Chapter 11
Nora sat in Pastor Burnie’s office, waiting. She realized she should’ve called before coming. Perhaps if she had, she wouldn’t be left sitting where anyone might see her and wonder what she was doing here. She’d forgotten there was a Bible study today. Women were milling around in the great room waiting to begin their class. She’d also forgotten Pastor Burnie taught the class.
If she hadn’t been so upset, she would’ve stopped to think what others might say about her coming to church for counseling. Now she felt exposed, humiliated, and angry. There was no privacy in this big church. Everyone knew everything about everybody. Maybe the Catholics had the right idea about going into a confessional. At least there people had privacy. Why hadn’t she realized when she saw all the cars in the parking lot that the women’s Bible study was meeting this morning? Half a dozen women had seen her come in. She recognized two, and they were probably talking about her right now. She’d had lunch with them. She knew what they were like. How they delighted in knowing and discussing everyone’s business!
Uncrossing her legs, Nora crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap. Her palms were sweating. Her heart was pounding. She was trembling. She wouldn’t be in this miserable situation if her psychologist, Dr. Leeds, had been willing to speak with her for longer than one minute! She’d been completely undone when his secretary told her the doctor’s schedule was full for the next two weeks. Two weeks! She’d told the woman she needed to speak with him right away, but the woman insisted he was with a patient and did not want to be disturbed. The patronizing tone of her voice had made Nora want to scream. Instead, she simply told the secretary she would not be put off. She’d insisted the secretary get Dr. Leeds on the line immediately; it was an emergency.
He came on the line shortly after that, as she knew he would. She’d had to insist before. This time, however, he didn’t seem to care that she was in crisis. She could tell by his tone that he was angry with her. When she’d tried to explain, he said it was old territory and he would call her back at his convenience. When she said she couldn’t wait, he told her to take a Valium! He said he wanted her calm when he spoke with her. She told him she could be calm if he would speak to her right then, but he said, “I will speak with you later, Nora,” and hung up.
After the thousands she had paid Dr. Leeds over the past three years, that’s all he had to say? Take a Valium and wait? If he’d given her five minutes of his precious time, she wouldn’t be sitting in the church office in front of God and everyone waiting for Pastor Burnie to be free enough to speak with her. This was all Annie’s fault! If she’d gone off to college where she belonged, there would be no reason to worry.
Nora trembled with agitation. Seeing her mother always upset her. That’s what was wrong. A few minutes in the company of Leota Reinhardt was enough to undo a month of sessions with Dr. Leeds. Nora never remembered the breathing and meditation exercises the doctor had taught her until after she left her mother’s house. Dr. Leeds had told her to be honest with her mother. And say what? Tell her mother how much she despised her for abandoning her children, how she couldn’t stand to go back to that house, how her childhood had been miserable? She’d said all that a hundred times. Her mother knew—not that she cared.
Nora raised a hand and pressed trembling fingers to her throbbing temples. It never failed. All she had to do was think of her mother and her head started to pound.
What was taking Pastor Burnie so long?
Nora crossed her legs again. She started thinking about Fred and how angry he was with her for not showing up for dinner with his clients. She had tried to apologize, but he wouldn’t even look at her. He scorned the omelet she had cooked for him. “When have you ever seen me eat breakfast, Nora?”
He had never been rude before, and it had stunned her. Then there were his eyes . . . they had been darker than she had ever seen them. She poured him some coffee, but he didn’t touch that either. It was as though anything she offered him was tainted and untouchable. Nothing she did was good enough.
It was like living with Grandma Helene. Nothing was ever good enough. . . .
Nora didn’t want to think about the past. She didn’t want to talk about it. She wanted to figure out how to get Annie home again and how to make Fred forgive her.
Fred’s words rang in her ears. “You’re always sorry, Nora, but nothing ever changes. Just once, I’d like to see you think about someone other than yourself. I’d like to see some effort . . .” He had started to say more, but she had been so distraught, she had fled into the living room and flung herself into the swivel rocker. She thought he would follow her and say he was sorry for upsetting her. That’s what he usually did. But last night, Fred went upstairs and closed the bedroom door. When she went up and asked him whether he cared how she felt, all he said was, “I’m going to bed. I’m tired.”
Tired? Of what?
Of her?
No one understood her. No one cared.
Fighting tears, Nora glanced around Pastor Burnie’s office. Three walls were covered with bookcases laden with volumes neatly arranged in categories: family, Bible studies, commentaries, devotionals, prayer, biographies. Two entire shelves behind Pastor Burnie’s desk held various versions and editions of the Bible: King James, New International Version, The Living Bible, New American Standard, Phillips, New Living Translation, The Jerusalem Bible, TouchPoint. Nora frowned. How many Bibles does one man need? Of course, the man was a pastor . . . perhaps he collected them. One Bible was enough for normal people. More than enough. She had tried reading it once—after all, it was supposed to be classic literature—but it was boring.
What was taking Pastor Burnie so long? Nora stood up and paced. The wall behind the couch on which she was sitting had family pictures on it. The beatific face of Sally Burnie annoyed her, as did the laughing faces of the Burnies’ son and daughter. Here and there about the room were mementos from trips Pastor Burnie and his family had taken to Israel, Africa, Greece, an Indian reservation in New Mexico, an orphanage in Honduras. They stood there, in every picture, smiling, always smiling.
How did they manage to be so happy? She knew their lives hadn’t always been easy. Sally had multiple sclerosis. Pastor Burnie’s salary was a fraction of what Fred made, yet they got by. The Burnies’ son had learning disabilities, and though their daughter was quite intelligent—Nora studied the girl’s features in the photos on the wall—well, she would need her brains. Nora didn’t understand it. How could the Burnies all be so happy when so many things were so clearly wrong?
Why can’t I be happy? What have I ever done to deserve the misery I live with on a daily basis?
She heard Pastor Burnie in the outer office. It was about time. He entered his office. “Hello, Nora.” He closed the door quietly behind him. “I’m sorry for the delay. We needed to have one of the deaconesses take over the class this morning. I had to give her a quick outline of what I was going to cover. Now, how can I help you?”
She burst into tears. She hadn’t meant to cry, but what could she do when she was so unhappy? Dr. Leeds sometimes put his arms around her and let her cry it out.
“Has something happened to Fred?” Pastor Burnie’s tone was concerned, though he kept his distance.
Nora clenched her hands in her lap. “Fred is just fine. Everything is business as usual. Annie left home. Had you heard that yet? Her father spent a ridiculous amount of money on a car for her, and she just got in it and drove away without so much as a backward glance. She’s living with a hippie in San Francisco, of all places. I’m so disappointed. I thought my daughter had a conscience.”
“She’s living with Susan Carter,” he said quietly. “I know her. And her family. Susan’s been well grounded.”
Nora looked at him. “So was her brother Sam. Do you remember him? He’s caused that family nothing but grief. Did you know he was in jail for a while?”
Pastor Burnie’s expression made Nora’s face go hot. She wasn’t gossiping! It was the truth about Sam Carter. How could the pastor look at her as though she were carrying tales he didn’t want to hear? He went around his desk and sat down. Nora felt as though a wall had gone up between them. She was on one side; he was on the other. She had never felt so uncomfortable and confused in her life. She couldn’t look him straight in the eyes.
What had she done to feel so ashamed? She dabbed at her nose delicately with her lace hankie. Maybe Pastor Burnie didn’t understand the whole picture. He’d be more sympathetic when he did. “Anne had a scholarship to Wellesley. All those years of hard work, and she threw it away.”
“College isn’t for everyone.”
“It is most certainly for Anne-Lynn.”
“You seem very certain of that.”
His neutral tone irritated her. “Of course, I’m certain! It’s what she’s always wanted. It’s why we worked so hard. She’s always had outstanding grades. And when she didn’t, I made sure she had a tutor. She’s belonged to the best clubs. What girl wouldn’t want an opportunity to go to a prestigious school like Wellesley? Any girl with an ounce of sense would jump at the chance. Anne-Lynn said she’d go.”
“Do you think Annie might have said that to please you, Nora?”
What was he driving at? “If she wanted to please me, she wouldn’t be taking art classes in San Francisco. That certainly doesn’t please me. What use is that going to be to her? Besides, she hasn’t any talent.” The words came out before she had time to think how they would sound. She saw the pastor’s eyes flicker. Her face heated once more. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just upset. That’s all. Sometimes things come out badly when I’m upset.”
She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose delicately. “I suppose some might say Anne can draw a little, but you can’t make a living at it. She’s only opening herself up to rejection. I don’t want to see her hurt. I want to see her succeed.”
Pastor Burnie put one hand over the other on his desk blotter and closed his eyes. Was he praying? Nora cleared her throat nervously. He raised his head slightly and looked at her. “Nora, all the answers to your problems are found in a new relationship with God.”
What was that supposed to mean? “I know God.”
“Do you?”
“Of course, I do! I’ve been going to this church for five years. Have you any idea how much money Fred and I have given? And I’ve been on all the most important committees.”
“People come to church for all kinds of reasons. It would help if you could tell me what you believe.”
“Believe about what?”
“About Jesus Christ.”
“This is ridiculous.” Nora felt cold with shock at the implications. “You know what I believe. I believe what everyone else who goes here believes.” She was completely at a loss as to what more she could say. And yet Pastor Burnie sat, waiting. Hadn’t she said enough? Was this a trick question? Furious, she glared at him. She wasn’t a Sunday school child to be tested on her recitation of the Apostle’s Creed or the Ten Commandments. She was an adult, for heaven’s sake! “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I’m not asking you to recite anything, Nora.” His smile seemed almost tender. “What I do need is some idea of where you stand with the Lord.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Considering how my life is going, I would say I don’t count with God at all. He certainly hasn’t shown me any favors lately. No matter what I do, it’s never enough to change anything.” She stood up and moved to the window overlooking the street.
“What brought you here?”
“Desperation.” Why not tell him the truth? Maybe he wouldn’t be so holier-than-thou if he knew he was her last choice. “My therapist didn’t have time for me today, and I needed help. That’s why I came to you. I don’t mean to sound insulting, but that’s the truth.” Why should she apologize for it, especially after he’d left her waiting for twenty minutes?
“Can you tell me what your problem is?”
She turned and saw the compassion in his eyes. Finally, someone willing to listen, someone willing to help her solve everything. Dr. Leeds hadn’t been able to do it. Maybe Pastor Burnie could. “There are so many, starting with my own miserable childhood.”
“Were you abused?”
“I wasn’t beaten or molested, if that’s what you mean, but I was most certainly neglected.” She turned away and looked out the window. “My mother was gone early every morning and came home about the time my grandmother and I were making supper. And then she’d go out in her garden. My mother was never interested in me or my brother, you see. She just handed us over to my grandmother and went off to live her own life as she pleased.”
She faced him again. “Anne-Lynn takes after her. What’s worse, she is now spending weekends with my mother, who is undoubtedly poisoning her mind with lies. I know because Anne-Lynn hardly ever returns my telephone calls.” Her heart ached.
“Is that why you’re here today?”
“No. Partly. It’s her fault . . .” She shook her head and swallowed convulsively. Pastor Burnie looked utterly confused. “It’s my mother’s fault,” she said, hoping that would make it clear for him. “Fred’s angry with me over some silly business function I missed. I went to speak to my mother about Anne-Lynn and was so upset afterward that I forgot all about the dinner. Now Fred hardly speaks to me. He’s being so unreasonable. Everything is falling apart. No matter how much I do for everyone, no one seems to care about me!”
“What do you want me to do, Nora?”
He looked and sounded so sincere, but hadn’t he been listening? She wanted him to tell her how to fix everything! She wanted him to say he would come to the house and talk to Fred and make him behave like a loving husband again. She wanted her pastor to talk to Anne-Lynn and make her come home and behave like a loving and dutiful daughter. But when she looked into Pastor Burnie’s eyes, she couldn’t say all that because she had the feeling he wouldn’t even consider doing it.
Oh, why had she come at all?
Maybe all she really wanted was the chance to talk about how miserable she was. She wanted an empathetic listener. She wanted someone to understand her and stand with her against those hurting her. At least Dr. Leeds agreed it had all started with her mother.
She rubbed at her temples. When had her life gotten so out of control? Why did everyone she loved turn away from her? Husbands, children . . . her own mother had been the first one to reject her.
“Nora?”
“I don’t know, Pastor Burnie. I just don’t know anything anymore.”
“That’s a beginning.”
She turned and looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes we have to be knocked down before we look up.”
She frowned. What was he saying to her?
“I can give you one certainty, Nora. God loves you. I can assure you the answers to all your problems are found in a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Until the center of your life changes from you to the Lord Jesus, you’re only going to repeat the same mistakes and have the same heartache over and over again. It’s the condition of all flesh. But God loves you. He wants a personal relationship with you. He’s made that possible through Jesus Christ’s death on the cross. And by His resurrection, He’s shown that you have nothing to fear from Him when you come for His love and guidance.”
There it was again: the insinuation that she was selfish. And what did Pastor Burnie mean about repeating the same mistakes? What was he talking about? She hadn’t come to hear a Sunday school lesson. She didn’t need him preaching at her. Was he so stupid he didn’t know she was already a Christian? She had been sitting in the pews of this church for five years! Hadn’t Pastor Burnie heard what she told him? Wasn’t he listening at all?
“God doesn’t want part of you now and then, Nora. He wants all of you all the time. That’s what it means to ask Jesus into your heart.”
“Meaning what? I’m supposed to spend every day at a women’s Bible study or involved in some kind of missions work?”
He gave her that look again. Sad. Enlightened. It was as though he saw something in her of which she was not the least aware. “I didn’t say that, Nora. I’m not speaking about works but about a relationship.”
“A relationship you don’t think I have. Isn’t that right?” She allowed her anger to build. She was safe and strong inside her anger. She felt in control. How dare the pastor speak to her like this? She thought about all the times other people had said hurtful things to her, and the anger grew even more—burning coals that she fanned into flame.
People had always persecuted her. Her own pastor didn’t even try to understand her pain and sorrow. Where was his Christian compassion? Where was the support? Shouldn’t he feel some righteous indignation over how meanly she was being treated by her daughter and husband? Didn’t it say in the Bible to honor thy mother?
Her mouth trembled. “I come to you in desperate need of help and all you can say is I need a relationship with Jesus? How dare you question my faith?” Her voice rose slightly. “After all I’ve done for this church over the years, how dare you question me about anything to do with religion?” Clenching her hands, she pressed down the urge to curse him.
“I’m a pastor, Nora. It’s my calling to try to draw a lost lamb back into the flock.”
“I’m not the one who’s lost! You should be talking to Anne-Lynn. But then, you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you?”
“On the contrary.”
Trembling violently, Nora snatched up her purse from the couch. “I should’ve known better than to come here. What do you know about counseling?”
Pastor Burnie’s secretary glanced up as Nora yanked the door open. The woman’s hands froze over the computer keyboard as Nora came out of the office. Ignoring her, Nora kept walking. Going out the doors of the church, she marched across the parking lot to her Lexus. Slipping into the driver’s seat, she slammed the door and jammed the key into the ignition. The car roared to life. The tires screeched as she pulled out of the parking lot onto the main street. Someone pulled off a side street in front of her so that she had to slam on her brakes. Blasting her horn, Nora cursed as she pulled around the old Ford. “Stupid old fool! They should get these people off the road!”
She drove around for over an hour before deciding to go to the mall. She would walk and give herself time to think. Maybe she’d feel better if she bought a new dress. Something green. Fred liked green. Better yet, something blue. She liked blue.
She wandered through the stores, looking at the merchandise. Nothing appealed to her. Finally, weary and depressed, she stopped at the food court and bought a sweet roll and a cup of coffee. Sitting by herself, she watched the beehive activity of mothers with their children, groups of teenage girls giggling and watching the boys, boys watching the girls, older women sitting together and talking, a new mother nursing her baby in a quiet corner.
Hands trembling, she lifted her Styrofoam cup to her lips and sipped the hot fluid cautiously. She had never felt so alone before.
You can tell a tree by its fruit.
Where had she heard that? It sounded like something her mother would have said. She had always tossed out foolish little comments that didn’t seem to go with the conversation.
“Good soil helps develop strong roots. . . .”
“Without proper pruning, these bushes won’t bear healthy blossoms. . . .”
“Things grow stronger with some manure.”
Nora had never cared about gardening.
“Come out in the garden with me, Eleanor. I want to teach you . . .”
Teach her what? How to dig in the dirt? How to tie up vines and plant vegetables she wouldn’t eat? How to graft? How to transplant seedlings from the apricot or plum tree? Who wanted sprouts when they could buy a small tree from a nursery for a couple of bucks?
Her mother had never bothered to find out what interests she had. Not once had she taken Nora to a concert or a ballet, nor did her mother even consider the fact that Nora longed to go to college.
Interesting that the garden flourished while there had never been enough money for anything Nora wanted. As soon as she was old enough, Nora had gone to work at a fabric store and spent every break watching the woman who demonstrated the sewing machines. Grandma Reinhardt had already taught Nora the rudiments of dressmaking. In home economics classes in high school, Nora had learned most of what she needed to make her own clothing. No ragged edges for her. She finished every seam, lined up plaids, and picked the best and most adaptable patterns. Thankfully, she had had enough talent that she could make dresses that looked as though they had been purchased off the racks at Macy’s or Capwell’s. By the time she was a junior in high school, she had achieved enough skill that not one of her friends suspected that the stylish clothes she wore were homemade.
Nora remembered one high moment in her life when Miss Wentworth, her home-economics teacher, had told her that she had the talent to be a designer. Nora had warmed at such praise, though she’d had no illusions about going to school in New York or even to a local college.
She had sworn to herself then that someday she would shop for herself and her children at the best stores. She would make sure no one in her family ever wanted for all the things she had missed during her childhood. They would live in a nice home in a nice neighborhood, have nice store-bought clothes, dancing lessons, season tickets to concerts and ballets, trips to museums, poolside parties at a country club, and a bachelor of arts from a prestigious college. No child of hers would go without anything money could buy.
It had cost her dearly, but she had kept that promise. Her first husband had run from the responsibility; her second had rebelled. But she had never wavered. Not that her children had an ounce of gratitude for all she had sacrificed for them. She had put them ahead of everyone and everything else in her life, hadn’t she? Wasn’t Fred angry because she had put Anne before him? She was so stressed over her daughter’s mutiny that she hadn’t thought about her own duties to her husband. And did Anne care what anguish she was causing? No, of course not. Anne didn’t care about anyone but herself. She just waltzed away without so much as a “Thank you, Mother,” for all the years of driving her to gymnastics and dancing and music classes, drilling her with lessons, typing out applications, and getting records in order. Not to mention the money! Thousands of dollars wasted. Nora could have gone around the world on what she had spent on her ungrateful daughter!
You can tell a tree by its fruit.
Why did those words hurt so much?
And why couldn’t she get them out of her mind?
Susan sat on the couch crying. “Raoul never should’ve left Barnaby in my care! I think he’s going to die. Just look at him, Annie.”
Annie tossed her purse on the coffee table and went to the bird. “Hello, Barnie. Hello, sweetie.” Barnaby didn’t do his usual dance back and forth. He didn’t say anything outrageous. He didn’t move at all. His feet were clenched around the perch, his feathers puffed more than Annie had ever seen them. It was true. He didn’t look himself. “I wonder what’s the matter with him?”
“I know what’s the matter with him. I’m such an idiot! I should be shot!”
Annie glanced at her.
Susan blew her nose and looked at Annie with red, puffy eyes. “I borrowed that Shop-Vac Howard has. You know, the guy across the hall? The handyman? I was so steamed because Barnaby had made such a mess. I was vacuuming up all the seeds and dried-up chunks of fruit and vegetables and bird guano. Well, the phone rang.”
“And?”
“I bent over to answer. It was Sam and I was distracted for a second. Just a second, mind you. But it was long enough. I heard this big . . . slurp. Sam heard it, too, because he asked what it was. I looked and Barnaby was gone. He must’ve gone through the hose headfirst.” She sniffed and blew her nose.
“Maybe he broke some bones,” Annie said, worried. She touched him. He didn’t move.
“I guarantee he didn’t break anything. Just look at my hand.” She held it out. “I shut off the machine and opened it, and he was flapping and pecking and scratching. He drew blood! He was covered with seeds and bits of dried and rotten fruit and whatever Howard had been vacuuming. Dog hair, I think. I had to clean him up.” She cried harder. “I gave him a shower in the sink. I tested the water, Annie. It was lukewarm. He didn’t like it very much. And he looked so pathetic all wet. I didn’t want him to get pneumonia or whatever birds can get, so I dried him. With your blow-dryer.”
“Poor Barnaby.” Annie stroked his feathers gently. “What a day you’ve had.”
“Forget it. He’s comatose. He just sits there like he’s stuffed. He hasn’t made a sound all day. Not a peep. He just stares.” Susan buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “I keep waiting for him to keel over and croak.”
“Come on, Barnaby. Perk up, sweetie,” Annie said softly. The bird didn’t respond. He didn’t even bat an eyelash, if he had one.
“I’ve never liked him much, Annie, but I don’t want him to die.” Her eyes were red-rimmed. “Do you hear that, Barnaby? Don’t you dare die!”
The telephone rang. The bird twitched once and froze again. “Poor baby,” Annie said and leaned over to answer before the second ring.
“Annie, darlin’. I knew if I called often enough, you’d eventually answer.”
“Hi, Sam.” She smiled at his teasing.
“In shock, I think.”
“And no wonder. Imagine being sucked into a tornado only to land in a flood and then be dried in a desert whirlwind. Is he on his back with his feet up yet?”
“It’s not funny, Sam.”
“Don’t worry, honey. He’ll live. That bird is too mean to die.”
“You should see him . . .”
“As a matter of fact, I was thinking I should drive up and check on Suzie Q.”
“Uh-huh,” she said dryly.
He chuckled. “You gonna be around this evening?”
“I think I’ll take a jaunt to the beach.”
He sighed. “Are you avoiding me?”
“I’m running for dear life.”
“You’ve got me pegged all wrong, Annie.”
She laughed. “It was nice talking with you, Sam.” She handed the telephone to her roommate. “He’s checking on you.” Shrugging her backpack off, she set it on the floor beside the couch. She took an orange from the bowl on the counter and peeled it. Eating one section, she held another out for Barnaby. “Come on, Barnie. She didn’t mean to scare you.” He opened his beak, but she had the feeling it was a warning to leave him alone rather than readiness to take a bite of fruit.
“No,” Suzie said to Sam. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I suppose I could try. All right. All right!”
Annie looked at Suzie. Her roommate was not usually so cryptic on the telephone, and Suzie’s smile was faintly smug. Her good spirits seemed to be returning. The smile turned to a broad grin with a decidedly wicked gleam in her eyes.
“Right now? Oh, she’s trying to tempt Barnaby with a wedge of orange.” She laughed. “I’ll tell her you said that, Sam. Now, she’s frowning at me. Oh, really? Why doesn’t that surprise me? Okay. Okay! Bye.” She clicked the phone off and set it back on the coffee table with a thunk. “I have strict instructions to keep you on the premises this evening. Don’t even think about leaving.” She waggled her brows up and down. “My daring-and-do-well brother is bringing a friend with him, someone he says is the man of my dreams.”
She shrugged, unrepentant, eyes twinkling. “So be it. Besides, you know how much I’d love to have you for a sister-in-law.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. I’m eighteen!”
“Maybe it runs in the family. You told me once your mother was married at seventeen.”
“And divorced by twenty.”
She grimaced. “Oh. I forgot. Well, that doesn’t mean it’ll happen to you. When Carter men fall in love once, it lasts a lifetime.”
“Suzie, your brother is not in love with me.”
“The heck he isn’t. I’ve seen him through crushes before. This is different, entirely different. He’s gone completely gaga over you. I can feel the heat coming off of him whenever he’s around you.”
Annie felt the heat surge into her cheeks.
Susan’s expression softened. “Annie, it wasn’t that long ago that you had a crush on him.”
“I know.” She sank onto the couch and propped her feet up on the coffee table.
“So what’s the problem?”
“Why does there have to be a problem?”
“I know you. You’ve never been free enough to enjoy your own life. This is your chance.”
“I am enjoying life.”
“In a restrained, inhibited sort of way. With your grandmother, no less. How safe can you get?”
Annie laughed. “And you think Sam is the cure for my ho-hum life? Yeah, right.” She got up and headed for the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten since that morning, and she was hungry.
Susan got up and followed her, lounging on the stool and leaning her elbows on the counter as Annie took out eggs, cheese, mushrooms, half a green pepper, and a small tomato. “I’ll admit Sam was pretty wild, Annie. Is that what’s bothering you?”
“No. I like him just the way he is. I like him very, very much. I always have.” She rinsed the vegetables and put them on the cutting board. “I don’t know if I can explain, Suzie.”
“Try, would you please? Annie, I promise I won’t tell Sam anything you tell me. If that’s worrying you . . .”
“You can tell him if you think it might help him back off a little.” She smiled at her friend. “Most girls, you included, seem to have a burning desire to get married.” She shrugged. “I don’t.”
“Because your mother hasn’t been able to make a marriage work?”
Annie paused from dicing the bell pepper. “Please don’t talk about her that way, Susan.”
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s my fault. I told you too much of what went on whenever I was upset.”
“You had to talk to someone.”
“But don’t you see? You’ve only gotten my side of the story. She wanted me to do well. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“She drove you to do well, and that’s not right.”
“I don’t know.” She started cutting again. “I’ve been thinking about my mother, trying to put everything together and make sense of why she’s the way she is. There’s a history between her and Grandma Leota that isn’t clear yet. I want to find out what happened to make my mother so bitter and resentful.”
“You can’t make excuses for her, Annie.”
“I’m not trying to make excuses. I’m trying to understand. Maybe if I can see things from both sides, I can help build a bridge between them.”
“Good luck.”
Annie knew it didn’t make sense to others, but the Lord was speaking to her heart. If she let her head rule her life, she would walk away and seldom, if ever, look back. The way Michael was doing. Maybe it was just protection; maybe it was selfishness. She didn’t know, and it wasn’t her right to judge her brother. Yet, sometimes she worried that she was doing the same thing. She knew her brother held no deep affection for her—no deep affection for anyone, especially not for the mother who had paved the way for his success. Annie didn’t want to become like that. Yet part of her saw the draw of not having to worry about anyone else’s feelings or needs, especially her mother’s.
During the first month away from her mother, the litany had played in her head: I want my own life! If I make mistakes, they’ll be my mistakes. It’s my life. Let me live it my way!
But freedom didn’t bring serenity. She hadn’t been able to find any peace until she contacted her grandmother that first time. Since then, things were changing. Like the seasons, the heat of summer was giving way to the cooling fall. She relished the time spent with Grandma Leota. She was learning so much from her, absorbing vignettes on life. All the while they were in the garden, Annie felt Grandma was talking to her on two levels.
“You need to open up the tree so that the air can circulate and the light can reach into it.”
Those words had struck something deep within her. Air and light. Good soil. Living water. Her heart ached, and she knew God was speaking to her though her grandmother.
No matter what Susan thought, Annie knew she was doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing. There was a rightness to it, a sense of homecoming. She couldn’t allow anything to get in the way of going forward on this path.
Sam wanted to draw her another way. Not that he meant to pull her away from God. She knew he didn’t. He loved the Lord, too, she had learned. He credited Jesus with pulling him up out of the pit he had dug for himself. And yet . . .
Annie sighed. Sam was handsome and charming and intelligent. He had a spirit of fun about him, a boyish delight in tackling life. He was attractive enough to set her pulse racing, but that didn’t mean she should allow herself to be swayed. She knew he was not part of the plan God was unfolding to her. She couldn’t explain how she knew, not even to herself, let alone to Susan. She just knew. If she went against that knowledge, she would miss the wonder that awaited her. Whatever it was . . .
Pruning.
She smiled to herself as she prepared the omelet. A simple thing like pruning. “You need to open up the tree so that the air can circulate and the light can reach into it,” Grandma had said, and all the while Annie was up in that old apricot tree, she kept thinking that people were the same way. God would cut away His people’s dead-end ideas, diseased philosophies, broken promises, and twisted dreams. Why couldn’t people allow the Creator of the universe to have His will with them so that He could prune and shape them into the people they were meant to be? For then, what a harvest of good fruit there would be come summer!
Oh, God, that’s what I want. Oh, Holy Father of life, You who cause things to grow, prune me. Cut and trim as You will. Lord, let Your Spirit come up within me like the living sap of a tree. Let it be Your heart that beats within my breast. Let the fruit of my life be a reflection of Your love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and gentleness. Father, I can’t do anything without You. I don’t even want to try. Be the gardener . . .
“That looks pretty good.” Susan was watching Annie fold the omelet in the pan.
“Are you hungry?” Annie slid the omelet onto a plate and offered it to Susan. “I can make another.”
“See what I mean?” Susan took the plate. “You should be telling me to make my own omelet.”
Annie laughed. “And have the whole apartment smell like burned eggs? I think not.” She handed Susan a fork and cracked two more eggs into the bowl. “You can do the dishes.”
Susan ate a bite and waved the fork at Annie. “You can’t undo years of animosity, Annie. You know your mother. And don’t give me that look. You can’t change people. You’re only going to get yourself hurt. It’s been three months, and she still hasn’t forgiven you for stepping out on your own. How do you think you’re ever going to get her to forgive her mother after decades of hating her for whatever it was she supposedly did? How?”
“I don’t know.” But one thing she did know: nothing was impossible for God. For some reason, He had put it in her heart to establish a relationship with her grandmother. Why would He do that unless He had plans? And His plans were always for a good purpose. “I know the Lord is working in all this, Suzie. And I want to be there to see what happens.”
Susan chuckled. “Leota is pretty cool. I was a little worried what she’d say about us showing up on her doorstep and taking over the afternoon. Not Sam. He figured he’d waltz in and take charge. Next thing he knows, he’s turning the soil in the back forty while I’m transplanting apricot and plum sprouts. That sure taught him a lesson! He told me he ached for a week. I’ll bet Grandma Leota was really something when she was young.”
Annie rolled the frying pan and the melting butter hissed as it coated the bottom. She poured in the omelet mixture. “I’m hoping she’ll tell me more about herself.” She cast Susan a rueful smile. “My mother always said I was a lot like Grandma Leota. I’d sure like to find out what that means.”
Sam showed up at six o’clock with the promised friend. Annie noticed Susan’s eyes light up when she was introduced. Chuck Hauge seemed to think Susan was all he had hoped for as well. “Sam’s told me a lot about you.”
“Believe everything you heard,” she said with a cheeky grin. However, within half an hour, her mood was clearly dampened.
“What on earth is Sam thinking?” Susan said under her breath as she nudged Annie out of the way in the small kitchen and took ice from the freezer. “We have zilch in common. He’s got a master’s degree in business, for crying out loud. He’s been working for some computer company in Silicon Valley for the past year. He doesn’t say much about what he does, but he’s probably on his way to being a CEO. And here I am, a waitress. He reads the Wall Street Journal. I read the funny papers. He likes sushi. I like steak, well done. He likes classical music.”
“You like classical music.” Annie barely suppressed a smile.
“Yeah, when I have insomnia.”
Annie put the vegetable dip on a tray with crackers. “Classical music is supposed to raise the IQ.”
“He doesn’t need a higher IQ, and I’m a lost cause.” Susan rolled her eyes and shook the ice into a bowl. Scooping a handful of cubes into her soda, she glanced over her shoulder. “Can I get you anything to drink, Chuck?”
Annie grinned at her while putting more crackers on the tray. “There’s enough sugar in your voice to draw bees.”
“Shut up,” Susan said sotto voce. She fixed another soda, then headed back into the living room. “Sam’s days are numbered for getting me into this.”
Annie followed her and put the tray on the coffee table. Sam glanced at her from where he was standing near the windows, where Barnaby resided silently on his perch. “Pretty morose bird. No change, I take it.”
Annie shook her head. “Not a peep.”
Susan looked up sharply, her eyes darting flames at her brother. “Not a word.”
At Sam’s slow, taunting grin, Susan stood. “Why don’t we take a walk, Chuck? It’s only six blocks to the ocean.”
As soon as the door closed behind them, Sam left the window and sat on the couch, one arm resting along the back. “That couldn’t have worked out any better if I’d planned it.” He gave Annie a slow, teasing smile.
Annie swallowed. “Maybe we should take a walk, too. The air is nice and cool this time of the evening.”
“I like it right here, where it’s warm.” He patted the sofa. “Why don’t you sit by me?”
Annie settled in the worn, overstuffed, orange chair Susan had bought from an upstairs neighbor, who had moved the week before. Crossing her jeans-clad legs, she rested her arms on the flat velvet. “This is nice.”
Sam just looked at her and shook his head, a rueful smile on his face. “I don’t bite, Annie.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
His eyes flickered and his gaze grew serious. “Let’s back up and regroup here. I’m not on the make, Annie. I’m not coming on to you so I can sow wild oats.”
“I know that.”
“No, you don’t. You’ve known me too long. Unfortunately. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking I was a complete jerk, considering some of the harebrained schemes I pulled a few years back. You were around enough to hear the fallout.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. “Look, Annie. I’ll put it plain and simple. If your father were anywhere around, I’d feel perfectly at ease telling him my intentions.”
Embarrassed, she looked away from the intensity in his eyes. “I’m flattered.”
“Flattery isn’t what I had in mind. Trust is a little closer to the mark.”
She looked at him again, dismayed. “I don’t distrust you, Sam.”
“Is that so? Then why am I sitting here, and you’re sitting way over there?”
If frankness was what he wanted, she would give it to him. “You still move as fast as you ever did, and I’d like you to put the brakes on. Right now.”
He sat back slowly. “Okay,” he said after a long moment. “So maybe I am in overdrive. The engine is a little heated. I’ll drop it down to first. Is that better?”
“Think about driving down a different road. I’m not going to get involved with you, Sam.”
“Involved.” His mouth tipped. “What a loaded word.”
“We’re friends. I don’t want to do anything to spoil that.”
He grinned. “Now there’s an age-old kiss-off if ever I’ve heard one. I’ve used it a few times myself.” His expression softened. “Okay. Friends, it is. Which means we can go out and have some fun instead of deciding on plate patterns. What would you like to do?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea.”
“We’ll just go and see what looks interesting. Late supper. Some swing dancing. A walk on Pier 39. Whatever.”
“What about Suzie and Chuck?”
“We’ll leave them a note.”
“I don’t know, Sam . . .”
“All right. We’ll stay here. Fine by me. Just the two of us. No television. I’ll try not to make a pass at you, but I can’t guarantee anything.”
She laughed. “You are incorrigible.”
He grinned. “That’s what all my teachers said. Now what’ll it be?”
She softened at the look in his eyes. Poor Sam. She hoped he wasn’t hurting as much as she had when her crush on him was in full bloom. “I’ll get my jacket.”
The Lord always left a way to escape temptation, and she intended to take it.