Megan Anderson got the summons from her mother early in the day. It was good timing. She had been wondering how to broach the subject of her marriage to Maurice and knew it was only a matter of time before questions were asked to which she would be obliged to provide an answer. She dressed carefully and made a detour to a pastry shop to buy some croissants that her mother liked, then she drove to the Forest Hill mansion and parked in the driveway. She sat in the car for a minute or two gathering her energy and trying to imagine how she would feel when this home in which she had spent her formative years was sold. In a few months’ time she would never need to make this journey across the city again. For now, the house held many memories. Her elderly parents as well as her daughter Portia and her niece Abigail were still there. Abi had been a surprisingly helpful addition to the household, or so her mother declared in their phone conversations.
Megan felt a familiar jolt of anguish as she had to acknowledge Abigail’s role in Portia’s recovery. As the mother, she should have been the one who nurtured her child and helped her to return to sanity but she knew she held at least a part of the responsibility for Portia’s condition. If she had been the kind of caring, observant mother, much of Portia’s problem could have been averted before she descended into madness and despair.
She let out a deep sigh and tried to summon the strength to face her daughter and her mother. The news she carried with her today was not good. She was about to add to her mother’s problems at a time in her life when she needed all her energies for the major move to the Bahamas.
Finally, she realized she could delay no longer. She left the car and made her way over the gravel drive to the front door. She knew it would be unlocked as it always was when a visitor was expected, saving her mother a long and sometimes painful walk downstairs when none of their helpers was around.
Megan entered the hall and breathed in the scent of flowers emanating from the silver bowl on the polished table. It was amazing to think of how her parents retained the look and feel of former days in this large house when they were clearly much older and less energetic. She could not fault them for wishing to be relieved of the burden. At their time of life it was only right that they should be able to relax and save their strength for their own leisure pursuits.
She looked into the library to see if her father was working there but the room was empty. There was no sound of clattering dishes from the kitchen so she made her way up the staircase thinking again how her mother had to climb it daily despite her arthritis.
The master bedroom suite in the east wing of the house was spacious and self-contained with its own seating area near a window and close to a gas fireplace for added comfort. It was a spot favoured by her mother in her later years and Megan was sure she would find her there.
As expected, her mother was sitting by the fire with a soft robe over her knees and she welcomed Megan with a smile.
“Come and sit with me, dear. Your father is in the attic searching out more items for Devon to sell. I asked him to let me talk to you on my own. But first, tell me how things are progressing with you and Maurice.”
There was no way to avoid the dreaded subject now. Megan began, but she looked out of the windows behind her mother’s head so as to avoid seeing the hurt she was surely about to cause.
“I am afraid I have no good news on that score, mother. As you know, Maurice enrolled in a program for gambling addicts. He made reasonable progress for the first two months, by all accounts, but he began to waver after that. I visited several times but it became clear to me he was not going to be able to stay the course. I can tell you I was shocked at how deep his addiction was. I’m afraid it was one more thing I had missed with my obsession with work. I know the blame rests with me, in part, at least.”
“Megan, you have done what you could to make up for that. You have reduced your work responsibilities and slowly built up a better relationship with Portia. What is the situation with your husband now?”
Megan Anderson’s gaze wandered far away to the trees waving in the morning breeze. She could not face seeing her mother’s disappointment as she revealed her failures.
“That’s the bad news, mother. He has left the program and, what’s worse, he has refused to come home. He has asked for a leave from his university position and applied for a teaching job with some mission in Africa where he feels he can rid himself of the demons that drove him to online gambling in the first place. He leaves this week and I am afraid that it may be the end of our marriage.”
Megan had held it together during this confession but as she reached the final words, she collapsed in tears and laid her head on her mother’s lap sobbing in a way she had not allowed herself to do since she was a child.
Marian Beck stroked her daughter’s dark hair and waited for the sobs to diminish. She could not help thinking this was a breakthrough in their relationship. There had not been much true closeness between them for many years and now, when it might well be too late, her daughter had returned to her.
“Megan, my dear, dear girl! Dry your eyes. Your news is not exactly unknown to me. Your father has been keeping track of Maurice’s progress and was informed when he left the program. I believe your husband may be doing the best thing for his recovery by moving far from temptations. Don’t give up yet. There is still hope for you two and for Portia, of course. Her progress has been excellent in the last few weeks, thanks to Abigail’s influence and Zoe’s help. I can’t predict the future but it is not impossible for all this to resolve itself in time. You have the chance to start again. It’s not too late for you.”
There was something in her mother’s voice that reached through Megan’s misery and caused her to look into her mother’s face for the first time. What she saw there, was alarming. Her mother always presented a polished appearance to the world no matter what the time of day, but now she revealed a pale face denuded of artifice. There was no delicate application of colour in her cheeks or her lips. In fact, those cheeks were, on closer inspection, somewhat sunken. Megan began to panic. Had she once more been so self-involved that she had missed these warning signs in her own mother? When would she learn to watch those around her with a more intense concern? What had she missed?
She looked down at the hands that had stroked her head. Surely these hands were thinner and perhaps a new tremor made the fingers move involuntarily. She pulled herself together and focussed on the woman in front of her.
“Mother, what’s going on? Why did you ask me to come over today? What have you not told me while I have been ranting on about my own problems? Please tell me!”
Marion Beck sat back in her chair. She was conscious of the impact her next words would convey. She had begun to absorb the shock of her condition over the last few days, but Megan was about to hear of it for the first time and it would not be easy to inflict this on her daughter; a child who had always looked to her mother for stability and support in all things.
She took a breath or two to calm her breathing and spoke softly.
“Megan, I have had a heart attack. Now, don’t collapse on me. You are the first of the family to hear about this. Neither Portia nor Abi is aware of what has happened. Your father and I dealt with this on our own during the night hours. The two girls think I have a slight cold and I am confined to my room.
I asked your father to let me do this in my own way. I have written a letter and I want you to take it to Terrence and Jillian tomorrow evening when they assemble everyone for their family meal at the restaurant. I can’t face their reactions as I can’t face yours if you are unable to cope with the news. Please draw upon your strength to support me in this, Megan. What’s done is done. We can’t change the facts.”
Megan’s head was full of the repercussions of her mother’s ill health and her heart was filled with sorrow for her mother’s predicament. She gathered what rational thought she could find and put aside her own reactions to give what comfort she could to a mother who, in this moment, was more dear and more precious to her than Megan could ever remember. Through her tears and her shock she blurted out what was in her innermost heart.
“Mummy, I love you so much. I am so sorry to hear what has happened to you. Please lean on me for anything at all. I promise to be there for you whenever you want, and for whatever you need. I know I have not been the best daughter you could have hoped for but I know I have changed for the better and I will prove it to you.”
Marian Beck relaxed and smiled weakly. This was exactly what she had been hoping for. Sometimes it took a serious health threat to awaken the caring person inside even the most self-involved child. She believed Megan’s promise. When she had used the old childish term of endearment, she knew it was heartfelt and Megan would be the support both she and Aylward would need in the coming months.
The next hour flew by as Marian answered questions about her doctor’s assessment of her heart damage and what plans had been made for her recovery.
When she was satisfied her mother was not about to expire in the next few minutes, Megan went off to find breakfast or lunch for the three of them and hear about their plans for the future. She still had to face her father and keep her resolve to be a support for both of them. Strangely, she was invigorated by the responsibility. She began to realize how weakened she had become because of her failures with both Portia and Maurice. This was her chance to redeem herself in the eyes of her parents, her family and, not least of all, in her own eyes also. She stood up straight, conscious of preparing to shoulder a burden; one she would need all her strength to bear.
Aylward Beck descended the attic staircase step by step, using extreme caution. He was acutely aware this was no time for him to fall. Marian’s heart attack had jolted him into a new frame of mind in which all things had altered. He had even more responsibilities now that his dear wife was incapacitated. Not only had he to continue the task of emptying this huge residence of all its treasures, he had now to completely reverse the move south. Under the present circumstances it was unthinkable to take his wife away from medical attention and deposit her in a foreign country. This decision had been made swiftly as soon as he heard the doctor’s assessment of Marian’s condition. It was not a difficult decision. In his mind he knew the entire operation to transfer their lives to another country was something of a pipe dream. Had he realized in the beginning how much sheer work was involved in such a move, he would never have proposed it. Now, the added burden of selling the property in the Bahamas, which they were still in the process of renovating, loomed over him.
He dusted off his hands and wished he could dust off his problems this easily. The attic visit had revealed a vast amount of stored items most of which had been abandoned and forgotten decades before. His knees would not allow him to venture up there again. It was enough to have seen the scope of the problem.
Professor Aylward Beck stood as upright as he could manage. He heard a distinct creak in his back but ignored the warning. It was time to rally the troops. There could no longer be any pretence of his competence to do all of this work.
He would have to enlist Terrence and Megan as legal aides. He thanked God Devon had already begun the selling of collections and larger furniture pieces. He would accept all and any help the boy and his associates could supply and insist on a payment schedule. Abigail had been a tremendous help lately, taking the supervision of Portia off his hands but he would need to ask more of her. Perhaps she could help find a suitable home locally for Marian and himself.
He chuckled at the thought. Their new home would be vastly different from this one. Marian would require a place with no steps and the minimum of upkeep. He could not think beyond these bare criteria for now. He placed that decision far to the rear of his brain. First things first or he would soon be overwhelmed.
He caught the sound of tinkling china cups on saucers and suddenly realized he was both hungry and thirsty. Making his way toward the sounds he found his wife and daughter laughing at some joke over a table in the master suite filled with dishes and the delightful smell of toasted muffins and warm chocolate croissants. He could not determine which was the most welcome; the food or the sound of laughter. There had been little of that in the house lately. Megan must be doing her mother some good at long last.
“Daddy, come and join us! I made omelettes and there’s plenty for all of us. We’ve just been talking about the old days here when Terry and I were children. I saw Abi and Portia in the kitchen and they will join us shortly. I think a family conference is in order, don’t you?”
It was precisely what Aylward had needed to hear. Someone, other than he, had made a decision and formed a plan. Never mind that it was a small decision and a minor plan as yet, it was the sign he longed for. He was no longer alone in this enterprise. It was time for him to lay down the conceit of being in control of all things. That era had passed.
He summoned a weak smile and looked first to his Marian. One glance between them showed she was also surprised and relieved. She patted the chair by her side and he made his way toward it, grateful to the bottom of his soul that his life’s companion still lived.