Tending Roses (18 page)

“He’s at his office,” I said finally. “I was hoping he’d be back by now. He must have gotten tied up with something.”

Aunt Jeane clearly smelled a rat. “You two having a fight, or something?”

“No.” Which was true. “He got a call from one of his clients this morning, and off he went.”

“And?” Aunt Jeane probed. I wondered why she was pushing so hard and if Grandma had told her about the problems between Ben and me.

Aunt Jeane laid a hand on my arm, and the next thing I knew, I was spilling the whole story. “I guess I’m just disappointed that it didn’t occur to him to stay home and help get things ready here, or to spend a little time with Josh. You know, he hasn’t even seen Josh in over two weeks, and it didn’t occur to him to stay around this morning and put the client on the back burner for the day.” I sighed, wondering if Aunt Jeane would think I was being petty and self-centered. “I understand that he’s a perfectionist about his work. I do. I love my job, too, but it’s not my top priority anymore. Just once in a while, I’d like us to come first with Ben. It seems he and Josh barely know each other. Josh hardly even notices when Ben comes into the room. That just isn’t right, and it isn’t fair to Josh.”

Aunt Jeane quickly put on her psychologist’s cap. “Well, Kate, lots of men don’t feel that child care is their responsibility. For years, society has been telling them they’re good fathers if they make a good living and show up on Sundays for dinner. I see it all the time with kids at school. A lot of dads think they’re doing their jobs because they make lots of money. Moms, too, for that matter. In the meantime, their kids are lonely and needy. They don’t have anyone to go to, and they end up disrespectful and mad at the world. I’ll tell you, things have changed in the thirty-six years I’ve been teaching.”

“I don’t doubt that.” I could tell I was in a hornet’s nest, so I started trying to back out. When Aunt Jeane got stirred up about something, she didn’t quit easily.

She raised a finger into the air, looking frighteningly similar to Grandma. “I’ll tell you, it isn’t bad schools that are to blame for the problems kids have today—it’s insufficient families and lazy parenting. People don’t put their children ahead of themselves. You are right to think hard about your priorities, Kate. Do what you can to bring Ben around.” Pausing, she looked at her finger, then slapped her hand over her mouth and started to laugh. “Listen to me. I sound just like Mother.”

I burst into giggles because that was exactly what I had been thinking. “I guess it runs in the family.” I motioned to Joshua, who was pointing his finger, trying to examine the buttons on Aunt Jeane’s shirt.

We laughed some more, and Joshua squealed and waved his arms. Aunt Jeane bounced him, smiling and chattering. I was struck again by what a shame it was that she’d never been able to have children. She would have been a wonderful mother and grandmother.

“Speaking of family,” she said finally, “have you heard anything from your father?”

I shook my head, feeling guilty, though I didn’t know why. “I called and left messages twice, but I don’t know if he’s coming.”

“If you called, he’ll come. He’s just staying away because he thinks you don’t want to see him.”

“Why would he think that?”

She dropped her chin as if she couldn’t believe I was asking. “Kate, you haven’t so much as called the man in years. You didn’t send him a birth announcement for the baby, or any pictures. You didn’t call when Josh was born or during all that time he was in the hospital. Your father had to find out about Joshua’s progress secondhand. What was he supposed to think?”

I stared at a warped board on the kitchen floor, feeling as if we were speaking two different languages. “What?” I muttered, trying to find reality. “Did he tell you all that?”

“He’s really hurting over it.” She skirted my question, but looked at me directly. “And you’re hurting over it, and your sister is hurting over it, and Grandma is hurting over it. So am I. We’ve let ourselves fall apart these last few years. This family needs to put itself back together before any of us can be right again.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to put us back together,” I confessed. “I can’t believe you even got Karen to come, but you can be sure she isn’t coming here to kiss and make up.” Karen blamed Dad for the fact that Mom was emotional and driving too fast when the car accident happened. A few Christmas cards had been the extent of my sister’s contact with the family since then.

“She and James are putting in for time off so they can be here.” Aunt Jeane’s voice was steady—as if she were laying out a map of things to come. “That is a start. Have a little faith, Kate. Open your mind a little. You may be surprised.”

Cold dread gripped my stomach, churning it like a boiling pot. “I wish I could.” To hash things out with Dad and Karen was to go back to the event that began our separation.

Aunt Jeane stroked my hair just as Grandma sometimes did. “Kate, it’s time. Six years have gone by. Have you even been to visit your mother’s grave since you’ve been here?”

“No.”

“Then it’s time.”

“I know.” I thought about what Grandma had said.
It seemed like the whole world was coming to an end around us.
Why did I feel that way? Why did it seem as if gathering the family here would bring about something terrible?

I tried to push the answer into a dark corner of my mind and lock it away. But I knew. Gathering the family would bring back my mother’s death.

And that was when the world had ended for all of us.

Aunt Jeane put her hand over mine as if she understood. “I know it’s hard, but it’s time we let go of all this grief. We can go to the cemetery now, while Grandma is busy in the little house.” She looked hard at me. “Just you and me, all right?”

I nodded, and we quietly gathered our coats, slipped Joshua into his carrier, and left without telling anyone.

Looking at Joshua lifted my spirits as we made the trip to the family cemetery, which was on the back side of the farm on a hillside overlooking Mulberry Creek. For a hundred and thirty years, members of my father’s family had been buried there. Legend said the site had been selected by his Cherokee ancestors because all four horizons were visible. Shaded by ancient oak trees and circled by a weathered iron fence, the cemetery had the feeling of sacred ground.

Aunt Jeane entered first, clearing overgrown honeysuckle vines away from the gate, then stepping inside. She went to the grave of my grandfather and lovingly brushed the leaves away from his side of the stone. She left covered the side that waited for my grandmother, as if to promise we would not need it soon.

Standing outside the fence with Joshua in my arms, I gazed at the hillside, remembering it filled with cars and people with dark umbrellas. So long ago, but yesterday in my heart. The grief was fresh and untouched.

Drinking in the cool afternoon air, I remembered further back—to a time when this was no more than an interesting place to play and a spot where we occasionally came with Grandma to put flowers on Grandpa’s grave. I remembered a day when Karen and I read the ancient headstones, contemplating the fact that children were buried here, some only babies. The idea made us sad, and we went somewhere else to play. If you are lucky, you know a time in your life when graveyards are that easy to forget.

Rustling leaves announced my entrance into the graveyard. Aunt Jeane glanced at me, then went back to cleaning Grandpa’s gravestone with a rag. I knew she wanted to let me make peace with my mother’s death in private.

I walked forward and stood a few feet from my mother’s grave, staring at the headstone and thinking of all the pain attached to it. Resentments rose like sludge dredged from the bottom of a riverbed. They mixed with sorrow and left a strange taste in my mouth. I was angry that she had died and left us in tatters, that with her went the last thread that stitched our family together. I was sad that she was gone, that there would never be another chance for us to talk, that she would never hold Joshua, or read him a bedtime story, or weave a chain of daisies for him. I was sorry that I had wasted so many chances to call her on the phone and just talk. I was bitter because we had let our lives go by in such a hurry that we never got to know each other.

I never again wanted to make that mistake in my life. Closing my eyes, I hugged Joshua to my chest and prayed that I would be there to care for him as he grew up, to cheer him on at Little League games and graduations, to kiss his cheek when he married, and to someday be a grandmother to his children. . . .

I was glad when the creak of the gate told me Aunt Jeane was ready to leave. Turning away from the stones, I walked to the car and climbed into the passenger seat, feeling numb.

She knew what I was thinking and didn’t press me about my feelings. Instead, she concentrated on the living. “Your mother would have wanted us to do what we can to patch this family back together.”

I sighed. “I know.”
But I’m not sure it’s possible.
“How long do you think everyone will stay?”

“A few days probably. Your dad might want to stay longer now that he’s retired. He’ll probably want to stick around and get to know this baby.”

I scoffed bitterly at that, wondering if we were talking about the same person. He’d never been interested in getting to know his
own
children.

“Katie, you need to consider what is best for your son.” Aunt Jeane’s retort brought me up short. “It isn’t right to keep him from his grandfather because
you
are angry. Yes, you will make an empty space in your father where Joshua should be, but you will also carve a hole in Joshua where his grandfather should be. As he grows up, he will feel that he was not good enough to warrant his grandfather’s attention.
Your son
deserves to know the love of his family.”

I nodded, feeling ashamed. Aunt Jeane had Grandma’s way of putting you in your place.

Looking out the window, I felt the essence of my mother around me, like a spirit. Silently, I promised I would do everything possible to heal the family and to keep the farm. I knew that was what she would have wanted. The farm was the one place in the world where my mother really seemed to be at peace.

I took a deep breath and told Aunt Jeane what I was thinking. “Since we’re talking about family, I want to say something about Grandma.”

Aunt Jeane gave me a strange sideways look as we pulled into the driveway of the farm. “All right.”

The car crept closer to the house, and I could see Grandma standing on the porch watching us curiously. I hurried with what I had to say. “I think you and Dad are wrong in wanting to move Grandma Rose to a nursing home. She doesn’t want to leave the farm.”

Aunt Jeane’s mouth straightened into a stubborn line that reminded me of Grandma’s. “Kate, don’t let her play on your emotions. I know she doesn’t want to leave, but the fact is she can’t live here alone anymore. She’s a danger to herself, and she can’t even drive anymore. If anything happens, she’ll be trapped here alone. This move is for her own good.”

I straightened my shoulders, trying not to feel like one of Aunt Jeane’s fifth graders. “I’m not letting her play on my emotions. I’m not stupid, Aunt Jeane. I know she’s trying to manipulate me, but I also understand some things I didn’t before I came here. This farm is her heartbeat. She won’t leave willingly. If you force her away from here, you’ll be killing her.”

Aunt Jeane turned to me, looking surprised and wounded. “I’m not trying to hurt her, Kate, but there isn’t any other way.”

“Ben and I can stay a few months longer,” I rushed on, though I knew I shouldn’t offer without talking to Ben again. “I’m not ready to go back to work yet anyway. We’ve figured out some ways we can cut our expenses for a while.”

Aunt Jeane stared at me, openmouthed, clearly shocked by my offer. “And after that?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. Glancing out the window, I saw Grandma advancing on the car and I knew we had to end the conversation.

“It isn’t fair to you and Ben to . . .” Aunt Jeane stopped in midsentence, jumping in her seat as Grandma opened the car door and stuck her head in.

“You should have told me you were going for a drive,” she complained. “I might have come along.”

Aunt Jeane just shrugged and climbed out of the car. “You were busy on your article. Besides, we only went to the cemetery. I’ll take you back this evening if you want to go.”

Grandma stepped away from the door, nodding at me with a profound expression, as if she knew how much the trip meant. “No. I was out there last Sunday. I can wait a while longer.” As I walked around the car, she laid a hand tenderly on my shoulder and whispered, “Good for you, Katie. Next spring we can plant Mrs. Owens’s flowers there. It is good soil.”

Aunt Jeane looked at us, narrowing one eye suspiciously and tapping the knuckle of her index finger to her lips. She shook her head as we walked to the house. I had a feeling she thought Grandma had bewitched me and that I was in need of an exorcism.

When we stepped onto the porch, Grandma motioned us toward the front door. “Now, don’t go in through the kitchen. The floor is wet in there and the front bedroom. I just finished mopping.”

Aunt Jeane glanced at me and frowned with disapproval, then stood back with her arms crossed over her chest as we walked into the dogtrot. I could tell this was a test, and Aunt Jeane was waiting to see how I would handle it.

“Grandma,” I said, “you know you’re not supposed to be mopping. Dr. Schmidt said light exercise only.”

Grandma slipped her hands into her apron pockets and pulled out a dustrag, shaking her head. “Well, the work
has
to be done.” She sighed. “And with you so busy, and Ben gone all hours . . .”

I could tell she was in her highest state of martyrdom, no doubt putting on a performance for Aunt Jeane, so I stopped her before she could go on. “But
you’re
not supposed to do it.”