Homeward

by Melody Carlson

  Sunny nodded and continued to cut her filet without looking up. “You showed a lot of promise, Meg. I really thought that you would follow through with it. And it seemed as though you liked it a lot.”

  “I might have liked it. But I got so busy at work, and there just never seemed to be time—”

  “And that’s exactly the problem with most people. They think there’s never enough time. And then before you know it,” she said as she laid down her knife and snapped her fingers, “it’s gone!”

  Meg considered this. “I suppose you’re right. In fact, I was just thinking about digging out my camera. I hope that I brought it with me, or maybe I left it in storage… I can’t really remember. I did leave pretty quickly.”

  “Aha,” said Sunny.

  “Aha, what?”

  “So there was a broken heart.”

  “No. Not a broken heart. But, if you must know, Jerred and I did not part on particularly happy terms.”

  “Another woman then?”

  “What makes you think it wasn’t me? Couldn’t there have been another man?”

  “Then why would you come up here?” Sunny studied Meg, her brows slightly lifted. “Why wouldn’t you go off with the other man?”

  “I see what you mean. Okay.” She spoke as if to a small child. “Yes, you’re right, Sunny. There was another woman. And, of course, Jerred said he didn’t love her.”

  “Sure.” Sunny rolled her eyes. “That’s what they all say.”

  Meg looked at Sunny in surprise. Of course, how could she have forgotten? Sunny had survived a number of failed romances herself.

  “Well, never mind that.” Sunny waved her hand again. “Men. Who needs them anyway?” She winked.

  Meg shook her head. “Sure, who needs—”

  “And,” Sunny interrupted as she rumbled through an oversized purse, “I happen to have something for you.” She pulled out an old 35 mm camera that Grandpa had gotten Meg for her sixteenth birthday. She handed it to her with a sly smile. Meg fondled the camera in disbelief. She knew every part of it.

  “I thought I lost this at that photography workshop!”

  “You did. Remember Professor Clampton? Well, he found it a few years later when he was cleaning out the back of his van so he could sell it. Lucky for you that Grandpa had put your name on it.”

  Meg popped open the back. “It looks fine. Do you think it still works?”

  “Sure. I’ve used it a few times. I didn’t think you’d mind. If you’d ever written, I would have gladly sent it to you.” The last sentence had a barb in it, and Meg felt it dig in deep. She set down the camera and looked at Sunny, whose face had suddenly grown dark.

  “Sunny, I already said that I was sorry. How many times do you want me to apologize? I can’t turn back the clock. What do you want me to do?”

  Suddenly, Sunny’s face crumpled, and she began to sob into her hands. When she looked up, there were huge black streaks of mascara lining her cheeks. Please don’t do this, Sunny, thought Meg as her fists clenched tightly. She longed to slip out unnoticed, but of course, her conscience would not allow that. Instead, she glanced around to see curious eyes staring as Sunny dabbed at her eyes with a napkin and sniffed loudly. Meg’s face burned. This had always been Sunny’s answer when things got tough. Turn on the tears and talk about the difficulty of being a single parent. That would settle everything. And it had always worked. Both Meg and Erin had easily succumbed to their mother’s tears. They would feel so guilty that they would quickly brush aside whatever conflict was at hand—under the rug and out of sight.

  “Are you okay now?” asked Meg in a voice that sounded hard and cold.

  Sunny looked up with a blotchy face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t want to be like this. There’s so much I want to tell you, but I just don’t know how…”

  Sure, thought Meg. But instead she asked, “Do you want to go now?” The waitress had already quietly slipped the bill on the table, discreetly keeping her eyes away from their little spectacle, as if she too wanted them to slip away and take their problems elsewhere.

  “No, not yet. I’d like a cup of coffee.” Sunny pulled out a compact and quickly repaired her face, then flagged down the waitress and ordered a cup of coffee. “And I’d like to see your dessert tray,” said Sunny to the bewildered waitress.

  Meg decided to have coffee, too. She felt beaten. She didn’t know what to say or do. Being with Sunny was like having the life sucked out of her. She watched as Sunny calmly ate a piece of lemon pie. Meg had no more appetite and nothing to say. At last, it was time to go.

  “Where’s your car, Meg?” asked Sunny as Meg lingered uncomfortably in the parking lot.

  “I walked.”

  “Well, let me give you a ride then—”

  “No, I’d like to walk,” Meg answered quickly. “After all, I need to work off all those fat grams from the salad, right?”

  “I guess so,” said Sunny. “Will I see you later?”

  “Sure.” Sunny looked as if she was about to say something, but Meg beat her. “I’m going to see Grandmother now. Thanks for lunch. Good-bye.” She waved and started down the hill.

  The clouds were back now and the breeze had picked up. Meg’s jacket was in the car, but she didn’t care. She would rather face the worst elements than spend another moment with Sunny.

  EIGHT

  Grandmother was sitting up in bed when Meg walked into the room. The shades were up, and the afternoon sunlight filtered weakly through the sheer curtains. Grandmother wore a soft pink embroidered bed jacket, and there seemed to be a bit of color in her alabaster cheeks today.

  “You’re looking better, Grandmother,” said Meg as she sat down. “How are you feeling?”

  “Oh, I never feel very well. My back pains me something awful. It’s horrible to grow old, Meggie, just horrible.”

  Meg nodded. She had hoped to have another good conversation with Grandmother, but this wasn’t starting out well. “I had lunch with Sunny today. We ate at the Beach House.”

  “The Beach House. I used to love going for lunch there. Back in the days when I could get out. Life’s no use when you’re stuck in bed all day.”

  “Can’t you ever get up?”

  “It would kill me to get up. My heart’s giving out on me, Meggie. I should be dead by summer.”

  Meg nodded solemnly. “I’m staying at Erin’s place. Have you been out there before?”

  “Oh, sure. I used to go out there every once in a while when I wasn’t so ill. Never could take too much of those girls, though. They’re nice, I suppose, but they make too much noise for me. I never did have much tolerance for children. But the two older girls, Hannah and Jennifer, they are pretty little things. They look just like Erin when she was a girl. Pretty, pretty.” She smacked her lips as if she were talking about candy.

  “And Ashley is very sweet,” said Meg defensively. “She’s pretty in her own way.”

  “Well, I don’t know that I’d go calling that one pretty,” Grandmother grumbled. She leaned over and peered at Meg with open curiosity. “But then again, you can never tell what she might grow up to be. Never can tell.”

  Meg smiled. “Lucky for Ashley, right?”

  Grandmother grinned. “So, how long are you here, Meggie?”

  “You mean here at Briar Hedge?”

  “No, I mean here in town, to visit. When do you have to leave?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Grandmother’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you have to get back to your job?”

  “I have a month’s leave, but you never know—I might quit my job.” Meg wasn’t sure why she said that, but it was too late to take it back.

  Grandmother’s jaw dropped. “Quit your job? Whatever for? Do you have something better lined up?”

  Meg shook her head.

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, Meggie. What would you do then? You know, you can’t just live on thin air.”

  Meg wondered wh
y it seemed to matter so much. Why should Grandmother care? But she answered anyway. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll go back. But I thought this might be a good time to figure things out.”

  Grandmother nodded wisely. “Oh, I see. It’s that young man, isn’t it? Are you waiting for him to come up here and take you back with him?”

  “Take me back?” Meg winced at the shrillness in her voice. “No. Nothing like that.”

  “Well, I just can’t figure you, girl. Guess I never could.” Grandmother leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

  “I hope I haven’t worn you out. Maybe I should let you rest.” Meg reached out and touched Grandmother’s frail hand, suddenly fearful for the old woman’s health. She had almost forgotten her fragile state, especially when Grandmother had been so animated moments before.

  “I’m fine. Just a little tired, Meggie. Think I’ll take a little nap. Don’t go just yet. Go have yourself a cup of tea or something. I think Jason dropped by some cookies that his mother made. Phoebe’s not the best-looking gal, but she sure can cook, and it’s nice of her to think of me. Have you met your cousin Abner and his family yet?”

  “I met Jason. He seems like a good kid.”

  Grandmother nodded, eyes still closed.

  “You rest, Grandmother. I’ll be back in an hour or two.” Meg tucked in the comforter a little more snugly. The house felt drafty and damp, and Meg had noticed space heaters here and there. She wondered if the old oil furnace still worked.

  Grandmother was already asleep by the time she tiptoed out of the room and found Rosa in the kitchen. “It feels a little cool in Grandmother’s room, Rosa. Is the furnace working okay?”

  Rosa rolled her eyes. “Nothing in this old house works okay. It’s falling down around our ears, and Mrs. Lancaster doesn’t want anything fixed. They say it’s not because she is poor but because she is tighter than a dime-store girdle.”

  Meg laughed. “Is that so?”

  Rosa’s hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry, Meggie. I forget she is your grandmother. Please forgive me.”

  “It’s okay, Rosa. I used to say the same thing myself. We’ll have to see what we can do to fix this place up a bit. It’s one thing to die of old age, but hypothermia is something else.”

  “Would you like some tea, Meggie?”

  “I’d love some. Do you mind if I take it outside with me? I want to snoop around and see what else needs fixing.”

  “No problem.” Rosa grinned and poured her a steaming mug. Meg could tell by the smell that it was Earl Grey. Grandmother had always loved Earl Grey tea; she said it reminded her of lavender.

  Outside, Meg sat down on the porch steps and pulled a small notepad from her purse. She began jotting down the things she had noticed were in need of attention, starting with the sad-looking porch. By the time she’d worked her way around to the back of the house, she was forced to flip over to a fresh sheet of paper.

  “Who are you?” said a gruff voice. Meg looked up to see a dark-haired middle-aged man. He looked vaguely familiar, but she wasn’t sure why. She studied him for a moment, trying to place his face.

  “Bennie!” she finally exclaimed. He looked bewildered. “No, of course you’re not Bennie. But you look like his photo. You must be Bennie’s son. Abner, isn’t it?”

  “Well, I know who I am. But the question is, who are you?”

  His rudeness was somewhat jarring, but she decided to stay congenial. “I’m sorry. I’m your cousin, Meg Lancaster. I’m here visiting Grandmother.”

  He looked at her with undisguised curiosity, his dark eyes cold. What was it Erin had said? Slippery. Yes, that seemed to describe him.

  “So, what are you doing back here?” He gave her a sideways glance and jerked his thumb toward the back of the house.

  “Grandmother is taking a nap, and I wanted to have a look around.” She wanted to tell him that she used to spend every summer and holiday here, that she had always roamed wherever she pleased, and that she knew every inch of Briar Hedge—from the two-and-a-half-story house to the barn to the twenty bogs—like the back of her hand. But instead she evenly returned his stare.

  “What are you writing?” He leaned over as if to read from her notepad.

  She flipped the pad over in her hand and looked back at his fleshy face. He might have been good-looking when he was younger, but he had the kind of looks that went soft and nondescript with age. “I was making a list.” She spoke slowly, as if he were not very smart. “It looks like things have gotten a little run-down and neglected around here, and I thought I’d help Grandmother see that some things get fixed—”

  “No need for that,” he interrupted. “Grandmother should be going into a nursing home before long, anyway. I’ve got my wife checking out some possibilities for her.”

  “Does Grandmother know about this?”

  “It’s not really your business, Meggie—Meg—whatever your name is. And I suggest you keep out of things that don’t concern you.”

  “How would you know what does or does not concern me?”

  “Well, you never came back all these years. Then you come waltzin’ in here just when it looks like Grandmother may be buying the farm. Pretty convenient timing, if you ask me.” His eyes narrowed, and he curled up his lip, snorting loudly.

  Meg stared in disbelief. She couldn’t think of a single polite response to his nasty accusations. What burned even more was that it was partly true. She certainly couldn’t deny that she had stayed away all these years, but his insinuation that she’d come back for anything beyond reconciliation was loathsome. And he was equally loathsome. She turned and walked away without saying a word. She was glad she wasn’t a man, because every bit of her wanted to punch his big red nose.

  It had only been a short while since she’d left Grandmother, so she decided to go down to the beach to blow off some steam. Maybe she could walk it off. The wind had picked up, and the stinging breeze felt cool on her hot cheeks. How was it that a perfect stranger could infuriate her like that? And to think he was her own cousin! No wonder Erin had complained, and Erin was not one to easily find fault with people. Meg thought about what he’d said about the nursing home, and wondered what Sunny would think about that. Maybe Sunny wouldn’t care. Maybe she had allowed Abner to call the shots when it came to Grandmother. Sunny and Grandmother never had gotten along very well, anyway.

  Well, with or without Sunny, Meg was willing to stand up to that goon of a cousin. And she knew Erin would help, too. Maybe Tom could come over and make some of the repairs and check out the furnace situation. She wondered why he hadn’t thought of it already. By the time she’d walked a good mile down the beach, she had a plan all worked out in her head. She was ready to turn back and, if necessary, face Cousin Abner all over again.

  Fortunately, Abner was nowhere in sight, and Meg spent the rest of the afternoon visiting with Grandmother. She didn’t mention Abner’s rude accusations or complete lack of manners. She didn’t want to offend Grandmother. After all, Abner was her grandson.

  “How has the bog been doing, Grandmother?” Meg asked. After suffering through a long speech about the effects of aging and Grandmother’s temperamental bowels, Meg was looking for anything to change the subject.

  “Not well. Abner says that putting money into the bog is like pouring water down a rat hole. I guess it’s just no use. People aren’t buying cranberry products these days.”

  “Says who?”

  “Oh, Abner, of course. He knows all about these things. He reads about it a lot. He says there’s no reason to keep the bog. The price of cranberries is so low, it’s pointless.”

  “That’s too bad. I always liked the bog. I was planning to go out and have a look tomorrow, if you and Abner don’t mind.”

  “There’s not much to see, Meggie. Last time I saw it, it was getting overgrown with weeds. I expect it’s probably even worse now.” Grandmother shook her head.

  “Well, I don’t understand how the price of berries cou
ld be so low that it wouldn’t be profitable to keep the bog up and harvest what little you could. I wouldn’t think there’d be much expense to it. After all, you still have the equipment, don’t you?”

  “I suppose, but I’ve let Abner take care of things ever since he moved up here after your grandfather died.”

  Meg looked at her hands, wondering what right she had to make such a fuss about the bog. It really was none of her business.

  “I know how much you loved the bog, Meggie. You got that from Grandpa, that’s for sure.”

  “I just think it would break his heart to see the bog going to weed and returning to the land. He worked so hard on it. And those cranberries were like his babies.”

  Grandmother chuckled slightly. “You got that right. Stewart was plumb crazy about cranberries. I never saw anything like it. You know, Meggie, I never thought I’d say it, but I sure do miss some of his cranberry concoctions.”

  Meg smacked her lips. “Like his cranberry bread.”

  “Or his cranberry jam.”

  “How about his cranberry candy?”

  “Stop, Meggie. You’re making me hungry.”

  “It’s probably getting close to your dinnertime, anyway. I suppose I should go. Erin is expecting me back.”

  “Will you come back tomorrow, Meggie?” Grandmother’s eyes lit up like those of a small child anticipating Christmas morning. It seemed like only yesterday that Grandmother had been scolding her and Meg had been the one looking up with pleading eyes.

  “Yes, I’ll come again tomorrow. I’ll probably be around so much that you’ll get sick of me before long.”

  “I don’t think so, dear. My days are dull and dreary, and you are like a breath of fresh air and sunshine.” Grandmother smiled.

  “Thanks, Grandmother.”

  “And Meggie?”

  “Yes?”

  “If you want to look into the bog, you have my permission. I still own it, you know. If you think it can be saved or made profitable again, you’re welcome to look into it. I know it would make your grandfather happy.”

  “Really? Are you serious?”

  “Of course. You know me, Meggie, businesswoman to the bone. If there’s profit to be made off of those old bogs, then let’s go after it. I don’t like to see anything go to waste.”