Leota's Garden (67 page)

She could hardly move because of the medication already given her. She raised her hand, but the technician only smiled. “I understand,” he said. “It’ll all be over soon. You won’t suffer anymore.”

Oh, God, he doesn’t understand me. He doesn’t know what he’s doing! I’m not alive for my benefit. I’m alive for the sake of my children. Oh, Jesus, open his eyes! Show him! Make him understand. Oh, Jesus, stop him from doing this terrible thing! I want to live. I want to see my daughter in the morning. I need time, just a little more time.

Her mind was in torment, her heart in terror.

What will happen to Eleanor when she comes? What about George? Will he withdraw more and more until he’s just like Bernard? Oh, Lord, my sweet Annie. Will she think I gave up? Oh, Father in heaven . . .

She could feel the coldness of death approaching, darkness closing in around her.

“It won’t be long now, Leota,” the man said. “Shhh . . . don’t struggle.” He put his hand over her mouth. “Relax and let it happen.”

Hang on! Hang on!

She tried to claw at his hand but hadn’t the strength to break free.

Hang on . . .

But she couldn’t. Her mind and will were not sufficient to overcome what he had done. He lifted his hand, took hers briefly and squeezed it. “It’ll be over soon,” he said as though he were doing her a favor. He frowned as she looked up at him. “It’s better this way, better for everyone.”

Oh, this poor deluded boy. He doesn’t look much older than Corban.
She watched him turn away and quietly leave the room.
He must think he’s done something good. Oh, Lord, forgive him. He doesn’t know what he’s done.

She thought of what Bernard had found in Germany all those years ago. This boy thought she had no quality of life. He thought her life wasn’t worth living anymore. She had no purpose, no value.
Is this mercy, Lord? Is it?

Her heart broke.

Oh, Lord, Lord, I waited so long to be reconciled. I prayed a million prayers. And tomorrow might have been the day of salvation for Eleanor. Oh, my sweet, beloved baby girl might have returned to me. Oh, Jesus, how I’ve longed for such a day . . .

It’s time, beloved.

Light, warmth. The Presence of love was with her, raising her from the husk of her body and wiping her tears away.
I have counted every one and kept them in a bottle.
The Voice was within and without and all around.
Come, beloved. See what I have prepared for you.
She vibrated to the sound of love, like a harp played by the master.

Still, a part of her resisted.
What of my children, Lord? I love them so. What will become of my children?

If they seek Me, they will find Me.
He held His arms wide.
Trust Me, beloved.

And with a sigh of surrender, Leota Reinhardt went home.

The telephone rang as Nora was finishing the last touches of her makeup before she and Fred headed back to the hospital. Everything froze inside her at the sound. Fred answered on the second ring. She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her heart was drumming. Dropping the mascara, she hurried out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Who would call at six thirty in the morning? Only Annie. Or George.

She came into the family room and saw Fred standing with his back to her. He was talking softly. He put the telephone receiver down slowly and turned toward her.

“Annie?” It was all she could manage. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought she’d pass out.

He nodded. He didn’t have to say anything. The reason for Annie’s call was written all over his face. “I’m sorry, Nora. I’m so sorry.”

“We should’ve gone back last night. I should’ve told you to turn around!”

“You had no way of knowing.”

Hadn’t she?
Oh, God, why didn’t I listen to You?

Her mother was gone.

Chapter 24

Annie received a call from Charles Rooks the morning her grandmother’s short obituary ran in the
Oakland Tribune
. “I have Leota Reinhardt’s will as well as some documents she was having me hold for her children. I’d like to hand-deliver these. Could you contact Eleanor Gaines and George Reinhardt so we could all meet at my office? I’m located near Lake Merritt.” He gave her the address and telephone number and asked if it would be convenient for them to meet the following afternoon.

“I’m sure they’ll be able to meet with you, Mr. Rooks,” Annie said. “I’ll call and let them know.”

“I need to speak with you as well, Miss Gardner.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I can’t meet with the others without having you present.”

Surprised and confused, she agreed to attend.

“There was no mention of a funeral service in the paper,” Mr. Rooks said over the telephone. “If it hasn’t already been held, I’d like to attend. Would that be all right with you and the family?”

Annie closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry again. “There wasn’t a service, Mr. Rooks.”

Uncle George had said there was no point in going to such expense when Grandma Leota hadn’t attended church for years. When Annie had argued that she had taken her grandmother numerous times over the past months, he said, “Has anyone called to ask about her?”

“Arba comes by frequently.”

“She’s a neighbor. She can pay her respects at the house.”

He was adamant. Why would anyone care to attend a service for an old lady they didn’t know and who hadn’t been part of their congregation for more than a few months? Had she given lots of money? No. Then no one would bother. Nothing could dissuade him.

It was Jeanne who told Annie later that she didn’t think her husband could get through a funeral service. Jeanne said he’d only been to one and swore after seeing his friend in the casket that he would never attend another funeral as long as he lived.

“No service at all?” Charles Rooks said.

“Not a formal service. Some of us gathered here at her home and had our own memorial for Grandma yesterday.” Arba Wilson and her three children, Mother and Fred, and George and Jeanne and their children had been there. No one had said very much. Annie hadn’t had time enough to prepare anything in the way of pictures or mementos. Not that her mother or George would have wanted to view them.

Her mother had seemed beyond tears in her grief. Annie wondered what would happen to her mother now. She wasn’t angry anymore—the resentment had been exorcised. Instead, her mother was consumed by guilt and shame for all the wasted years. And for not listening to whatever it was that had told her to turn around and go back and see Grandma Leota the night she died.

“I lost my chance,” she’d said. “I’ll never be able to tell her . . .”

If only Grandma Leota had been able to hang on to life a little longer! One day would’ve made so much difference. The doctor said he was certain she had passed away peacefully. Annie was grateful for that. She imagined her grandmother closing her eyes, going to sleep, and then waking up with the Lord. Oh, if only Grandma had been at home.

“I’d like to send flowers, Miss Gardner.” Charles Rooks’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Where is her resting place?”

“That decision hasn’t been made yet, Mr. Rooks. Grandma Leota
told me she wanted to be cremated.” Annie would pick up the ashes when the funeral home director called her.

“Oh.”

She knew decisions would have to be made, but she didn’t feel comfortable discussing them with Charles Rooks. She didn’t know anything about him, other than the fact that he was an attorney who had handled her grandmother’s will. She wished she could discuss things openly with her mother and uncle. Her mother had cried when Annie received the call that she needed to sign the papers for her grandmother’s cremation. Her uncle said he had no idea where to have her buried. After all, what did it matter?

Annie met her mother, Fred, and Uncle George in the lobby of the office building where Charles Rooks practiced law. Her mother looked pale and wan; George looked calm. “I’ve contacted a real estate firm about Mother’s house,” he said on the elevator ride up. That seemed to bring life back to Annie’s mother.

“What about Anne-Lynn?”

“I assumed she’d want to move back in with her friend and go back to art school,” he said defensively, glancing at Annie. “Or move back home. Isn’t that what you were hoping would happen, Nora?”

Annie looked away. The surge of anger that rose inside her was far from godly. She knew she had no right to judge anyone, but her heart cried out against them.

“We don’t have to discuss this now, George.”

“There’s no reason to get so upset, Eleanor.” George looked at her disdainfully. “I doubt the house will sell that fast. Annie can stay for however many weeks or months it takes to unload the place. In fact, that would be convenient. Someone will have to maintain the place until we find a buyer. Annie could go on living there rent free. Of course, if you want to keep the house, Nora, we can have it assessed and you can pay me for my half.”

Annie pressed her lips together and fought tears. She didn’t want any of them to see the effect Uncle George’s words had on her. How could he talk this way?
Unload the place.
What a terrible way to speak
about Grandma Leota’s home. All the years of memories bound in that wonderful little house. And the garden! Grandma’s refuge. She had said once that she met there daily with the Lord. Annie could imagine how much it would hurt Grandma Leota to know her son had no sentiments about her or her property. He couldn’t wait to sell it and collect whatever money it would bring. Money! Bloody lucre! That’s all he seemed to care about.

That can’t be true. Oh, Lord, that can’t be true.

“I don’t want to discuss this right now.” Her mother was angry, her voice cracking.

“It’d be easier on everyone if we made these decisions as soon as possible.”

Uncle George couldn’t wait to get on with his life. Was that it? He wanted to avoid the grief, the guilt, the emptiness he must now feel with no chance of ever working things out with his mother?

“The least we could do is wait until we find a decent resting place for her!” Annie’s mother said.

“She should be next to Papa, don’t you think?”

“Fine, George. Do
you
remember where Papa is buried?”

“I was in Vietnam—”

“And I was in the midst of a divorce!”

The elevator doors opened and Annie stepped out. Seeing a drinking fountain, she headed for it. She leaned down, wishing she could cool her face in the cold water. How could they go on like this so soon after Grandma had passed away? Uncle George reminded her of a carrion crow, picking at Grandma’s remains. And Mother. What would happen to her mother’s life now that she had no chance to ask for forgiveness?

Oh, Grandma. If only you’d lived another day, another week, another month, another year. I love you so much. I miss you. There were so many things you still had to teach me. So many wonderful stories to tell. I wanted more time. Oh, God, why didn’t You let me have more time with her?