by Janet Dawson
“Your mother’s desk was in that alcove,” Lindsey said.
Annabel settled into a recliner near the fireplace and flipped up the footrest. “He got rid of it. Got rid of all her things. After he killed her. That’s what my father left me. That and his company. What do I have to remember my mother by? The carousel music box she gave me for my ninth birthday. A silver pineapple and a shard of crystal. The files you read. Tess’s box is full of ghost stories.”
“Like this house,” Lindsey said. “I remember what you said, just after your father died. That he left this house to you, with all the ghosts.”
“I’ve banished a few, over the years. But not all.”
Tess pushed a tea trolley into the living room. She positioned it next to Annabel’s chair. “Are we fancy, or what? I made that chicken salad myself.” The trolley held all the accoutrements of afternoon tea: a china pot, two cups, silverware, sugar bowl and creamer. A two-tiered milk-glass serving plate held small square sandwiches and round cookies, each with slivered almonds in the middle.
“Are these Lily’s famous almond cookies?” Lindsey asked.
Annabel smiled. “Yes. She brought them this morning.”
Tess poured two cups of tea. Lindsey caught a whiff of bergamot from the freshly brewed Earl Grey. “Do you want anything in your tea, Lindsey?”
“No, thanks.”
Tess reached for the sugar bowl. “Mother likes sugar and milk.” She added both to Annabel’s cup. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”
Lindsey popped a cookie into her mouth, tasting almonds. “Ah, they are good.”
Annabel raised her teacup, her hand shaking a little. She steadied it with the other hand and took a sip. Then she set it on the tea trolley and reached for a cookie. “It’s more than that. These cookies are full of memories of feeling warm and cared-for. No matter how lonely I got, Lily was there, stirring up a batch of almond cookies, just for me.”
“I’m glad I was able to get in touch with her. It took me a while to figure out your doodles in your old address books.”
Annabel finished the cookie and brushed the crumbs from her hands. “I needed a code. When I was younger, I thought my father and my aunt would prevent me from seeing Lily. Especially after they fired her. When I convinced her to tell me what she saw the day my mother died, I was sure they’d retaliate. So our visits have been a secret between the two of us.” She picked up her cup. “My mother is an old ghost. We need to talk about more recent ghosts.”
“You and Rod.” Lindsey took one of the sandwiches.
“That, too. You and Hal.” Annabel took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I took him away from you. I didn’t love him, and you did.”
Lindsey’s feelings were still close to the surface after her conversation with Hal. “That’s water under the bridge.”
“Is it?”
Their eyes met, over things too long unsaid. Lindsey nodded. “Yes, it finally is. I loved him. But I don’t anymore.”
“I felt guilty,” Annabel said. “I did think about you, briefly. But not for very long. I’m a coward. I don’t have your courage, the guts to see it all through in spite of detours, like an unwanted pregnancy and single motherhood. You went on and didn’t look back.”
“I went on because I had no choice,” Lindsey said. “And I did look back. I wasted a lot of time wondering what might have been. Then I realized second-guessing was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I had to support myself, and Nina. I realized something else, that Hal loved you. He never felt that way about me. But I couldn’t figure out why you married him. You’d never given any indication of having feelings for him. Then I thought you’d hidden them, out of rebellion against your father and the whole designated suitor joke. I never dreamed Tess wasn’t his child. All those feelings and questions came back. So I agreed to help Tess, even though I hadn’t told Nina that Hal is her father. Which he knew, as I discovered when I talked with him this morning.”
Annabel took another sip of her tea. “Why did I marry Hal? I was afraid. I took the first life raft that floated by. Hal loves me. I’ve grown to love him. He’s a good husband and father.”
“Maybe things turned out the way they were supposed to.”
“Why the hell did it have to be such a rocky road?” Annabel asked. “With so many damned detours?”
“So we could learn from it?” Lindsey reached for another sandwich. “Things will never be the way they were.”
“When Tess told me she knew Hal wasn’t her father, I thought, good, time she knew. Now she does. Now she has to deal with the feelings. I hope she’ll work it out.”
“Nina was so angry with me,” Lindsey said. “For so many years. She’ll have to figure things out for herself. Hal would love to have a relationship with her. He already does, since we’ve been friends for so long, ever since the girls were born.”
“A long time to be keeping secrets,” Annabel said. “Papering over the truth with polite smiles. Rod and Hal and...”
“Claire?” Lindsey asked.
“Yes. Claire.” They sipped their tea in silence. “I knew from an early age Claire was off kilter,” Annabel said. “She could be kind one minute, cold and manipulative the next. She was sick. And evil. But Gretchen won’t see it that way. She has a blind spot where Claire is concerned. Have you talked with her yet?”
Lindsey shook her head. “That’s my next stop. I must tell her and Doug something about Nat. It won’t be easy.” She told Annabel what she had learned about Nat’s parentage and Claire’s part in the events that took place so long ago in a remote village in El Salvador.
“Gretchen will be angry,” Annabel said. “She’s always been ambivalent about you.”
“I know. It has to do with Doug. She once accused me of trying to steal him. She’s never said anything to me, but she wonders if Nina is Doug’s child. I’m sure Claire planted that seed. I see suspicion in Gretchen’s eyes sometimes, when she looks at my daughter. That’s a bitter pill, since Gretchen can’t have children of her own. Now I’m going to tell her that her adopted son has a mother living, right here in the Bay Area.”
“Ghost stories.” Annabel looked around her living room, as though she saw a different cast of characters gathered there, on a long-ago April afternoon.
The ghosts in Lindsey’s mind roved farther, across the bay to Berkeley, across the sea to El Salvador. “The ghosts of the past come back to haunt us. Self-doubt, guilt, old hurts we hang onto, even though they don’t do us any good. Sometimes it’s hard to let go of those ghosts.” She reached for the teapot, intending to pour another cup for each of them. But the ceramic felt cool. “The water’s cold. I’ll get a warm-up.”
She went through the study to the door, across the back hallway to the kitchen. Tess wasn’t there. The door leading to the porch was open and so was the outer door to the backyard. Lindsey switched on the burner under the teakettle and stood there, thinking about watched pots that didn’t boil. She heard footsteps on the back stairs. Tess entered the kitchen with a basket, looped on one arm.
“Mom’s roses are spectacular this year. Look at these. Aren’t they gorgeous?” Tess set the basket on the counter and filled a vase with water.
Lindsey reached for a rose with coral petals and a heavenly scent. A thorn pricked her finger and she saw a sharp little spine embedded in her flesh. She pulled out the thorn. Then she turned on the faucet and rinsed away the blood.
42
When Lindsey returned to Berkeley later that afternoon, Nina was on the front porch. “I’m out of a job,” she said. “It’s just as well. Things are in a mess. No one knows what’s going to happen to the company. The head of Human Resources says she’ll put me to work in another department for the time being. But I don’t know if I can be there.”
“You can move back here until you find another job.” Lindsey unlocked the door and they went inside.
“Tess doesn’t want me to move. Besides, she’s staying temporarily with Annab
el, now that she’s home.”
“I know. I was just there.” Lindsey reached for Nina’s hand.
Nina didn’t pull away. Instead she squeezed her mother’s hand. “Mom... I thought about what you said. You’re right. I’ve held onto that anger long enough. I have to move past it and see if I can establish a relationship with Hal...with my father.”
“I saw him this morning, at the hospital,” Lindsey said. “He knows you’re his daughter. He kept his distance because he thought it was better to do so. He wants to talk with you. You’ll sort it out, the two of you.”
“Life’s strange, isn’t it?” Nina sighed. “How about I make some coffee?”
Lindsey shook her head. “There’s something I have to do. I’ve been dreading it. But I can’t put it off any longer.” She relayed the story of Nat, El Salvador, Claire’s involvement, and Flor. “On Tuesday, Flor gave me an ultimatum, twenty-four hours. I promised to talk with Gretchen and Doug yesterday. I went over that deadline and then I didn’t answer Flor’s calls. When I called her this morning, Flor was very angry with me. I told her I was overtaken by events. And I was. But that’s only partly true. I kept thinking I’d find the right time to tell Gretchen and Doug. But there’s never going to be a right time. I can’t put it off any longer.”
“I’ll go with you,” Nina said
Together they walked to Gretchen’s house. Nat and Amy, home from school, greeted them at the door and motioned them into the hallway. “You want to talk with Mom?” Nat asked. “She’s been hoping you’d call or stop by.”
“Both your mom and your dad,” she said. “I saw his car in the drive.”
“Yeah. Dad took time off work to be with Mom. She’s really upset about Claire.”
Amy shouldered her pink backpack and turned to her brother. “I’m going over to Polly’s house to work on our history project. Her mom invited me for dinner. I asked Mom a couple of days ago and she said I could.”
“Okay,” Nat said. “I don’t want you walking home alone after dark, even if it’s just a couple of blocks. You call me and I’ll come get you.”
“Okay. You’re a good brother. I take back everything I said about you.” She stood on tiptoe and hugged him.
“Yeah, right. Till the next time.” He patted her on the back and watched her leave. He shut the door. “Mom’s out on the patio. Dad’s in the kitchen.”
Doug was making tea for Gretchen. “She found out about Claire in the worst possible way. She’d switched on the TV in here to watch the local news while she fixed dinner.”
“How awful,” Lindsey said. “I would have called. But the police, the questions...by the time I got out of there, it was late.”
“She hardly slept last night. Couldn’t stop crying,” Doug said. “I decided I’d better stay home today. The press coverage is bad enough. But I should have screened her calls, incoming and outgoing. Gretchen called Claire’s mother. I don’t know what Mrs. Megarris said to her, but that just made it worse.”
“I can imagine.” Lindsey knew what Rebecca Megarris had been saying, to the police, the press, anyone who would listen. Claire’s mother was grief-stricken and angry about her daughter’s death, making excuses for Claire, spewing venom and threats of legal action. In Gretchen, Mrs. Megarris found a sympathetic ear.
Lindsey and Nina declined Doug’s offer of tea, and followed him out to the patio, where Gretchen huddled in a chair, a shawl over her shoulders. She had dark circles under her reddened eyes, her hands twisting a handkerchief. “Where have you been?” Gretchen demanded. “Why didn’t you come over? I called you, at home, on your cell phone, and got voicemail.”
“With the police.” Lindsey sat down. “Today I’ve been to the city, to see Hal and Annabel. They’re fine.”
“Claire’s dead.” Tears leaked from Gretchen’s eyes. “We’ll never see her again. One of my dearest friends in the world. I couldn’t believe it. Even when I heard it on the news. How could they say such horrible things about Claire? It’s not true, any of it. It’s all lies. I can’t believe it. I won’t.”
“I’m sorry,” Lindsey said. “I know Claire was your friend. But it’s true. She tried to kill Annabel. Then she shot Hal. I saw her do it.”
Gretchen waved away the mug of tea Doug offered. “No. You’ll never convince me of that. It’s a horrible mistake.”
“I didn’t really come here to talk about Claire. Not how she died, anyway. I have something to tell you. It involves Claire. It’s about Nat. And El Salvador.”
Lindsey told the tale as best she could. What pain she caused them, these two friends. Doug wiped tears on his sleeve. Gretchen’s eyes went wide with shock. She rose from the chair, lunging at Lindsey. Nina moved between the two women as Doug grabbed Gretchen and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
“How could you do this to me?” Gretchen cried. “How could you do this with your meddling? Why can’t you mind your own business? I’ll never speak to you again.”
“Cut it out, Mom.”
Nat’s voice sliced like a knife through Gretchen’s tirade. He’d been hanging back, listening. Now he walked over to face her, no longer a teenager, instead a thoughtful, steady young man, like the man in the picture Flor had shown Lindsey, her first husband, Atenacio, Efraín’s father...Nat’s father.
Gretchen’s voice shook. “I am your mom.”
“Of course you are,” Nat said. “Dad’s my dad. I love both of you.”
“We love you, son,” Doug said. “No matter what.”
Nat took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m your son. But I had another mom and dad, before. I always knew I was adopted. I always wondered who I really am and where I came from.”
Gretchen sobbed. “The people at the orphanage told us you didn’t have anyone. That’s all we knew. It doesn’t matter where you came from. We loved you the moment we saw you. You’re our little boy.”
“I know that, Mom. But there was a time before the orphanage. When I was someone else’s little boy.” A shadow passed over Nat’s face. “I remember things.”
“Because you heard Lindsey talking about El Salvador,” Gretchen said.
Nat shook his head. “No, Mom. I do remember. Maybe I always did and it was under the surface.” He closed his eyes and opened them again. “Sometimes I have dreams. A big black crow swoops down from the sky and snatches me from my mother.”
Gretchen dropped to the chair as though her legs had been knocked from under her. “Why didn’t you tell us, son?” Doug asked.
Nat shrugged. “I don’t know. I felt, like, maybe it was disloyal of me to bring it up. On weekends, my buddies and me, we’d hop on BART and go over to San Francisco, check out the neighborhoods. One Saturday afternoon we were hanging out in the Mission District. We went into this Salvadoran place. This lady was cooking something on a grill, a pupusa. The smell and the sound of it sizzling made my mouth water. The funny thing was, I knew how it tasted, even before I put it in my mouth. I remembered this woman, cooking pupusas over an open fire. She’d tear off a corner and give it to me.” He smiled. “My mother?”
Lindsey nodded. “What else do you remember?”
“A man who smelled like coffee,” Nat said. “He rode me around on his shoulders. A house on a hill. Not really much of a house. More like a one-room cabin. An old lady. A store. A church.” He frowned. “Guns. I remember guns. People with blood all over them.” Nat stroked the scar on his chin. “Running up the hill, to get away from those men with guns. My mother was carrying me. But we fell. I cut my chin on some broken glass. I cried and she tried to shush me. A lady with gold hair put a bandage on it. That was Claire, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Lindsey said. “She took you to San Salvador and left you at the orphanage. She arranged for you to be adopted, by Gretchen and Doug.”
“I guess that was a good thing,” Nat said. “Coming out of a bad thing. I’ll have to think about that. My birth father. What was his name?”
“Atenacio Guzmán.”
“He was killed that day,” Nat said, his voice flat. He shook off the memory. “I kept going over to the Mission District. I couldn’t get enough of those pupusas. The lady that runs the place, she and her husband came to the States during the civil war. I told her what I remembered. She said there was this organization looking for missing kids from El Salvador. I looked it up on the Internet. I didn’t know if anyone was looking for me. But I wondered. Then I read about that UC Berkeley database, where they were doing DNA testing, hoping to link people whose kids were missing with adopted kids here in the States. I thought about looking for my birth parents. But I didn’t. Maybe I was afraid of what I might find out. Afraid of hurting people who love me. I felt...torn. Like I belonged in two places at once. I didn’t know how Mom and Dad would react. Well, maybe I did. So I was missing and now I’m found. My birth mother’s here, in the East Bay?”
“She lives in Oakland,” Lindsey said. “Her name is Flor Cooper. She’s remarried, with two children. She saw you at the Berkeley Farmers Market and is sure you’re her son. You look like your birth father. And there’s that scar on your chin.”
Nat ran a finger over the scar. “My birth name, what’s that?”
“Efraín Guzmán,” Lindsey said.
“Efraín Guzmán.” He repeated the name several times, tasting it as he had tasted the pupusa. “I want to see her.”
“I don’t want to lose you.” Gretchen stood and flung her arms around Nat. “I don’t want you to leave me.”
“You’re not going to lose me,” Nat said, hugging her. He stepped back. “I’m grown up now. I’m graduating from high school and going away to college. I am leaving home. That’s part of life. But it’s not forever. I’ll be back.” He turned to Lindsey. “I’d like to see my birth mother. Will you take me to her? Now?”