Ellen stayed at the head of the stairs, listening as Kristen told the dogs to be good and then shut the front door loudly behind her.
A moment later, her car pulled out of the driveway.
Ellen realized she was holding her breath, and she let it out in a long sigh. Her gaze turned back to Kristen’s bedroom.
There really was a red cube.
And it had provided exactly what Julie had said it would. It wasn’t a dream at all. I really and truly talked to Julie.
Ellen was so excited, she didn’t know what to do. She wanted to jump and yell and scream and cry and laugh—all of them at once. How had something as simple as a cup of tea allowed her to speak to Julie? Ellen couldn’t begin to understand it, although she supposed she didn’t need to. It had happened and that was that.
Oh my God, I have more tea. I can see Julie again.
The thought stole Ellen’s breath.
Heart pounding wildly, she hurried down the stairs, little Chuffy joining her as if he knew something exciting was about to happen. The other dogs jumped up as she and Chuffy came spinning around the steps and hurried toward the kitchen.
Seconds later, she was standing at the counter, holding the small tin, the dogs watching her from the doorway as if they expected her to burst into flames.
She tugged off the lid, the soft aroma of peppermint, chamomile, and something else wafting out. She stared inside, her heart pounding. It was a small canister, so there wasn’t much left, enough for maybe two cups. But that was okay. She’d get Ava to make her some more.
Ellen’s heart fluttered at the thought. I can see Julie as often as I want. Really see her. I can talk to her and get her help with Kristen, too.
Ellen closed the lid and then hugged the canister to her chest, the dogs staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. Grinning, she bent and patted each one, giving Chuffy an especially gentle ear rub. “After dinner, I’m going to make myself a cup of very special tea, and then we’ll all go to bed.”
Soon, Ellen would be talking to Julie. Too excited to stand still, she gave an excited, very un-Ellen-like hop and spun in a dizzying circle. Julie, I’m coming!
CHAPTER 17 Ellen
Ellen had warmed up soup for dinner but had been too excited to eat more than a few spoonfuls. She toyed with the idea of going to bed immediately but worried she was too awake for the tea to work as well as it should. So instead, she took her time rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. Then she fed the dogs and settled in to watch a documentary on the building of the Golden Gate Bridge, although she was way too excited to pay attention.
She kept one eye on the clock, and the second it hit 9 p.m., she sprung off the couch, turned off the TV, took the dogs out one last time, and then—oddly inclined to giggle— made herself a cup of her precious tea. Remembering how much-too-short her last visit with Julie had been, she used far more tea leaves this time, hoping a stronger dose would give them ample time for a real talk.
As soon as her tea was ready, she carried it upstairs, careful not to spill a drop. She put the cup on her bedside table, then settled the dogs into Kristen’s room for the night. Ellen was a little concerned about Chuffy, who seemed even more shivery than usual, so she made sure to tuck a blanket around him before closing the door.
She put on her best nightgown, sat on the edge of her bed, and drank the tea, using her finger to capture the last few drops that clung to the sides of the cup. That done, she slipped under the covers and turned off the light.
And now, here she was, in bed and staring at the ceiling, waiting impatiently to fall asleep at a ridiculously early time. She snuggled down, closed her eyes, and waited, rehearsing what she’d say when she saw Julie again. She had to fight the urge to crack open her eyes every few minutes to check the clock on the corner table as it ticked away the minutes.
The minutes turned into a half hour, and Ellen tried to still her jittery thoughts, stirring restlessly. Why hasn’t the tea kicked in yet?
I’m too excited. I need to calm down.
The minutes ticked by. Another five.
Another ten.
She sighed and turned on her side, tugging the blankets around her. Maybe if I breathe deep and slow, I’ll fall asleep.
She took a long, slow breath in. Then one out.
Then another. And another.
But when she next peeked at the clock, she was chagrined to see that only seven minutes had crept by and she was every bit awake as before. Oh dear. What if I stay awake and the tea wears off?
She flipped onto her back, hoping a new position might help. There. I’ll empty my mind and imagine I’m floating on a cloud.
But emptying her mind proved impossible. Thoughts and hopes fought for attention. She couldn’t believe she was going to get to see Julie. Talk to her, really talk to her this time. If I can fall asleep. If I don’t, then—
“Oh, stop it!” she told herself, frustrated. She tossed off the covers and stared at the ceiling. I need more tea. She sat up and reached for the light switch—
“It’s about time you got here.”
Startled, Ellen looked over her shoulder.
Just as before, Julie sat in one of the chairs by the window, a pool of blue light encircling her. This time she was barefoot and wore a pair of paint-splattered coveralls and a faded red Mickey Mouse T-shirt. Her purple-dyed hair was more mussed than ever, and a paintbrush was tucked over one ear.
Ellen pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. Oh my God. It worked.
Julie cocked an eyebrow. “What took you so long?”
It’s her. It’s really, really her.
Julie chuckled. “Yes, it’s me. Ava’s tea does the trick. It would have worked a half hour ago if you’d let it. You’ve been fighting it for a while now.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t fall asleep. I was thinking too much.” Heart thumping, Ellen rose and automatically grabbed her robe, her slippers forgotten as she hurried to join Julie. It was hard not to run, which was so unlike herself that Ellen had to smile. She just wanted to be as close to her daughter as possible.
She stopped just short of Julie. “I want to hug you.”
Julie’s expression softened. She held up her hand so Ellen could see how the moon gleamed through it. “I wish we could.”
“Me too.” Ellen pulled her robe closer and tried to knot it, but her hands just fumbled with the long ties. Giving up, she sunk into the chair across from Julie, unable to look away, devouring the sight of her daughter. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”
Julie held her arms wide. “Here am I.”
Yes, here she was. “I’m so glad we can talk. The last time we were here, I—” Ellen winced. “I didn’t think it was really you. I thought it was some sort of a dream.”
“I’m here, and so are you.” Julie smiled as her gaze flickered over Ellen’s robe. “You and that robe.” She shook her head. “You always had the fanciest pajamas.” Julie leaned back in her chair. “How’s Kristen?”
“You already know.”
Julie sighed, her breath faintly visible, as if she were sitting in a pool of icy air. “I do. I just wanted to hear your side of it.”
Ellen shifted in her chair. “There are no sides.”
“It looks as if there are, and you and Kristen are on opposite ones.”
Ellen grimaced, and she suddenly realized her shoulders ached. She rubbed one of them. In Raleigh, she got a massage every week to get rid of the tension she carried in her shoulders. What she’d give for a massage now.
“Call Lisa Tilden,” Julie said. “She lives in Dove Pond and is a masseuse at Heaven Day Spa outside of Asheville. Her number is on the fridge.”
Ellen dropped her hand from her shoulder. “It’s disconcerting you can read my mind. It makes me wonder why we’re even talking.”
“If you could read my mind, too, then we’d just sit here and think at each other, but you can’t, so we’re going to have to talk. Which, I might add, was ne
ver one of your strong points.” Julie tilted her head to one side, her gaze locked on Ellen. “So. What’s going on with you and Kristen? I’d like to hear your side of it.”
“You already know, but—” Ellen shrugged. “For a week or so, we were doing well—better than well. We were getting to know each other a little here and there. Having some nice talks. Not many, but enough. But then I…” Ellen’s voice quavered, which surprised her. She really hated that she’d messed up her relationship with her granddaughter. “I made a horrible mistake.”
“The mural.”
“It has to be removed; I stand by that decision. But I should have spoken to her about it first. I didn’t realize what it meant to her, and now she’s furious with me.”
“She told you she loved it. I heard her.”
“I know, I know. I just didn’t understand how much and I…” Ellen looked down at her hands, which were tight around the arms of her chair. She released the arms and tucked her hands in her lap. “I made a mistake. There. Now I’ve admitted as much to you both. I had no idea you’d painted her into that mural as Wonder Woman. It never dawned on me to look.”
“She’s my Wonder Kristen.” Julie’s tender smile gleamed as brightly as the light around her.
“I know that now,” Ellen said sharply, wincing at her own tone. Her time with Julie was too precious to waste arguing. Ellen’s shoulders slumped. “I have to find a way to make it up to her.”
“She’s tough. When she makes up her mind about something, it can be difficult to get her to change it.”
Ellen sighed. “Why didn’t you paint that mural on a canvas rather than a wall so we could take it with us?”
“Because when I painted it, I was in the ‘hey, I’m going to live forever’ stage of my too-short life.”
Ellen had to admit she understood that. “I think about death a lot more now than I did when I was your age. We never see our mortality coming when we’re young, do we?” She absently braided her robe ties. “Kristen and I barely know each other. That makes everything difficult because we’ve got some massive decisions to make.” Which was totally Julie’s fault, although Ellen hated to say it out loud.
“You might as well,” Julie said into the silence. “I heard you think it.”
Ellen’s face heated. “Will you stop that! It’s unnerving.”
Julie gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”
Ellen had once seen a movie where aliens had taken over the bodies of young children. The father of one of those children had imagined a brick wall in an effort to keep them from reading his mind. If I could just—
“Mom!” Julie laughed again, the delightful, boisterous laugh that was uniquely hers. “Stop that! It won’t work.” Still smiling, she shifted her gaze from Ellen to the window where the trees were waving in the moonlight.
Ellen looked at her daughter’s profile, trying to memorize it as best she could. Every moment felt precious, and Ellen wanted to soak them all in and keep them forever. Which isn’t true. I can get more tea.
“Maybe,” Julie murmured as if to herself.
Maybe what?
Julie turned to Ellen. “I was going to call you on your birthday last year.”
Ellen’s heart lurched.
“I had the phone in my hand and everything. I don’t know why I didn’t.” Julie’s sigh made the blue light around her shimmer. “I’ve always felt there was a huge divide between us, and that the bridge over it was cracked and weak. I worried it might come crashing down if one of us tried to cross it, and we’d lose that last connection, bad as it was. It felt safer to just leave it alone.”
“That’s an interesting way to put it. And accurate too.”
Julie’s eyes glimmered softly. “You never called me either.”
Ellen slowly nodded. “I almost called you hundreds of times. But I was afraid, too… although I don’t know of what exactly. Being rejected, I suppose. Of the ‘bridge,’ as you called it, breaking while I was trying to cross it. It all seems stupid now. I should have called.”
“We were both stupid.” Julie leaned her head against the chair cushion. “I thought I had time. I’d always planned on us making up. I just kept putting it off.”
“I told myself I was giving you space to figure things out. That one day you’d wake up and realize how sad it was that we weren’t on speaking terms, and you’d reach out. I was waiting for that moment, and my pride kept whispering that it would be sweeter if you called me rather than the other way around, so…” Ellen’s voice caught in her throat, and she swiped away a tear. “I wish with all my heart I hadn’t waited. I love you, Julie. I always have.”
“I know.” Julie’s eyes looked shiny, as if she was also fighting tears. “I love you too,” she whispered. “I never stopped.”
“Who knew that love can be just as stubborn as anger?”
“Maybe more so.” Julie pulled her feet into her chair and wrapped her arms around her knees. “You found the red cube, so you know what she wants from you—acceptance, respect, and trust.”
“I trust her. Or I do as much as anyone would trust a teenager.” When Julie rolled her eyes, Ellen said impatiently, “I can’t just stand by and let her decide every last facet of her life. She’s too young and inexperienced to know what she’s doing. She’ll just get hurt.”
“She might. But it’s unlikely. Mom, if you wrap her in gauze, you’ll just smother her.”
Ellen frowned. “You think that’s what I did to you.”
“And still would, if you could reach me.” Julie’s eyes twinkled. “Stop looking so upset. I’m glad you came back to visit, but we have a lot of ground to cover this time. There are some things you need to know. Do you remember when I told you Kristen isn’t like me? She doesn’t enjoy adventures and excitement and raw emotion. She likes schedules, hugs, comfort, home—all the things I ran away from.” Julie’s smile flickered back into place. “Despite my best efforts to convince her otherwise, she’s all common sense and tradition.”
Ellen gave a wry laugh. “She doesn’t look very traditional, what with that purple hair and that nose piercing.”
“She only dyed her hair because I dyed mine. It’s something we did together. Mom, Kristen isn’t me, but she’s still a teenager. She’s still figuring out who and what she is.”
“I know a few things about teenagers. You fought growing up every step of the way.”
Julie wrinkled her nose. “I was the worst teenager ever.”
“Nonsense,” Ellen said. “I’m sure there were worse. I can think of a few dozen, right off the top of my head.” She smiled. “Although most of them are from TV.”
Julie chuckled. “You have a sense of humor. Why didn’t I notice that before?”
“Because I never showed it. I was too busy trying to be right during every argument.” It wasn’t easy to admit her flaws, but she knew that now was the time. “Even when you were young, you were so confident. You thought you knew everything and that I was the stupidest woman alive.”
“I didn’t think you were stupid. You were usually right, irritatingly so.” Julie eyed Ellen for a moment. “But I never felt like I knew you. You’re sort of a mystery woman, even now.”
“Me?” Ellen couldn’t hide her surprise.
“Every therapist I’ve ever had has asked about you. About your childhood, why you are who you are. And I could never answer their questions.”
“You know enough.” Ellen untangled her plaited robe ties and draped them over one knee.
“I know your dad left when you were young and that you and your mom suffered financially, but you’ve never really said more than that.”
“There wasn’t anything more to tell.” Ellen moved restlessly. That was the last thing she wanted to talk about. “Can we talk about Kristen? Since our fight, she’s been distant and—”
“Not yet.” Julie’s gaze was locked on Ellen. “I want to know about you. About your childhood. About what made you.”
“Ther
e’s nothing to tell.” When Julie didn’t reply, Ellen sighed sharply. “Fine. Your grandmother died when you were three, but until then, we had Christmas dinner every year at her house. I know you don’t remember, but she always burned the turkey.” It had been a long time since Ellen had thought of her mother. If she closed her eyes, she could see her mother’s thin face, always folded in worry, deep lines between her eyes. She earned those lines, too. The hard way.
“You loved her.”
“Of course I did. She worked two jobs to help me pay for my first year of college. I managed to do it on my own after that.” Ellen shrugged. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned that before.”
“No, you didn’t.” Julie tilted her head to one side. “What about your dad? You rarely talk about him.”
“Why should I?” Ellen asked impatiently. “He left. There’s nothing more to say. Julie, we’re on borrowed time here. Can we focus on Kristen?”
“It’s almost as if he never existed.”
“My father was what he was, and then he left. We did very well without him. Better, even.”
“Better without him? What did he do to deserve that?”
Deserve? Ellen dropped her gaze to her robe ties. She slowly smoothed them over her knee, which kept her from tracing the faint line of a scar that ran across the bottom of her chin, out of sight but always present. There were so many things she could say about what her father “deserved.”
She could explain how he would go through horrible mood swings, exacerbated by a steady stream of vodka. There were times, few and far between, when he was funny and charming and oh, how she’d loved him when he was like that. Too much, maybe, because of the giddy relief she and her mother had felt whenever he wasn’t in a bad mood.
But most nights, he’d drink, sinking into a black hole that made him violent and unstable. His actions became progressively worse as he aged. Over the years, he’d destroyed more family dinners than she could count. He’d scream at her mother, who was too afraid of him to speak back and would always answer his demands in a soothing, begging-for-forgiveness tone of voice, David, please don’t… Ellen’s jaw tightened.
A Cup of Silver Linings Page 26