Winter in Full Bloom (32 page)

Mother rose from her chair and hovered over Camille. Then she burst into tears again.

Julie came into the room, witnessed the amazing spectacle of her grandmother’s tears, and eased over to the other side of the bed as if walking on a fragile sheet of glass.

A nurse stopped in, witnessed the scene, and quietly backed out of the room.

Mother didn’t seem embarrassed by her tears. She didn’t stop or even try to justify her display of emotions. She took hold of Camille’s hand and brought it to her cheek.

Julie and I drew closer and held hands by the bed. Then when Camille pulled the oxygen tubes from her nose and broke down in tears, it seemed to open the floodgates of our emotions as well. The rain continued to fall outside, coming down more heavily and looking very much like tears as it ran down the windows. Maybe all of heaven was weeping with us.

We all cried softly around the bed, and in those precious moments, healing came to our family. In the midst of our loss God had come near—a divine moment had arrived. I embraced it and took a mental snapshot of the scene, so that I could bring it back whenever I needed to see it again, to be encouraged by our miracle.

And I prayed for my mother, that devils would no longer lurk in the shadows of her soul.

After a while the tears subsided.

Mother sat down in her chair next to Camille but didn’t let go of her hand.

Julie went over and gave her grandmother a hug. This time Mother hugged her back. Then Julie whispered to me over Mother’s shoulder, “Marcus is here.”

“Marcus? Where is he?”

Julie released Mother and circled her arm through mine. “He didn’t want to interfere with our family time, so he went to the chapel.”

Oh, the enduring kindness of Marcus Averill. “Thanks, Julie.” Camille had drifted back to sleep, so I turned to Mother.

Before I could even ask, she said, “Go to Marcus. It’ll be a good break for you.”

“But what about you?”

Mother looked at me, really studied me as if seeing me in a new light. “I want to stay with Camille for as long as she will let me.”

I nodded, understanding her. “Okay.”

Julie sat in the recliner where I’d been resting, pulled out her phone, and began texting someone. Then she stopped, stared at her grandmother, and put away her phone. She too must have realized what a profound family moment we were in the middle of—something not to be taken lightly, not to be missed.

I left Camille’s room, passed the nurses’ station, and then found the elevator. When I made it to the first floor I saw the chapel sign and took a long corridor to an arched door. The sanctuary was empty, except for Marcus, who sat on the front pew. I stepped across the threshold. The amber light streaming through the stained-glass windows, the candles flickering across the front of the chapel, and the faint sounds of Gregorian chants gave the chapel an old world feel. It was a place of quiet reflection and of Christ’s hope, the only true hope this weary earth would ever know.

Marcus looked back at me when I entered the room. That face—such a great face.

I smiled at him, glad to see him. We’d only been parted for hours, and yet it had seemed much longer. Wishing I looked better, I tried smoothing my hair. My makeup had long since melted away, so Marcus was going to get his first dose of me looking untidy as well as mournful for my sister’s loss. Marcus didn’t seem to notice my disheveled appearance as I walked up the aisle and sat down next to him in the pew.

He took my hand and cradled it in his. So warm and welcoming.

“Thanks for coming.”

“I’m really sorry Camille lost her baby.”

“Yes, it’s a terrible thing.”

We sat quietly for a moment. The silence didn’t feel empty, though, but full of comfort.

“How’s your mom?”

“Devastated. I can hardly believe I’m saying those words, but she is. I’ve never seen her like this before. She broke down and cried earlier, and I’ve never seen her cry in my whole life, not even when Dad died.”

“I know a little how she feels. From what you told me on the phone, your mother and I now have something in common. Because of a grave error on our part, someone has died on our watch. It’s not anything you ever recover from. You go on with life, and you do the best you can, but you never truly mend.”

I tugged on the cuff of his sleeve. “Especially when you have a father who is willing to remind you of your error at every possible opportunity. Maybe it’s not my place to say it, but even though I feel sorry for him, it’s not right what he’s doing.”

“He will forgive me someday.”

I stared at the ornate cross, which sat in front of us just beyond the altar. “I’ll remember your words as we build a relationship with Mother. Forgiveness has begun, but it will take more time, especially for Camille.” I rested my head on his shoulder. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do. As if I’d always known him, always trusted him with my life, my family. I thanked God that He’d sent Marcus into my life. It was a miraculous event that day in the botanic garden. I needed him during this time, and he needed me.
But please, Lord, let it be more than merely a season of helping each other. I love this man dearly.

I opened my mouth to tell him those very words when Marcus said, “Lily, you are such a keepsake.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. It’s the word that always comes to me when I think of you.”

I smiled.

“But I want to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.” I loved being referred to as a keepsake, but didn’t treasures usually get put aside into a dusky trunk somewhere? In a back closet? I laughed at myself for such a gloomy thought, and yet I braced myself.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth across the top of my hand. “You know when we stopped during the rainstorm on our way from Dallas?”

“Yes. How could I forget?” It was when Marcus had first told me that he loved me. Perhaps there’d be more on the subject. The chapel was a good place for declarations of love and promises.

“I wanted you to know I’ve thought about what you said, and you were right. I got way ahead of myself when I hinted about marriage. It’s too soon. I know we spent a lot of time together in Melbourne, and we’re certainly old enough to know our hearts and minds. We know how we feel about each other, and we’re safe in that for now. But both our families are in the middle of some pretty heavy heartache right now. They need us. That should be a priority for us … for a while. Thank you for showing me that.”

“You’re welcome.” I guess. My voice had lost all its buoyancy, and so had my heart. It was exactly what I’d asked him for. Exactly what I knew we needed. But why did I feel as though the bottom of my world had fallen out—like those rides at the carnival that drop you suddenly, and your stomach gets an ugly surprise?

“In fact, I’m going to Dallas fairly soon. My dad called, and he wanted to meet with me. He’s pretty broken up about Mom leaving him. He didn’t sound like he was in a very good mood, but he wanted to talk, and that’s at least one step in the right direction. I want to be there for him. I have to.”

“Of course. I understand. You should. I’m proud of you for always wanting to do the right thing.”
I love you for it.

“Thanks. I know I flew over from Australia for us, but—”

I placed my finger over his lips. “No. You came over for your family too. This is a season for mending. Of new beginnings for all of us.”

“So, you don’t mind that I’ll be away awhile?”

“No, not at all.” On second thought. “Well, how long will it be?”

“Maybe a few days. I’m not sure. I just want to make myself available to him while I’m there.”

I smiled. “It’s the right thing.”

“So, you miss me already?”

“I do.”
Someday, Lord, when it’s the right time, I’d love to say those two words to Marcus in a lovely and holy place like this.

“Mom?”

We both looked back toward the voice.

Julie stood at the entrance of the chapel, staring at us.

“Is Camille okay?” I stood. “What’s happened?”

“Yes, yes, she’s fine.” Julie came up the aisle to join us. “Hey, Marcus.”

“Hello again.”

Julie sat down next to me. “I came to tell you that Granny is acting sort of weird.”

“What do you mean?” I placed my arm behind her on the pew.

“Granny is ordering the nurses around,” Julie said, “telling them they’re not taking good care of Aunt Camy. And Granny even threatened to fire one of her doctors.”

Oh, dear. “What did the doctor do wrong?”

“He forgot that Camille wasn’t married, and so he asked if her husband had been in to see her yet.”

When Camille got home from
the hospital, changes of every kind were so thick in the air that it was like Texas barbeque in the heat of the summer. Marcus had driven to Dallas, Julie had headed back to college, and Mother had insisted that Camille live with her until she could regain her health or for as long as she wanted to live there. Since I still had a bit more time on my leave of absence from work, I decided to see how Camille and Mother were getting along. If they were pulling out each other’s hair, or if the transformation I’d seen at the hospital had been lasting.

I rang Mother’s doorbell and waited for Dragan the Terrible to answer the door.

The deadbolt unlocked and the door swung open. Ms. Humphreys stood in the entry, looking foreboding enough to play the role of an evil queen at a Renaissance festival.

“Hi. Is everything okay?”

Dragan glared at me through half-lowered lids.

Glad to see you too.

“No, it’s not good,” Dragan said. “Now I have two invalids to take care of.”

Was she referring to my mother and sister? Goodness. “But that shouldn’t be a problem,” I said, “since you and Mother are such good friends.” I tried not to sound too sarcastic. But I failed.

“Right.” Dragan blew out some hot air, which she had in limitless supply. “They’re both in the solarium. You can find your own way back.”

“Yes, I can. I grew up here.”

Dragan didn’t grace me with further comments—thank goodness—but instead flip-flapped her way toward the kitchen. In her case, though, maybe “flim-flammed” her way toward the kitchen was a more accurate description. I couldn’t imagine why my mother continued to keep that woman around. Perhaps Dragan’s days in the Gray house were numbered. One could dream.

I made my way back to the solarium. The voices of two women arguing wafted out of the glass room. Not angry voices, just loud. What a relief.

By the time I opened the solarium door, both Mother and Camille were standing by a hibiscus flower in deep contemplation.

“Greetings, Lily.” Mother waved me inside. “Come in. Come in. Glad you’re here.”

“Hey, Lils.” Camille’s face had a little more color, and it didn’t appear to just be from the dispute.

“Grab a health nut cookie on the table, dear,” Mother said. “Wholesome roughage for the constitution. Keeps the bowels persuaded to do the right thing.”

I gaped at the cookies. Somehow putting the two words
bowels
and
cookies
together didn’t inspire me to take a nibble. “Sounds frightening.”

Mother and Camille chuckled.

I ignored the pile of cookies.

“We need your help to settle a debate.” Mother worked her mouth like she was chewing on something. Probably one of those ghastly cookies. “I’m busy trying to convince your sister that she couldn’t be more mistaken about—”

“Mistaken my eye.” Camille grinned through her frown. “Lils, please tell Iris that you really can make paper out of the hibiscus.”

I put up my hands. “I have no idea. You guys are on your own.” My stomach growled. Hungry, I stared at the miserable plate of health nut cookies, at the bits of nuts poking out their hapless little heads and arms like they were trying to escape from the dung-like cookie. Hungry or not, guess I’d pass.

“Paper … how preposterous.” Mother turned the potted plant this way and that.

“But I’m only talking about one species, the hibiscus cannabinus. It’s commonly used for paper. Everyone who knows angiosperms is aware—”