Authors: Lenora Worth
T
he peace Mariel had felt on Sunday was gone by Monday night when she finally reached her mother.
“Mom, it’s me, Mariel.”
“Well, well. Nice to hear from you. It’s been a while.”
Ignoring that pointed remark, Mariel said, “I tried to call last night, but you didn’t answer.” Mariel knew her mother sometimes let the phone ring, especially when she didn’t want to be bothered.
“I was out last night.”
“Well…how are you?”
“Okay, but…I had to find out from someone at your workplace that you’d taken a sabbatical to Louisiana.”
“You called my work?”
“Yes, I certainly did.”
Mariel heard the rush of her mother’s sigh. Then silence. It was always this way, with her asking hopeful questions, then her mother pausing for dramatic effect.
“Why did you call my work, Mom? Was something wrong?”
“Can’t I call without something being wrong?”
Mariel wanted to answer yes, but then usually Evelyn only called with bad news—another breakup with the latest man in her life, another job lost because she couldn’t get along with her boss, or another move to find herself.
Pinching her nose to avoid a headache, Mariel said, “Well, I’m glad you called even if I missed the call. And, yes, I did take a few weeks vacation, to visit Granny. She’s been sick—heart trouble.”
“Heart trouble? How serious is it?”
Hearing genuine concern in her mother’s voice, Mariel said, “Pretty scary—her cholesterol was off the charts, and she probably has a blockage of some sort. But the doctors have her on a diet and medication. She needs to go in for more tests, but she’s being stubborn about that.”
“I’m surprised she’s listening to them at all.”
“We’re making her listen,” Mariel said. “I guess we all just seemed to take it for granted she’d live forever.”
“We can’t take anything for granted, honey.”
Thinking that was a different slant, coming from her mother, Mariel decided to be honest. “Mom, the reason I called—I wanted to invite you to come home—for Easter.”
Another silence. Then, “What?”
Mariel could just see her mother, a hand pushing at her short, clipped auburn hair, a diet soda by the phone, her vivid brown eyes dark and doubting. “I—Granny and I want to have a family celebration on Easter Sunday. You know, like the kind we used to have when I was little.”
“I remember,” Evelyn said, the words husky and faraway sounding. “But…I don’t know if I can make it.”
Mariel pushed at the knot of disappointment in her chest. “Why not?”
“I might be going on a cruise, with Jeff.”
“Who’s Jeff?”
“A nice man I met at the restaurant where I work now.
He makes a good living selling life insurance and he’s…he’s good to me. Different from the losers I’ve been dating.”
“You’re working at a restaurant?” Mariel closed her eyes. A few weeks ago her mother had been working in a boutique.
“Yes, a seafood place right on the water. I’m the hostess. And I have to admit, I love it so far.”
So far. Mariel wondered how long that would last. “That’s good, Mom. But about Easter… You’d only have to take a couple of days. It would mean a lot to Granny.”
Another pause. “I’m sure it would. I’ll think about it.”
That was more than Mariel had expected. “You could maybe bring Jeff with you.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’d get a kick out of seeing that old farm.”
Not understanding Evelyn’s apparent shame over having been raised on a farm, Mariel said, “The lilies are pretty. They’re just about to bloom. The white field smells so good, and the others—the day lilies lining the fence and growing down behind the nurseries—they’ll be in full bloom by Easter. Remember, Mom, how you loved the tiger lilies best?”
“I did, I do,” Evelyn said, her voice so low, Mariel couldn’t miss the catch in the words. “I have some here in my backyard. Did I tell you I bought a little house out near the beach?”
“Really?” Mariel’s surprise must have sounded in her voice. She’d never known her mother to invest in anything so permanent. “That’s great.”
“Jeff helped me with the loan at the bank and everything. And…I’ve been designing jewelry on the side, to make extra money. Remember the boutique where I used to work?”
“Yes, sure.”
“The new manager… You know how much I disliked the lady I worked for before—well, thankfully she’s gone, and I get along great with the new boss. Anyway, she’s displaying some of my jewelry in the window. It’s selling pretty regularly.”
Mariel’s smile was real. “That is good news. I never knew you liked to design jewelry.”
“I never told anyone.”
Mariel sank down on a kitchen chair. There was so much she didn’t know about her mother. The distance between them couldn’t be measured in miles. And yet it was there.
“Honey, I’ll see what I can do about Easter.”
Mariel knew that was the best she’d get from her mother. Which meant Evelyn would probably come up with a lame excuse at the last minute and not show up.
She hung up, both hopeful and worried at the same time. Something about her mother seemed different. Evelyn had been almost calm, not her usually frantic, bitter self in spite of the veiled comments about Sadie. Maybe the new man in her mother’s life was making a difference. Or maybe having a creative outlet had changed her mother’s low self-esteem into a more confident attitude.
Restless and too wound up to go up to bed, Mariel decided to take a moonlit stroll along the lane by the lilies. The moon was full, its bright glow spotlighting the sleeping fields and outbuildings in a pale ethereal gray.
It had been a busy, productive day—so busy she’d seen very little of Heath, except to wave to him in passing while she was helping a customer, or to take his gentle orders with a smile and a nod as she supervised one of the trucks being loaded. These next two weeks would be that way—hurried and rushed, filling the local orders, making sure the visitors got the perfect lilies to honor their loved ones. Then come six o’clock the Saturday before Easter, a hush
would fall over this farm and woods. Then they would settle in for a quiet preparation, or as Sadie would say, they would celebrate the resurrection of Christ.
This year, Easter took on a new meaning for Mariel. She felt so close to her grandmother and to the Lord.
And she owed this new awareness to Heath Whitaker.
So it didn’t surprise her to find herself heading toward the light burning brightly in his little cottage. She wanted to find Heath on this lovely spring night and…see him again, maybe touch him again, or just talk. After all the shallow, mundane things she and Simon had discussed, she truly enjoyed talking to Heath about philosophy and books, and religion, too.
It didn’t even surprise her that she had feelings for him. Strong feelings such as she’d never experienced before with any man.
What did surprise her was her acceptance of those feelings, as if they were a natural part of spring, a natural occurrence of some sort of rebirth in her life. Mariel wasn’t used to letting things happen naturally. She liked to have a plan, a logical step-by-step reasoning for each move she made.
But Heath had changed all of that.
Maybe that was why she refused to let her conversation with her mother bother her.
Heath gave her new hope, renewed strength and faith in herself. Even if she left the farm and went back to Dallas, she’d always remember him for that at least.
Heath stood at the door of the cottage, watching Mariel walk up the path to his home. He’d always remember her here in the moonlight, her white cotton tunic and frayed jeans making her look like a true flower child as she touched a hand to one of the fat, blossoming lilies, then bent to hold the tender white petals to her nose.
He could almost hear her sigh on the wind.
He could definitely hear the fast-paced beating of his own heart. There was something about Mariel Evans that touched him, made him want to settle down here in this little house and start a family. Something sweet and confusing.
Heath had never been one to settle. Since he’d left California after his father’s death, he’d been a wanderer, a nomad searching for a place to lay his head. As he watched Mariel, her dark hair lifting in the night wind, he thought maybe he’d found that place. Maybe he’d found the one woman with whom he could easily spend the rest of his life.
Even if that woman wasn’t sure she wanted the same thing.
“Hey, you,” he said as he pushed off the door frame and opened the screen door. “Want some ice cream?”
Mariel looked up at him, surprise in her eyes as she stepped up onto the porch. “Ice cream? That sounds good.”
He held the door open. “Rocky Road.”
“And so fitting,” she said as she turned to stare up at him, her eyes as rich and deep as the earth he tilled and plowed.
“Rough day?”
“I had a talk with my mother tonight.”
He reached out a hand to her. “Not good?”
She shrugged, followed him into the small kitchen. “Actually, it went better than I had expected, which scares me even more. I’m used to the anger, the harshness. But she seemed different tonight.”
“Maybe your mother is becoming mellow.”
“Maybe.” She smiled, a soft parting of her lovely, kissable lips. “Wouldn’t it be something if…I could finally make peace with her?”
“Have you always been at war with your mother?”
“No. But she’s been at war with herself for a very long time.”
He dished out two bowls of ice cream, then handed her one. “Well, maybe your mother has stopped spinning, too.”
Mariel took a big bite, then grinned. “Is this your answer, then? Ice cream?”
“It works. Don’t you think?”
“Yes,” she said. They ate their ice cream in silence for a while, their eyes touching on each other with each swallow. Then she put her spoon down. “Heath, I—”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just nice, being here with you. I’ll miss this.”
“You say that as if you’re already planning on leaving. Did you come here to tell me that, Mariel? That you’ll be gone after Easter?”
“I don’t know why I came here exactly. Except that I was confused and uncertain and I just wanted to see you.”
Heath came around the table, pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go for a walk.”
He guided Mariel out into the lily field, down a path directly in the center of the swaying stalks. All around them, the blossoms looked like linen handkerchiefs dancing in the wind. “Smell that?”
“How can I not?”
“Do you hear the song?”
“Oh, no. Are you trying to get me to listen to the lilies again?”
Heath tugged her close, a hand on her face. “No, I’m trying to get you to listen to your own heart.”
Then he kissed her. Her lips, her face, her hair. “I don’t want you to leave, Mariel.”
She pulled back, her eyes wide. “This…is too fast…too
complex. I’d have to change my whole life, my whole way of thinking. And besides, what can I expect from you? What if you decide to up and leave yourself?”
“I’m not planning on going anywhere.” Seeing her doubt in the reflection of moonlight in her eyes, Heath backed away, ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, I won’t push you. But promise me something?”
“What?”
“Will you paint that portrait of Sadie, here in the field?”
“Yes. I’d already decided to start tomorrow—if Granny agrees to sit for me.”
He nodded. “Good. Then I’ll have something to remember you by…if you decide you can’t stay.”
I
f you decide you can’t stay.
Mariel thought about Heath’s words over the next few days. Palm Sunday was coming and then one more week. And she still hadn’t decided what to do.
Nothing was going as she’d planned.
She’d planned on having a few weeks’ quiet time here with her grandmother, just to sort through her life and maybe make some decisions. That plan had changed the minute she’d seen Heath standing in the field, surrounded by budding, heaven-scented lilies.
She’d planned on setting some priorities, deciding what she wanted to be when she grew up. That had changed when her grandmother had informed Mariel she wanted to leave the farm in Mariel’s care, starting now. It was an inheritance of sorts, and a tremendous responsibility. Mariel didn’t like being railroaded, and yet Sadie kept insisting she wouldn’t force anything on Mariel. Granny was just offering up some options. And yet, sometimes, Mariel felt like one of the lilies being forced to bloom right on schedule.
“Why are you frowning, dear?” Sadie asked from her spot on a wicker chair. “Do I have a June bug stuck to my face?”
Mariel had to smile. She was painting her grandmother. And she couldn’t decide if she was doing this for herself or for Heath. “Your face looks lovely, Granny. I’m just concentrating.”
“You’ll bring on wrinkles.”
“Was my expression that bad?”
“You looked as if you’d swallowed a pickle, is all.”
Mariel dropped her brush back on the table she’d set up beside her easel. “Maybe we should take a break.”
“I’m fine,” Sadie pointed out. “It’s you I’m worried about. How are things between you and your mother?”
Mariel knew the real question. Was Evelyn coming home for Easter? “I haven’t spoken with her since the other night,” she said, her gaze sweeping over the canvas in front of her. “But I have to admit, she seemed almost…happy.”
“Evelyn, happy?” Sadie smiled, but the sorrow was still in her aged eyes. “I want nothing more before I die, than to see my daughter happy.”
Mariel looked down the lane, making sure they were alone. It was late afternoon and the workers and tourists had left. Heath and Dutch had gone into town for some last-minute supplies, and to make a few special deliveries to some of Sadie’s oldest customers.
Glad for this time with her grandmother, Mariel sighed, then poured them both some lemonade from a thermos Sadie had brought out to the work area. “Is it me, Granny? Do you think Mother is miserable because of me?”
Sadie sipped her lemonade, then stared up at Mariel. “Now why would you think that?”
“Because…well, you know. They got married because of me.”
“They got married because they loved each other.”
“But if she hadn’t been pregnant—”
“She would have run off with your daddy anyway.”
Sadie got up out of the chair, stretched. “Mariel, honey, you can’t keep blaming yourself for your mother’s shortcomings. Take it from one who knows.”
“You blame yourself, too, don’t you?” Mariel asked, already knowing the answer.
“I did, for years. I guess I still do. Evelyn never knew her father—she was so young when he died. She only had me and her brothers. They ignored her for the most part, and I—I lavished her with love. But it wasn’t enough. And it was too much. I smothered her, tried to shape her, force her into something she couldn’t be.”
Just like a greenhouse lily.
“And she rebelled.”
“In so many ways. I had to back away. I regret that we can’t be close, but I’ve prayed that at least she can find a glimmer of the love we once shared.”
Mariel tossed her hair back, then lifted her head to enjoy the fragrance of all the flowers blooming in her grandmother’s gardens. “Granny, why do you think it’s that way with mothers and daughters? Why do we hurt each other?”
Sadie shrugged, pursed her lips. “Maybe so grandmothers can appreciate their granddaughters even more?”
Mariel laughed. “We’d better get back to our task before the sun goes down and I can’t see enough to paint.”
Sadie settled down in the high-backed wicker chair, then smoothed the gathered skirt of her floral dress. “Make me look younger, all right?”
“I’m trying to paint you the way I see you,” Mariel said, her brush stroking across the rough canvas. “It sure feels good to have a brush in my hand again.”
“Don’t know why you ever gave it up,” Sadie retorted.
“Me, either.” Mariel gave the portrait a critical appraisal. “I’m a little rusty.”
“I’m sure it will be nice.”
“Granny, I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Of course you can. I can’t be that hard to capture.”
“No, I don’t mean the painting. I mean, giving up my life in Dallas to move back here. I understand…how you want things…if—”
“If I go to meet my Maker.”
Mariel nodded, refusing to even consider that. “But I just don’t get why you want me to start now.”
Sadie gave her a soft smile. Mariel immediately tried to capture that very smile with her brush. Now if she could just read the thoughts behind the smile. “Granny?”
“Oh, all right. I think you and Heath make a good match.”
Mariel shook her head. “Now, why does that not surprise me? I figured that out from day one. But why are you pushing for me to come back here now?”
Sadie stopped smiling. “I’m being selfish, darling. I get lonely out here. Dutch tries to keep me company, tries to court me, if you get my drift. But…I miss having children around. I miss my family. I just decided I could count on you.”
“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you, Granny?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to force anything on you—that didn’t work with your mother. Let’s just keep praying on it.” Then she winked. “And besides, if you’re not here, Heath can’t court
you,
now can he?”
“Somebody mention courting?”
They looked up to find Dutch and Heath coming up the path.
“We didn’t hear the truck returning,” Sadie said, a becoming blush cresting on her powdered cheeks.
“We parked down by the back nursery,” Heath explained.
Mariel lifted her brows. “Didn’t hear you walking up, either.”
“Too intent on that fancy painting, I ’magine,” Dutch said, his eyes twinkling as he stepped close to survey the work-in-progress. “And it shore is pretty, Sadie Girl.”
“Oh, pooh.” Sadie waved a hand at him, but blushed all over again. “You two get your business taken care of?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Heath replied, his eyes on Mariel. Then in a low voice, he added, “You look so natural, doing that.”
“She’s a born artist,” Sadie proudly announced.
“I think you’re right.” Heath held Mariel’s gaze, his eyes as velvety blue as the irises growing down by the duck pond. “It’s coming along.”
Mariel didn’t miss the hidden meaning in his words. Did he mean the portrait of her grandmother, or the growing relationship between the two of them?
Mariel didn’t get an answer to that question. They heard a car roaring up the drive right in front of the house.
A petite woman wearing a broomskirt skirt, denim jacket and dark sunglasses stepped out of the car.
Mariel squinted against the growing darkness, trying to see who had come for an evening visit. Then the woman removed her sunglasses and turned to face them.
“Evelyn,” Sadie said, a hand coming to her throat.
Mariel searched her grandmother’s stunned face, then turned back to the woman. “She’s right,” she said under her breath to Heath. “It’s my mother.”
They were sitting in the living room, drinking decaf. Mariel had served the low-fat apple pie she’d baked earlier. And now they were stuck in an uncomfortable silence. She, her mother and her grandmother.
Dutch and Heath had disappeared shortly after the awkward introductions and hellos.
“Mom, I’m glad you came,” Mariel said, her gaze sweeping over her mother’s oval face. “It’s just such a surprise.”
“Can’t I surprise you now and then?” her mother asked, one finger playing with a looped gold earring hanging beneath the fringe of her dark red hair. “You did invite me, remember?”
“I know, I know,” Mariel said, nodding. “But you’re early.”
“I can leave if I’ve caused a problem.” Evelyn glanced at Sadie. “Mama, do you want me to leave?”
“Of course not,” Sadie said.
She’d been unusually quiet tonight. And she looked pale. Mariel’s heart ached for her grandmother.
Evelyn crossed her legs, then let one booted foot swing. “I came early because…well…Jeff pulled a stunt that scared me. I needed to get away and think.”
Mariel’s stomach churned. “Did you break up with him?”
Evelyn shook her head. “No, nothing like that.” Then Mariel watched in amazement as tears gathered in her mother’s brown eyes. “The silly man asked me to marry him.”
“Mother, that’s wonderful,” Mariel said, releasing a breath. “So what was your answer?”
“I told him I needed to think about it,” Evelyn replied, sniffing. “I just don’t know.”
“What’s to know?” Sadie said at last. “If he’s a good, decent man, what’s holding you back?”
“Is that all that’s important to you?” Evelyn countered. “That he’s good and decent?”
“It counts in my book, yes,” Sadie replied, her green eyes sparking with a fire of defiance.
Mariel was beginning to see that this feud went two ways. She’d never seen her grandmother act rude to anyone, so it shocked her to watch Sadie clam up and purse her lips as she stole glances at her wayward daughter.
“You deserve someone nice and decent, Mom. I think that’s what Granny’s trying to say.” She shot Sadie a warning look, and got a stern frown in return.
“Well, let me assure you he is both,” Evelyn said, getting up to pace around the room. “Jeffrey Matthews is… He’s different. He encouraged me to start back designing my jewelry, even helped me get up the courage to display some of it in the boutique.” She wrapped her arms against her midsection, stared out into the night. “He even talked me into apologizing to that mean old woman I used to work with at the boutique. And he helped me get a good job at the restaurant.”
“Sounds like a miracle worker to me,” Sadie said, her own arms placed across her chest in a defensive stance.
Evelyn whirled to glare at her mother. “He is good to me, Mama, believe it or not. He says he loves me just the way I am.”
Mariel got up to come and stand beside her mother. “Then why did you…run from him?”
Evelyn glanced up then, her eyes as deep and rich as the earth out in the fields. “What if I mess this up, Mariel? Everyone knows I always mess things up.”
Mariel saw the fear and honesty in her mother’s eyes. “You won’t mess up, Mom. Give it a chance.”
Sadie got up, too. Slowly she made her way to the window. She didn’t reach out to Evelyn. She just stood there. Then finally she spoke. “You came to the right place, Evelyn. If you’re searching for answers, you came to the right place.”
“Did I?” Evelyn asked, her gaze moving from her daughter to her mother. “Do you even want me here?”
“Of course we do. Don’t we, Granny?”
Sadie nodded. “Evelyn, you are welcome here anytime. This is your home.”
Evelyn shrugged, her eyes straight ahead. “Well, then I’m home for Easter—early. I hope everybody can live with that.”
“I think we can,” Mariel replied. “I know we can.”
Sadie turned then, her eyes landing on the necklace Evelyn was wearing. “Did you design that?”
Evelyn touched the chunky beaded necklace and smiled. “Yes, I did. What do you think?”
“Interesting,” Sadie replied. “Why don’t we have some more decaf and you can tell us all about it?”
“All right.” Evelyn followed her mother back to the chairs.
And Mariel glanced out into the lily field and said a prayer of thanks and hope.