Back at the farm, exhausted from my dramatic morning, I fall fast asleep in the hammock Katherine recently installed between two trees in the small side lawn of the cottage. Jack and Jazz wake me when they return from tubing around five. While Jazz rides her bike on the road in front of the cottage, Jack crawls into the hammock with me, and I tell him everything I’ve learned today.
My conflicting emotions make my head spin. I’m angry with Mom one minute, and Brian and Billy the next. But Jack finds all of them at fault.
“They used you, an innocent child, as their pawn. They should’ve found a way to work it out. Instead, because of their petty vindictiveness, you were deprived of the opportunity to know your family.”
“It’s not that simple, Jack.”
He hugs me close to him, kissing my head. “It seems pretty simple to me.”
I’m beginning to see that the world according to Jack Snyder is simple. He believes in right and wrong and not a lot in between.
“I promised I’d wait until Opal’s feeling better to visit, but I’m counting on her to tell me the unbiased truth.”
“For your sake, I hope she does,” Jack says in a skeptical tone.
When we move inside to start dinner, I text Mom, inviting her to join us. When she declines, I say to Jack, “I hate the idea of her being alone.”
“After what she’s been through today, I imagine she needs some time to herself.”
Removing the meat from the refrigerator, I say, “I bought an extra steak. Should I take her a plate?”
“She’s a grown woman, Stella. She has a car. Let her fend for herself.” He takes the steaks from me and begins seasoning them. “I’m sorry if I sound harsh. But it’s time someone looks out for your best interests for a change.”
“You’re too good to me, Jack Snyder.”
“Because you deserve it, Stella Boor.”
I hug him from behind, resting my head against his back. I appreciate Jack wanting to protect me. But this very thing, people wanting to protect me, has cost me the opportunity to know my family. Going forward, I will make my own decisions.
After dinner, Jack and I take Jazz on a ride in the golf cart—another one of Katherine’s latest additions to the farm. When I spot Mom down by the lake, sitting on the pier with her legs swinging over the side and staring into the water as though in a trance, I ask, “Should we go check on her?”
“It’s getting late. We should put Jazz to bed.” Jack whips the golf cart around and heads in the opposite direction.
Despite my earlier resolve to make my own decisions, I don’t argue with him. Because it is late, and Jazz is tired. And Mom and I both could use a cooling-off period.
I sleep in fits and rise early the following morning. When I take my coffee out to the porch, I’m surprised to see Mom’s car is gone from the carriage house. Would she leave Hope Springs without saying goodbye? Would she go back to New York when there’s so much unfinished business here?
An hour later, I’m helping Jazz gather her things for her first day of bible camp when I receive a call from Brian. He sounds out of breath, and I hear music from his car radio in the background.
“Have you seen your mother this morning?” he asks.
“No,” I say, stuffing a change of clothes in Jazz’s backpack. “Her car’s not at the carriage house, though. I was wondering where she went.”
“Hannah did exactly what I asked her not to. She came over to the hospital at the crack of dawn this morning and got Opal all worked up. I’m due in court in Roanoke in an hour. Mom is asking to see you. Is there any chance you can sit with her for a while this morning?”
“I would love that. I’ll drop Jazz at camp at nine and head straight over.”
Brian exhales loudly. “Thank you, Stella. I don’t think she will, but if Hannah comes back to the hospital, don’t let her near Opal. Call security if you have to.”
“I understand.”
I have a vision of a brawny security guard tossing Hannah out of the hospital on her butt. Fifteen minutes later, I’m relieved when I pass Mom’s rental car coming up the driveway as Jazz and I are leaving the inn. Jazz, who has expressed hesitation in going to bible camp, is thrilled to find three of her friends from school have been assigned to her designated group. She’s already forgotten me by the time I wave goodbye to her at the door.
Stopping in at Caffeine on the Corner, I order a mocha for me and a chocolate chip croissant and green tea for Opal. At the hospital, I’m pleased to find her looking remarkably well considering the poison pumping through her veins.
When she spots me in the doorway, she holds her hand out to me. “My sweet granddaughter. I’m so happy to see you.”
Squeezing her hand, I lean down and kiss her cheek. Her skin is soft and warm beneath my lips. “I’ve been begging Brian to let me visit. He’s quite the gatekeeper.”
Opal presses her lips into a firm line. “He’s overprotective is what he is.”
“I’m mad at you for not telling me you’re my grandmother. But you’re the only one in this mess I forgive.”
She grimaces. “Because you know my hands were tied.”
“That, and because I already love you so much. Having you as a grandmother is a bonus.”
Her eyes cloud over. “I do believe that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
I drop the bakery bag on her bed table and place the tea bag in the cup of hot water. “I brought you a croissant and some tea.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. The food in this place sucks.”
I giggle. “Opal, watch your language.”
Once the tea has steeped for five minutes, I remove the bag and raise the head of her bed so she can drink it.
Opal tears off a piece of croissant and dips it in her tea. “I had a visitor this morning.”
“That’s what I hear. How did it go?”
“Not well, as I’m sure Brian told you.”
“He didn’t provide any details, except to say Mom upset you. I’m sorry, Opal.”
“She blames me for everything. But that’s my Hannah—pretty to look at on the outside but eaten up with bitterness on the inside.”
“I don’t want to upset you, Opal, or tire you out. But if you feel like talking, I’d love to hear your perspective.”
“I’ve waited a long time for the chance to tell you my story.”
I flash a stupid grin, all teeth and gums. “I still can’t believe you’re my grandmother. We have a special connection.”
With a twinkle in her olive eyes, Opal says, “We met once before, you know? In New York City, a very long time ago. You were five years old at the time.”
My eyes grow wide. “Was that you? In front of our apartment building?” My mind travels back a quarter of a century “You gave me an Indian arrowhead. You said it was from the Spring of Good Hope.” I palm my forehead. “Wow. Now it all makes sense.”
I still remember what my mother told me when I asked about the woman with the long gray braid. She’s just some crazy homeless person. “Mom was so rude to you that day.”
Opal shrugs as though it doesn’t matter. “I should’ve told her I was coming. Hannah never liked surprises.”
“That’s no excuse. You were my grandmother.” I sit back in the chair, sipping my mocha. “Did you ever try to see us again?”
“I couldn’t. Hannah made it clear she didn’t want me in her life.” A faraway look settles on Opal’s face. “I flew home to Richmond that same afternoon. The very next day, I put my house on the market and moved to Hope Springs to be near my child who did want me in his life. Moving turned out to be the best decision I ever made. Billy, who had always been like a second son to me, needed me too. He was so lost after his brother and parents died. And when he became ill, I helped nurse him. In some strange way, I felt I owed him. After all, it was my daughter who broke his heart.”
I set my coffee on the bed table and lean in, elbows planted on knees. “Do you disapprove of Mom being gay?”
“Disapprove? No. I’m not one to pass judgment. But I admit I don’t understand the younger generation. I’m old school in that regard. I was thrilled when Billy and Hannah started dating in college. Nothing would’ve made me happier than for the two of them to get married. Then out of the blue, she announces she’s pregnant with his child and that she’s gay. I found it all very confusing.”
“And so you took Billy’s side in the custody suit, hoping Mom would come to her senses?”
“I was caught in the middle, Stella. In the beginning, I admit I had my reservations about her sexuality. And yes, I hoped she would change her mind and marry Billy. Over time, I accepted her lifestyle. But it was too late. The damage had been done. Hannah had cut me out of her life.”
A fit of coughing overcomes Opal. The nurse rushes into the room and coaches her until she stops. But the coughing leaves Opal exhausted, her face as white as the pillow beneath her head.
When the nurse leaves the room, I say, “You need to rest now, Opal. I’ll be right here. Can I get anything for you?”
“You can read to me.” She waves a gnarled hand at the small hardbound book on her table.
Picking up the collection of Walt Whitman’s poems, I read out loud until Opal dozes off. I put the book down and study her peaceful face, memorizing her features in case I lose her. She sleeps for hours, which gives me a chance to sort through the chaos I brought upon my family by being born. I scrutinize the situation from their individual perspectives. Billy’s. Brian’s. Opal’s. I save Mom’s for last, and I try to put myself in a young Hannah’s shoes. I imagine her confusion over her sexuality. Being unmarried and pregnant. Her hurt when everyone she loved turned their backs on her. I’ve experienced firsthand her rare and unconditional love for Marnie, which helps me understand the difficult decisions she made. But I can’t get past one thing. When Opal reached out to her, when she surprised her with a visit to New York, Hannah treated her own mother like a stranger, a random homeless person on the street.
Opal sleeps on through lunchtime. I’m starving, but I don’t dare leave for fear Mom will return. Fortunately, I don’t have to pick Jazz up until three. Several of the younger bible camp counselors have organized an extended day program for a small group of kids. I want Opal to wake up, to tell me more about her life. Not about Hannah and Brian or even her second husband but about Opal’s childhood and her husband, my grandfather, and how she became interested in art. But she’s still sleeping when Brian arrives at two.
We step out into the hall to talk. Brian leans against the wall with his ankles crossed, reminding me of the first day we met outside my apartment in New York. “Did she say much about her visit from Hannah this morning?”
“Not really. We mostly talked about the past. She’s a class act, your mom.”
When Brian smiles, his blue eyes brighten with the love he feels for his mother. “She is that.”
“I feel so guilty. I caused you all such heartache. If not for me, your family would still be united.”
“Don’t say things like that, Stella. Despite having to wait thirty years, we’re thrilled to have you in our lives.” He shifts his weight, recrossing his ankles. “Hannah and I have never gotten along. I was always the overprotective older brother. And believe me, she needed protecting. She was so damn beautiful and such a wild card. If not for the custody suit, something would’ve eventually driven us apart.”
“Did you mean what you said yesterday? Is Mom the reason you never married?”
He chuckles. “Hannah pushes my buttons and makes me say things I don’t mean. The truth is, I never found the right woman. I devoted my time to my career and my mother, and the years just slipped away. You might find that strange.”
“I find that admirable, actually.” I lift my gaze to the ceiling. “What’s the saying? How a man treats his mother is a good indication of how he’ll treat his wife. I hope I find a man like you one day.”
“That’s a very nice thing to say, Stella. I’m looking forward to getting to know my niece better.”
I’ve never seen Brian wear his glasses before, but the black wayfarer-style frames make him seem more current, less old-mannish. “How long does Opal have to go through chemo?”
“She’s three weeks in. So, she’s only just getting started. Once she’s feeling better, she’ll continue as an outpatient. The initial treatment is intense. It’s not uncommon for patients to be hospitalized during this phase.”
“Can I see her again?”
“She’d like that. But keep in mind that shorter visits are best.” We start down the hallway toward the elevator. “I had a lengthy phone conversation with the hospital administrator on my way back from Roanoke. He promises to put his staff on alert. Until further notice, my sister is not allowed in Mom’s room. I hate to do that, but Opal’s health is my primary concern.”
“I understand.” The elevator doors part, and I step inside. “Mom brought this one on herself.”