24

 

As fall came, Anna realized that Babette was aging fast. Although she wouldn't admit it, she seemed to need help. Even the simplest household tasks were starting to overwhelm her. "Mrs. Thorne, she tells me I should go to a home," Babette confessed as she let Anna into her house.

"A home?" Anna asked as she went into the kitchen, looking for a place to set the heavy box of groceries she was delivering.

"For old people." Babette frowned. "Eets where her mama lives."

Anna tried not to stare at how disorderly the kitchen looked. So unlike Babette. "Where shall I put this?" Anna tried to find a spot on the messy counters.

"I know, I know . . . ees clutter, clutter, clutter." Babette threw up her hands with tears in her eyes. "What do I do?"

"Come and stay with us for a while," Anna suggested.

"Ees too much trouble." Babette pulled out a kitchen chair. "Put the box here."

"It's not trouble," Anna assured her. "We run an inn. We are accustomed to guests. Besides, you're not a guest, you're family. Just come for the winter. Please?"

"But I am happy here."

"I know you've been very happy here." Anna glanced around Babette's living room now. She'd never seen it in such bad shape. Unfolded laundry was piled on the couch. Books and papers and things were on the floor, possibly presenting a tripping hazard. Anna knew Babette's balance was diminishing. Besides that, her eyesight was failing. Really, living alone was becoming too much for her. "Maybe you could get someone to come and live here then. Do you know of anyone?"

Babette shook her head.

"Please, Babette," Anna begged. "You are like a mother to me, and I would love to have you stay with us—just for the winter if you like. You can have the suite downstairs. And, if you feel up to it, you can help me with the cooking sometimes. Remember when you and Hazel ran the kitchen, back when Sarah was born? The guests raved about your cuisine."

Babette smiled. "Eet was a fun time."

"Come stay with us," Anna urged. "We'll have more fun."

"I will consider it, mon chéri."

To Anna's relief, Babette decided to give it a try. By the end of the week Clark was helping her to move into the downstairs suite. The first few weeks required some adjustments, but Babette seemed to appreciate having people around. And Hazel enjoyed having an older companion. By mid-November the two women established a daily "tea time." Every afternoon at three o'clock, they would serve tea and other goodies to anyone who was interested.

Besides writing Lauren weekly letters, Anna made a special effort to call her at least every other week. She hoped to keep the relationship moving in the right direction and realized that might be upon her to do this. During December, Anna realized that she spent most of their telephone time trying to bolster Lauren's spirits. For some reason, Lauren seemed unexplainably blue. But if Anna pressed her regarding the cause of her sadness, there seemed to be no real reason. Anna attributed it to the weather, hoping that Lauren would perk up come springtime.

Winter was always their "off" season, but Anna didn't mind this dormancy. Instead, she used this time to regroup and plan for the upcoming year. She called it the dreaming season. It seemed that, more and more, the inn was acquiring a reputation as a place of healing, and recently she'd been approached by various individuals who wanted to plan group events there. While she was open to these ideas, she also felt protective of the inn and its image. She didn't want anyone coming here who would misuse the natural properties of the land and the river. Sometimes she couldn't quite explain it, not even to Clark, but she would get a feeling about someone and as a result decline their proposal for a certain event—sometimes saying "no" to tempting sums of money.

"I know he was supposed to be a famous guru," she told Clark after she hung up the phone, "but something about the way this man spoke to me . . . well, he just sounded too self-important . . . and false. Do you think I was being too judgmental? Was I wrong to turn him down?"

Clark smiled over the newspaper in his hands. "Not at all, Anna. I think you have an excellent sense about these things."

Anna spent a lot of time with Babette, learning how to prepare some of her herbal recipes and remedies, and all the numerous uses of lavender. "I will leave my plants to you, chéri," Babette told her as they were working on a batch of marjoram oil.

Anna just smiled. "I'm sure your plants would be happy to stay right where they are planted, Babette. It's such a nice sunny spot, especially nice for growing lavender."

"Eets true. The hill is perfect for my lavender. I would hate to see them moved."

Sometimes Hazel would join them during these times. Like Anna she had a strong interest in the herbs and plants and their medicinal uses. "So much gets lost when people assume you can replace everything old with something new." Hazel sighed as she carefully copied a recipe for a gout treatment. "Hopefully I'll be around long enough to publish a manual for the use of herbal medicine."

"Oui!" Babette nodded eagerly. "I would love for young people to know these secrets. Ees so much better than taking a pill."

"I wish we had something here that would help Lauren," Anna said sadly.

"What's wrong with Lauren?" Hazel asked. "She seemed better than ever when she picked up Sarah in August."

"Yes, I thought so too. But every time I talk to her, she sounds more and more downhearted. I know something is wrong with her. And yesterday she told me that she's taking some kind of medicine." Anna tried to recall the name. "I think it was called Valium. Have you heard of that?"

"Valium for Lauren?" Hazel's brow creased. "That doesn't make sense."

"I'm sure that's what she said it was," Anna said.

"Mother's little helper." Hazel set down her pen.

"What?" Anna felt confused.

"It's what some people call Valium. It's been popular for several years now. Doctors all over the country have been prescribing it like candy to frustrated housewives and mothers. It's as if they think it's a magic pill, but it's highly addictive and really, it's not for everyone."

"Do you think it will hurt Lauren?" Anna felt even more concerned now.

"I'm not sure." Hazel pursed her lips. "I suppose it's helpful for those women who are overwrought and excited and anxious because it helps them to relax. But, as I recall, Lauren was never a particularly active person. She slept so much of the time. I honestly cannot imagine how a depressant would be of any help to her."

"You're saying that Valium is a depressant?" Anna was surprised.

"Yes."

"But Lauren already seemed depressed." Anna turned down the heat beneath the cast iron pot. "I hardly think she needs something to make her more depressed."

"Too bad we can't get Lauren to come out here for a visit," Hazel suggested, "maybe we could diagnose and treat her." She laughed. "Of course, we could get in trouble for practicing medicine without a license. But so should the doctor who's prescribing Valium for Lauren. I just can't help but think that is a big mistake."

"Should I tell her?"

"You might question her a bit . . . find out why the doctor prescribed it, how long she's been on it, how she's been spending her time."

"I'm not sure Lauren will tell me all that. She's very closed up."

"I know, chéri—you should go and see Lauren," Babette said suddenly. "Eet ees not busy here. Go, chéri. See to your daughter."

"I suppose I could go visit."

"We will prepare some things for Lauren," Babette declared. "To help her be happy again. And you will take them, chéri."

"That's not a bad idea," Hazel agreed.

"I'll talk to Clark about it."

 

 

Anna's visit to see Lauren was very dismaying. Besides enjoying some time with Sarah, taking her to school and the park and the library, the rest of the four days spent there felt like a complete waste of time. Lauren refused to try any of the herbal remedies. She insisted that she needed to remain in bed until well past noon. "I just don't sleep at night," she told Anna. "The morning is my only time to get my rest." Then, Anna quickly discovered, even when Lauren got up she remained in her bathrobe, watching soap operas and chain smoking as well as sneaking drinks from a silver flask she always kept handy. Finally, about an hour before Sarah came home from school, Lauren would begin to get dressed and do her hair and makeup.

The household routine would continue with Sarah arriving home on the school bus, coming in the back door, and stopping in the avocado green kitchen, where Mabel, who'd been rehired, would have a snack set out.

"What do you do after school?" Anna asked Sarah on their first afternoon together.

Sarah thought hard as she chewed on a Fig Newton.

"Do you do things with your mommy?"

Sarah shook her head then took a swig of milk. "Mommy is getting pretty for Daddy. I'm not allowed to disturb her."

It seemed that Lauren never emerged from her boudoir until around four in the afternoon. But, to Anna's amazement, when she made her appearance, she looked like something straight out of a fashion magazine. She no longer wore the old trashy style of clothes. Apparently her trip to Europe had "refined" her sense of style and anyone who saw Lauren on the street would probably assume she was a responsible, practical, and quite attractive young housewife and mother.

Walking through her home, which now had a strange hairy-looking carpeting called "shag" as well as some modern furnishings that seemed to be more about looks than comfort, Lauren seemed to be playing queen of the house. She would spend a bit of time with Sarah, inquiring about school, and telling her to go and clean herself up before dinner. Then she'd go over some housekeeping details with Mabel. At exactly five o'clock, Lauren would make a batch of martinis at the new bar, which sat in a corner of the living room. Not long after the drinks were mixed, Eunice would come over like clockwork, and at five-thirty Donald would arrive home from work.

Anna had a hard time grasping how Sarah fit into this strange little household. Feeling sorry for her granddaughter, she did all she could to fill Sarah's time. The second evening of Anna's visit, Donald and Lauren went to the country club. The next evening they had a dinner date with friends. Lauren invited Anna to join them, but Anna politely declined. The relief on their faces was obvious.

"Lauren and Donald seem to have an active social life,"

Anna commented to Eunice after Sarah had gone to bed.

Eunice nodded with a hard-to-read expression.

"Sarah seems to be left by herself a lot."

Again, Eunice nodded.

"Does she ever have friends over?"

"No . . . not that I've noticed."

"What does she do?"

Eunice shrugged as she put down the coffee table book about modern art. "She comes to visit me sometimes."

"Really?"

Eunice gave Anna an aggravated look. "Although you probably won't believe it, Sarah and I get along fairly well. Perhaps not as well as she gets along with you." She rolled her eyes upward ever so slightly. "Oh, don't think I haven't heard all about her fabulous summer spent at the river, Anna. You'd think she'd been living in Disneyland the way the child prattles on."

"We enjoyed her as much as she enjoyed us." Anna frowned.

"I just wish that Lauren and Donald spent more time with her."

"Oh, Anna, don't make so much of it. Sarah will be just fine. Children seem to grow up no matter the mistakes the parents make."

"Is that how you raised Adam?"

Eunice's brows arched slightly. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, Eunice. I'm just curious. I never had a chance to learn too much about Adam's upbringing. I know his father died when he was younger. And from what I heard, it seemed you spent quite a bit of time and energy on him. Weren't you two rather close?"

Eunice seemed to soften now. "We were close. Adam was my right hand after his father passed. I depended on him for everything. He was my—my best friend." Her voice broke slightly.

Anna leaned forward. "He was a good man, Eunice. You did a good job raising him."

Eunice looked truly surprised. "You truly think so?"

Anna nodded. "Oh, he was a bit spoiled. But you expect that with an only child. I was a little spoiled too."

Eunice blinked. "You?"

"In some ways I was. But I was also a hard worker. And Adam was a hard worker too. But he also knew how to play. I think one of the things that drew me to him was his sense of fun and adventure. He was always so full of life and fun. That was very attractive."

"Yes," Eunice said eagerly. "He was full of life, wasn't he?"

"I sometimes wonder what it would've been like if he hadn't been hurt like that . . . in the war."

Eunice nodded sadly. "I do too. He never should've been in active service."

"Why?"

"He wasn't like that. He'd never been the sort of boy to play with guns or roughhouse like some boys. I remember how he tried to rescue a bird that flew into the picture window, putting it in a box with a tea towel, hoping that it would live . . . how he cried when it didn't." She sniffed. "He was too tenderhearted to march with a gun."

"And yet he seemed eager to go." Anna remembered her dismay when he'd been so enthusiastic to join his buddies and head off to war.

"That was his devil-may-care side . . . he loved adventures and had no idea what the war would really be like."

"He found out quickly." Anna tried not to remember the look in his blue eyes when he returned to them . . . as if the light had gone out.

Eunice was crying now, sitting by herself on the strangely-shaped sofa and wiping her eyes. Anna went over and sat next to her, wrapping an arm around the frail shoulders. "I wish we could've been friends," Anna confessed, "all those years when we were both suffering . . . I wish we'd known that we both missed him."

Eunice nodded then quietly blew her nose. "I always blamed you, Anna," she whispered. "I felt you stole him from me . . . and then he never came back."

"The war took him from both of us."

"Yes . . . I think you are right."

Now they just sat there for a long moment and then Eunice stiffened, squared her shoulders, and said it was time for bed. Anna stood, offering her a hand to help her up.

Eunice paused after she stood, looking intently at Anna. "I have found that anger and bitterness become rather cumbersome the older I get."

"It's better to just set those things aside."

"Yes . . . I suppose so."

Anna walked her through the house, going through the kitchen and to the back door. "It's dark out, Eunice, do you mind if I walk you home?"

Eunice looked surprised and then relieved. "If you'd like."

Anna smiled at her. "I would."

Neither of them spoke as they walked down the brick paved path toward Eunice's little house, but at her door, Eunice thanked Anna. "And don't worry too much about Sarah," she said in a strangely gentle voice. "I will try to see that she's not too lonely."

Anna reached over to grasp and squeeze Eunice's thin hand. "Thank you."

So, as it turned out, Anna's visit seemed to have no impact whatsoever on Lauren, but the connection she made with Eunice made it all seem worthwhile.