Something in Anna snapped. "Why don't you go ahead and just say it, Eunice? Say it like you usually do. Call me an Indian squaw, a half-breed. Just get it out into the open. I know you want to say it."
"You're right. You are an Indian, Anna. You were never in our class and you knew it. You will never fit into my world and you never should've trapped my son into marriage. It's no surprise that Adam took his own life—he finally came to his senses and realized what he'd gotten himself into by marrying a squaw. He regretted it so much that he killed himself." Eunice's features were twisted, as if hatred and bitterness had carved themselves into her face.
Feeling as if she'd just been slapped or kicked, Anna slowly backed away from her mother-in-law. Pushing past the swinging doors, she went into the dining room. She paused by the large mahogany table, holding on to the edge to steady herself, and took in a slow breath, trying to grasp what Eunice had just said. Adam's mother had known that he had taken his own life—although she'd never said a word. Eunice had known. And all this time, she had blamed it, like everything else that went wrong, on Anna.
"The truth hurts, doesn't it?" Eunice continued. In the dining room now, she came closer, her eyes still filled with hate." Is it any wonder that I've despised you? If not for you, I'd still have my son right now. If not for you, Adam would be alive."
Everything inside Anna told her to run and hide like she used to do when Eunice attacked. But this time she remained fast. Holding her head high, Anna just stared at Eunice. "How can you possible say that?"Anna quietly asked her. "You know as well as I do that Adam's war injuries took a great toll on him. That is why he . . . why he died."
"But he never would've gone into the war if he hadn't married you."
"What?"Anna blinked. "Adam went into the service because he had to go. He didn't even want to leave Lauren and me. And then he was wounded at Normandy. What you're saying makes no sense, Eunice."
"That's because you have no sense. I don't even expect you to understand."
Anna shook her head. She felt lost and sad and sickened. How had Eunice's mind gotten so mixed up, so poisoned?
With the cardboard box still in his hands, Clark moved between Eunice and Anna, almost in what seemed a protective way. He stared at Eunice with a perplexed expression, and so intently that she actually stepped back. "If I hadn't just witnessed this—with my own eyes and ears—I'm not sure I would've believed that anyone could be so cruel and unfeeling, but as Anna's legal counsel, I'm taking this whole thing into consideration."
"Do not try to intimidate me, young man."
"As I said, Mrs. Gunderson," Clark's words came out evenly, but as sharp as a well-honed hunting knife, "I represent Anna's legal interests, as does Mr. Miller, and if necessary, we will resolve this matter in the courtroom with a judge to determine who is at fault."
"Are you threatening me?" Eunice demanded. "In my own home?"
"I'm simply stating the facts, Mrs. Gunderson. We're prepared to do whatever is necessary to see that Anna gets what is hers."
"Nothing is hers," Eunice spat out the words. She tapped the cardboard box in Clark's arms. "That's probably not even hers. In fact, I should go through those things to see if Anna has stolen anything from me. I wouldn't put it past her."
"I've taken nothing from you." Anna stepped up to Eunice and, looking down on her realized, perhaps for the first time, that she was several inches taller than her mother-in-law. "But you have taken all you're going to get from me. It's humiliating to admit, but I let you walk over me for years—I allowed you to make me into your doormat. But my spineless days are over, Eunice. I got my strength back—I found it at the river—and I will never, never give it away again."
"Get out!" Eunice pointed toward the door. "Go, you ungrateful half-breed, I hope to never see your squaw face again. Get out of my house! Good riddance! Go!"
"Don't be deceived into believing you can get rid of Anna completely," Clark informed Eunice as he and Anna walked toward the foyer. "We still have money matters to settle with you and, as I already said, we're willing to resolve them in court."
"Fine," she snapped. "Take me to court. See if I care!" He turned around. "Just so we are clear, Mrs. Gunderson. Mr. Miller has already produced plenty of evidence—enough to prove our case outside of a courtroom, but if you force us to stand before a judge, we will make sure that you not only pay back Anna for all you owe her, including years of pain and suffering, but you will also be held responsible for all the legal costs as well. It will be costly."
"Well!"
"Now if you will excuse us," Clark said politely, "we have a long drive to make."
With no more words to say and with shaking knees, Anna walked out of the house. It wasn't until she was seated in the cab of the truck and Clark was out on the open highway that tears began to slip down her cheeks. She retrieved a handkerchief from her handbag and turned to the side window in an attempt to conceal her quiet sobs. But she sensed Clark glancing toward her and she suspected her emotional display was making him uncomfortable. She wanted to reassure him that she wasn't as devastated as it might seem, but the lump in her throat seemed to swallow her words. Instead, she gave him a watery smile. "I'll be OK," she murmured.
"I know." He reached over and put his hand on her shoulder, clasping it gently in his grasp. "You are a strong woman, Anna, a very strong woman. I think your grandmother would be extremely proud of you today."
21
For the following week, Anna distracted herself from fretting over the ugly scene with her mother-in-law by investing all her energy into renovations at the inn. With the check from Mr. Miller, a payoff from Adam's life insurance policy that had been sitting in an investment account unbeknownst to Anna, she now had the funds and freedom to get the inn into great shape. She knew she should be deliriously happy about this, she should be having fun, but instead she felt as if a heavy storm cloud was hanging over her head. A black cloud named Eunice.
She was glad to discover that Clark wanted to stay on to help with the renovations. The quality of his work and his construction expertise were invaluable. Already he'd begun to put up walls to divide the downstairs space into rooms. He had wisely recommended making three rooms instead of four. Two would be bedroom-sized and one would be a suite with a bathroom where the old back room used to be. And he'd lined up a plumber to come out and do the preliminary work or "the rough plumbing"As he called it. He was also suggesting that Anna might build additional cabins like Pearl's Oyster Shell, to give guests even more privacy.
"Are you sure you really want to spend this much time here?"Anna had asked with concern one evening. As much as she wanted and needed his help, she felt guilty about keeping him from his other business responsibilities. Surely he had other commitments he should attend to, big houses to build, important customers waiting for his return. "I'd hate to think that my little projects might be taking you away from something more important."
He frowned. "Are you trying to get rid of me now?"
Clark had simply smiled. "I can't afford not to stay."
"No," she said urgently. "Nothing could be farther from the truth. I just wondered if you can really afford to stay on here, like this."
Anna could barely admit it (even to herself) but she suspected that Clark might have feelings for her—unless it was just hopeful thinking on her part. And she knew she had feelings for him. However, this was all so new to her—this possibility of a future romance—it was so strange and wonderful and confusing. Most of all, she didn't want to rush anything. She'd been rushed into a relationship once before, and that hadn't turned out too well. So, attempting to repress her feelings, she was determined that history not repeat itself. Not with her. This gave her one more reason to throw herself into the work of getting the inn ready for occupancy.
As Anna worked, she realized that she wanted everything to be perfect in her inn. Not perfect in the way that Eunice had always wanted things done—with everything spotless, impeccable, brightly
shining, impressive, and new. No, Anna simply wanted this inn to be perfect as in just right. She wanted to offer guests the sort of place where anyone and everyone would not only be comfortable but also be able to have an unforgettable river experience that would leave them feeling renewed, rejuvenated, and refreshed.
However, there was another motivation in getting the inn in order, something she longed for but tried not to obsess over: she hoped Lauren would come for a visit. She'd already written Lauren, specifically asking her to come out before it was time to go off to college. She'd pointed out that since July was coming to an end, summer vacation was limited. Anna had suggested the last two weeks of August for Lauren's visit— encouraging her to bring several girlfriends with her. She'd even written a little note to Susan (in care of Lauren) reminding her of the invitation. And she felt hopeful.
In her determination to transform what had once been a somewhat rundown but comfortable family home into an inn, she removed all personal items (except for the few special Siuslaw pieces from her grandmother). She packed up her parents' belongings, taped the boxes closed, and temporarily stored them in the attic. Then she thinned out most of the furnishings until she had what felt like a fairly blank palette. Then she studied the paint chart she'd picked up at the hardware store and tried to make a decision.
For as long as she could remember, all the walls in the house had been painted a pinkish brown color that felt heavy and depressing. She'd always assumed her parents had gotten a good deal on a bad color of paint. However, she wasn't fond of the popular shades of this era. She found all those aqua, pink, or yellow tones—the colors found so liberally in her mother-in-law's house—to be off-putting. She considered painting everything white, but that seemed a bit stark.
Finally, she settled on a creamy shade called "Sandy Beach." It was light enough to brighten the rooms and contrast with the old-growth fir floors, but still a friendly color—almost the same shade as a doeskin cape her grandmother had kept in a trunk. Anna held the paint sample next to the arrangement of "Artifacts" (as Hazel called them) on the dining table and it all seemed to fit. She had decided to use the baskets and other items as her inspiration for the interior design of all the rooms in the inn.
Anna had also laid out a couple of old Pendleton blankets that she'd found in the linen closet. Despite some moth holes, she was determined to put them to use somehow. Perhaps she'd sew the undamaged parts into pillows or piece them together for bedspreads on the twin beds. But she felt the Indian patterns and colors were perfect for the look she was trying to accomplish. She knew it might seem a bit backward or oldfashioned to certain people (like her mother-in-law) but Anna didn't expect those types to frequent an inn like this anyway.
"What have you here?" Hazel asked as she came into the house for lunch.
Anna laid the Navajo-design blanket over the back of the old sofa. "I thought I might use these things for the inn." She waved to the things on the table then showed Hazel the paint color, explaining her plans. "What do you think?"
Hazel ran her hand over a woolen blanket. "I think it will be perfectly delightful. In fact, this reminds me of some of the National Park lodges. Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon or Yellowstone or Yosemite?"
Anna shook her head. "I haven't been much of anywhere. The store kept my parents on the river most of the time. And once I left to get married, well, you know how that went."
Now Hazel began to describe the interiors of some famous inns and lodges and how blankets similar to these were used, as well as Indian artifacts, rustic wood carvings, and stone." Of course, it was on a much larger scale, but the feeling was the same. They call it lodge style, I believe. But the rugs, blankets, tables, chairs, lamps, all the furnishings—everything has a rustic quality that feels like a celebration of nature and the great outdoors."
"Yes!"Anna said with excitement. "That's just the kind of look I'd like to achieve here. Do you really think it's possible?"
"Absolutely. And if anyone can accomplish it, I'd put my money on you, Anna."
"Thank you." Anna glanced around the room. "Do you think guests will find it too quaint or old-fashioned?"
"I think guests here, just like at El Tovar, will fall in love with it."
"El Tovar?"
"The main lodge on the south rim of the Grand Canyon. It's spectacular."
"Oh." Anna went to check on the soup.
"I got the boat running," Clark announced as he came into the kitchen. "I cleaned all the spark plugs, changed the oil, and drained and replaced the gas. As far as I can tell, the engine runs as good as new."
"That's great,"Anna said as she ladled out some clam chowder." Maybe I'll run it into town today to pick up some paint and things. Anyone want to come?"
"Not me," Hazel told her. "I'm making good progress on my thesis right now. I want to keep my nose to the grindstone."
"I'd like to come," Clark said. "Just in case the engine decides to give you a problem. Besides, an outing would be nice."
"You know what you kids should do," Hazel said suddenly.
"Kids?" Clark frowned.
"Compared to me, you're kids."
"What should we do?"Anna asked.
"Go see a movie!"
"What?"Anna made a face. "I haven't seen a movie in years. Besides, aren't the movies these days just for the younger generation?"
"Precisely my point, my dear. You should go see a movie and remember that you're still young."
"A movie?" Clark nodded. "It might be interesting. What do you think, Anna?"
She giggled. "I don't know. I suppose it would be entertaining."
"Well, Mom, if it'll make you happy, maybe we'll look into it."
"And don't worry about the time," Hazel assured Anna. "I'll just warm up some of this soup for dinner. By the way, it's delicious."
"But what if there's not a movie we care to see?"Anna asked.
"Babette thought there might be a good Rock Hudson movie playing."
Anna laughed. "Babette adores Rock Hudson."
As it turned out, the Rock Hudson film wasn't going to make an appearance in Florence until October and the horror movie playing at the theater didn't interest either of them. But Anna felt relieved. She hadn't sat in a movie theater for years and the idea of sitting in the dark for a couple of hours next to Clark was a bit unsettling. Besides, this gave them more time for running errands—and she had a lot she wanted to accomplish before the stores closed.
"I hate to keep you in town longer than you'd like," she told him. "But my list is rather long."
"As a matter of fact, so is mine." He grinned. "I'm going to check out the lumberyard and several other places."
"When do you want to meet back up?"
He looked at his watch. "How about we stick around until the businesses close and then I'll take you to dinner."
"To dinner?" She was surprised.
"Why not? Mom expects us to take in a movie. We should go ahead and make a night of it. It won't even be dark until nearly nine."
She smiled. "That sounds nice." So she suggested a restaurant and they went their separate ways. As Anna went to the places on her list, she couldn't help contrasting the difference between being in Florence and Pine Ridge. Here she felt free and welcomed and happy—she was home. If she never went back to Pine Ridge again, she would be perfectly content.
After ordering paint, she went to the secondhand store again. This time her list was longer and she knew that anything she purchased would have to be delivered. But before she bought anything, she went to the new furniture store as well, just to look around. Then after some careful consideration, she returned to the secondhand store and selected the pieces she felt would best lend themselves to the lodge look she wanted to accomplish, and when she told the store owner what she was trying to achieve and how she planned to use Pendleton blankets and Indian artifacts, his eyes lit up.
"I've got a bunch of those Pendleton blankets in the back room," he told her. "I don't keep th
em out here because I'm worried about moths."
Soon she was looking at a fine selection of interesting blankets. Not only that, but he had some hand-woven Navajo rugs that would be useful as well. She felt he was really catching the vision for what she wanted as he pulled out a couple of rusticlooking lamps that someone had just brought in.
"You know, this whole camp style was real popular right after the war," he said, "but now a lot of folks are getting more modern with their furnishings, so I'll probably see more of these older pieces coming in. Would you like me to keep an eye out for them?"
"I'd love that," she told him. And after completing her purchases, she gave him her phone number. Then she returned to the new furniture store to look again. Anna felt the saleswoman was getting annoyed with her, since she seemed unable to make up her mind. Anna wished the owner, Carl Edwards (the one who'd given her a deal on the mattresses), was around to help. But it seemed the impatient saleswoman was her only option today.
A leather sofa had caught her eye the first time she'd come into the store. Neatly arrayed with some other modern pieces in the front of the store, as if to show it off, it was the most expensive item she'd seen in the store. And although the long, low sofa was more of the new modern style, the fact that it was brown leather gave it a feeling that she thought might work into her overall plan. Imagining it paired with the Navajo rug she'd just purchased, and combining both with her father's old wooden coffee table, which she was keeping, just might work. Plus she'd seen a handsome pair of rust-colored club chairs and ottomans that she felt could add to a comfortable seating arrangement.
However, the prices on these new furnishings were a bit staggering. She knew she could easily afford them, but being unaccustomed to spending this kind of money, it made her jittery. She slowly strolled through the store, looking at some other pieces with possibilities and wondered what to do. She reminded herself that this would be an investment in the inn and her future, and that she had plenty of money. Also, she told herself, this would be the first time she'd ever purchased brand-new furnishings for her own home. Real quality that would probably last for years to come. So, really, what was wrong with that? What was making her so fearful?
River's Song - The Inn at Shining Waters Series Page 19