Year of the Monsoon (24 page)

“So, how is she?” Maddie asked a couple of evenings later as she and Nan did the dishes while Leisa and Lyn walked through the backyard to Bronwyn’s grave, marked by a chunky white stone.

Nan watched through the kitchen window as Lyn wrapped her arm around Leisa’s shoulders. “I’m not sure,” she said pensively. “We’re talking, but… there’s something different about her now.” Nan looked up at Maddie who was drying a skillet. “It’s almost like she’s not all here with me, like part of her has gone away.”

“Maybe it has,” Maddie mused. “She’s lost so much that she loved, maybe part of her has died, too.” She put the skillet away. “Has she heard from the bio mom?”

“No,” Nan said darkly. “Nothing. After everything she did for them, they haven’t called to see how she is or say thank-you or anything.”

“You know, that’s something else I’ve wondered,” Maddie said as she hung her dishtowel on the rack. “What does that do to your head, to expect this cathartic meeting with your biological mother, only to find she basically wants to use her genetic mistake to take care of her real child?”

“You know, that’s exactly the phrase Leisa used,” Nan murmured.

They had spent that night wrapped in each other’s arms when Leisa was finally able to sleep. She didn’t say anything when they awoke. She went down to the basement while Nan cancelled her day. Wordlessly, they buried Bronwyn in the backyard. Nan cried again as they dug the grave then placed the small body, still shrouded in a towel, in the hole, but Leisa’s supply of tears seemed to have been exhausted at last. They went back inside and made breakfast. Leisa pushed her plate away after a few bites, and sat with her coffee cup cradled in her hands.

“I’m not really sure what I expected,” she began when she finally spoke.

Nan waited. Knowing how Leisa’s mind worked, she knew she would understand in a moment what Leisa was talking about.

“She doesn’t know me. She didn’t raise me. He’s the one she loves, the one she has memories of watching grow up, no matter how big an ass he is now. The real child,” she added wistfully.

Nan reached for her hand, and was surprised when Leisa took it. “You know better than that,” Nan said. “You were the real child for your parents.”

Leisa’s gaze focused on some far off memory and Nan saw a smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

“Rose! Where are you?”

Rose looked up in surprise at the sound of Leisa’s voice calling from the foyer after school one afternoon. “I’m upstairs,” she responded. “And may I ask,” she added as Leisa came noisily up the steps, “since when do you address your mother by her first name?”

“I’m not really your daughter, and you’re not really my mother,” Leisa announced as she dropped her backpack on the floor.

Rose paused as she pulled a t-shirt from the laundry she was folding. “Where did you get that idea?”

Leisa flopped across the bed next to the pile of clean laundry. “Randy Butler said so. He said if I’m adopted, then we’re not a real family. He said you’re not really a mother if you never had a baby, and I’m not your daughter.”

Leisa’s voice was casual, but Rose knew better. She’d learned long ago that Leisa’s mind worked in ways that continually surprised her. She also knew how softhearted Leisa was, no matter how tough she pretended to be. She lay down on the bed next to Leisa, propping herself up on one elbow. “And what makes Randy Butler such an expert?” she asked, running her free hand through Leisa’s silky blond hair.

“Well, he’s older,” Leisa shrugged.

“How old?”

“Third grade.”

Rose suppressed a chuckle. “I see. And since you’re only in second grade, he knows more?”

Leisa shrugged again, not looking directly at Rose.

“I want you to listen to me carefully,” Rose said. “Having a baby does not make someone a mother or father. Raising a child, being there with her every day, taking care of her even when she’s sick or has a scary dream, loving her no matter what…” She paused and turned Leisa’s face to her. “No matter what,” she repeated. “That’s what makes a mother or father.” She looked into Leisa’s serious eyes. “Do you understand that?”

Whatever Leisa read in Rose’s eyes must have satisfied her. “Yes,” she said with relief.

“So,” Rose said, sitting up, “what do you call me?” She gathered an armful of folded laundry.

Leisa grinned wickedly. “Rose?” she teased.

Rose dumped all the laundry on top of her, grabbing Leisa and tickling her until she squealed with laughter. “Stop, Mom!”

“That’s more like it.”

“Yes, I know better.”

Leisa’s eyes were focused on their intertwined hands, but Nan wondered what she was really seeing.

“You don’t have to deal with this alone,” Nan said softly, afraid of pushing Leisa away just as she seemed to be drawing near again.

Leisa’s gaze shifted to Nan’s, searching her face. “Would it be okay if I came home?”

Chapter 19

“THE REAL DAMAGE FROM
monsoon does not come in the first rains and winds,” said the little Indonesian woman. She was the matriarch of the family that ran an Indonesian restaurant where Nan and Maddie used to go when they were in school. She could have been fifty or ninety – it was impossible to tell as her bright black eyes peered from a face wizened and wrinkled by a hard life. “The real damage come later, after the winds and rains have battered you and weakened you and you think you cannot hold on any longer. Then the waves and flooding come and try to sweep you away completely.”

Nan remembered those eyes gleaming like onyx, staring intently into her own. Had the old woman been telling her future? she wondered as she drove home. Leisa was finally home, life was slowly getting back to some semblance of normal, and just as it had seemed the worst was over… Bill Chisholm had called earlier that day. “Todd has had a relapse,” his message on the voice mail said. “He’s back in the hospital. If there is any way for you to come now, you probably should.”

“How do I tell her I have to leave again her very first week back home?” Nan muttered worriedly as she drove home. She had been hypervigilant, watching for any signs of another emotional breakdown, trying not to let Leisa see her worrying. Leisa still seemed fragile and emotionally distant, often staring off into space for long periods of time, gone somewhere Nan couldn’t follow. Yet, she craved touch. She willingly let Nan hold her, and frequently rested an arm or leg where she could stay in contact with Nan, as if making sure she was nearby, but she hadn’t indicated she was ready for anything more. Nan guiltily wondered if, after her prior refusals of Leisa’s attempts to be intimate, Leisa would be brave enough to initiate anything even if she was ready to make love.

Nan was the first one to arrive home. She paused on the threshold. Over the past several weeks, she’d gotten used to coming home to an empty house, but coming home now, knowing Bronwyn wouldn’t be there ever again was still hard. She went to the office and began looking on the Internet for flights to Savannah.

“I’m back here,” she called out when she heard Leisa come in the door. She did a double take when Leisa came into the den, still caught off-guard by how haggard Leisa looked. She wasn’t the only one to notice.

“I’m not trying to pry,” Jo Ann had said to Nan a couple of days earlier, “but she doesn’t look good. She’s lost I don’t know how much weight; she’s got dark circles under her eyes. She looks like she’s aged twenty years in the last couple of weeks.”

Nan weighed her words carefully, trying to reassure Jo Ann without saying too much. “I can’t tell you she’s really okay,” she began. “I’m not sure I even understand everything she’s dealing with, but I think she’s working through it. And I think coming home was an important step in that process.”

“What’s up?” Leisa asked now, glancing at the display on the computer monitor.

Nan sighed. “I just heard from Chisholm. Todd is worse. He’s back in the hospital. He said I should come now if I can.” She stood to face Leisa. “I hate to leave you so soon, but…”

“Oh, Nan,” Leisa said, taking her hand. “Of course you should go. I… I wanted to go with you when you went to meet him.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Leisa said, laying her hand tenderly on Nan’s cheek. “He’s part of you. And that makes him part of me. I just don’t know how Maddie will feel about me asking for more time off work right now.”

Nan looked intently into her eyes. “I love you very much.”

Leisa’s throat tightened suddenly. She saw the truth of Nan’s words in her eyes, and felt that monster stir within her as if it sensed a threat to the hold it still had on her emotions and her memories, roaring in her ears as it felt its grip loosening… “I love you, too,” she was able to say over the noise in her head.

Nan looked away, blinking rapidly. “You haven’t said that since… since before Williamsburg,” she said, her voice cracking a bit.

Leisa pulled Nan to her for a kiss. Tender and gentle at first, her lips parted and the kiss became more assertive. Nan still felt hesitant, and pulled away. “I want you so much,” she said softly, “but I want to be sure you’re ready for this.”

Leisa’s eyes were cloudy, unfocused. “I need you,” she managed to say, though she seemed to have a hard time speaking. She reached for Nan’s hand and pressed it to her breast where Nan could feel the nipple hardening. “I need you,” she repeated.

Needing no further encouragement, Nan pulled Leisa’s shirt and bra off and laid her back on the couch. They made love, exploring each other’s bodies as if doing this for the first time. The ache that had filled both of them exploded in seismic orgasms as their bodies found release denied for months. When they were physically spent, they lay together on the couch, their discarded clothing on the floor.

“I didn’t think you were ready for that,” Nan said, still breathing heavily, tracing her fingertips over Leisa’s ear as Leisa’s head rested on her shoulder.

“I didn’t either,” Leisa admitted, stroking a hand along Nan’s ribs. “I haven’t felt much of anything for so long…”

“How are you?” Nan asked softly, broaching this subject directly for the first time.

Leisa didn’t answer immediately. “Better. Not good… but better.” She was quiet for a while, and then said, “I’ve never felt like that before. I’ve never experienced such hopelessness, such absolute despair.” Nan held her a little more tightly. “I think I understand better what some of your clients must feel. If I felt like that for very long, I’m not sure it would be worth… I can understand how someone can get to the point of thinking they just want it to stop.”

Nan closed her eyes at this admission. “Please,” she whispered, “please don’t ever – do you need to talk to someone? Someone professionally? I could –”

“No.” Leisa lifted her head so she could look into Nan’s eyes. “No. I don’t need anyone else.” She spoke deliberately, trying to make Nan understand. “I don’t hurt as badly as I did. It is getting better. It will be better,” she added softly as she laid her head back down on Nan’s shoulder.