Leota's Garden (59 page)

“The place looks better every time I come over, Annie.” He secured another hook and draped more lights.

“I want everything to look wonderful for Christmas. Only a couple feet to go,” Annie said, feeding the string of lights to him.

Corban draped the last of the lights on the last hook and came down the ladder. Annie stood back to admire his work. “Thanks, Corban. It’ll make it so much easier next year with those hooks up. All I’ll have to do is drape the lights.” She gathered up the empty boxes. “Why don’t you go on inside and visit with Grandma while I stash these in the garage. You are staying for soup, aren’t you? It should be ready. Grandma likes to eat early and then have her dessert later.”

“Sure. I’ll see you inside.”

When he came in the front door, Leota greeted him with her lopsided smile while Barnaby squawked, “911! Call 911!”

Corban laughed. “He’s better than a watchdog.” He closed the door and turned the dead bolt. Annie would be coming in the back. Leota motioned with her left hand for him to sit. “You’re looking pretty good, Leota.” He sat down on the sofa, resting in the warmth. Annie had a
fire going and a new screen covering the mouth of the fireplace to keep sparks from flying out onto the rug.

“School?” Leota gave him one of her looks.

“I’m taking an incomplete and starting over on a new project next semester. I don’t know what yet.” He heard Annie come in the back door. “You two seem to be doing well together.” He surveyed the living room. “Annie’s been painting again.” The drab walls now glowed a warm peach in the lamplight. The mantel had been oiled and polished, and everything on it washed and rearranged.

“Corban!” Annie called from the kitchen. “Why don’t you help Grandma into her wheelchair while I set the table? Supper’s ready. All I have to do is warm up the biscuits.”

“Where’s your Christmas tree?” Corban said, wheeling Leota into her spot at the head of the kitchen nook table. From that place, she could look straight out at the garden.

“It’s on the television.” Annie smiled at him as she ladled thick beef soup into bowls.

Corban glanced back. “That puny thing?” It was barely two feet tall with a few ornaments on it.

“It’ll be bigger next year.” She set the bowl down in front of Leota. As Annie straightened, she looked at him. He knew she didn’t want him to say anything more about it.

Maybe it was a matter of money, Corban thought. Leota was living on Social Security, and Annie couldn’t get a job and take care of her grandmother at the same time. He held his silence as Annie placed a bowl of soup in front of him. When she had her own, she sat and took Leota’s hand. She held her other hand out to him. When he took it, she said the blessing. He felt comfortable in the warm kitchen. He noticed Annie had put up lights in the backyard as well.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” she said, buttering Leota’s biscuit.

“No point. My mother’s in Switzerland for the holidays.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Hang around my apartment until registration.” The soup was delicious.

“And eat what on Christmas Day?” Annie stared at him. “A TV dinner?”

“They’re not that bad, but I’ll probably go out to a restaurant. Live it up a little.” His mother had sent him a sizable check to buy a present.

“You sound like you’re really looking forward to it,” Annie said ruefully.

He shrugged. What could he say? There was nothing more depressing than eating alone on Christmas.

Leota made a harrumph. She tapped the table with her pointer finger.

“I agree, Grandma.” She looked at him. “Come and celebrate Christmas with us.” She offered him a small jar of jelly.

Corban almost said he didn’t want to inconvenience them, but who was he kidding? “My pleasure. What can I bring?”

Annie smiled mischievously and winked at her grandmother. “Can we ask for
anything
?”

“As long as I don’t have to cook the turkey.”

“No problem. We’re having honey-baked ham.”

“Then name it.”

“A cruise,” Leota said.

They all laughed, Leota most of all.

“A tree would be cheaper,” Annie said. “About four feet tall, preferably Douglas fir. It’s the best kind because there’s room between the branches for hanging ornaments, and I found some beauties in the garage the other day.”

“A tree it is.” Corban smiled. He was actually looking forward to it.

“There just happens to be a nice lot in front of the supermarket. All the proceeds go to charity.”

Corban grinned. “I’ll go get one right after supper.”

Annie was putting the last strands of tinsel on the tree when Arba and the children came by to drop off presents for her and Grandma Leota. Annie served warm apple cider with cinnamon sticks and Toll House cookies. Since Arba and the children were spending Christmas with relatives across the bay, they all decided to open presents right away.

The children helped Grandma Leota unwrap hers, then announced proudly they had all pitched in to buy the box of soft-center chocolates for Leota and the pretty bottle of bubble bath for Annie. Annie handed
out their gifts, hoping they would like the dough ornaments of biblical people she had baked and painted. For Nile, she’d made Simeon called Niger; for Kenya, the queen of Sheba; and for Tunisha, Candace, queen of Ethiopia. She had talked about them once when Nile had told her a Muslim friend had said Jesus was a white man’s god forced on enslaved blacks.

For Arba, she’d made praying hands in chocolate-colored dough. Annie was delighted to see how the ornaments pleased all four of them. She had wanted to give them something special, something that would last.

“Time to go.” Arba leaned down and took Grandma Leota’s hand. “You have a wonderful Christmas, Leota. You’ll have a few days’ rest before we get back.”

“God bless.” Grandma Leota spoke clearly enough to be understood.

Annie walked out onto the porch as Arba and the children left. Arba paused at the bottom of the steps. “Is your family coming for Christmas?”

“Not this year. Uncle George’s family is spending Christmas in Phoenix with Aunt Jeanne’s parents. They were already committed to it when Grandma had her stroke. But they do plan to come over as soon as they get back. And Mother and Fred . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, Annie.”

“Me, too, but we had Thanksgiving. I’m glad of that. Corban’s coming, though, and Susan called. She and Sam want to come over in the afternoon. We have a lot to be thankful for.” Her smile wobbled. How she had wished the family would come together for Christmas!
Lord, I have prayed so hard for reconciliation.

“Well, you and your granny have a merry Christmas, Annie.”

“You, too, Arba. Drop by when you can.”

“You know I will. The children’ve become very attached to Grandma Leota. How could they not?”

Annie waved as Arba headed for home, then went quietly back into the house. Grandma Leota was asleep in her recliner. Jimmy Stewart was wooing Donna Reed in
It’s a Wonderful Life
. Annie quietly gathered the mugs and the cookie plates and carried them into the kitchen. She washed them and put them away. It was barely eight thirty, and she was so tired. She sat down on the sofa to rest for a few minutes. Leota looked
so peaceful. She didn’t want to wake her yet. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the sofa.

Oh, Lord, there was no room in the inn for Your precious Son, and there doesn’t seem to be any room in my mother’s heart or Uncle George’s life for Grandma Leota. I don’t understand, Lord. I just don’t. It’s so sad. They’re missing all the blessings I’m receiving. She’s such a sweet old soul, and I hurt even thinking about losing her. Oh, God, please help me make this a special Christmas for Grandma. Don’t let another season go by without her knowing how much she’s loved.

Nora couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and she had never felt so alone and depressed.
I hate Christmas. I’ve always hated Christmas. Every year I’m disappointed. When I was a child, it was because I knew I wouldn’t get what I wanted. Now it’s the shopping, fighting the crowds while trying to buy presents that will please everyone, decorating the house, paying good money to have lights strung all over the outside, cooking a big, fancy dinner everyone scarfs down in a matter of minutes. I’m always sick with exhaustion by the time it’s over. And what’s the point of it all?

She stared up into the darkness, listening to Fred snore beside her. She resented how he could fall asleep so easily after an argument, while she lay awake for hours, going over every word a hundred times. Usually, when she was in “one of her moods,” as he called it, Fred could talk her out of it. Not this evening. He’d kept silent until she’d asked him if he cared at all what she was feeling. And his response?

“Why don’t you call Annie? You know you want us all to be together for Christmas.”

“Here! I want her here!”

“Well, that’s not going to happen. It can’t happen.”

“If we go over there, it’ll only encourage her to keep on with this plan of hers, Fred.”

He’d snapped shut the book he had been reading all evening and dropped it on the table as he rose. “How you can know so little about your own daughter is beyond me, Nora. She’s committed to taking care of your mother. Nothing you do or say is going to change anything. And that’s what really gets to you, isn’t it? You’re no longer in control.”

“She’s throwing her life away.”

“How many years do you think your mother has left? She’s not going to live forever.”

“She’ll probably live to be a hundred.”

“You’d better hope she does.” And with that cryptic comment, Fred had gone up to bed.

Now she was tossing and turning and sleepless. Nora felt the tears running down into her hair. How many had she cried over the years, starting when her mother left her to go to work?

God, I can’t go on this way. Sometimes I wish I were dead. Nothing ever works out the way I want it. I called Michael this morning, and he couldn’t wait to get off the telephone.
She was his mother, and he didn’t even care about her.

How have you treated your mother?

Nora clenched her teeth.
She abandoned me first. Michael is just like his father, Bryan.

The silence pressed in upon her. The darkness was oppressive. Shivering, she curled on her side, tucking herself against Fred, hoping his warmth would warm her.

I loved Dean Gardner. I loved him so much I thought I’d die when he left me for that other woman—what was her name? Dominique. I kept hoping he would tire of her and come back to me. Well, he did tire of her, but then he met Phyllis and then Penny. I’ve lost count of the women he’s had over the years. What’s the name of his new paramour? Monica.
She fought the tears pricking at her eyes.
God, I gave Dean all the love I had, and it wasn’t enough to hold him. He was faithless.
And now Anne-Lynn was proving to be just like her father. She’d forsaken Nora just the way Dean Gardner had.

You
have forsaken
her
!

I haven’t.
Her mouth trembled.
She’ll probably marry that hoodlum, Sam Carter, and be miserable for the rest of her life.

And if that’s My plan for her, what is that to you?

Tears burned hotter as she thought about Susan and Susan’s mother and father. Now that their children were grown, they never had to call and ask them to come home. Their house was always full. All through the teen years, Anne-Lynn had wanted to be at the Carters’ house every chance she got. Nora used to think it was because of Sam and his
Rebel without a Cause
magnetism, but even after Sam was put into juvenile hall, Anne-Lynn kept going. She had loved being with the Carters.

Every time Anne-Lynn asked to spend the night at Susan’s, it hurt me. I felt as though she were defecting. I wanted her to love being at home with me, but she was like a bird trapped in my hands. The harder I held on, the harder she fought to be free.

And now she was free. She was free. And she was never coming back.