A Life Without Flowers

by Marci Bolden

But her mom didn’t do any of that. She broke the rules by sneaking Caroline a cookie that she would get in trouble for eating if Dad found out.

  Caroline looked from the treat up to the woman who had once again betrayed her and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want that.”

  Her mom’s soft smile fell into that familiar scowl. “Fine.” She snatched the cookie and drink away from her. A few drops of milk sloshed over the rim of the cup and landed on the notebook. As she headed back to the kitchen, she said, “Three pages before bed. You’d better get started.”

  Caroline glared until her mom was no longer visible and then she turned back to the encyclopedia. Using her sleeve, because her father would hate that, she wiped the milk off the notebook, smudging the ink from the last entry she’d copied.

  She couldn’t defy her parents by not doing the writing, but she didn’t have to learn, which was why they were making her do this. She didn’t have to do that. So, as she wrote, she let her mind drift. Her eyes could see the words, her hand wrote them out, but in her mind, she was thinking of where she was going to live when she was a grown-up. The dream changed every time. She’d imagined herself as a movie star in California or a scientist at NASA. She’d even pictured herself as one of the first people to live in a colony on the moon.

  The one thing that never changed, not once, was that she was going to move as far away from her parents as she could get, and then she would never speak to them again.

  Carol hadn’t planned a stop in Philadelphia, but she was so glad she’d taken the detour. They were on their way to New York City, more specifically the Statue of Liberty, when they started seeing signs. Ellen had gasped and leaned forward in the passenger seat as she announced she’d always wanted to go to Philadelphia, which was all Carol needed to make an unexpected stop. Judith protested, of course, but Carol pointed out that one of the perks of living like drifters was that they could drift whenever they chose to. Ellen had laughed. Judith hadn’t. She was worried about getting to Ohio on time.

  Carol reminded her mom they had plenty of time. She found a place to park the RV, and they took a bus to Independence Hall. As much as Judith had protested, her eyes were filled with as much excitement as Ellen’s when they walked into the building where the country’s forefathers had gathered.

  They couldn’t do a self-guided tour this time, but the pace the guide was keeping was perfect for Carol’s companions. She was glad they weren’t relying on brochures and Carol’s memory to guide them. This gave her a chance to relax and enjoy the visit rather than feeling obligated to keep her mom and aunt entertained.

  Judith leaned close to Carol as they were led toward the room where the Constitution was signed. “You don’t have…the container with you, do you?”

  Carol smiled at the underlying panic in her mom’s voice. “I do,” she answered back, “but I’m not doing that here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Carol’s smile widened. She wasn’t sure what the fine for leaving human remains inside a national historical site would be, but she imagined doing so wouldn’t be worth the risk. She’d find a nice grassy area, as she tended to do, to leave John and Katie.

  “Isn’t this amazing?” Ellen kept her voice soft, like the words could disturb something precious, as they walked with their group into the Assembly Room. “Think of all the things that happened in this room.” As she’d done at the war memorial, Ellen put her hand to her heart and blinked several times before looking at Carol. “I remember you used to recite the Constitution on command. You knew every word.”

  Carol laughed softly. “Dad took all my books away until I could repeat it.” She lowered her voice to mimic her father. “There are more important authors in this world than Madeleine L’Engle, Caroline, and certainly more important things to read than A Wrinkle in Time.”

  “You might not have liked it,” Judith said, “but you’re the smartest person I know, and you can thank your father for that.”

  Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she said, “Thanks for making me smart, Dad. And for giving me a writer’s callus by the time I was ten.”

  Judith sighed. Ellen returned her attention to the tour guide. Carol debated if she should apologize. She didn’t. She wasn’t going to apologize for resenting her father’s unreasonable approach to teaching his daughter.

  They were back outside, strolling in the sunshine, when Ellen pointed to a sign. “This way to the Liberty Bell.” She headed that direction like a woman on a mission, once again making Carol smile. Her aunt was determined to see everything she could while on this trip, and Carol was happy to oblige.

  “If you can find some good in John Bowman,” Judith said, once Ellen was far enough ahead to not overhear, “you certainly can find some good in your father.”

  Carol let the words sink in. “John was far from perfect, Mom, but we had good times. He was a good man when he wasn’t drinking.”

  Judith snorted. “When was that?”

  “Not often, in the end,” Carol conceded. “But he was a good father to Katie. He made her happy.”

  Judith shook her head, as if she could debate, but chose not to. “We’ve been over this. Yes, your dad was stern, but he pushed you hard because he believed in you. If it’d been up to me, you…you would have ended up…like me.”

  Carol furrowed her brow with confusion. “What does that mean? Like you?”

  “Do you think I wanted my life to revolve around that house? I had dreams too, you know.”

  Carol searched the depths of her mind, trying to recall the slightest hint of what those might have been. “You loved cooking. I remember how it seemed like the only time you were happy was when you were in the kitchen.”

  “When I was young, my chore was fixing supper every day. I thought working in a kitchen would be wonderful. Cooking and baking all day. I told my mother that one day. That was in the early 1950s, so you can imagine her reaction. Still, times were changing quickly. Your aunt was able to break free from social demands, but it was too late for me. However, when you were born, I knew you would have a different future. Women were entering the workforce all the time by then. That wasn’t going to change. Though your father wasn’t necessarily supportive of women working, he understood you could have a career, and he wanted you to have a good one. What did I know about instilling work ethic? I left that to your father. I know he was hard on you, but he did make you what you are today.”

  Carol took her mom’s hand. “I wish he could have seen that I needed kindness too.”

  “He didn’t know, Carol. Can’t you understand that he simply didn’t know?”

  “How does someone not know to be nice to his kid?”

  Judith scowled. “Because no one had ever been nice to him as a child, yet he grew to be successful. He did what he knew. He never hit you; you weren’t abused.”

  “Mom,” she said with a scoff.

  “He was harsh,” Judith insisted.

  “He was cruel.” Pulling her mom to a stop, she held her gaze. “You may not see my scars, but trust me, he left plenty.”

  Judith tightened her lips in the way she did when she felt attacked, but after a few tense seconds, her eyes turned sad. “I see them,” she confessed softly. “So did he. After you left, I found him sitting at the table, staring at your empty chair. He was a million miles away. When I asked him what was wrong, he said he’d pushed you away. The reason you’d disappeared instead of coming home to us was because he’d pushed you away. He knew he was wrong. He didn’t know how to make it right, Carol.”

  The knot in Carol’s chest tightened with the image her mother had painted. “He could have apologized.”

  Judith laughed flatly. “Oh, honey. The moon would have crashed to earth first. He was sorry, but he could never say so. Holding you accountable for leaving was easier than admitting to you that he was wrong. But he knew. He knew. And that’s going to have to be enough for you.”

  “Well, he’s gone,” Carol pointed out. “I can’t reall
y ask for more, can I?”

  “Forgive him,” Judith said. “Forgive both of us. We did our best.”

  Carol filled her lungs with a cleansing breath before replying. “I’m trying, Mom. I really am. It’s not easy. He didn’t have to be like that. He didn’t have to make me feel like I was a burden he had to bear.”

  “I know,” Judith said. “But you have to find a way to see that you weren’t. The burden he bore was his own past—his own scars. He wanted better for you. He wanted better for Katie too.”

  Carol bit her lip. “We all wanted better for Katie than what she got.”

  Judith touched Carol’s cheek. “I meant the life John was giving you. He was breaking you, and Katie was starting to see that. A child should never see how broken her mother is.”

  The words were like an arrow to Carol’s heart. “I saw how broken you were, Mom,” she whispered. “And I thought it was my fault.”

  Tears filled Judith’s eyes, but she blinked them back. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know. I understand now. We’re going to be better now. I promise.”

  A smile tugged at her mom’s lips. “Well, we will be as soon as you start seeing a counselor.”

  Carol rolled her head back and chuckled. “Mom.”

  A quiet laugh left Judith. “Come on. We need to catch up to Ellen before she gets herself into some kind of trouble.”

  Carol slipped her arm through her mom’s. “She spent some time in jail when she was younger, didn’t she?”

  Judith snickered. “Oh, you have no idea.”

  Eleven

  As the ferry neared Liberty Island the following afternoon, Carol admired the massive statue waiting to greet them. She stood out against the clear blue sky like the beacon of hope she was meant to be. The crowd on the boat oohed and ahhed, but Carol barely heard them as she thought of the last time she was here. For twenty-two years, she and Tobias had played “Did you know…” practically everywhere they went. He knew so much about science and nature, while Carol retained historical facts.

  They’d visited the Statue of Liberty years ago. The entire afternoon was spent with Tobias telling her all about the flora and fauna on the island, while she explained the statue’s official name was Liberty Enlightening the World and gave him the meaning behind the seven spikes on the crown. They discussed the meaning of the statue’s broken shackles and how racism continued to be an ongoing issue. Though times were changing, they still received the occasional disapproving look when people realized they were a couple.

  The more unique tidbits she wanted to share with Katie, like the shoe size of the statue, were things Carol had to research. Useless facts like that hadn’t been in the encyclopedias she’d been forced to memorize growing up.

  Holding her right hand out, Carol examined her fingers. She no longer had the knot on her middle finger from years of holding a pencil tight, squeezing hard with pent-up frustration. Though the callus had long ago been buffed away, the years of silently loathing her parents as she copied page after page had lingered.

  She hadn’t blamed her mother for punishments doled out by her father. She’d blamed her mother for being too weak to stand up to him. Now that Carol was letting go of her bitterness and seeing her mother as a flawed human rather than the pitiless robot she’d always imagined her to be, Carol was starting to feel the anger at her father slip away as well.

  Although she would never know her father as she was beginning to know her mother, she understood there was more to him than she’d always seen. He was a boy who’d been left on his own far too early in his life. A young man who found out the girl he loved, loved someone else. He was a husband who was so determined to hang on to his wife, he didn’t know how to stop fighting. A father who didn’t want his daughter to face the same struggles he’d faced so he pushed her harder than he’d ever been pushed. And he was a grandfather who lost his only grandchild and didn’t know how to mourn.

  He was a man who lived with regrets but never knew how to make amends for them.

  That saddened her. If he’d found the courage to reach out, she’d like to think they could have made the strides she was now making with her mom. She wouldn’t have felt like an outsider in her own parents’ home her entire life, and she certainly wouldn’t have felt like a stranger at his funeral.

  The flip side of that particular coin was if she’d been able to turn to her parents when Katie died, she wouldn’t have ended up in St. Louis. She wouldn’t have met Tobias. Carol may have never known the family she had now had her father extended an olive branch. As challenging as starting her life over had been, she’d landed where she needed to be. She’d found the place where she’d belonged.

  “Thinking about Tobias again?” Ellen asked.

  Carol smiled. “Yeah, I guess I am. I was so lucky to have him. He calmed my storms.”

  “He was good for you. The happiest I’ve ever seen you was when you were with him.”

  Dragging her attention from the statue, Carol focused on her aunt. “Do you ever catch yourself playing ‘What If’ with the past? What if you had made this choice instead of that one?”

  “Everyone plays that game, honey,” Ellen said. “Be careful you don’t get lost in it, though. What if doesn’t change anything.”

  “I know.” She looked out at the island again, forcing away thoughts that could have stopped her from finding Tobias. “Is this your first time here?”

  Ellen held her hand above her eyes to block out some of the bright sunlight. “No, but she gets more magnificent each time. Don’t you think?”

  “She does.”

  “I’ve never been here,” Judith said. “I’ve never been anywhere.”

  Carol couldn’t help but notice the underlying anger in her mom’s voice. The way Ellen leaned around her to get a look at Judith implied she’d heard the animosity as well. Carol’s father had thought vacations were frivolous. They’d never taken one, and other than an occasional visit after she’d moved away or to see Ellen when she’d lived in Boulder, Carol couldn’t recall them taking one after she was grown.

  Carol and Tobias were married several years before they’d gotten to the point financially where they could travel. She’d loved telling her parents about all the places she had been. However, she had stopped sharing her excitement after a year or so. Her mom had always seemed dismissive when Carol would tell her where she and Tobias had been and what they’d seen, and her father had thought they were wasting money.

  She had taken that as a lack of interest from her mother, but seeing through Judith’s defenses now, Carol realized she’d been inadvertently rubbing her mom’s nose into her misery.

  “You’re seeing things now,” Carol told her. “We can go wherever you want, Mom.”

  Judith didn’t respond.

  “Tobias couldn’t sit still,” Carol continued, pretending she hadn’t noticed. The ferry neared the pier where the passengers would shuffle off like cattle. “As soon as we were home from one vacation, he was thinking of where to go next. We had talked about going to Greece for our anniversary. It would have been twenty years in July.”

  Her mom and aunt knew that, but for some reason Carol felt the need to explain.

  Ellen put her hand on Carol’s. “I’ll go to Greece anytime you want. Our trip won’t be as romantic, but I’ll do what I can to make it fun.”

  Carol laughed. “I believe you would. What do you think, Mom? Should we plan a trip to Greece?”

  As people started moving toward the exit, Judith shrugged. They didn’t rush toward the exit, though. Being in the back of the crowd was easier for the two older women. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about traveling. This is the closest thing to a family vacation we’ve ever taken, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Carol agreed. “But it doesn’t have to be the only family vacation we’ll ever take. Greece is beautiful, Mom. You’d love it.”

  She shook her head slightly. “That seems so extravagant. We can find someplace more
affordable to visit.”

  “It’s not as expensive as you’d think,” Carol said. “We’ll talk about it more later.”

  They were on steady ground at the moment. She wasn’t going to knock them off balance over a possible vacation down the road. Instead, she followed her companions off the ferry.

  “I don’t want to go up to the crown.” Judith tilted her head back and peered up. “That’s… No, that’s too high.”

  “No, we’re not climbing all those stairs,” Carol agreed, not wanting to tell her mother that she’d likely never be able to make it to the crown if she wanted to. There were far too many steps for the older women to take. “Let’s find a quiet spot in the grass for Katie and John, and then we can walk around the museum.”

  As she tended to do when they were preparing to spread the ashes, Carol wrapped her fingers around the container inside her pocket and grew quiet. Her mind pictured Katie there with her, imagining her daughter’s reaction to the world around them.

  She’s so big, Mama, Katie would have said. How’d they make her so big? Why’s she holding that light? What’s her book say?

  This time, however, her mind didn’t stay on imagining Katie’s excitement. Had Katie lived, she’d be thirty now. When Carol was thirty, she was starting a new life with Tobias, and she and her mother couldn’t have been further apart. She liked to think her relationship with Katie would have been better. She and Katie would have been close. They would have talked all the time, about everything.

  Ellen had said what if didn’t change anything. Carol agreed. Still, her mind fell into that trap anyway and part of her wondered, what if she and Katie hadn’t been close? What if Katie had grown to resent her the way Carol had resented Judith? What if Katie had grown as angry and bitter over her childhood as Carol had?

  Judith had been right when she said Katie was starting to realize how broken her home was. No matter how much Carol had tried to hide her misery, Katie was starting to see through the façade. No matter how many excuses or lies Carol told, John’s drinking was tearing them apart and Katie was beginning to see the truth. Maybe she didn’t understand, but she knew her parents weren’t happy.