The House on Sugar Plum Lane (22 page)

Barbara wasn't entirely sure why she'd come here tonight, especially since a meaningful conversation with her mother was impossible. But at least she could bare her heart and apologize.

Her mom, of course, wouldn't be able to respond to any of it, but going through the motions might ease some of Barbra's guilt, some of her pain.

Why hadn't she done it sooner?

Pride and stubbornness, she supposed. But where had that gotten her?

Maria's front door opened and the lights went on. Everyone went inside, yet Barbara remained in her car.

It was getting late. Maybe she should go home and come back tomorrow. At that time, she could also pick up her mother's belongings and take them to storage. Ron Paige had left a voice-mail message earlier, telling her that Amy had everything boxed and ready to go.

She hadn't returned his call, but she could tell Amy she would send someone for the stuff tomorrow. So she climbed from the car and headed toward the house in which she'd grown up.

It was weird, yet she still felt as though she was coming home, even if someone else lived here now. But she rang the bell.

Amy, the tenant, answered, holding her purse. Her daughter stood beside her, a pink backpack dangling from her hand. Obviously, they were preparing to leave.

“I'm sorry,” Barbara said. “I should have called first.”

“That's okay. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Not really. I was in the neighborhood and thought we could set up a convenient time for me to send someone to pick up my mother's things.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Amy pointed to the boxes that had been stacked in the living room. “You'll probably need a truck, unless you want to make several trips.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

Their gazes locked for a moment, and while Barbara wanted to break eye contact, she couldn't bring herself to be the first to look away. Something about the young woman caught her interest, although she couldn't put her finger on just what it was.

Maybe it was seeing her at this house, knowing she'd touched her mother's things. Or maybe it was just some crazy need to talk to a real human being tonight, when the people who'd always been her family were unavailable and might never be there for her again.

“Thank you for helping me out,” Barbara finally said. “My son's been ill, and…” Her voice caught, and she feared she would start crying in front of a virtual stranger.

Amy placed a sympathetic hand on Barbara's upper arm, an intimate gesture that had caught her off guard, yet was comforting. “I'm sorry your son has been so ill. Isn't he doing any better?”

“No, and I've…” She blew out a wobbly sigh. For some reason, she felt like venting, like sharing private thoughts with her tenant, and she wouldn't do that; she
couldn't
do that. “Actually, what I'd really like to do is sit in my mother's kitchen with her and have a cup of tea, like we used to when Joey was little. But those days are gone. I'm afraid that I'll never be able to do that again, and it's bothering me more than I care to admit.” She straightened, swiped at tears in her eyes, and forced a smile. “I'm sorry for being so weepy. I'll be okay.
Really.
”

“Please come in and have a cup of tea with me.”

“Oh, no.” Barbara shook her head and took a step back, suddenly wishing she hadn't come to Fairbrook at all that evening, that she'd fought the compulsion to see her mother and had stayed home where she belonged. “I didn't mean to imply…”

“Please come inside, Barbara. There's something I need to talk to you about, something you need to know.” Amy stepped aside to allow her into the house, and she found herself complying.

“Callie,” Amy said to her daughter, a cute little girl about the age of five, “turn on the television. We're not leaving yet.”

The child clucked her tongue, but she removed her backpack and made her way to the TV.

As Amy led Barbara to the kitchen, she said, “I had an interesting conversation with your mother tonight.”

Barbara tried to tamp down a rising tide of jealousy. “You had an actual two-way conversation with her?”

“Yes, and your name came up.”

She stiffened as she pondered how that happened, why they'd talked about her. “I don't understand.”

Amy pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, indicating that Barbara should take it.

“Your mother told me that she loved you more than life itself,” Amy said.

Barbara settled into the chair she'd always considered hers. She didn't doubt that her mother had adored her at one time, but how could she say that when things had been strained between them for years—decades, actually? The affair, the pregnancy, the adoption had always stood between them, even if the actual subject had rarely come up.

Amy went to the stove, removed the teakettle, carried it to the sink, and filled it with water. “She said that she'd always love you, no matter what the future might bring.”

“What do you think she meant by that?”

“That you're her only child, and that nothing can change the way she feels about you. Even though she can't say the words and respond to you in an appropriate manner, the emotion is still there, as strong as ever.”

Until that moment, Barbara had no idea how badly she'd needed her mother's love, faith, and forgiveness. And Amy's conversation with her earlier might be the closest thing she would ever get to having it again.

“I suppose I'll have to be content with that.”

Amy placed the teakettle on the stove and turned on the burner. “She also wanted to apologize to you about a few things.”

Barbara couldn't understand why her mother would open up to a stranger like that, yet she hung on the words, grappled with the possibility that miracles happened—even to people like her.

“What did my mom want to apologize for?” she asked.

“For pushing you too hard at times, for not trusting you to do the right thing without her prodding.”

Her mom
had
pushed, and Barbara had reacted by digging in her heels—a bad combination, it seemed, and one with lifelong repercussions.

“For what it's worth,” Amy added, “she admitted to having a stubborn streak herself.”

Amy removed two of Ellie's china cups and saucers from the cupboard, but instead of carrying the dishes to the table, she faced Barbara and leaned her hip against the kitchen counter. “I think God had a hand in it, and I'll tell you why. I'm not just a single mom who drove down Sugar Plum Lane and spotted a house for rent. I came here specifically to find you.”

Barbara's heart rate spiked, then sputtered. Had Amy been sent by Susan Rossi? Or did she work for the long-haired PI who'd encountered her in the hospital parking lot?

“Why were you looking for me?” she asked, trying to downplay her suspicion with normal curiosity.

“Because my mother was adopted as a baby, and I was looking for her birth family.”

Had she not been seated, Barbara might have dropped to the floor. “You're Susan's daughter?”

Now Amy appeared stunned. “You know her name?”

“Yes. She found me about a year ago.”

The confusion tightened across Amy's face. “But she never told me. And I'm sure she would have. Finding you was so important to her.”

“It's not anymore?”

“My mother passed away six months ago.”

“I'm sorry.” Tears filled Barbara's eyes as a myriad of emotion—grief and shame, to name two—swept over her. “I had an opportunity to talk to her, but I refused.”

“I'm not sure that she was actually looking to have a relationship with you. She told me that she couldn't explain it, but that she had an overwhelming compulsion to find you. Looking back, I think that's because of Ellie's prayers.”

“What do you mean?”

“You may not know this, but your mom prayed for that baby—my mother—every day. She asked God to bless and watch over her and the family who adopted her. In her heart of hearts, Ellie truly believed God would someday bring them together again. And she was able to have that brief connection through me.”

“And you think that's why my mother was able to carry on a conversation with you tonight?”

“That's exactly what I think.”

The teakettle began to whistle, and Amy filled their cups with hot water. Then she carried them back to the table.

Barbara took a long, hard look at the young woman who was her granddaughter, realizing that shutting her out of her life was no longer an option.

She had a great-granddaughter, too. A darling little girl with platinum blond hair and big blue eyes.

How could she walk away from them now that they'd actually met?

Barbara had no idea what Joseph planned to do. He'd walked out of the house and had yet to call or contact her. He might decide to hang in there, at least until Joey took a turn for the better. Or he might pack up and file for divorce while things were still up in the air.

It was hard to say.

At one time, she'd thought she would be crushed if Joseph left her, yet right now, a sense of peace had settled over her. Oddly enough, she felt as though she was right where she needed to be—seated at her mother's kitchen table, having a long-overdue conversation with a woman who no longer seemed to be a stranger.

“I suppose I ought to tell you what happened,” she finally said, “and why I gave up your mother.”

“If you'd like to.”

For the first time, she did.

“I married Joseph Davila in nineteen sixty, and we bought a little house near the beach in Coronado. Two years later, we had Joey. Life was good, and my relationship with my mother was better than it had been in a long time, probably because I'd finally grown up and had a family of my own.” Barbara opened a tea bag and dipped it into her cup, even though she wasn't particularly thirsty. The casual movement seemed to help her sort through her thoughts, her memories. “Joseph was a Navy pilot, and when he was sent to Vietnam, I was incredibly sad and lonely.

“Before I got married, I had a crush on Joseph's best friend, another Navy pilot. Darrel was handsome, an athlete, and a charmer. But he wasn't interested in me.” Barbara took a sip of her tea, realizing she hadn't sweetened it. But it really didn't matter. The warm brew quenched her dry throat and made it easier to speak of the time in her life she'd so badly wanted to forget.

“One night,” she continued, “a couple of friends invited me to a beach party. My mom babysat, thinking it would be good for me to get out. Darrel was there. And we had a couple of drinks and shared a few laughs. One thing led to another, and I did something I shouldn't have done.” Barbara glanced at the young woman who sat across the scarred oak table from her, wondering if she was passing judgment and not blaming her if she did. “The affair didn't last long, but my mother soon put two and two together. Her disgust and her lectures only made me more defensive, more secretive. When I finally ended things with Darrel, I assumed that no one but my mother would be the wiser. But then I found out I was pregnant.”

Amy, who didn't appear to be doing anything other than listening, filled in the blanks. “So you decided to give the baby up for adoption.”

“I had no other choice, not if I wanted to save my marriage. And I did.”

“For what it's worth,” Amy said, “your mom eventually came to the conclusion that you'd done the right thing by giving up the baby. She might not have told you, but she wanted to.”

“That's good to know. Back then, and for years afterward, she'd made me feel as though I'd not only given away my flesh and blood, but that I'd sacrificed a child that was a part of my dad.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“She didn't have to. I could see it in her eyes, and in spite of trying my best to shut her out of my life, not a day went by that I didn't feel guilty about it all—the affair, the adoption, the rift between us. And each time it did, I tried my best to make up for everything, at least as far as my husband and son were concerned.”

“Mommy,” Callie called from the doorway, breaking the tension, shifting their focus. “Can I please have a cookie and some milk?”

“Sure, honey.”

As Amy got up from the table, Barbara studied the little girl, her blond hair pulled back in pigtails, her eyes the color of a summer sky.

Callie was an adorable child, and from what she'd seen so far, Amy was a nice young woman. They already had loving grandparents in Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, but maybe Barbara could be a part of their lives, too. She hoped so, although she probably didn't deserve a relationship with them and wouldn't push for one.

The muffled ring of her cell sounded from inside her purse. At any other time, Barbara might have ignored it, but she didn't dare do that now.

“Excuse me, Amy. I need to check to see who's calling.” She dug through her handbag, found the phone, and looked at the lighted display. “It's Cynthia, my daughter-in-law. I have to take this.” She pushed Send and lifted it to her ear. “Hi, Cyn. What's going on?”

“I have some good news, Mom. They're going to move Joey out of ICU.”

Relief, like the rays of the sun peering out from behind dark clouds, poured over Barbara, warming her from the inside out. “That's wonderful, honey. Have they scheduled the surgery?”

“No, not yet. But it finally looks more promising. The lab results show his blood sugar level is stabilizing. It seems that the new treatment is working.”

“Thank God. That's the best news I've had in ages. Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?”

“No. I'm doing okay. But I have to go, Mom. I'll talk to you later.”

When the call ended, Barbara looked at Amy and smiled. “I can't wait for you to meet my son and his wife. I'm sure the news will come as a complete surprise to them, but they've got big hearts. And they love children.” Barbara caught herself and reeled in her enthusiasm. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to push myself on you. It's just that, if you don't mind, I'd like to get to know you better.”