“I didn’t say I wouldn’t care, but, Ellie, I’m a doctor. I see people being born and dying all the time. If I let myself care too much, it would destroy me. It’ll destroy you, too, if you don’t try to understand it now.”
“I’ll try to understand, but I don’t know if I will.”
She walked away and he didn’t call to her. She almost wished he would. There was a part of her that felt crushed and broken inside. She hated the feeling. What was wrong with everybody? What was wrong with her?
Eleanor spent the next few weeks longing to understand. She even talked to Sapphira about it, but neither girl could grasp what Eleanor’s father had been talking about.
“It seems to me that everybody needs somebody,” Sapphira reasoned.
“That’s what I think,” Eleanor replied. She and her friend were spending the night together in a tent not far from the Templeton trailer.
“I don’t think I’d like to go all my life and have nobody need me,” Sapphira confided. “I mean, that sounds awful to me.”
Eleanor knew exactly how her friend felt. It hurt inside to imagine that her father didn’t need her. She used to feel important in his life, and now she didn’t.
“Do you suppose we’ll get married some day?” Eleanor asked.
“I guess so. I think Tommy Meyers is kind of cute. I wouldn’t mind fooling around with him.”
“Sapphira!” Eleanor was surprised by her friend’s comment.
“Well, why not? That’s what people do with each other.”
“I know, but I didn’t expect you to, like, well, say it that way. It sounds bad when you talk like that.”
“Well, Ally and Samantha have been fooling around with some of the boys. Ally told me it feels really good. And if it feels good, it can’t be bad.”
“I guess that makes sense.” But in truth, Eleanor wasn’t sure anything made sense.
“The real key,” Sapphira explained in her thirteen-year-old wisdom, “is that you love each other. If you love each other, then fooling around is okay. That’s what my mom told me.”
“But a lot of people around here fool around with each other. Do you suppose they love each other?”
“Sure. Why not? We’re supposed to love everybody.”
“Then does that mean we can fool around with everybody?” Eleanor’s question sounded strange in her own ears. The logic seemed skewed somehow.
“I think it does,” she said. “It’s all about love.”
“My dad said love was all we needed.”
“Yeah, I think that’s right.” Sapphira yawned and rolled over, leaving her back to Eleanor.
For a long time Eleanor stayed awake, thinking. She was supposed to love people, and they in turn would or could love her back. She should never need anybody or let anybody else need her. And physical intimacy was all right as long as you loved the person you were with. And truth? Well, that was what she made it.
Somehow none of it set well with her. It just didn’t figure. Eleanor liked things reasonable and logical, and she couldn’t understand why it didn’t make sense. It was like trying to work a puzzle, but the pieces didn’t go together. They just didn’t fit.
****
The clock on the wall chimed and Eleanor opened her eyes. Gone was the tent and Sapphira. Gone were her twelve-year-old worries. She looked at Jana, somewhat surprised. She’d never intended to share all of that. What had gotten into her? By the look on Jana’s face, Eleanor knew her story would only lead to more questions, more demands for explanation. That was always the way when you shared something.
“I need to start supper,” Eleanor said, getting to her feet. She didn’t wait to hear any protest or comment from Jana, so she hurried into the kitchen, images of yesteryear still lingering around her.
She leaned against the counter and sighed. Why did I tell Jana all of that? Why did I open myself up? I can’t let it happen again. I can’t let her know the truth. Not about my mother and certainly not about my father.
Nineteen
Jana sat in stunned silence as her mother left the room. How could all of that have been in her mother’s life and yet the woman had never said anything about it? It wasn’t like she’d experienced the difference between rural and city life. Jana’s mother had grown up in a heavy drug culture as a hippie, living free and wild. Jana would have been amused by the idea had it not been so extraordinary.
How had her mother journeyed from such loose morals and chaos to absolute order? Jana got up and followed her mother to the kitchen. Determined to get answers, she stood in the arched dining room doorway and watched her mother for a moment. It was clear she was upset, but Jana so desired more answers she selfishly decided to push for them.
“You can’t just stop there, Mom. You know that.”
“I can stop wherever I want to,” Eleanor said in a rather clipped manner. “I never meant to share that information to begin with. It was a mistake.”
“No it wasn’t. I hardly know anything about you—about my family. The things you told me give me some insight to better understanding why you raised me the way you did. That whole thing about not needing people could have been a page out of the textbook you used to raise me.”
“So what?” Eleanor took a package of celery out of the refrigerator and placed it on the counter. “It’s not important now.”
“But of course it’s important now!” Jana declared. She crossed the room and came to stand beside her mother. “Don’t you see? We’re finally having some real communication.”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic.” Eleanor turned away to retrieve a cutting board.
“I’m not being melodramatic, I’m being honest—something I don’t think we’ve done a lot of together. What little ‘together’ time there has been.”
“You make it sound as though you grew up in an orphanage. For pity’s sake, Jana, you’ve had a good life, and yet all I’ve ever heard from you has been complaints. You never went hungry or had to worry about the clothes on your back. You never had to live in danger or fear that all you enjoyed would suddenly be stripped away from you.”
“I also never grew up with a sense of family. You were always gone or else I was at boarding school.”
“I had a business to run, Jana,” Eleanor said, turning to look at her daughter. “That’s something you’ve never understood. The bookstore didn’t succeed on its own steam. I had to put a lot of hours in.”
“But you also had a child. I wasn’t succeeding on my own steam either, yet that never seemed to bother you.”
Eleanor began to cut the celery into chunks. “No one is ever happy with their upbringing, Jana. They can always point to some flaw, some indiscretion or frustration. They do this in order to blame someone else for the problems in their life. You want to blame me for the fact that your husband left you, but it’s not my fault that Rob ran off with his secretary.”
Her words stunned Jana. Was that what she thought this was all about? Did her mother honestly think Jana was simply looking for someone to blame? “I’ve never thought you were a part of my situation, Mother. I’m not even sure why you would suggest such a thing.”
Eleanor paused and looked at Jana. Jana thought her mother seemed to genuinely search her face for the truth of her statement. Then, shaking her head, Eleanor went back to work.
Jana decided a cup of coffee might be in order and went to the cupboard for a cup. “You want some?” she asked, holding out a mug.
“No.”
Jana poured her own cup and then went to the fridge for cream. There had to be a way to break through her mother’s walls.
“You still didn’t tell me much about what your mother was like,” Jana said.
“It really doesn’t matter. She’s dead, and there’s no purpose served by dredging up her memory.”
“I don’t understand you.” Jana walked to the back door and stared out at the well-tended lawn. One of Stanley’s great-grandsons came and mowed the grass every other week, while Taffy still putt
ered around planting flowers and trimming bushes. Jana often liked to take her coffee outside to the little picnic area Taffy and Eleanor had put together.
Jana turned away from the sanctuary, however, and decided to ask another question. Perhaps this would be enough of a curve ball that her mother would take the swing without thinking.
“When you said you loved me enough to protect me from the past,” Jana began, “was this what you were talking about or was it something else?”
Eleanor said nothing for several minutes, and Jana wasn’t even sure she’d heard the question. Finally, however, Eleanor put the cleaver aside and bent down to pull a pan from the bottom cupboard.
“The past is full of pain,” her mother stated as she put the celery into the pan. “What mother wouldn’t want to protect her child from that?”
“But the past is also full of good things.”
“Not according to you.”
Jana frowned. “What do you mean?”
Eleanor went to the faucet and turned it on. She let the pan fill halfway before shutting the water off. “Everything you’ve ever said about your childhood has been negative. Despite my best efforts to give you everything you needed to be healthy and well educated, it wasn’t enough. You bemoan the fact that you know nothing about your family ancestry, as though it negates everything else that was done for you.”
“Didn’t it ever occur to you that all I really needed was a mother and father who loved me—who wanted to be with me? That’s all I wanted.”
“Well, Jana, we don’t always get what we want.” Eleanor put the pan on the stove.
“That’s not a good enough answer. I’m a grown woman now, and I won’t be hushed up by my mother.” Jana nearly slammed the coffee mug down. “You owe me an explanation.”
“I owe you nothing,” Eleanor said indignantly. “I have a right to my own life. I have a right to have done things in the best way I could for me.”
“Is that some more of your father’s hippie philosophy? ‘If it feels good, do it’?”
Jana could see her mother’s jaw clench. She’d pushed her too hard.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course not, because you never tell me anything.”
“I just told you quite a bit and it still wasn’t enough. This is exactly why I don’t talk about the past. Look at the way you’re acting. Look at the anger in your heart. Nothing is ever enough for you, Jana. It never has been. Not when you were a child and not now. You’ll never be satisfied, so please stop coming to me for the answers.”
The words cut deep. Jana leaned back against the counter. Was she right? Did her mother have a better grip on her than she had on herself? It hadn’t been enough—that much was true. Her mother had opened Pandora’s box, and Jana wanted another peek inside.
“Just answer me this,” Jana said, her voice more calm. “Is the past you’re protecting me from yours or mine?”
Jana didn’t expect her mother to answer, but she did. The simplicity of the reply chilled Jana to the bone—and for reasons she couldn’t even put her finger on.
“Both.”
Jana picked up her coffee again and drank the entire cup. She poured herself another, this time not even worrying about the cream. She felt very close to understanding something—something crucial. Yet unless her mother was a willing participant in this game, Jana knew the revelation would never come.
She went to the back door again. Taffy and Stanley had come home and were roaming around the grounds together. Taffy was pointing to one thing and then another. Jana knew they would soon come inside and that if she wanted any answers, she would have to ask now.
“Do you know where my father is?”
The question came out in such a low, soft tone that Jana wasn’t positive she’d even asked it aloud.
“He’s dead.” Her mother’s flat, matter-of-fact reply only served to make Jana angrier. Ignoring the couple in the garden, Jana turned back to her mother once again. Eleanor crossed the room to the refrigerator and took out a wrapped platter of chicken breasts.
“Dead?” Jana asked. “For how long?”
“A long, long time.”
“Why did you never tell me? When I asked where he was, you always told me you didn’t know.”
Eleanor shrugged. “For a while, I didn’t know. It was years before I knew the truth.”
“But when you learned it, why didn’t you tell me?”
“To what purpose? Why should I have explained or attempted to explain to a little girl that a man who’d never wanted her in the first place was dead?”
“Why was he so against having a daughter?” Jana always felt her heart break a little more each time her mother mentioned this aspect of the past. How could a father be so cruel as to deny a child based solely on her gender?
“Jana, none of these questions serves any purpose.”
“They serve the purpose of helping me deal with who I am and why I made the choices I made. Remember what you told me when you found out I was marrying Rob and how much older he was than me?”
She shook her head. “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“You told me I was looking for a father and that marrying Rob was a big mistake.”
“And it was.”
“Yes, it was,” Jana admitted. “But maybe, just maybe, if you would have talked to me about the past—about my own father—maybe I wouldn’t have made that mistake.”
“See, I told you.” Eleanor took a bottle of herbs off the rack and shook some onto the chicken. “You’re just looking for someone to blame.”
“No, Mother. I’m looking for a way to understand who I am and why I made those choices. My choices. They are my mistakes—my problems. I’m not asking you to take credit or blame, and if that’s what you’re so terrified of, then rest assured it’s not my goal.”
“I’m not afraid of your questions. I simply see that they serve no purpose. Why should I waste my time? You’ve ruined an otherwise perfectly quiet day by pushing me for answers.”
“If you cherish the silence so much, why are you here? Taffy is hardly a quiet person. She’s vivacious and happy. You are neither.”
Eleanor stopped what she was doing and took a deep breath. “She’s getting too old to be alone. That’s the only reason I’m here.”
“I don’t believe you. I think you need her as much as she needs you. You’ve blown your first rule of living.”
Eleanor looked up, but instead of anger, Jana thought her expression registered hurt. “Think what you will.”
“I want to know who my father was and who his family was. I want to know my background—my ancestry. I can’t believe you’d be so selfish as to keep it from me just because you’re afraid that by sharing the truth with me you’ll somehow be changed or wounded further.”
“I would be changed. Everything would be changed . . . everything.” She sounded shaken—almost scared.
“So that’s it? That’s all I ever get? No answers. No understanding. I don’t get to know my father because it would change things for you?”
“Your father was an irrelevant mistake. Nothing more.” Her mother seemed to regain control over her emotions. “The past will only hurt you, Jana. I wonder, will you give the gory details of your husband’s adulterous affair and betrayal to your child? Will you spell out all the facts simply because your daughter or son demands that you do so? Will you explain the hurt—the rejection—the lies?”
Jana’s chest tightened. She felt completely silenced by those few brief questions. There was no way she wanted her child to know the truth and grow up hating her father. But she also didn’t want to lie to the child if she asked questions—if she needed to know the truth. What was the answer? Her mother had chosen one way. Had it been the right one?
****
“Do you suppose they’re done arguing?” Stanley asked. “It seems like it’s quieted down in there.”
Taffy made a face. “I doubt they’ll
ever be done arguing. That’s what happens when you build your relationship on lies.”
Stanley joined her at the garden table. “They could be so helpful to each other.”
“They could indeed, but they won’t let it happen. They are so afraid of the way it might feel—the pain it might cause. They never think about the joy or happiness they might know. I tell you, Stanley, it’s like living with two kegs of dynamite. I’m just waiting for one or the other to go off.”
“Here you are,” Jana said as she came around the corner. “I saw you in the garden earlier.”
Taffy smiled. “We had the most glorious drive. You really should have come with us.”
“I probably should have. Mother and I had a bad time together.” Jana looked away. “Well, it was good and bad.” She looked at Stanley and immediately apologized. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be airing dirty laundry, as Taffy says.”
Stanley laughed. “Well, it’s not the most efficient way to clean it, but at least an airing helps to blow off some of the dirt.”
Taffy motioned to a chair. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what you fought about this time.”
Jana glanced back at the house, then sat down and looked to Taffy. “Mom told me a little bit about her childhood—growing up in a hippie commune.”
“Well, that’s something,” Taffy said, looking to Stanley. “She’s never talked about that with anyone but me, and that was many years ago. I’d say that’s a major breakthrough that should be celebrated.”
“I thought so too, but Mother uses it to point out that it only served to stir up more questions. When I questioned her about the past and asked for more answers, she got mad. She told me that it wasn’t important—that it could only hurt me. I know there’s some truth in what she says, but frankly, I feel like if I could just deal with it once and for all, it would hurt me less in the long run.”
“We’ll have to keep praying that she finds the strength to share it,” Taffy said thoughtfully. “I have a feeling, however, that God has brought you two together for this very purpose.”
Jana frowned and looked at her hands. “I don’t think God has anything to do with this.”
What She Left for Me Page 16
