from an aneurysm. She’d waited long enough for an explanation. “We have to do this, Father. Talking about the past can change the present and the future.” Thea took a deep breath and plunged on, “Daddy, why did you stop loving me the day Mother died?”
He straightened up and faced her.
Though her mouth was dry, Thea went on, “What happened to us? I need to know.”
Her father looked shocked, hurt.
Listening vaguely to the voices nearby, Thea searched for words. Old pain, sadness and distress swirled inside her. “You used to tease me. You took me berry picking and fishing. Daddy, what happened to us after Mom died?”
He heaved a labored sigh and mopped his forehead with his pocket handkerchief. “I don’t like to speak against your grandmother.”
“What happened?” Thea insisted more boldly than she thought possible.
“Losing your mother so young nearly killed me.”
His stark words shook her. “Why did you sell our house and move in with Grandmother?”
“I wasn’t thinking after we lost your mother. I couldn’t. By the time I was thinking again, we were in her house. And I was traveling more and more.”
Thea didn’t need to ask him who had prompted him to sell and move in. Grandmother, of course. The need to control seemed uppermost in her grandmother’s character. Did you ever grieve for your own daughter, Grandmother?
Her father’s voice came out stronger. “Your grandmother wanted me out of the picture completely.”
This didn’t shock Thea. Grandmother wasn’t just a difficult elderly woman as she had thought before. Thea’d begun realizing her grandmother’s essential selfishness through the last months, but this…“What exactly do you mean?”
“She tried to persuade me I was free to remarry. I could leave you with her. Be unencumbered, she said. You’ll be more attractive to single women without a child. I wouldn’t do that. I didn’t even date for years. I didn’t have the heart to.”
Thea felt each word—a knife thrust to her heart. Grandmother, how could you?
“If only I’d packed you up after the funeral and left the state. But the longer you were with her, the longer I was afraid of uprooting you again.”
Thea searched her father’s face. “I understand.” Her father, a quiet gentle man, had been no match for his mother-in-law.
“I’ve always felt guilty about letting that woman take over our lives. Your mother and I together could fight her and win. But after your mother died, I just seemed to lose all my fight.”
Thea drew a deep breath and spoke soothingly, “Grandmother is not easy to deal with. Our grief put us at a disadvantage.”
He reached out and patted her shoulder clumsily. “Daddy,” she whispered, then she hugged him tightly. Tears started in her eyes. Finally she understood. Daddy hadn’t abandoned her. He just hadn’t been up to challenging Grandmother who would use every weapon at hand to get what she wanted. A woman who would never quit, never admit defeat. Thea understood that all too well.
She wiped away her tears with her fingertips. “Daddy, talk to Cynda. Listen to her. Take her fishing and out to breakfast sometimes like you did with me. She needs you.”
Her father nodded solemnly like taking an oath.
From the other side of the bushes, Irene’s voice startled Thea. “Teen years are the hardest.”
Unseen, Myra replied, “That’s what everyone says. I was just glad that Cynda had someone like Thea to turn to. When Thea called me to say Cynda was with her, I was livid. Then I was so relieved I actually felt faint. Anything could have happened to Cynda running away like that”
“One of our daughters ran away repeatedly.”
“Really?” Myra’s voice sounded surprised.
“Yes, but she was really running away from her natural mother who had run out on her. It’s a confused story, but she’s fine now.”
“Do you think Cynda will run away again?”
“No, I think her summer here will do a lot to resolve her anger. She’s upset with her father, but her foundation is strong.” Irene’s voice began to grow distant. The two women were moving away from Thea.
“I hope so. I hadn’t prayed in a long time, but I was praying night and day when I found Cynda gone. I’ll never forget the terror I felt when I opened her closet and found her duffel and clothes gone.”
Thea strained to hear what Irene would say in response. “Well, I spent nights on my knees praying for my kids. It’s the only way I got through it. I realized Aldo and I couldn’t make the difference all by ourselves. Our kids had been hurt too badly before they came to us. So we gave them to God and asked Him to make up what we couldn’t give them. Giving our children over to God is the most difficult thing we’ve ever done, but the smartest, too.”
“I wish I had your faith.”
Thea could barely hear Irene’s answer. “It’s free for the asking, dear. Just ask God and He’ll be right there with you.”
Thea turned to her father and hugged him again.
He ran his fingers through the hair around her face. He said softly, “Don’t worry, Thea. I’ll do better with Cynda. I promise.”
She hugged him in response.
“And don’t ever think that I haven’t always loved you. I made mistakes, but I’ve always loved you.” He paused briefly. “There’s one more thing you need to know. Your grandmother called Myra. She wanted Myra to come and take Cynda home.”
After a slight hesitation, Thea kissed his cheek, then bent and began picking strawberries again. Her grandmother’s call didn’t surprise her at all. Thea had begun by seeking what Cynda needed for healing, but had ended by receiving the healing she didn’t even know she was seeking. Confronting her father had been difficult, but it had accomplished much. This gave her new strength.
To Thea, all the challenges and changes in the past few months had made her reevaluate everything she’d taken for granted in her life. The time had come for her to face the past. The time had come to confront Grandmother.
Chapter Eleven
Thea had prayed for several days, prayed for wisdom, for insight. She wanted to let Grandmother know her feelings, but she didn’t want to be unkind.
Thea opened the door of the care center and walked down the familiar corridor. The murmur of voices, the odor of disinfectant, the green-and-mauve floral wall paper, a TV playing in the background—everything as usual, but her. Amazingly she felt determined. Ready.
Whether her plan worked or not today, she’d have the satisfaction of stating her case. She walked confidently into her grandmother’s private room.
Grandmother Lowell looked up and scowled. “You’re late.”
Thea smiled. “Hello, to you, too.”
The older woman’s mouth twisted in a sour grimace. Her grandmother rarely wanted to leave her refuge, but Thea had a plan.
“I’ve come to
take you out for a little sun.” Though her grandmother protested, Thea stepped behind the wheelchair and pushed it out the nearest exit.
Thea strolled behind her grandmother, who complained louder and louder with each step. Though Thea felt badly about ignoring the older woman, she deafened herself to every syllable. She even smiled to bolster her own resolve.
Finally, near the tree-lined bike trail where they would be quite alone and uninterrupted, Thea parked the chair, locked it in place, and sat down on the redwood park bench nearby.
“What has gotten into you?” her grandmother demanded.
As though sublimely unconcerned, Thea stared upward. “What a gorgeous blue sky. This is just what we needed. Some sunshine and fresh air.”
“Take me back inside right now!” Her grandmother’s slurred voice increased in volume.
Thea’s conscience tugged at her, but she resisted it. I’m sorry, Father, but I have to do this. Please help me. “You want to walk farther?” Thea glanced around. “But you never know what you really want.” How many times had her grandmother used those same words to squash any attempt Thea made to voice an opinion?
Her grandmother started struggling to release the wheelchair with her one good hand, but couldn’t quite reach it.
Thea took her grandmother’s frail and papery hands and held them. “No, no, that’s not good for you.” Another technique of Grandmother’s. Would the older woman realize this?
“Have you lost your mind!”
“No, I just need to discuss a few matters with you without an audience or interruptions.”
Her grandmother wouldn’t look at her.
Still unruffled, Thea asked, “You called Myra about my stepsister. You wanted me to be alone again this summer. Why?”
The old woman glared. “It’s still my house.”
Thea had anticipated this reply. She’d heard it before. “I wasn’t trying to sell her the house. I just wanted to help out Cynda. She needed a sister. She needed me.”
Grandmother folded her good hand over her weak one. “I don’t like strangers in my house.”
“Cynda is family,” Thea countered.