“I wish we could stay here.”
“You know you’re more than welcome,” Anna assured her. Of course, they’d already made this clear to both of them—although they weren’t trying to influence them one way or the other. This decision belonged to the young couple. “We’d love having a baby around,” she reminded Jewel. “And even if you do move to town, I hope you’ll come out to visit sometimes.”
Lauren called Anna in October to share her good news. “We’re engaged!” she cried into the phone.
“That’s wonderful,” Anna told her. “I’m so happy for both of you!”
“He’s my soul mate, Mom. I just know it.”
“He seems like a wonderful man, Lauren.”
“I told him I want the wedding to be at the river. Is that okay?”
“It’s more than okay, Lauren, I’m thrilled. Have you set a date?”
“We thought sometime after Christmas. So I can be done with my classes. Or maybe New Year’s Eve. That would be fun.”
“Well, either time is fine around here. You know how slow things are during December. We’ll have plenty of room. And I assume he’ll have family that will want to come.”
“Yes. We’ll make a plan and let you know.”
“I’m really happy for you, Lauren. Brad is a good guy. Do you know where you’ll live?”
“Brad has this really great house on one of the south hills over here. It’s got vaulted open-beamed ceilings and lots of windows. You’d love it, Mom.”
“Hopefully I’ll get to see it someday.”
“Someday soon!”
They talked a while longer, and Anna tried not to let the sadness she felt creep into her voice. She truly was thrilled for Lauren’s sake, and she knew Lauren was over the moon with happiness. But she also knew this meant that Lauren would probably never move back home again. And, really, Anna should’ve known better than to expect that she would. Grown children weren’t supposed to move back home. They were supposed to create their own way . . . and yet . . . Anna had hoped.
With Thanksgiving approaching, Anna longed to gather her family together and was delighted to hear that, besides Marshall and Joanna joining them, both Sarah and Lauren planned to come home as well.
“I want to stay here, too,” Jewel told her as they were folding towels together just a few days before the holiday, “but Skip thinks we should go to his sister’s.”
“Well, know that you’re welcome,” Anna said. “The more the merrier.”
“I’ll try to talk Skip into it.” Jewel rubbed her enlarged midsection. “I can always tell him that I’m too tired to go to town and back.” She giggled. “Might as well use this while I can.”
Anna laughed. “It would be fun to have you and Skip, too. I thought maybe we’d all play games. I want to keep things lively so that Sarah and Lauren are too busy to worry about old baggage.”
“I don’t see why Sarah has such a problem with Lauren. I mean my mom wasn’t the greatest, but we’re okay.”
Anna wasn’t sure how much Jewel knew about Lauren and wasn’t sure how much to tell her. “Well, it’s complicated,” she said.
“It’s not like Lauren was a drug addict or anything.” Jewel laughed.
“Actually . . .” Anna cleared her throat. “She was.”
“Oh?” Jewel’s eyes got wide. “I had no idea.”
“Yes, well, it’s not something I usually share. But Sarah has been through a lot. Lauren was never much of a mother. And Sarah’s dad wasn’t much better. I guess we shouldn’t have been so shocked when she ran away at sixteen.”
“She was only sixteen?”
Anna nodded as she placed a towel on the growing stack. “In some ways she seemed much older, but she was only sixteen.”
“Wow, that is hard. I didn’t realize. I was out of high school by the time I ran off. And that was hard enough for my mom.” Jewel rubbed her belly again. “Man, I hope my kid never does anything like that to me.”
“Hopefully, you’ll be a good mother and your kid will never want to run away.”
Anna had already gotten groceries, baked some pies, and was planning on a full table of family for Thanksgiving when she got Sarah’s call on Wednesday morning. It seemed that Sarah had run into Lauren at the bookstore and consequently discovered that Lauren was coming for Thanksgiving, too.
“So I think I’ll just stay on campus,” Sarah said casually, “I’ll catch up on my studies as well as my sleep.”
“But I want to see you,” Anna said.
“I promise I’ll come home right after finals week,” Sarah assured her. “That’s only three weeks off.”
“But it’s Thanksgiving,” Anna told her. “It would be so nice to be together.”
“I’m sorry, Grandma. But, really, I think it’s best. The truth is I’m kind of stressed out over school. I took some pretty hard classes, and I want to make good grades.”
Anna tried to talk her out of it, saying that a break might do her good, but Sarah could be awfully stubborn when she wanted to.
“Well, if you change your mind, you are more than welcome to join us, Sarah. You know that.”
“I know.” She apologized once more then said she had to go because someone else needed to use the phone.
It wasn’t until that evening that she heard the rest of the disappointing news. “Lauren called this afternoon.” Skip told Anna as he stood just inside the door. The rain was pelting down behind him. “Jewel took the message and forgot to tell you. Anyway, Jewel said that Brad’s got a bad cold so they won’t be coming tomorrow.”
“A bad cold?” Anna was skeptical.
“That’s what she said.” Skip shrugged. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
Clark stood up from where he’d been reading the newspaper and came over to join them. “That reminds me.” He grimaced. “Although I’m sure you won’t want to hear my news now.”
Anna frowned. “What is it?”
“Marshall and Joanna can’t come either. Marshall said his mom was pressuring him to spend a holiday with her.”
Anna sighed. “Well, I can’t blame her for that.”
“The upside is that Marshall said this gives them the green light to spend Christmas with us. And they really want to be here for Lauren’s wedding.”
“That’ll be nice.” She forced a smile and turned to Skip. “So how about you and Jewel? Have you changed your plans too?”
“Well, my mom is pretty peeved at me for turning down my sister’s invite.” Skip shook his head. “Seems she was planning to make it part Thanksgiving and part baby shower for Jewel. As a surprise, you know? But no one told us.”
“Maybe you should join them,” Clark said.
“Yes,” Anna agreed. “I hate to think of Jewel missing out on a baby shower. And it’s not as if there will be much going on here . . . not now that everyone has cancelled.”
“You really don’t mind?”
Clark assured him that it was fine, and after Skip left, Anna went to give Lauren a call. Maybe she could entice her to come now that Sarah had backed out. But Lauren didn’t seem to be home.
“I guess it’s just going to be you and me tomorrow,” Anna told Clark as they were getting ready for bed.
“Are you terribly disappointed?”
“A little, but I’ll be fine.” She continued braiding her hair, trying to act as if it didn’t matter although she felt it deeply. “And we’ll have lots of leftovers.”
“Leftovers are good.”
“Say, do you think Johnny Johnson would like to come over?” She tied off the braid and stood.
“Johnny’s been invited to have dinner in town with Margie.” Clark took her in his arms and looked into her eyes. “But I don’t mind having a nice quiet Thanksgiving for two, Anna. Think about it . . . just you and me. Might even be romantic.”
Despite her sadness, she couldn’t help but smile. “Leave it to you to see the bright side, Clark.”
27
Jewel and Skip moved into his grandmother’s house the week after Thanksgiving. Anna tried to be brave as she told them good-bye, but when she was alone she cried. She knew it was probably for the best—for Jewel and Skip and Skip’s family—but Anna had longed to have them remain here on the river. She would’ve loved to have had a baby around again. Still, it wasn’t her decision. And she knew she had to let go . . . again.
Lauren and Brad decided to get married on the Saturday after Christmas. “We want to keep it small and intimate,” Lauren told Anna when they finally connected by phone on the week after Thanksgiving. “Just family and close friends. Brad wants it to be in the evening . . . illuminated with nothing but candlelight.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“Do you think there’s any chance that Sarah might come?”
“She’s promised to be home for Christmas vacation. So as far as I know she’ll be here.”
“But do you think she’ll want to attend the wedding?”
“It’s hard to say, Lauren.” The truth was, Anna didn’t want to say . . . because she was afraid Sarah would probably concoct some excuse to get out of it.
“After what happened over Thanksgiving . . . well, I won’t get my hopes up.”
“I’ll talk to her about it,” Anna told her. “She’ll be here the week before Christmas so I’ll have time to work on her.”
“And Brad and I thought we should probably pass on joining you for Christmas.”
“But Lauren, we planned on having you. Marshall and Joanna will be here. And Jewel and Skip. Johnny is bringing his new girlfriend. And Mrs. Smyth and several others, too. I thought if we had a big crowd, it would make it easier on you and Sarah. Please, come.”
“I want to, Mom. Believe me, there’s no place I’d rather be. But I don’t want to spoil it for everyone . . . especially for Sarah.”
“We’ve got to get past this,” Anna firmly told her. “Promise me that you and Brad will come, and I will promise to have a long, serious talk with Sarah. I have a feeling she’s gotten stuck in the past . . . that she might need some gentle nudging to move forward.”
“And you want to nudge her?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
Anna could tell that Sarah was worn out from her first term of college and final exams. For that reason, Anna decided not to bring up the topic of Lauren’s wedding until Sarah had some time to relax and recover. For three days, she’d slept in past ten, but on the fourth morning, she got up before nine.
“You look like you’re more rested,” Anna told Sarah as she came over to the dining table where Anna was working.
“What are you making?” Sarah asked.
Anna looked up from where she was gluing dried flowers and twigs onto a base of wood. “Candle holders.” She showed Sarah the little brass cups that would hold a taper candle once it was adhered to the wood. “See how it works?”
“Pretty.” Sarah sat down at the table and, picking up a sprig of lavender, sniffed it. “Hmm . . . sweet.”
“Do you want to help?”
“Sure.”
Anna explained the process, and they worked together quietly for a while.
“Are these for Christmas presents?” Sarah asked as she picked up a fragile rosebud.
“No . . .” Anna considered her answer, wondering if there was a way to soften it and then decided not to. “They’re for your mother’s wedding.”
“Oh.” The dried rosebud crumbled in Sarah’s hand.
“Yes, I figured you’d lose interest if you knew that.” Anna looked evenly at her. “But there you have it. Your mother has met a great guy, and they are getting married on the Saturday following Christmas. The wedding will be here at the inn with a reception following. I expect you’ll want to disappear throughout the whole thing.” She sighed. “And that is your choice.”
Sarah looked slightly dumbfounded.
“I left some oatmeal on the stove,” Anna told her. “In case you’re hungry for breakfast.”
“Uh, sure.” Sarah slowly stood, going into the kitchen.
Anna stared at the pieces of crushed rosebud. She had dried those roses in the late fall, hoping to find a use for them for Lauren’s wedding. She had plenty more. But something about seeing it there got to her.
“Grandpa and I already ate.” Anna knew that her voice sounded stiff and tight. And she was well aware that she wasn’t treating Sarah with the usual soft kid gloves. But maybe it was time for Sarah to get a small dose of reality. Well, after she’d had some breakfast anyway.
As Sarah fixed herself a bowl of oatmeal, eating in the kitchen, Anna continued to sit at the dining room table, gluing flowers . . . and she prayed silently. She didn’t want to lose all her patience with Sarah. But at the same time she didn’t want to sit idly by or give the impression she was encouraging Sarah’s stubbornness. Even the coldest winter had to end eventually.
“Are you mad at me, Grandma?” Sarah sat back down at the dining room table.
Anna looked directly into her eyes. “I’m not mad at you, Sarah. But I am worried.”
With pursed lips, Sarah picked up a willow twig and, spinning it between her fingers, studied it.
“Do you know what that is?” Anna asked.
Sarah’s brow creased. “Some kind of branch?”
“It’s willow.”
“Oh . . .”
“Do you know what willow is for?”
Sarah’s expression showed she did not.
“Willow is for maturity and balance. My grandmother used to make willow tea for people who struggled with bitterness and selfishness. Willow was supposed to help bring a more positive attitude.”
Sarah dropped the twig.
“Perhaps I should make you some.” Anna’s lips curved into a partial smile.
“Do you think it would help?” Sarah sounded sincere.
Anna shrugged. “I doubt it would hurt.”
“Okay.” Sarah nodded.
Anna was surprised. “Really, you want some willow tea?”
“Sure.”
Now Anna didn’t even know if she had any dried willow. But as she went to her jars of dried herbs, she was determined to concoct some kind of tea—even if it wasn’t willow, it would be worth a try. Perhaps tea and sympathy would unlock something in Sarah. When she returned with two steaming cups of herb tea, a combination of chamomile, lemongrass, and mint, Sarah was back to working on the candleholders.
As they sipped tea and glued flowers and twigs, Anna told Sarah a bit about how Lauren and Brad met, how they chatted regularly in the coffee shop, but that it took months for Lauren to find out his name. Sarah listened with an air of disinterest, but at least she listened. So Anna continued, telling Sarah about Brad’s sculptures. She even went to find the photos Lauren had sent her and showed them to Sarah.
Sarah nodded in an absent sort of way. “He’s good.”
“And he’s Native American,” Anna said finally.
Sarah looked up with a stunned expression. “Really?”
“Yes. His mother is part Paiute. She grew up on a reservation.”
“Really?” Sarah looked skeptical. “My mom is going to marry a Native American?”
“She is.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“Why is that?” Anna paused to sip her tea.
“Because she’s always been so . . . well, so . . . conventional.” Sarah frowned as if that wasn’t what she wanted to say. “Or to be more specific, she’s been rather narrow-minded and bigoted. I find it hard to believe she’s going to marry a Native American.”
“That’s because you don’t really know her, Sarah. You know who she used to be. But she has changed—dramatically. She started to change when she came to the river after her marriage fell apart. She changed even more during the time when you were missing. It was hard on her not knowing where you were . . . it was hard on all of us. But your mother blamed herself for your troubles, Sarah.”
“Well, she had
a lot to do with it.”
“And she realizes that. And I know she wants to tell you she’s sorry. Except that you won’t listen.”
Sarah took a long sip of tea then peered down into the cup. “Does this stuff really work, Grandma?”
Anna sighed. “You tell me.”
Sarah shrugged.
“What good does it do you to hold onto your bitterness against your mother, Sarah?” Anna set the candleholder down with a thud. “Can you tell me one good reason for withholding your forgiveness from her?”
She shrugged again.
“Does it make you feel good inside?” Anna persisted. “Does it bring you peace and joy and happiness?”
“No.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”
“Then why hold onto it?”
Sarah drank the last of her tea then sighed deeply. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. It’s like I’ve been doing it so long that I don’t know what else to do.”
“Do you need to get some kind of counseling?” Anna asked gently.
Sarah’s chin was trembling slightly. “I don’t know.”
“You are such a beautiful person . . . so intelligent . . . such a bright future . . . but holding in that bitterness could steal it all away.” Suddenly Anna remembered her own mother. “I’ve seen it happen before.” And so she began to tell Sarah about how Anna’s mother resented her own mother for returning to her Siuslaw roots.
“My mother was ashamed of her Indian heritage, Sarah, so much so that she shoved her mother away from her. And it shut my mother down inside. I didn’t understand it at the time, but looking back, I can see that’s what it did. Her bitterness against my grandmother poisoned my mother. It hurt me, too. I suspect it hurt everyone around her. But I doubt she could see it . . . not when she was younger. It wasn’t until she was around my age that she finally acknowledged her problems and began to change. But I’m sure that all that bitterness shortened her life.” Anna sighed sadly. “Because she wasn’t much older than I am now when she passed on.”
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