Things I Want to Say (19 page)

Except it wouldn’t, really. How could either of us entirely shake the guilt over what we’d done?

“Come home and you can tell them,” Frannie said.

“I can’t come home right now,” I said. “Alice is in the hospital. Her cancer’s back.”

“If she’s in the hospital there’s nothing you can do for her there. I need you
here.
”

“I’ll call the cemetery from here.”

“No. You have to come home.” She sounded hysterical.

I took a deep breath. I resisted the temptation to give in and tried to calm her, but I couldn’t back down now. I had to push on with the decision I’d made. “I’m not coming home again,” I said. “Not to stay. I can’t.”

“What do you mean you’re not coming home?”

“Just that. I can’t live there with you anymore. I need to
get out on my own and make a new life. One that doesn’t revolve around guilt and secrets.”

Her sharply indrawn breath left a ringing silence in my ears. I waited, giving her time to process this news. After a while I wondered if she’d hung up the phone. “Frannie? Are you still there?”

“What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice brittle. “Now that you’ve started sharing all our secrets with Alice, are you going to tell everything? Do you think that will absolve you from all guilt? Or do you just want to see me punished?”

“I think we’ve both been punished enough,” I said. “But we can’t keep pretending what we did never happened. We have to acknowledge that what we did was wrong.”

“It wasn’t wrong!” The words hit me like a slap. “He deserved to die.”

“You poisoned him, Frannie,” I said. “And I let you. That was wrong.”

“I did it to protect
you.
” She spoke through tears. Frannie, who never cried. “Don’t you even appreciate that?” It frightened me a little that I wasn’t more moved, as if I really had become immune to her manipulation.

“You made sure I did,” I said. “I’ve spent my whole life feeling as if I owe you. But now I can see that living with the guilt has hurt me worse than he ever could have.”

“You’re wrong! When he died we were set free. We were able to make a new life.”

“A different life. Not a better one.”

“How can you say that?”

How could she be so blind? “Look at us!” I demanded. “You’re practically a recluse and I’ve wasted too many years, too afraid to have the family I’ve always wanted.”

“
I’m
your family.”

“But it’s not enough. Not anymore.” I swallowed the tears
that finally threatened. “I want a chance to meet a man and have children and…and to have a
real
life.”

Her wet sobs and choking breaths filled my ear. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “Are you going to the police?”

I’d wrestled with this question for days and arrived at the only answer I thought I could live with. “I don’t see what good that would do now,” I said. “It won’t bring our father back, and it won’t give either of us back all the years we’ve wasted.”

“Then what are you going to do?” she asked again.

I took a deep breath. Here was the hardest part, the part that would take all the courage and strength I could muster—maybe more than I actually had. “I’m going to start over. I’m going to stop being afraid of other people, of other relationships. And I’m going to try to help other people not screw up the way you and I did.”

“All I ever wanted was for you to be safe and happy, and now you hate me.”

I sighed, drained by the battle I’d been fighting. “I don’t hate you, Frannie. I just think it would be better if we tried to live our own lives. Both of us.”

“You won’t admit it, but you need me. You always have. I can see it, even if you can’t.” Some of her old forcefulness was back, but she failed to sway me.

“Goodbye, Frannie. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“I’ll be here. I’ve always been here for you. One of these days you’ll appreciate it.”

I hung up the phone and slumped into a chair. My insides felt heavy. I’d known confronting Frannie would be difficult. I’d expected to feel guilty, even sad. But I hadn’t counted on this despair and, yes,
anger
that weighed me down.

The Frannie I’d talked to now was a stranger to me. She refused to admit she had done anything wrong. She couldn’t
see how twisted her perspective was and how it had hurt us both.

Cocoa whined and climbed into my lap. I scratched behind her ears. The sadness I felt was beyond tears. For all I’d gained from my new resolve to make changes in my life, I felt as if I’d lost my sister. Maybe forever.

When I went to visit Alice that afternoon, I was surprised to hear voices coming from her room. I assumed she was with her doctor, but when I peeked in I saw a man and woman about my age and two teenagers. I tried to duck out before anyone had seen me, but Alice called my name. “Ellen. It’s okay. Come on in.”

I reluctantly entered the room. Alice was sitting up in bed, looking less pale than she had when she’d first been hospitalized. Her hair was combed and she was wearing lipstick. “This is my friend Ellen,” she said. “Ellen, this is Bobby MacCray and his wife, Margie.”

Bobby was a solid man with graying hair and blue eyes pulled down at the corners by sadness. He nodded to me, his expression rigid. The look of a man determined not to cry.

Margie twisted her hands together and looked as if she would rather be undergoing a root canal than standing in this hospital room. Her lips were compressed to a thin line and every few seconds her gaze darted to her husband, as if she was prepared to flee after him if he decided to bolt.

“And this is Bettina and Clark.” Alice smiled at the two teens, who stood between the bed and the window. Clark, the younger of the two but also the taller, slouched against the window frame, hands shoved in his pockets, watching Alice with a troubled expression.

Tina stood closest to the bed, her arms folded beneath her breasts, eyes downcast. She never looked at Alice, but I had
the feeling that, of all of us in the room, she was most aware of her every movement, her every breath.

I noticed Alice didn’t introduce the children as her son or daughter. Perhaps they had all agreed not to use those loaded words. Not yet. The fact that they were all here now spoke to the gravity of the situation, and the charity dire circumstances can call forth.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll just wait outside.” I was already backing toward the door, and ducked out before anyone could stop me.

I found a chair at the end of the corridor, where I could watch Alice’s door but not be readily seen. Then I waited. I strained my ears, listening for raised voices. For sobs. For any clue as to how the scene in that little room was playing out.

Maybe fifteen minutes later, the family emerged. Bobby had his hand on Clark’s shoulder, and Margie had her arm around Tina. They walked, heads down, to the elevator, none of them saying a word.

When I was sure they had left, I stood and walked slowly back to Alice’s room. I was surprised to find her out of bed, standing at the window. She looked over her shoulder when I entered. “I still can’t believe they really came to see me,” she said, her smile stretching the skin across the fine bones of her face. I had heard of people glowing with happiness—brides and new mothers—but this was the first time I’d actually seen it. Alice’s face was illuminated by a light from within. A happiness that was like a heat radiating out from her.

“They’re great-looking children,” I said. “Bettina looks just like you.”

“Do you think so?” Her face crumpled a little and she pulled a wad of tissue from the pocket of her robe. “I’m sorry. I’m just so emotional with everything that’s been happening.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said. “You should never have to
apologize for your feelings. Of course you’re emotional.” I pulled a tissue from the box by the bed. “I’m getting choked up myself just thinking about it.”

She sat on the edge of the bed and I pulled a chair closer. “Tell me all about it,” I said.

“I called again last night,” she said. “After you left.” She flashed a half smile. “It took me all this time just to work up the nerve. I asked to speak to Bobby. When he came on the line, I told him everything.”

“Everything?”

She nodded. “I told him about the cancer first, then I told him the rest—about Travis and moving back to Ridgeway, and how sorry I was for everything I’d done. I accepted full blame. Then I told him that the only thing I wanted was the chance to apologize to my children face-to-face.” She sniffed and tried to stem a fresh tide of tears. “I told him I didn’t want to go to my grave with them thinking I never cared about them.”

I mopped at my eyes and swallowed past the knot in my throat. “What did he say?”

“He said he would talk to them, and that he would bring them to see me. And he said…he said he forgave me.”

“Oh, Alice.” I leaned over and squeezed her hand. This was the best gift anyone could have given her.

She nodded and sniffed. When she’d composed herself, she said, “About an hour ago, he called and asked if they could come over right away. Of course I said yes.” She pressed her palms to her cheeks. “I was so nervous one of my heart monitors went off. A nurse came rushing in and fussed at me for getting too worked up, but when I told her what was happening she helped me get fixed up to see them. And she said she’d pray for me.”

“That’s great.” I blinked back fresh tears. “When they arrived, were you surprised to see Margie with him?”

“I didn’t know what to think.” Her eyes met mine, bright
with tears, excited as a child’s. “I didn’t really even look at her at first. I was too busy staring at Bobby. He looks…he looks so much like his father.”

“And Tina and Clark—what did you think of them?”

“I couldn’t think. It was so strange. Foolish as it sounds, I couldn’t help picturing them as these little children I’d left so many years ago. But here they were, practically grown.” She stared down at her hands, knotted in her lap. “I was so afraid they’d hate me,” she whispered.

“They don’t hate you,” I said. “I’m sure of it.”

“I hope they don’t.” She raised her head again and stared past my shoulder. “They didn’t say much really, except Clark did say he was sorry I was sick.”

“It will take a while. They’ll have to get to know you all over again. But they’ll be glad they did.” Whatever happened now, they would know Alice had loved them. The empty place her leaving had left inside them could now be patched over and partially filled.

“How are you doing otherwise?” I asked.

She sighed. “As well as can be expected. Isn’t that a meaningless assessment?”

“Are they going to start treatment soon?” I asked. “More chemo? Or surgery?”

She shook her head. “It’s too late for that.” She looked around the room, blinking rapidly. “Someone from hospice is coming to talk to me tomorrow. They apparently have a very nice facility here in Ojai. Like a private home, where family can come visit.” She smiled through cascading tears. “Isn’t that great? Now I actually have family who can visit. Bobby promised they would. He was always a man who kept promises.”

I bit my lip, determined not to break down in front of her. I’d had no idea Alice was that sick. She looked so…so like Alice. Older. Thinner. Sadder. But weren’t we all? “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Her eyes met mine, full of sympathy. “It’s all right. I’ve had sometime to get used to the idea. When I first started getting sick again, I had a feeling this time would be different. It’s one reason I decided to move back here and try to repair at least some of the damage I’d done.” She smiled. “I won’t have a lot of time with them, but I’ll have some. That’s more than I had a right to ask.”

You’re wrong,
I wanted to say.
You deserve better. We all do.

Alice crawled back under the covers, tucking them carefully around her thin frame. “Now that we know what my future looks like, what about yours?” she asked.

“I talked to Frannie this afternoon,” I said. “I told her I won’t be returning to Bakersfield to live.”

Alice’s eyes widened. “How did she take that?”

“She wasn’t happy. She couldn’t understand why I’d want a different life from the one we’ve had.”

“She’ll be okay. Frannie’s a strong woman.”

I wasn’t so sure my sister was strong in the right way, but I didn’t argue the point. “I hope she’ll be okay. It’s up to her now if she is or not.”

“What about your flower shop?”

“I’ll sell it to Yolanda. She’s said for years she’d like to have her own place.”

She nodded. “Then what?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I haven’t gotten that far.”

She smiled. “You know what I think?”

I returned the smile. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“I think you should take Grandpa Elvis’s advice. Find a place you think you’d like and make a space there where you’ll fit.”

I nodded. “Good advice.”

“You’re a lucky person, you know.”

“I know.” I didn’t have cancer. I wasn’t in jail for murder. I’d had a lot of luck in my life and, until now, had taken it all for granted.

“Not too many people get a chance to really start over and get things right,” Alice said. “I can’t wait to learn how it all turns out.”

My gaze met hers, questioning. Did she mean she intended to stick around to find out?

She winked at me. “Don’t worry. Wherever I end up, I’ll be checking up on you. I’ve been nosy my whole life—I can’t see cancer or anything else stopping that.”

I smiled in spite of my sadness. “I can’t wait to see how it all turns out, either.” For Alice and Frannie and most of all for myself.

A string of brass bells behind the door chimed as I entered the flower shop, and the familiar sweet-spicy smell of carnations and roses surrounded me. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, taking comfort and courage from that rich perfume. It smelled like home. Exactly where I belonged.

“Hello, may I help— Ellen!”

Martin rushed from behind the counter, then drew up short a few steps away from me. “You haven’t been returning my calls,” he said.

I nodded. “I know. A…a lot has happened. I wanted to try to explain.”

He nodded, still cautious, arms folded across his chest.

“Alice is in a hospice in California. Her cancer has come back.”

All the stiffness went out of him, and he held out his arms to me. “Ellen, I’m so sorry.”

I stepped into his embrace, and it was like coming home. To a
real
home, full of love and warmth and all the things I’d longed for all my life. I struggled to compose myself. “There’s more, but I can’t talk about it now.” I would tell him everything later. He deserved to know the truth, but first, I wanted to enjoy this closeness. This
acceptance.

I stepped back a little, though he still didn’t completely
release me. “I notice the space next door is empty now,” I said.

“Yes.” He looked toward the empty storefront. “I guess it’s too small of a space to be practical for most businesses. The tax service that was in there outgrew the place and no one else has been interested.”

“When I was here before, you were talking about expanding,” I said.

“Well sure, I’d like to.” He shrugged. “Can’t quite talk myself into taking the financial risk, though.”

I nodded and tried to look everywhere but at him. But I found his brown eyes mesmerizing and my gaze was continually drawn back to him. “Have you thought about taking on a partner?” I asked.

He took his time answering, a curious light in his eyes as he looked me up and down. I forced myself to stand still, to pretend to be unaffected by his scrutiny, though in truth it was all I could do not to fidget and fan myself like an over-wrought teenager.

“Do you have someone in mind?” he asked at last.

I took a deep breath, trying to remember the speech I’d rehearsed on the way over here. “I sold my business in California,” I said. “I’m thinking of relocating.”

“And Sweetwater, Kansas, is on your list?”

“Right now, it’s the only place on my list.”

He grinned. “Then maybe we should talk.” He checked his watch. “Where are you staying?”

“At the La Quinta out on the interstate.”

“I close up at six. Why don’t we have dinner tonight and talk.”

I let loose the smile I’d been holding back. “I’d like that very much.”

We were doing the movie thing again, standing there grinning at each other. I decided to give in to the lighter-than-air feeling that surrounded and filled me. I breathed in
the floral perfume of the shop and noted the fine lines that fanned out from the corners of Martin’s eyes, and the way the blue of his shirt set off the rich chocolate of his eyes. I listened to the muffled traffic on the street outside and admired the brilliant red of a blooming hibiscus and the deep green of the Boston fern by the register. I inventoried every sense and filed away every image like a photograph.

This was a memory I wanted to keep forever, of the moment when I’d started over. All those things I wished I’d done, all the things I wished I’d said—here was my chance to act and speak, suffer the consequences and receive the rewards. All I had to do was get started and see how far I could go.