Brad and Linda exchanged glances. Linda massaged her stomach. Something was amiss. Placing his hand upon Linda’s stomach, Brad looked to Anna. She felt powerless to say anything. So many times throughout her marriage she felt that her words didn’t matter, particularly during Linda’s adolescence. Perhaps Serine was right.
Again Anna met Brad’s gaze, contemplative much like his psychiatrist father. She considered her son-in-law’s words from yesterday afternoon when she had been cooking. I wished you’d called more often. Linda was worried. I’ve been callous and inattentive, Anna concluded.
Theo said, “I can’t believe all the other garbage that’s coming out of your mouth about Mom, and at a time like this. Then again, with what I know about you—”
Ignoring Theo’s last words, Anna said to Serine, “I can under stand that it was a shock for me to call with news that your father was dying.”
“Never mind the fact that I haven’t heard from you in months,” Serine railed.
“I claim responsibility for that,” Anna said.
“You’re to blame for what’s happening to Daddy right now.”
“I won’t accept that. I can’t.” Anna stood and flexed her fingers towards the table.
The tears and twists of frustration upon Serine’s face pulled at Anna. The pain of being Anna’s youngest child, the successful, twenty-seven-year-old prosecuting attorney who knew her trade lay hidden, but not quelled. Serine needed Anna to tell her that all would be well with Edward. Unable to do so, Anna felt as if she was betraying her youngest daughter.
Anna observed her left hand empty of the wedding band she had worn for over three decades. I still love him, she thought. But there were also the passionate nights Inman had given her. Why couldn’t I have shared that kind of passion with Edward?
“What’s going on in here?” Edward bellowed from the opposite end of the dining room. Everyone turned. He was wearing a bath robe with pajamas underneath.
“Daddy, should you be up?” Linda went to him. Brad joined her. Edward waved them back. He was using a cane to steady him self. Anna started toward him.
“I’m fine.” He gestured for her to stay back as he made his way. Reaching the table, he lowered himself onto the seat he had occupied last evening.
“Let me get something straight here.” Edward settled his attention on Serine, “No amount of bickering and bantering is going to take away what’s eating me up inside. I have cancer. I’m dying. You all had better get used to that.” He surveyed the faces around the table then stopped at Serine’s. “I’ve had to.”
Serine stood, pushed her chair under the table, and started to ward the door. Edward reached for and caught her arm. She pulled away and left. He fell back in his chair, his eyes searching and dazed.
Theo frowned and broke the silence. “She’s spoiled and wants her way.”
“It’s a little more than that,” Linda intervened.
“And what might that be?” Theo asked. “We’re all affected by this.” Theo nodded at Edward. “He’s our dad, too.”
Rubbing her stomach again, Linda turned to Brad for protection from some powerful force. A knowing passed between them. Last evening Serine had alluded to needing family nearby. I like having family around, not being alone, unlike some people who don’t mind living away from those they claim to love.
Linda and Brad lived in Los Angeles along with Serine. They had always been attentive to Serine, as much as she would allow. Anna wanted to ask what secret they held about Serine. Yet Linda’s obsession with her stomach told Anna all she needed. Anna would not pry, but instead pray for the child she felt certain her eldest daughter was carrying.
“Will any of you let me know if David calls when he reaches Santa Rosa?” Anna said.
“He’s already there,” Linda said. “They’re burying Heather’s father tomorrow.”
With one hand upon the table, Edward pushed himself to stand. He lifted his cane.
“Are you alright?” Anna asked.
“Nothing that some extra lease on life wouldn’t fix.” He maneuvered away.?
Chapter 13
Anna rose early the next morning and went to the eight o’clock weekday mass at St. Maria’s down the hill from the house. She and Edward had attended the parish on and off throughout their marriage. The children went sparingly. Though attending public schools, all had received their first communion at the parish, but none had undergone confirmation.
Raised a Baptist, Edward had thought little of Catholicism. His disinterest had not interfered with Anna’s decision to have the children baptized as Catholics. Anna’s mother, Elena was a Catholic. She had converted to Protestantism upon marrying Elijah Chason, a young Baptist minister set on bringing souls to salvation before the flames of hell consumed them. Elena died seven days after Anna gave birth to Linda. The following year Anna had turned to her mother’s religion.
As Father Richard offered benediction toward the end of the quiet ceremony, Anna slipped out of the sanctuary and into the chapel at the back. There, before the Virgin Mary, she knelt and prayed for strength to see Edward through his death, and to regain the respect of her children, most particularly David and Serine. As for Theo and Linda, she prayed, “Don’t let me take Theo for granted, and please let me not forget Linda.”
She was out the door and down the steps when Father Richard called after her. “Anna, it’s good to see you. What brings you to mass early this morning?”
Surprised that he had noticed her, Anna turned and climbed back up the steps. The priest met her midway down the steps. Awash with various emotions, it pained Anna to consider how she appeared when Father Richard’s warm hand landed upon her shoulder.
“Seems like you could use a good, strong cup of tea.”
“I could,” she conceded.
Inside the priest’s spacious study, he handed her a warm cup of brew. Now free of his robe, Father Richard sat in the leather recliner across from Anna.
“Oooh. This is strong,” Anna said after one sip.
“Assam, they call it. Father Will brought it back from India.” Three years Edward’s senior, Father Richard sipped his tea. “We Americans like our coffee strong, and our tea weak. It’s just the opposite for the South Asians.”
“Sounds like you know more than a little about teas, coffee, and India.” Anna took another sip.
“How’s Edward, and the children?” Father Richard asked. “I re member baptizing and administering first communion to each of the children. Time flies. Now, they’re all married ... I think.”
“All except Serine.” Ambivalence pulsed through Anna. She hadn’t attended mass in three years. Most wayward Catholics re turned for only two reasons, they wanted to re-marry, or someone had died or was dying. “They’re fine. All at home,” she said, the words shaking within. “Edward, well ... Edward has cancer.”
Father Richard’s face remained kind and free of reaction. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“The oncologist says he has three months to live, six if we’re lucky.” Anger surged through her. “I’m not sure how lucky we may be. Edward fell yesterday. I spoke to Dr. Grimes afterwards. He urged me to contact hospice.”
“How long have you known?”
“Two weeks.” Anna explained that she had been pursuing a divorce, and then told him of the long battle that had ensued. “I found out he was sick and dying the day he agreed to the divorce. I took the house off the market and called the children. I told them they needed to come and see their father.”
“How are they handling it?” Father Richard asked.
“David and Serine are angry. Theo and Linda seem to be okay. Linda’s husband is supportive.”
“She seems to have settled into a stable life,” Father Richard said. Anna had consulted him during each of Linda’s hospitalizations. Father Richard had also flown down with Anna and married Linda and Brad in the backyard of Brad’s home.
“Brad is the best thing that has ever happened to her.” Ann
a sighed. “David lives in Detroit, but he’s talking about moving back here to Oakland. I’m worried about him and his marriage. Heather’s father, Abraham, died yesterday from cancer. It seems to be going around.” She gave a bitter smirk. “For the last year, she and the children have been traveling back and forth between Detroit and her father’s place in Santa Rosa. David said nothing about his decision to move or about Heather’s father being sick until I picked him up from the airport two days ago.”
“Hmmm.”
“Things have been a bit strained for the past year with the divorce proceedings,” Anna confessed. “I haven’t been speaking to the children that regularly, except for Theo.”
“Were the children upset about the divorce?”
Anna considered the depth of Serine’s anger and her accusations. I can’t believe you didn’t suspect something during all those meetings over the divorce. He was sitting right there in front of you, wasting away. “After I told them that I’d asked their father for a divorce, I didn’t call them. I didn’t answer their calls or return their messages. Theo was persistent. We talk every Friday night.”
“Why did you step away from them?”
“I was ashamed.”
Father Richard made no sign of judgment.
“After all these years, with everything we’ve been through, I was asking their father for a divorce.” And then there was Inman. “I was tired and needed a break. I wasn’t about to ask the children for what they couldn’t give.”
“And what was that?”
“Forgiveness for having lied to them about their father, presenting him as one person while he was really another. Edward went from one woman to the next over the course of our marriage. He never flaunted it. He also never made a secret of it.” Anna leaned back, and took in a breath. “He had a woman wherever he was overseeing a real estate project: South America, Panama, Portugal, Greece.” Anna inspected the wedding band on her left hand and grew frustrated at how tight and awkward it had become. She had put it on that morning before leaving for Mass. Father Richard remained quietly attentive. “The first affair was with woman in Rio de Janeiro. Edward had been flying back and forth for over a year, managing the construction of a hotel on a property he had purchased, and then sold to an American buyer. I found the letter in the inside pocket of his jacket when I was dropping some of his things off at the cleaners. Stella was her name.” Anna continued to stare at her wedding band. “I confronted him when I got home. He said it was nothing. That she was infatuated with him.”
“Did you by any chance read the letter?” asked Father Richard. Relieved that for the first time someone wanted to know—talking to Father Richard was like talking to her father—Anna said, “She never mentioned sex, though I’m sure there was some. Like most of the women whose letters I later found, she thanked him for listening to her, not looking down on her, and of course for giving her money. All the women with whom Edward was involved were poor and struggling, like his mother, Violet.” For the first time ever Anna considered how difficult life must have been for Edward and his mother. “She was grateful,” Anna said of Stella. She lifted her head and looked across to Father Richard. “Like Esther and the others, she appreciated how kind he had been to them.”
Father Richard and Anna both took a sip of tea. Moments later Anna added, “He never stayed with anyone of them more than two or three years.” Again, Anna examined her wedding band. Now feeling slightly loose, she turned it around her finger.
Father Richard said, “How is it that you feel you misrepresented Edward to the children?”
“He’s nothing like what they know of him—good father, wonderful provider, hard working. Edward was an adulterer, persistently unfaithful. A philanderer!”
“Are you certain the children had no idea? Better yet, how would it have benefited them to know?”
Again Anna fell sullen. “I suppose I didn’t want them to see who I was or what I’d become. I was weak and disgusted with myself.” Her thoughts halted preventing the word adulteress from slipping through.
She then said, “I’ve met someone at the gym. I’d been working out while battling with Edward over the divorce. He didn’t want to let go of the house. That’s all I wanted, no alimony, no part of his business, nothing but to sell the house and split the profit. Edward wouldn’t hear of it. It’s like the house was his heaven.”
“Seems to me you stood to gain more money by accepting the alimony and a part of the worth of the business,” Father Richard mused.
“I wanted a clean break, not some monthly installments that Edward could hound me about.”
“Why didn’t you ask for a lump payment? I’m sure your lawyers could have worked something out.”
“I didn’t want something worked out.” Anna threw up her hands. “I wanted to be free of Edward and that house.”
“The one you’re back in, and with him and the children.”
Again Anna glanced down. “I took the house off the market when I learned he was dying. I asked Edward to let me bring him home. He put up no fuss.” Her mind drifted back. “My attorney was eager to push everything through and file the papers. But I knew something was wrong. I haven’t filed the papers. We’re still married. The children don’t know. Neither does Edward.” She held back tears against the rush of emotions. Pragmatism had allowed Anna to survive her time with Edward. Now parts of her were unwilling to accept that he was truly dying. A wave of grief and disempowerment overtook her. Just as she had been unable to keep Edward home and faithful, she was now unable to save him from the cancer.
“What are your plans for the time you have left with him?” Father Richard asked.
“I was going to take my half of the proceeds from the sale of the house and move to France. I’ve always wanted to live outside the country. Anna did not answer Father Richard’s question. Instead she described her dreams of living abroad. “When I was in college I wanted to study abroad. Mama said it was unsafe and too expensive. That’s what white people do, Elena had said. Again she had been knitting. And like times before when stating her case to Anna, she had not looked up. Her fingers had continued moving. Your father’s not made of money. He’s a minister. And congregations don’t want their preachers living like movie stars. They had been sitting in the living room the plastic encasing the sofa, on which Anna had been sitting, had crackled. How she hated it. The need to protect. Anna felt like that sofa, its cushions encased and unable to breathe.
She looked to Father Richard, sitting in the chair across from her, and she on the sofa much like she had been with Anna. “Ed ward gave me freedom, or at least the hope of it.”
Still avoiding Father Richard’s question, Anna said, “I majored in art history— something Mama thought was impractical. Thank God Daddy was paying the bills. After the conversation with Mama I felt guilty. I didn’t want members of the church thinking we were rich. But I felt stifled. And then there was the matter of leaving Daddy with Mama.”
“Your parents didn’t get along?”
“They were civil. Daddy loved Mama. But she always seemed unhappy, bitter. I don’t know why.” Anna took in breath. “I thought maybe when I graduated, I’d go to Paris on my own and get a job in the Louvre as a docent. Then I met Edward.” She chuckled. “He was a year out of Cal, working in real estate, determined to make something of himself,” Anna continued. “I envied that, his sense of purpose. Nothing was going to stop him.”
Father Richard remained attentive.
“The day I graduated, I asked him what would become of us. There was no way I was going back home to my parents. Edward suggested we get married the next day. `But we need a marriage license,’ I told him. That’s when Edward pulled an envelope from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to me. `I’ve had it for a month,’ he said. `Will you marry me?’ His lips seemed to tremble, like the afternoon in the hospital when I asked him to let me take him home and care for him.”
Father Richard repeated his unanswered question,
“What will make of the time you have left?”
“I’ll care for Edward, try to make him as comfortable as possible. I don’t want him to die alone.” Anna recalled Elena’s last days. The Reverend Elijah had urged Anna to visit her mother. Anna had re fused. “I was pregnant when Mama died. Edward and I were not having a good time of it.” Again she stated, “I don’t want Edward to die alone.”
“I’m sure he appreciates that.” The priest’s words did not match his demeanor. He seemed to expect more from Anna. She grew anxious. He then said, as if knowing she needed to hear it, “You’re a good woman, Anna. So many women in your position would gloat over the deck of cards life has dealt a husband like Edward. Instead, what I hear from you is a fairly deep sense of commitment, and concern for a man who’s done little to make himself available to you or anyone, even the women with whom he was involved. And yet, rarely are the things we do as humans completely altruistic.”
“What good would it do for me to be angry with him?”
“Nicely put, but what is it you hope to gain by offering Edward an olive branch in taking him back, particularly since he has such a short time to live?”
“You sound protective of Edward. I mean him no harm.”
“I believe you,” said Father Richard. “But he is dying.”
“Why is it so hard to believe that I want to help him and make his last days comfortable?” Anna thought of Inman. Will I lose him in the process of helping Edward in his last days? “Edward has no right to live the kind of life he has and then up and die like this. It’s not fair.”
“You say this despite having fought for over a year to leave him.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Truth is not always fair and just.”
And then the words, “I’ve been sleeping with Inman,” slipped from Anna’s lips. “He’s asked me to marry him.” It was a confession of sorts.
“How did you leave things with Inman?”
“I told him I needed time to take care of Edward and spend time with him. Inman seemed to understand. He’s a widower. His wife was killed in a car accident two years after she left him and their daughter. That was twenty years ago.”
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