Leota's Garden (45 page)

“‘Crucify Him!’ they all shouted.” Annie’s raised voice made Leota start. “The disciples ran away in fear for their lives. The Jewish leaders were afraid of losing their positions of power in the church. The Jewish people were angry because Jesus wasn’t the warrior Messiah they wanted. The Romans were afraid they would lose control of the world they had conquered. They wanted to keep peace at any price, even if it meant killing an innocent man. Everyone took part. Even you and me, though we weren’t there. We sin just as they all sinned. Satan must have thought he had won the battle when Jesus died on the cross that day. He must’ve celebrated when they took Jesus’ body down and took Him away to be buried. Jesus was a young man, only thirty-three, and He didn’t have a tomb prepared for Him. They had to lay the only begotten Son of God in a borrowed tomb. And those who had loved Him lost all hope. They hid themselves away and wept. Oh, how Satan must have danced at Jesus’ grave.”

Leota closed her eyes against sudden tears.
Is that what’s happened to me, Lord? Have I lost hope? Have I lost sight of who You are? Was I beguiled away from believing that You love me and all Your promises remain? I have felt so abandoned, but did that mean I was? I look at Annie now and know You heard every prayer I ever said. Not that You answered many. At least, not where Eleanor is concerned. Then again, I suppose she has something to say about how she lives her life.

Lord, why did You curse us with free will? Why didn’t You strike down Adam and Eve and start over with another perfect pair? Or would it have ended the same way yet again? We always seem to make wrong choices, then have to live with the misery of them. I tried to do what was right. Oh, God, I did. You know how hard I tried. Was I wrong? If I was right, why can’t my children see it? And if I was wrong, why can’t I?

The old clock on the mantel chimed once. Eight thirty. Annie was acting out a lament, her voice filled with all the desolation of an old prophet: “When, oh Lord, when will You send us a Savior?”

Leota’s heart echoed the cry.
I know You are the Savior, Lord. But, oh, Father, the enemy is so strong. He chips away at my armor, looking for chinks, for just enough space for a fiery dart to slip through and send me crashing down again into the pit of despair. He tore my family asunder before I was aware, and by the time I was, their hearts were so hardened I couldn’t reach them.
Maybe if she’d fought harder and longer, but she was hurt and angry and withdrew, like a dog licking its wounds. Just like the disciples before God breathed the Holy Spirit on them.
Oh, God, that You would give me the confidence to speak truth! Maybe if they knew the whys and wherefores of my choices, they might have compassion. Eleanor is caught in a web of lies. And I’m sick of it, sick unto death of the recriminations. It was Bernard’s story to tell, but he was too ashamed to speak. Or was it pride that kept him silent, Lord? Is that what binds us tighter than chains? Cursed pride. My own most of all.

“Jesus arose!” Annie’s voice was infused with joyful excitement, and the children clapped. “Death could not hold Him in the grave. Satan and all his demons could not destroy Him. He arose! And He is still alive to this very day! Anyone who believes in Jesus will never perish, but have everlasting life with Him. Those who believe will shed their bodies and join Him in paradise.”

Death, the grand adventure. Easy for the young to think that when the years stretched out ahead of them. The young felt they had all the time in the world. They felt immortal. Leota turned her face away. Death drew closer each day. She could feel it approaching. Sometimes she was so afraid, her heart would pound. Other times, she felt perfectly at peace with it. Not that there was much she could do to stop its arrival. The unknown was so disturbing; it was all well and good to know the promises, but the uncertainty remained. What would it be like to die?

It reminded Leota of being pregnant with George. She knew the inevitable end: she would have a baby. There was no escaping. She was on a train going full speed ahead. Waiting and wondering about the
destination had frightened her. Bernard had reminded her of how many millions of babies had been born before theirs was conceived. What good was that sort of comfort?
She
had never had a baby. Would she suffer terribly and scream and cry and make a complete fool of herself? Would she die?

And so it was now in her old age, with time speeding on. Maybe she would go to sleep in her bed one night and wake up somewhere else come morning. Wouldn’t that be nice? To die in her sleep, unaware of what was happening.

Yet she knew that kind of death wasn’t for her. She sensed it. Was it the increasing pain that warned her death wasn’t going to be so easy? Or was it the result of all the wasted years of waiting and hoping? She had the feeling God was going to make her face the grim reaper head-on.

She let her mind drift back to the day when George was placed in her arms. Oh, how her breasts had hurt those first weeks he had nursed and she had bonded with him. The mere sound of his cry would bring her milk in. She would hold him close and gaze at him as his small mouth worked, drawing his nourishment from her body. And it had been the same with Eleanor. How Leota had loved dressing her daughter up and showing her off to the world. Before Bernard went off to war, they’d bring the children into bed with them in the morning. Oh, how they’d all played and laughed, snuggling close together.

Papa needs your help,
Bernard had written. Would she have done differently if she had known how four words could change her life forever?

I wanted to do the right thing, Lord. I went in with rosy glasses, thinking we would all work together for the common good.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

The voice was as clear as the day Leota had heard it. It was Eleanor crying out, struggling in Mama Reinhardt’s arms. Her little arms stretched out to Leota, her eyes wide with fear. Mama Reinhardt had held little Eleanor firmly, glaring. She said something in German. Leota never knew what the words meant, but it had been enough to see the look in her mother-in-law’s eyes and be held to silence for the sake of Papa’s pride.

“I’ll be back this evening, Eleanor. Grandma Reinhardt will take good care of you.”
Eleanor’s cries still rang in her ears.

“Mommy!”

Anguish had filled her until she thought the weight would crush her heart. She had wept all the way to work that morning—and every morning after that for the first month.

“Grandma?” Gentle fingers brushed her hair. Leota opened her eyes. The lamp was on. The room was empty.

Leota shifted in her chair. “The children are gone.”
Oh, God, I’ve lost them. I lost them years ago, but it feels like yesterday.

“Yes. They left about an hour ago. They’ll be by tomorrow to say thank you. I think the evening was successful. Don’t you, Grandma?”

Tears blurred her vision. “I missed it all.”
I missed all the important things in their lives because I had to work. I had to keep a roof over our heads and bread on the table. I missed going to my children’s school plays and baseball games and parents’ nights. I didn’t get to chaperone dances or sit in the auditorium for the band performances or stand on the street corner and watch them in the parades. I didn’t get to watch them grow up. Oh, Father, I missed everything.

You sacrificed out of love for them.

Annie knelt beside her chair and took her hand. “Are you feeling all right, Grandma?”

“I miss the children,” she said in a choked voice.

“They’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I miss them so . . .”

Annie looked so worried. Leota was annoyed with herself. She must sound like a demented old woman. Better to keep silent than concern her sweet granddaughter with things the dear girl couldn’t change. Better to push the pain down deep inside again and try to keep it where it wouldn’t show. Who wanted to be around someone who moaned and grieved over the past? Yet the anguish was so close beneath the surface. And she had so little time left.

Time enough to be alone again. Time enough to be abandoned one last time.

With a shuddering sigh, she sat up. “Well, now that I’ve had my nap, I guess I’d better transfer my old bones to bed.” She brought the recliner fully upright and allowed Annie to help her stand. “I’ll be fine now, dear. I can manage. I’ll see you in the morning.” She leaned heavily on the cane Annie had given her, trying not to wince as she walked slowly toward the hallway to the bathroom and her bedroom.

“Grandma?” Annie came to her. She put her arms around Leota and held her close for a long moment. When she drew back, there were tears in her eyes. “I love you, Grandma. You know that, don’t you? I love you very, very much.”

Oh, the sweet balm of those words. Grateful, Leota cupped Annie’s cheek and looked into her eyes for a long moment. Blue eyes, beautiful, baby-blue eyes, just like Eleanor’s. “I love you, too, my darling.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Leota knew what she meant. “God sent you to me at just the right time.” She kissed her cheek.

“Everything will work out, Grandma. I know it. God won’t let us down.”

“No, He won’t.” Leota wanted to give back the same comfort Annie was trying to give her. Annie needed to know her words had made her feel better and that her grandmother’s faith was strong enough to withstand anything, whatever was to come. Leota did believe God wouldn’t let her down. For the time it took her to use the bathroom, change her clothes, and slip into her bed, she held tight to that promise. Then the darkness closed in, and the doubts danced on her heart, and the old sorrows welled up as she faced the truth.

God never lets you down.

But people do.

Corban entered the apartment, wondering why all the lights were out. Where was Ruth? She was always home by this time of the evening. He flicked the switch and crossed the room, putting his book bag beside his computer. He had a lot of reading to do if he was going to catch up. He had become so focused on reworking his paper on elder care that he was behind in philosophy. He’d have to work harder and stay up later for the next week to get back on track.

He thought he heard a cat mewling softly and realized the muffled sound was coming from the bedroom. Frowning, he went to the doorway and peered in. The light from the living room shone in enough to show him someone was in bed. “Ruth?” He clicked the lamp on.

“Turn off the light!” Her voice was filled with tears. “Turn it off . . .”

He did as she asked. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” He came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed they shared. When he touched her leg, she drew both up close against her chest, weeping harder. “Ruth? What’s happened?” Fear gripped him. “Is it the baby?”

“There is no baby,” she choked.

His stomach tightened until he hurt. “Did you . . . have a miscarriage?” he said slowly, his heart pounding.

She pulled the blankets closer around her. “I told you I couldn’t have it, Cory. I told you, but you wouldn’t listen to reason.”

He stood slowly and stepped back from the bed.

She began to sob. “They lied to me. They said it wouldn’t hurt. It hurt so much I passed out. When I came to, I was in a room with six other women. I asked for something for the pain, but the woman said it would cost another fifty bucks. Can you believe anyone could be that insensitive?”

Emotions surged up inside him, hot, violent. He had to get out of the room. He had to get away from her. He went out into the living room and stood with his eyes tightly shut. He wanted to smash something. He could hear Ruth. No quiet weeping anymore, but loud, choking, anguished sobs. For whom? The child she had killed?
His
child? Or for herself because it wasn’t as easy as she wanted it to be?

“Cory, I need you.”

Grabbing his jacket, he went out the door, slamming it behind him. He walked down the block, passing the corner coffee shop where he liked to sit with friends. Someone called his name, but he kept walking. He didn’t care which direction he went. He wanted to run. He wanted to get as far away from Ruth Coldwell as he could.

He found himself on the campus. He kept walking, passing by buildings where he had taken classes over the past three years. He saw the stadium and went around it, continuing upward until he found himself on Tightwad Hill, where people who wouldn’t pay the price of admission sat to watch university football games.

Body-weary and spirit-spent, Corban paused, staring out over Berkeley and across the bay to San Francisco. The lights were beautiful. Everything looked crisp and clean up here. Nevertheless, he felt tears gathering in the backs of his eyes, his throat closing tight and hot.

Annie lived over there somewhere. He wished he could call and talk to her. He wished he could ask her what he should do now. He’d get
arrested and hauled off to jail if he did what he wanted. He hunkered down and raked his hands through his hair. Why had Ruth done it? He had told her he would take care of her. He told her they could work things out. Weaving his fingers tightly at the back of his neck, he kept his head down and his eyes closed.