My Mother Grows Wallflowers

by C. L. Howland

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “Me too. Unfortunately, it’s going to get worse.” He took another sip of the coffee. “I’m sorry you had to get all the wood in this year.” He hesitated. “I’m also sorry you had to haul me home a couple of times. I know it’s not much of an excuse, but sometimes the pain is so bad, I just want to escape for a few hours and not feel anything. This arthritis is really twistin’ me out of shape, and I don’t sleep much, if any. I’d give almost anything for a decent night’s sleep. I think a glass of beer before bed would make a world of difference, but you know your mother, she’d no more have alcohol in her house than anything.”

  “Why don’t you tell her it would help you sleep?”

  “Not worth the fight.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I guess I can’t blame her though.”

  What’s he talking about? “Why wouldn’t you blame her?”

  He didn’t answer her question. “In her own way, your mother loves us.”

  Mina couldn’t keep the look of skepticism off her face.

  “She does. For your mother, I think her idea of love is clean clothes, food, and stuff. Everywhere.” He indicated the house at large to emphasize his joke. “I don’t think she knows how to show it any other way.”

  “Em never needed another second-hand blender, we’re not going to use, but she could have used a few hugs, Dad. Do you know I’ve never seen Ma hug Em?” Me neither, for that matter. “Not once. And hugs are cheap. They don’t cost anything.” Pent up anger toward her mother started to swell.

  “They cost your mother a lot,” he said, sadness in his voice. “I know she’s not very affectionate toward anyone, and I’m pretty sure it was because of her bringin’ up. You’re old enough to know now, and maybe it will help you with how she acts sometimes. Her people were mean-spirited, drunk most of the time.”

  What? Her grandparents? Mina had never known them. They’d died a long time before she was born. Drunk? “Ma’s parents?”

  He nodded. “She’d shoot me if she knew I was telling you. She’s ashamed, as if she could’ve done anything about it. But the plain truth is, Abel and Marion Johnson were hard core drunks. There’s no way to dress it up. Everybody knew about them. They’d be on benders for days, until some ‘do gooder’ would threaten to report them for neglecting their kids. I’d heard stories around town about them not feeding them and locking them outside, stuff like that. I remember seeing them in town with the kids once or twice. Dirty, no shoes. Always missin’ school. Once, the boy had a black eye. I didn’t pay it much mind though, ‘cause it didn’t mean anything to me at the time. I might have gotten the yardstick once or twice, and I deserved it. But nobody at the home ever gave me a shiner, and we went to school every day. One day, I think I was about sixteen—that would have made your mother around nine or so, I was walking by the saw mill and noticed smoke. Thinking the place was on fire, I went to investigate. There stood Marion in her underclothes, drunk as a skunk, screamin’ at these two little kids, a fire burning in the dirt in front of an old tool shed. The girl was bawling, and the boy kept trying to pull stuff off the fire. I was real nervous with all the wood shavings lying around and asked the boy for water. He pointed to the shed.” Her father was quiet for a few moments, staring at nothing in particular. “I couldn’t believe it; I’d grown up in the orphan home, but this was much worse. One room. Broken windows, trash everywhere, dirty plates, but nothing else. Not a stick of furniture, nothing. Anyway, I found an old bucket half full of dirty water, so I ended up using that. That’s when I saw what she’d been burning. Toys. Toys and clothes, from the looks of it. I guess some kind soul had left them, and Marion hadn’t cottoned to it. That’s what the boy said. By now, she was sitting on the ground blubberin’ about these kids not needing handouts; they didn’t deserve them. The boy thanked me for helping, and the girl stood staring at me. I remember she had the lightest blue eyes I’d ever seen, like the sky on a day with no clouds.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do for them, so I left. I didn’t see that little girl again until I ran into her at the fair in Bradford years later, after I came home from the service.”

  Mina could hardly believe what she’d just heard. No wonder her parents had never talked about their lives growing up. “Is that when you started dating?”

  He shook his head. “I was seeing a girl from over Orford way at that time. But I kept running into your mother here and there around town. I don’t think she said more than two or three words each time, but she was a cute little thing, small like you, and I was smitten.”

  Mina smiled at the old fashioned term. “And then you started dating?”

  He nodded. “Sort of. We’d meet places. Valley’s Orchard to pick apples. Bicknell’s Mercantile for a soda. Stuff like that.” He gave Mina a wan smile. “One day, she didn’t show. I waited a few days and then went looking for her. They still lived in that shack. Her folks were off somewhere, and your Uncle Stanley was in the service, so she was there by herself.”

  Mina could tell by the expression on her father’s face, only his aged, crippled body was with her.

  “She was a mess. Both of her eyes were swollen shut, her upper lip was split and she had a huge gash on her forehead running right into her eyebrow. I don’t think there was a three inch space on the poor little girl’s body that wasn’t bruised; she could hardly walk.”

  “What happened?” Mina couldn’t keep herself from interrupting.

  “I guess they were both drunk and beat her just about senseless.”

  “Why?”

  “I asked her the same thing. At first she wouldn’t talk, about anything. Months later, she admitted her father beat her after her mother passed out but didn’t know why. I had a feeling it had to do with her seein’ me.” Her father grimaced. “It wasn’t the first time she’d taken a beating, but it was the worst and the last. I took her out of there to Gates boarding house. I was crazy about your mother and determined they weren’t goin’ to get their hands on her again. After several weeks, I finally convinced her we should get married. A week after that, when she turned eighteen, we got married on her birthday.”

  Mina knew her mother’s birthday and their anniversary were on the same day; she’d just never thought about why they chose that date.

  “It wasn’t until after we were together every day, I realized something was wrong. She’d always been shy, but this was different; it was like she’d built a wall around herself. When I finally got the nerve to ask her, she told me she was having a baby. I thought maybe that’s why she was acting peculiar. I’d never been around a pregnant woman. Or maybe it was easier to think that; I don’t know.” He shrugged bony shoulders. “I was over the moon; I was so happy. We were going to be a family. That means a lot to a kid who grew up with nobody.” George sighed, pushing the cup away. “Anyway, she had the baby, about a month or so too early, and even though she didn’t want me to, I called the doctor to help. The baby was plenty big enough, but he wasn’t right. Patches of hair, deformed arms and feet. He didn’t open his eyes or cry. He was hardly even breathing. The doctor said he probably wouldn’t live more than a few days, and he was right. He lived six, to be exact. At first, your mother wouldn’t look at him, but by the end of the second day, she was taking him for walks, and on the last day, she sobbed when he passed. It broke my heart to listen.”

  Mina noticed her father’s eyes were watery. “This baby was before Richard?”

  Her father shook his head. “It was Richard.”

  “What? Ma said Richard went away before I was born.”

  “I know. I think it’s always been easier for her to deal with it, thinking he was off somewhere, so I let her.”

  Mina couldn’t believe it; she didn’t have an older brother somewhere. “What happened to him?”

  “He’s buried in Benton, at the little cemetery down the road from Uncle Stanley’s house.”

  “What about her parents?” Mina wasn’t quite sure how to refer to them. “Did
she see them again?”

  He shook his head. “Six months later, Marion set her husband on fire while he was passed out, and in the process, accidentally set herself on fire too. She lived for a couple of days in the hospital. She asked for your mother, but she refused to go. I never told her, but I went to see Marion in the hospital. I hated the thought of anyone dying alone; even someone like Marion. She looked horrible.” He rubbed his eyes as if to clear away the memory. “They had her doped up, but she was in terrible pain. I don’t know how she could even talk at all, but she did. She told me to tell Gertie she was sorry for what her father had done to her, but she’d taken care of him.” He studied his gnarled hands. “Your grandfather was responsible for Richard.” He didn’t look up.

  Mina sat there, unable to believe what she was hearing. Her grandfather had raped his own daughter? “Oh, Dad. That’s horrible. Did you ever talk to Ma about it?”

  He shook his head. “No. I was mad. Mad at Abel, mad at Marion, mad at your mother.”

  “But it wasn’t her fault.”

  “I know that. I was mad because she didn’t trust me enough to tell me what had happened. I would’ve still married her, I loved her. I still love her. We could’ve worked it out then and there. Over the years, I’ve given your mother plenty of chances to tell me, but she never has. Shortly after that all happened, she took to collecting stuff. Even though we were a little long in the tooth, and not often close, I thought when you and your sister came along, she might change, but she didn’t. If anything, it was like she tried to separate herself from everyone and everything even more.”

  The only sound in the room was the hum of the old clock on the wall as they both sat in silence for a few minutes, Mina digesting this new information and George reliving it.

  “I know she’s not very affectionate, and she can be hard. But for most of Ma’s growing up life, it’s all she knew. I’m telling you because I want you to know why she is the way she is. I want you to have the happiness in your life that your mother and I haven’t been able to manage. You’re young, and I always kind of thought you wanted to go to college, but if you want to marry Sam, I’m okay with that too.”

  Ma never told him she got accepted at college? Should she tell him now? Mina decided against it. It would just make him feel bad. She would figure this out with Sam. “Thanks, Dad. I do love him.”

  “Good. Then you should get married. Can I make one suggestion?”

  She nodded.

  “Elope.”

  “What?” Mina couldn’t believe it.

  “Elope. That’ll give your mother time to adjust to the idea, and she’ll see we can make do around here without you. I’m not sure what Sam wants, but you can always come back and get married here again if you like.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I am. We don’t have a lot of extra money, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  “That’s okay, Dad. Sam added me to his checking account, in case I needed money for the wedding.”

  “Good. Get on the bus or a plane, whatever and go. Get married. Be happy. She’ll accept it once it’s done.”

  Can I do this? He was right; her mother would have no choice but to accept it once it was done. “What about Emma?”

  “Emma will be fine. Don’t worry. I’ll watch out for her.”

  “I have to tell her what I’m doing, otherwise she’s going to be upset.”

  He nodded. “Just tell her you have to go though, and not much else, or your mother will get it all out of her. I’ll have a talk with Emma after you’re gone. Leave your mother and me a note, too; she’ll be upset, but at least she’ll know.” He sighed. “She’ll probably send me lookin’ for you. I’ll drive around a while until I’m sure you’re gone and come home and say you already left.”

  “Do you think this is really the right way to do this?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know, but I’ve been thinking it over for the last few days, and it may be the only way. Mina, I know your mother can be wearing once she gets something in her head, and right now, that something is keeping you here, sad to say, more for our comfort than anything else. She’s scared. We’re old.”

  “But, Dad, that’s probably all the more reason to stay.”

  “No, it’s not. Mina, I love your ma, but I love you and your sister too. I should’ve made Gertie face up to her problems years ago, but it was easier to just let the whole thing be, and let her have her way. Going to the Millers opened my eyes. I guess I never really thought about how your ma’s ways affected you two. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay, Dad, You did your best. I’ll need to talk to Sam first to see what he thinks. I can’t just show up on his doorstep.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Her mother came through the back door from the garden with a colander of vegetables, and her father hobbled into the living room to watch the local news, like any other day, as if none of those horrendous things had happened in their young lives. It was hard to equate her mother’s well-fed features with that of the tiny girl her father had fallen in love with so many years before. Wiping the last of the dishes, Mina covertly studied her mother’s face as she stood at the sink rinsing vegetables. For the first time, she noticed the thin line of a scar on Ma’s upper lip that traced to her nose, and the other scar where a small chunk of her eyebrow was missing. They’d always been there, but only as a feature of her face, like the tiny brown mole at the corner of her eye. Until now. She’d lived with alcoholic parents who beat her? Mina had a hard time comprehending what that must have been like. No food, no furniture? No wonder she was so attached to material items. No love? The thought came unbidden into Mina’s head. Obviously not. You don’t starve and beat someone you love.

  Hours later, the house was quiet, everyone else in bed. Mina padded down the hall, her bare feet silent on the wood floor. The rotary dial of the phone echoed in the still of the room. I hate calling the barracks. The phone rang once, twice, three times before someone answered. His words were so rapid, Mina understood little of what he said. “Ah, yes. Hello. I was wondering if I could speak to Samuel Miller?”

  “Hold on. I’ll check.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate—” She stopped; the clunk of the receiver signaled he was already gone. The screech of a metal door and a muffled shout could be heard in the background. Glancing down the hall toward the bedrooms, Mina turned back to the kitchen and continued to listen. Someone whistled, loud then faint as they passed by the phone. Come on, come on. It felt like forever.

  “Hello.”

  Sam’s voice was sleep saturated.

  “Hi, it’s me,” she said in a low tone.

  “Why haven’t you called me?”

  “I know you’re upset, but I had nothing to tell you yet. I finally told Ma tonight.”

  “And?” The one word was tense.

  “And it didn’t go so well. She thinks I’m too young to get married.”

  There was silence for a moment. “That’s it?”

  “Well, she said some other things, but they’re not important right now.”

  “What things?”

  Mina heard the suspicion in his voice. “I’ll tell you later, okay? Right now, I need to talk to you about something else. I had a talk with my Dad this afternoon.” Mina heard a creak down the hall. Is someone up? She peeked around the corner again. Nothing had changed.

  “And?”

  “And…he thinks we should elope.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Sam? What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. My parents were expecting us to get married there. I don’t think they’re going to be too happy about this.”

  “I know,” Mina said. “But we can always come back here and do the ceremony again. I think Dad is right. Once it’s done, it’s done. Ma will come around.” Eventually.

  “If that’s the way you want to do it, fine. I’ll look into an apartment. We might have to wait awhile for base housing, and I won’t be able to ge
t time off right away for a honeymoon.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I wanted it to be something special.”

  “I know you’re disappointed, but you still can do something. It’ll just be later.”

  Sam sighed. “You’re right. The important thing is we’ll be together. So, do you want me to see if my parents can drive you to Manchester?”

  “Manchester?” The airport? No way am I ready for that. “No. I thought I’d take the bus.”

  “The bus? From Vermont to Georgia? You’re kidding, right? Mina, it’ll take you forever to get here.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll get to see some of the country I’ve never seen before. Besides, it’s more economical.”

  “Economical? Honey, I’ve got plenty saved. I’ll book a seat, and you’ll be here in a couple of hours.”

  “No, I’m going to do the bus. I’ll ask your sister to drive me to the station. When should I leave?”

  “Okay, the bus. I can’t believe it. Well, let’s see…what’s today? Monday? How about Wednesday? You should be here by Friday at the latest; that’ll give us the weekend.”

  “Okay. Wednesday it is.” Mina could already feel butterflies in her stomach.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes. Are you?”

  “Baby, I love you. I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

  “I love you too. I’ll have Winona call you Wednesday after I’m on the bus.”

  Mina hung up the phone a few minutes later. Is this really happening? How am I going to tell Em? She knew her father was right. Ma would question her little sister until she broke down, and Em was such a nervous kid, it wouldn’t take much, especially without Mina there as a buffer.

  Wednesday came all too soon. Mina packed two bags that her father had dropped off at the Millers’ for Sam’s sister to bring tonight, and she had a short note addressed to both of her parents. She even had her ticket. The one thing she hadn’t been able to do yet was figure out a way to tell Emma. Her bus left at 9:30, less than an hour from now. She looked at Em stretched out on the bed across from her, a foot cocked up in the air, one of the prized pink beaded sandals from Sam half dangling off it. Does she ever take those things off? Emma perused a new old fashion magazine. “Em?”