Authors: Sally John
Helena chuckled. “Oh, don’t go making faces at each other like I’ve lost my marbles. I know she’s passed on, but she could very well be able to see you if the good Lord wants her to.”
A wave of warmth flowed through Sheridan. “I know a priest who talks like that, about the departed saints joining us at the Eucharist.”
“Yes, exactly, my dear.”
Calissa’s pained expression deepened. “Sounds a little weird to me.”
“Mystery always does.” Helena’s green eyes sparkled. “I am so glad that you’ve come at last. Now, where shall we begin?”
“Did you expect us?” Calissa asked.
“Oh yes, for years. Ysabel said, ‘When they come, tell them everything.’”
Sheridan exchanged another surprised glance with Calissa. “She knew we’d find you?”
“Daughters can always find their mother’s best friend. I think it’s another mystery.”
“But,” Calissa said, “we never knew you. I remember seeing you at the museum once in a while. I thought Mamá’s best friend was the neighbor.”
“Lorraine ‘Snoot’ Boots?”
Calissa laughed. “How did you know?”
“Dears, your mother confided in me about many things. Her neighbor Lorraine was snooty, but then it was difficult not to be so in that neighborhood where you lived. Life was all about keeping up with the Joneses. You can’t do that for long and not lose the essence of yourself.”
Sheridan said, “Why didn’t we know you, Helena? I even saw you at the museum when I worked on campus, but we never really spoke.”
“Well, that’s all part of the story. Now, ladies, it is not my intent to disparage your father. But the man frightened me for years. Even after your mother’s death, I never dared approach his daughters.”
“What did he do to make you feel that way?”
“He did not approve of Ysabel’s activities through the association. That included me. He made that very plain, to my face one time in your kitchen. I was not welcome under any circumstances in your home ever again. He told me I would deeply regret contacting his wife. He was a powerful man, perfectly capable of wreaking havoc in my world. I truly feared he would somehow hurt my family.”
“Did you stop seeing our mother?”
“She continued working with the association. Naturally our paths crossed there, but we minimized our personal outings to coffee now and then in out-of-the-way places. It was nothing like before, and that hurt. I missed her tremendously, and I think she felt the same.”
“When did all this happen?”
“You girls were quite small. Sheridan was just a toddler—two years old, three at the most. So, Calissa, you would have been around nine.”
“Why was he so against your friendship?”
“My husband—how do they say it?—screwed him over. That was ages ago. Gil didn’t do it intentionally, of course. It was a business deal that went crosswise. Harrison lost money in the deal.”
“Gil Van Auken?” Calissa sounded surprised. “That’s who you are? I mean, his wife?”
“Widow now.” Helena smiled. “God blessed us financially quite a bit.”
“‘Quite a bit’?” Calissa turned to Sheridan. “Real estate. As in skyscrapers.”
Helena chuckled. “Oh, Gil was a smart man.”
“If I may ask, why do you live here in this neighborhood? I imagine you could afford otherwise?”
“Perhaps financially, but not personally. It just wouldn’t be ‘me.’ About thirty years ago, Gil and I finally did what Ysabel wanted to do. We left a north suburb, an opulent house and lifestyle, and moved to a poor area in the city. This will sound like we smoked a funny pipe, but the truth is we wanted to emulate what Jane Addams and her friends did. We wanted to live in a seedy, indigent neighborhood and serve. Unfortunately Gil passed on only two years after we moved. The stress of business had already taken such a toll on his poor heart.” She set her glass on the end table. “Tell me about Harrison.”
“He had a stroke and isn’t expected to live much longer,” Calissa answered.
“Then you found the papers while he was still alive.”
“The papers! You know about the papers?”
“Yes, of course. Ysabel showed them to me, and then she hid them. At least she told me she planned to bury them deeply in the attic. She always sensed that he would outlive her. You know how she battled respiratory problems. So she said to me, ‘After he’s dead, the girls will find the papers and then they will find you. Tell them everything you know.’”
“I found them.” Calissa’s voice cracked. “I confronted him and he couldn’t say a word. He just had a stroke right then and there. Collapsed in a heap.”
“Oh, my dear.” Helena moved quickly to sit on the couch between them. “It’s not your fault.” She pulled Calissa to herself and reached over to grasp Sheridan’s hand.
Calissa sobbed.
At the uncharacteristic sound from her strong, independent sister and the feel of her mother’s friend’s hand in hers, Sheridan began to cry.
* * *
Tears dried, iced teas and cookies replenished, they returned to their seats. Helena began to tell them about their mother.
“I loved her dearly. She was quite a bit younger, but we were both new mothers when we met. New mothers in dire need of a break from mommy duty. This was before you were born, Sheridan. Calissa was a tyke. I imagine what solidified our friendship right off the bat was that instead of shopping or planning galas like most of our peers, we were either serving at a soup kitchen or teaching English to adults at some community center. And don’t you two make fun of that. Her language skills were excellent.”
Overcome with the realization that Helena represented a direct personal link to her mother, Sheridan melted into the cushy sofa, her head against a doily. “Seeing” her mother through this woman’s eyes slathered a balm on a hurting spot that had never been touched, the one she had tried to soothe by exploring the streets of Caracas.
“What do you girls remember about her history?”
“She grew up in dire poverty,” Calissa said, “in a remote, rural area in Venezuela. Her father was a farmer. He and her mother died before she was twelve. She had no other family and eventually moved to the capital city and found work in a restaurant—” she glanced at Sheridan—“bar, or something, where she met our father.”
“I’ll fill in the gaps because she asked me to. I’m afraid it’s not a pretty picture.”
“I think we suspected that.”
Sheridan gave Calissa a half nod, glad to hear her sister admit the truth.
“Yes.” Helena smiled sadly. “She was so ashamed, but she never made excuses for her choices. She would have told you herself, when the time was right. To begin, you know she was a godly woman.”
They nodded.
“Harrison accused her of trying to win God’s favor by volunteering herself to the whole world except him. But that wasn’t it at all. Ysabel was filled to the brim with God’s love and forgiveness. She knew no one can earn that gift. She worked to help others because of her love for Him. If she’d been a nun without a husband and children, we would be talking about Mother Ysabel today like we do about Mother Teresa.”
Calissa leaned forward. “But she did have a husband and children, and she was gone all the time.”
Helena studied her for a moment. “Is that what you remember, or is that what Harrison told you?”
Calissa bristled.
“Dear, you had twenty years with her. Is that what life was like? Was she not there when you got home from school? Did she miss your dance or piano recitals? In an average week, how many meals were takeout? Did she not help you move into the dorm, going all the way to Stanford with you?”
Sheridan figured the answers were negative, but she was younger. She only recalled her mother always being around. If Ysabel did volunteer while Sheridan was not in school, Sheridan went with her.
Calissa shook her head sharply. “It was what they always argued about—that she was gone too much. He wanted us to spend more time with him in Washington.”
“I appreciate your seeing things with your own perspective. Yes, he wanted that. She disliked uprooting you. When it came to you girls, she knew how to hold her own.” Helena sighed. “Ysabel was born, as you said, in a remote area. Her parents were both sickly and died early. Diamond mines were located there. Smuggling was a common thing in their border town. It provided a way for your mother to support herself. There were always men around.” Helena paused. “She became a prostitute. She was fourteen.”
Calissa inhaled sharply.
Sheridan felt like she’d been punched. Although she had considered the possibility, hearing it stated aloud as fact wrenched her emotions. How she ached for her mother! Fourteen? She never imagined.
Helena went on. “She moved to the city, where so-called businessmen arranged for her to go and work. It was what we might call a gentlemen’s club geared toward foreigners. Her employers would target certain vulnerable men. Many were foreign government employees who traveled back home without the hassle of customs inspections. The ‘ladies of the evening’ would lead them into compromising situations that paved the way for blackmailing them into smuggling. In the early days, it was all sorts of contraband. Later they specialized in diamonds.
“Harrison Cole heard rumors about what went on at this place. When he first went there, he was a brand-new representative, but he knew what was up. The opportunity to make money by carrying diamonds back home appealed to his greed, his sense of adventure. He signed on. An odd thing happened, though: he fell in love with Ysabel.”
“In love?” The words burst from Sheridan. “In love? No way. I can’t see that.”
“See what, dear? That he was capable of loving?” Helena nodded. “He was a horse’s behind, meaner than a bear, wilier than a fox. But he recognized beauty when he saw it. And I don’t mean just physical beauty. Your mother carried a light inside of her that could not be extinguished. Keep in mind, Harrison wears many faces. Obviously people respect him; they keep voting him into office. Along life’s path he lost contact with the conscience the good Lord gave him.”
“Did Mamá love him?” Calissa said.
“She said she did. I think she wanted to see herself as being a faithful wife because in a very real sense, he saved her life by removing her from that situation. She was only eighteen when they met. Barely nineteen when he scooped her off to the States. Of course she would be indebted to him forever. Perhaps it grew into some sort of love and respect on her part.”
Déjà vu pricked Sheridan. Forever indebted for being saved? It described her relationship with Luke.
“It wasn’t a simple love story, however,” Helena said. “Her employers did not like losing a beauty like Ysabel. Harrison had to buy her freedom. Stuffing his pockets with diamonds now and then wasn’t going to be enough. He agreed to recruit others. And most significantly, he agreed to use his political career to help keep them in business. He promised to weigh in on national dialogue, apply pressure to slant things in any way possible in their favor.”
“Like . . .” Calissa frowned. “Like promoting policy that doesn’t pressure certain gem-producing countries to follow trade rules.”
“Yes,” Helena whispered.
Calissa kneaded her forehead.
Helena cleared her throat. “Politics is complex. He influenced, but he certainly wasn’t powerful enough to make policy all by himself. The bad guys in Venezuela who could have ruined him were taken care of. Life went on. You were born, Calissa, within the first year of their marriage.”
Calissa lowered her hand and looked at Helena. “You tell us our mother was a prostitute, and now you’re sugarcoating?”
“It’s the Puritan in me. Creeps in once in a while.”
Calissa gave her a half smile. “Helena, I did the math when I was eight. I was born five months after they married.”
“Right. Well. The pregnancy wasn’t the reason he married her. He wasn’t exactly a moral man. Which is why I believe he did love her.” Two bright red spots flushed her cheeks. “Most of this Ysabel did not share until we had known each other for years. She carried around that burden of what Harrison was doing all by herself for a long time. Naturally she feared what might happen if she told the truth. It wasn’t just that it would destroy his career. She understood firsthand the ruthlessness of the people he worked for.”
“How awful,” Calissa said.
Helena nodded. “I am sorry, girls. There is one happy ending, however. That’s you two. She gave birth to two wonderful women who have made an incredible impact for good in this world.”
Sheridan’s earlier cozy feeling diminished. The happy ending wasn’t the end. “About those papers . . .”
Helena visibly tensed.
“Did Mamá make the copies and hide them?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Why?”
“Oh, my.” The old woman sighed and stood. “This may take a while. I’ll get us some more tea.”
Luke came immediately.
Sheridan knew he would.
Like a newborn foal, she had left Topala on wobbly legs. With every step since, she had gained strength and stamina. But that afternoon, an old woman’s tales undermined her progress. Once again she was struggling to get on her feet, slipping and sliding and calling Luke.
She and Calissa had left Helena’s apartment a short while before, their hearts too full of sadness for Ysabel and Harrison and their own pathetic childhoods. Helena had given them more details about their parents, many more than Sheridan could carry by herself.
She spotted Luke down the hospital corridor, weaving his way between others. Sight of his familiar, confident strides propelled her out of her seat.
He caught her in his arms and, without a word, held her close.
Face against his wool sport coat, she hid herself from the world and soaked in his presence, in the very “is-ness” of Luke Traynor. Tears she had kept at bay since leaving Helena Van Auken’s apartment flowed.
She despised herself for calling him and saying, “I can’t do this; I just can’t do this.” She despised Luke for rushing to her side and intuiting how to meet her needs.
“Like it’s his fault,” she muttered.
He leaned back to look at her. “Who?”
His guard was down; she could see that. The proof was in his eyes. They weren’t all gray, the color of his anger. Neither were they the prevailing gray-green, all charming but impersonal. Instead, green shone, the color of his true self, the one with a heart.