And Yesterday Is Gone (14 page)

“Hide the shotgun, Sis,” I said as Ma slept in the following Sunday. Her Bible was where it always was—on her bedside table, but we never saw the hat again.

Later I thought I recognized some flowers and part of a veil that I found in the burn barrel.

In late September, I was admitted to Oakdale Community College in the quaint little town of Oakdale, just across the bay from San Francisco.

T
he unrecognizable sounds of the busy hospital intruded in the darkness of Juan's mind as he slowly drifted back to consciousness. His exploring hand encountered a wet, warm cloth moving across his face; instinctively, his grip closed over the fingers that held the towel.

Juan opened his eyes to see the small, gray-haired woman whose presence he had sensed from far away so many times in these last weeks. The fragrance was familiar.

Dropping her hand, struggling to sit up, the bed was suddenly raised and they were face to face.

Smiling, she pointed to herself and said, “Sara.”

He reached for the hand that he had released and answered, “Juan.”

There was a prolonged silence. Sara seemed to drown in the depth of those questioning black eyes. Juan was unable to look away.

This boy did not seem a stranger to Sara. Sitting beside him every day, she knew every curve of his fingers, every plane of that strikingly handsome face, but she could not have identified why she had the deep, innate feeling of love and connection with this tall, thin boy of different blood.

The instinctive gut feeling that flooded Juan's body, the sure knowledge of love and acceptance, the how and why—all bewildered him, but he knew he would never be alone again.

A quick knock at the door and the doctor stepped in, followed by the nurse.

Sara stepped back as the doctor examined Juan, then carefully removed the stitches from his face.

“That's healed nicely. It won't even leave a scar. His ribs are mending very well, too.” He smiled. “These young ones are strong—he'll be ready to go home in a few days.”

The nurse translated to Juan. He turned his head to look at Sara, a moment's desperation in his eyes.

She smiled as she spoke—the translation brought tears to his eyes as he reached for her hand.

“We'll go home, son.”

•  •  •

At dinner that evening, Sara was in unusually high spirits.

Teddy smiled. “You seem very happy tonight. What have you been up to?”

“You know I've been going to the hospital to see Juan every day,” she answered.

Teddy joked, “Have they offered you the supervisor's position yet?” Then added, “I suppose the boy will be released soon, then you'll have to go back to work, finish that painting.”

Sara was quick to answer, “Bring up a bottle of wine, my love. I have a secret I'm dying to tell you.”

“Then tonight is the night to reveal all. I have a secret you're going to love. I'll bring two bottles—it's a celebration,” Teddy declared.

Both women were eager with anticipation and didn't linger over dinner. Hurrying up the broad stairway, they entered their sanctuary and Teddy quickly deposited the wine on the old oak table.

Turning, she put her arms around Sara. “Me first—I can't wait another minute. I have a carpenter coming on Friday to enclose that big living room in the old servants' quarters for your new studio. It has the three-sided witches' turret with three floor-to-ceiling windows,” she enthused. “Perfect, it's just perfect. All the light you'll ever need, and I'm adding a bathroom, too. I want it to be beautiful for you.”

Sara stiffened in Teddy's arms and stepped away. “Oh, Teddy, no, you can't do that,” the words burst out. “I want that room for my boy.”

“Sara, did you hear what you just said?” came Teddy's shocked voice as she looked down into a face where so many emotions ran rampant.

The unexpected outburst left Sara momentarily flustered, but then defiant. “Yes,
my
boy. I want to bring him home. That's my secret.”

“That makes me a parent, too, I take it. I can't believe I'm hearing this. Why haven't you told me of your feelings for this boy? When did all this happen?”

“The first time he took my hand. I haven't told you about my feelings because I couldn't understand them but, Teddy, now I'm sure. I can't explain it, but I can't deny it. I feel as though I gave birth to him myself.”

“Sara, I have no desire or need to become a parent at age fifty-five.” Teddy's deliberately calm voice continued, camouflaging her shock. “And I think you've mistaken pity for love. Sammy's death has upset you more than I realized. I think you've found another Sammy.”

“That's a cruel thing to say. Juan is a human being,” came Sara's instant retort.

“Of course. And didn't you consider Sammy your child? I remember that cold, rainy day when you found him lying at the door of your greenhouse. What little hair he had was soaking wet and, as I recall, he had mange. Every bone was visible. You screamed for Mr. Mackey to come quick and kill this horrible big rat.

“I thought he should be put out of his misery, but you had to call a vet for a second opinion—I wasn't flattered, I may add. You nursed him back to life and for eight years he was your child.

“I could be persuaded,” Teddy placated, noting Sara's reaction to her words, “to send this boy to a good school where he could learn a trade and our language and customs. And he could visit, but I'm too old to be a parent.

“Sara, you're a born mother. I wish we could have adopted years ago when our lives were ahead of us, but it seemed we were always enough for each other.”

Sara put her arms around the other woman's waist. “Teddy darling, we have adopted. I gave him my word I'd bring him home. He'll be released soon. I want those rooms for Juan.”

“No,” said Teddy flatly.

“Surely you aren't saying ‘no' to me,” came Sara's astonished voice.

“Surely I am. It's been a very long time since we've differed this strongly, my dear Sara. Give it up.”

Sara's anger flared. “Don't patronize me, Dr. Hassé; this is far beyond a difference. In fact, if I weren't a lady to my fingertips, I'd say I'm damn well going to have it my way. Adjust.”

“And I'd say,” Teddy responded, “the hell you are. I'll hammer the damn wall up with my scalpel. My German ancestors' vocabulary does not recognize the word ‘adjust.' ”

Teddy stalked from the room, stiff with anger.

The two battlers stood forlorn.

•  •  •

Tears of frustration welled in Sara's eyes. That night and the nights that followed, she slept on her own side of the bed.

An unaccustomed silence reigned and the old house seemed wrapped in loneliness until even the shingles whispered in the sudden quiet.

The undercurrent of disharmony lay just below the stilted conversation in ugly contrast with the happy exchanges and pleasures the women had taken in each other for over twenty years.

Teddy, angry and miserable, took refuge in her office, her dinner kept warm in the oven by Mrs. Mackey.

Sara spent many hours at the hospital and, as Juan's release became imminent, she realized he would need clothing.

He seemed to have grown taller in the short time he had been hospitalized and the scales showed an undeniable gain in weight.

Shopping for Juan with the measurements given by the nurse, Sara's purchases, without Teddy's suggestions, were a revelation. She gave free reign to her love of color and style.

Juan was self-conscious as he stood for Sara's appraisal. He had never known such clothing; he hardly recognized himself.

As he stood in his new trousers with a colorful shirt thrown over one bare shoulder, Sara's breath caught at the beauty of this tall, graceful boy pausing at the threshold of manhood.

Suddenly, her fingers yearned for the feel of a paintbrush. Teddy was right—she needed to paint.

The nurse smiled in appreciation and spoke to Juan in Spanish. His face clouded as he answered.

“What did you say to him?” Sara asked.

The nurse hesitated, then answered, “I said to him that he is so handsome, my daughter would like him. But he said, ‘I am different. I love another and always will.' ”

Sara sat quietly for a moment, then reached for his hand and pulled him to her.

“Tell him that I, too, am different.”

Matter-of-factly, she tugged his hand through the dangling sleeve, then stood back smiling to observe her handiwork.

His eyes sought hers, searching for any sign of rejection.

Wordless, there was perfect understanding.

The nurse spoke again. “My daughter, who is a student at the university, is fluent in both languages. She could tutor your son. You may have a difficult time communicating when he goes home…”

Sara was delighted and scribbled her phone number with a grateful “Thank you.” One problem solved.

Now that his stay grew shorter, Sara's happiness was tainted by the thoughts of Teddy's adamant decision. She could not bring her boy home until this issue had been resolved.

And how do I resolve it? she agonized.

A great sense of loss swept over her. Had she gained one love only to lose another? How will I ever find the strength to let Juan go?

•  •  •

Sara's foot, as though it were a separate entity, crept close to slowly caress the smooth calf of the leg that lay so near. Teddy had seemed not to have even shared the same bed these last lonely nights.

Her toes tickled as they slid over the soft skin and she felt Teddy shiver.

Her heart gave a great leap of joy as she turned.

“Is this the white flag of surrender? I warn you,” Teddy said with bravado, “I take no prisoners. The carpenter is coming tomorrow.”

Sara's tearful voice whispered, “I'll never, never set foot in it, so do as you please.”

A long silence as both women stared into the darkness.

Defeated then, Teddy asked, “How can we resolve this? Could we not arrange it as a studio apartment?”

“That big bedroom has a large window that overlooks the rose garden and…”

Sara gave a disdainful sniff, but a wave of relief and happiness swept over her.

Teddy continued, “…redo the bathroom, repaint, some nice furniture. There's even a back stairway.”

Sara didn't respond, her foot still slowly caressing Teddy's calf.

Teddy said, “My dear, that's the best that I can do.”

“And a door that opens to my studio?” Sara asked.

“Of course.” Teddy sighed.

“And do you think you can arrange for the hospital to keep Juan for a couple of weeks until I can get everything arranged just perfectly?”

“Of course,” repeated Teddy in a resigned voice with the barest hint of laughter.

“What time is it, Teddy?”

Looking at the illuminated dial, Teddy said, “It's three a.m.”

“Do you think that's too early to open the wine?”

“It's never too late to celebrate, my dearest Sara.”

Four feet touched the carpeted floor simultaneously and padded to the study.

Then the pop of the cork and the laughter as the wine spilled. The happy exchange of words that had lain dormant for days now flowed freely as the glasses were replenished time and again.

They sat together, their glasses upraised in a toast.

“It's been forever since we've sat like this,” Teddy said.

“At least,” Sara responded and lifted her glass.

The old house sighed and settled back on the ancient stone foundation. From somewhere, a night bird sang to announce a new day and flew into the sun.

•  •  •

The studio was finished and beautifully done. Teddy had supervised every move of the workers.

The large room reflected the natural light that shone through the tall windows on a sunny day, and crept in when the bay so far below was only a slash of blue against the soft gray of the fog.

Fully stocked, the lovely studio boasted the ultimate in brushes, tubes of paint in every color, canvasses stacked against a wall, even a custom- made easel that replaced the old paint-spattered one now hidden in the closet.

Teddy had not allowed Sara even a peek, and at the great unveiling, she was scooped up and carried across the threshold. Sara gasped. The studio was everything she ever could have dreamed.

“Who would ever have believed you'd have done such a wonderful job with only a scalpel?” Sara giggled like a teenager.

“Put me down. I'd guess a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses are in the vicinity. This calls for a celebration. Oh, Teddy, how I love you.”

“As I love you. You make my life a constant challenge. I dare not grow old,” Teddy declared.

The bottle stood three-quarters empty much later as Sara examined every nook and cranny, every tube of paint.

“Teddy, wherever did you find these brushes? There are none better.” Sara stood, her head thrown back, a brush held high as she read the fine print on the handle.

The small, fine-boned woman whose hair threatened to free itself from the band that held it captive; the woman with laughing eyes and a quick smile outlined against the tall window—Teddy knew that image was forever painted on her heart.

Sensing the other woman's intent gaze, Sara turned and said laughingly, “Come, let me show you what
I've
done without a scalpel,” and opened the door to the short hallway that led to Juan's apartment.

The older woman followed, observing the care that had transformed the small, drab servants' quarters to the compact, colorful apartment with its simple but elegant furnishings. Intuitively, she knew that love that had gone into the placement of every object.

After a long moment, she spoke quietly.

“I'm almost jealous. Since I am involved, what is my status? Is my throne secure?”