by Terri DuLong
“Yes, I bought it for her in Augusta and I wanted her to have it now.”
“Well, she seems to really love the music from it. If she keeps improving like this, I think she’s going to be okay, Monica.”
“God, I hope so.”
“By the way, I left something at your house. It was entrusted to me before Sybile died.”
“What?” I said with surprise. “What on earth is it?”
“It’s a letter, from Sybile to you.”
“A letter? What’s it say?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s sealed and your name is on the envelope. I was specifically told by Sybile to give it to you—when you became a mother. That’s exactly how she said it to me, not when you had your first child or when you were pregnant, but when you became a mother and she said that I would know when that time was. I think that time is now, Monica. I’ve watched you with Clarissa for almost a year and there isn’t any doubt in my mind—you have truly become a mother and I think you need to have Sybile’s letter.”
Tears burned my eyes as I recalled my doubts of that morning at the hospital. “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “I was beginning to think maybe I had the strength after all, but going through this with Clarissa, I’ve been so frightened. I just don’t know….”
“Well, I know. Being frightened for your child does not make you any less of a mother. If anything, it increases that ability. It’s only natural to fear losing your child, but you can’t let that fear consume you to the point where you turn aside from motherhood. And that fear, Monica—it never goes away. But you learn to let go of it a little at a time, especially when your children are small. Because that letting go is what enables them to grow and become who they’re supposed to be. But the worry—I won’t lie. A mother never stops worrying about her child. That goes with the territory. So you may as well get used to it now.”
I smiled. Leave it to Aunt Dora to set things right. “I see what you’re saying. Where’s the letter?”
“I put it on your desk in your studio. I hope whatever Sybile has to say will comfort you.”
“Thanks, Dora, and thanks for giving it to me now. I love you. I’m going to go read it.”
I poured coffee into a mug and took it to my studio. Sitting at the desk, I saw the cream-colored envelope with Sybile’s familiar bold handwriting.
For my granddaughter, Monica she’d written on the front.
Picking it up, I sat holding it for a few minutes, recalling the first time I’d met her at the Lighthouse. She’d made it clear immediately that I was not to call her Grandma, and within a short time I’d come up with the nickname of Billie for her, which she loved. I also remembered how she’d questioned me about the fellow I was dating at the time, asking very pointed questions, and when I finished, she’d asked with a straight face, “Yeah, but is he good in bed?”
I smiled as I reached for the letter opener to unseal the envelope. Sybile was a character, no doubt about it. She gave off a crusty exterior, but inside there was a mellowness that drew me to her from the moment we’d first met.
Removing the cream-colored pages, I began to read.
My dearest Monica,
If you’re reading this letter then it means you are now a mother and that I have a great-grandchild. I was very specific to Dora about when to give this letter to you. As your other grandmother so aptly proved, one does not have to give birth in order to become a mother. So no matter how it occurred, you now have a child as you read this.
When you learned the story concerning your mother’s adoption, you never once held it against me for making that choice. And for that, I thank you.
However, I also got the feeling that perhaps you thought, like me, motherhood wasn’t to be part of your life. You could have been right, because I do strongly believe that not every woman is cut out to be a mother. But if you’re reading this letter, something changed your mind to make you feel otherwise and for that, I’m very grateful.
No, I still do not have any regrets for giving your mother up for adoption. It was the right thing to do for me. However, with my days now limited, the one thing I do regret is not having enough time to spend with both you and your mother.
I know how independent you’ve always been—a trait that we both shared. And I know that you admired this trait in me. Perhaps that was why you were so easy to accept my decision about your mother’s adoption. However, I need you to know the truth. I need you to know that while I may have been independent and followed my own path, I was never brave about it.
Perhaps a quote from Mahatma Gandhi will help you to better understand what I’m saying. “A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave.”
I allowed a deep and true love with Saren to be wasted because I was a coward. I wasn’t willing to take a chance, even after my modeling career failed. If I was alone, I couldn’t be hurt. I wasn’t brave enough to show love and risk the pain that might go with it. Instead, I chose to spend many lonely years both without my daughter and without the love of my life.
But you, my darling granddaughter, not only are you independent, but you have the wonderful trait of being brave. And because you’re reading this letter, you have proved that. You have chosen to risk the pain and exhibit love by becoming a mother. And I am so very proud of you.
So hold on to the strength that you possess, grow from your mistakes, love like you’ve never been loved before, and every now and again—think of me. Because I will always be with you, Monica, and I will always love you.
Billie (your grandmother)
I wiped the tears from my eyes and let out a deep sigh. My grandmother was a very wise woman, and even in death she was sharing that wisdom with me. She was right. If you don’t open yourself up to love, you can never be hurt. Is that why I ran from so many relationships? And is that why when I met Adam I knew I couldn’t run anymore, because if I did, I’d be giving up that one great love of my life? And was it easier for me to claim I had no mothering traits because I certainly wouldn’t be subjecting myself to possible heartache and pain if I remained childless?
And then Clarissa walked into my life and changed the way I felt about everything. Just like her father had done.
I slipped the pages back into the envelope and left it on the desk as I heard Adam calling from the kitchen.
“Hey,” I said, walking into his embrace. “Get enough sleep?”
“I did. I feel like a new person. No calls about Clarissa?”
“No, but I take that to be good news. It’s six-thirty. Let’s get dressed and head back to the hospital.”
Adam nodded. “Don’t you want something to eat before we go?”
“I’m not that hungry, but let me get you a cup of coffee. We can get something at the hospital cafeteria.”
“Good idea.”
We walked into the ICU to see Dr. Sutton talking to Clarissa’s nurse at the nurses’ station. He turned, holding up a finger to us, and then resumed going over a chart with the nurse.
Coming toward us, he actually had a smile on his face. “Well, you two certainly look a bit more rested, and I think you’ll be very pleased with the difference in Clarissa. That antibiotic seems to be doing the trick. She’s not being sedated anymore and has been awake for a few hours now.” He looked at Adam. “Your mother’s been in there with her, and she and her friend just left a few minutes ago to grab something to eat in the cafeteria.”
I felt Adam reach for my hand and give it a squeeze. Hearing the doctor’s words sent a jolt of happiness through me.
“God, that’s wonderful news. Does this mean Clarissa’s going to be okay?” Adam questioned.
“I’d say yes. She’s over the hump now. Still pretty weak, but that will just take time. She’ll only continue to improve with the antibiotic, and I think by Friday we’ll be able to move her to a regular floor.”
Adam put out his hand. “Thank you. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done.”
“Yes,
” I said. “God, we can’t thank you enough.”
“Well, that little girl is very much loved, and I’d have to say that love played a huge part in getting her through this.”
“Is there anything we could have done to prevent her from catching it?” Adam asked.
“You mean like a vaccine? Actually, there’s a fairly new one out called Manactra. But I’m afraid it wouldn’t have helped in Clarissa’s case. The CDC recommends it be given to children ages eleven to eighteen, and at nine, Clarissa wasn’t a candidate to receive it.”
Adam nodded. “And once she comes home, is there anything we need to be watching for? Symptoms or anything that might cause a problem?”
I saw a brief look of concern cross Dr. Sutton’s face. “I’ll go over all of this with you in more detail before she’s released, but you will have to have routine hearing tests done on Clarissa for a while. Unfortunately, deafness can be a residual effect of meningitis. But you don’t need to concern yourself with this now. Chances are she’ll be fine. You’ll just want to keep a check on it.”
“Can we go in to see her?” Adam asked.
“Absolutely. If you have any other questions, just call me and I’ll see you here over the next few days to give you updates.”
Hand in hand, Adam and I walked into the ICU and paused at the cubicle where Clarissa was.
The doctor was right. Already she’d begun to look better. The oxygen mask was no longer on her face. Her bed had been raised to a semireclined position and even her face seemed to have more color. Her eyes were closed and we stood there watching, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
Almost as if she could feel our presence, her eyes fluttered open and she saw us. A smile crossed her face as we went to the bedside, each of us taking a turn to lean over and kiss her.
“So,” Adam said. “You’ve had a time of it. How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”
“Tired. How long have I been here?”
I brushed her bangs back from her forehead. “Since yesterday morning. It’s Tuesday evening.”
“Oh, no, because I got sick you had to come back from Augusta early?”
I reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You silly goose. We wouldn’t have been anywhere else.”
“Monica’s right. As soon as we got the call from Grandma yesterday afternoon, we were on our way back here. Are you having pain anywhere?”
Clarissa shook her head gently. “Not anymore. I had a real bad headache the other day and then a stiff neck, and I was so tired. When I got the fever, Grandma thought it might be the flu so she called the doctor and he said we should get to the hospital right away.” Clarissa paused for a second before going on. “I was scared.”
My heart went out to her and once again I could feel tears welling in my eyes. I leaned over to kiss her and said, “Of course you were scared, but for being so scared, you’ve been a mighty brave girl.”
A hint of a smile returned to her face. “Do you think so?”
“I know so, and now you’ll just be getting better every day.”
“How’s Billie? I miss her.”
“I know you do. She’s fine, but she misses you too. Aunt Dora is keeping her at her house and I know Billie will be very happy when you come home.”
“Now, this is what I like to see,” I heard Opal say and turned around to see her with a huge smile on her face. “Quite a difference in our little girl, huh?”
“A huge difference,” Adam said. “Thank God.”
Opal passed a gift bag to Clarissa. “Just a little something I found that I thought you might like.”
Clarissa pulled out a buff-colored stuffed dog that bore a close resemblance to Billie. Hugging it to her chest, she exclaimed, “Oh, thank you, Grandma. I love it.” Then she looked directly at me. “And I love my music box, Monica. Thank you so much. Grandma said you got it for me in Augusta.”
“I did. I thought with the little girl and the dog it was perfect for you.”
“Every time the nurse comes in she winds it up for me so I can hear the music.”
As if on cue, Tara poked her head around the curtain. “It looks like you’re all having fun in here, but I’m afraid you should take five more minutes and then let Clarissa rest for a while.”
“Good idea,” Adam said and I noticed that Clarissa’s eyes were beginning to droop a little.
“Will you be back tomorrow?” Clarissa asked.
“We’re not going anywhere tonight,” Adam told her. “We’re sending Grandma and Hank home now and it’s our turn to stay. We’re all taking turns doing shifts so you won’t be alone.”
“Really?” The look on Clarissa’s face told me she was happy about this.
“Really,” I told her. “Your dad and I are going to go to the cafeteria now to have something to eat, but we’ll be in to check on you throughout the night.”
“And we already have it arranged,” Opal said. “Hank and I will be here tomorrow morning at nine to relieve you to go home. And Dora, Saren, and Grace have worked out their shifts as well.”
I shook my head. Leave it to all of them, I thought. That’s what family and good friends do—they take care of each other. Because of the love that binds them together.
51
I had just finished dusting and vacuuming Clarissa’s room when the phone rang.
“So tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” I heard Grace say.
“Yes, after ten days in the hospital Clarissa’s finally coming home. God, this house has been empty without her.”
“Are you busy right now? I was going to pop over for coffee.”
“Not at all. I’m cleaning Clarissa’s room and just have to get fresh sheets on her bed. Come on over.”
“Be there in five,” Grace said, hanging up.
“Gosh, it feels like forever since we just sat and gabbed like this,” I told Grace.
“I know. I’ve missed you, and now that Clarissa’s coming home tomorrow—I won’t lie, I’ve been scared to death about her.”
“You weren’t the only one. When I think how close we came to possibly losing her—I’m just so glad it’s all behind us now. Do you know that Adam left three messages for Carrie Sue on her cell? Three. And she hasn’t even called back.”
“She’s in her own little world. I have a feeling that after going through this, you don’t doubt your mothering ability any longer.”
“You’re right, I don’t. I think for the first time in my life, I feel comfortable where I’m at. Being a mother to Clarissa, I mean. Unfortunately it took something as serious as this to make me realize how much I truly do love Clarissa. Not just in words, but deep inside me. I’ll never forget walking into ICU and seeing her in that bed. All of the love I felt for her just gushed to the surface and overwhelmed me. I think maybe it was always there. I just didn’t want to acknowledge it.”
Grace nodded. “Yeah, sometimes the simplest things in life are the toughest to figure out.”
“And,” I said, holding up my coffee cup in a toast, “It might not be much longer till we’ll be calling you Aunt Gracie.”
“What?” she gasped. “Are you pregnant?”
“Not yet, but Adam and I did have that talk in Augusta. I’m off the pill. So we’re trying. We’ll see what happens.”
Grace clinked her coffee cup against mine. “Here’s to your success. Oh, Monica, I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks. Hey, what’s been going on with you? Bring me up to date. Hear any more from Lucas?”
“He did stop in the coffee shop last week before he left the island. He’s gone back to Brunswick to square things away there. He said he’ll be back here around August.”
“Oh, not till then? And he didn’t ask you out?”
“It’s really strange. I got the feeling that he wanted to, if that makes sense. But no, he didn’t. Like he thought better of it for some reason. I don’t know—I think I should just chalk it up to having rotten luck with guys. But…I might be taking a trip to Brun
swick myself.”
“Really?” I asked with surprise. She still hadn’t shared with me why she was so reluctant to visit that town. Since she was so close to her aunt, I figured it must have something to do with a guy.
“Yeah, I spoke to Aunt Maude the other day. She’s begging me again to come and visit. Not that she’s old at seventy-two, but she’s not getting any younger, and now macular degeneration prevents her from driving here anymore. I’m thinking maybe I should go for a few days and bring her here for a visit.”
I nodded. “Might not be a bad idea, Grace.” I took a sip of coffee. “Look, you can tell me it’s none of my business, but I consider you my closest friend and I think I’m yours. If you don’t want to tell me, okay, but why do you resist going to Brunswick? You’re very close to your aunt, so it can’t have anything to do with her.”
Grace was silent for a few moments, fiddling with the handle on her coffee cup. “Oh, gosh no, it doesn’t have a thing to do with Aunt Maude and she knows that. And I guess she’s always loved me enough to understand.” Grace let out a deep sigh. “It has to do with a guy, Monica. Somebody I was heavily involved with. He lives on St. Simons Island, very close to Brunswick, and I never wanted to risk seeing him again.”
I now recalled how she’d shared with me about her miscarriage and figured he must have been the father. I waited for her to explain more, but she didn’t.
Running a hand through her curls, she said, “I don’t know, maybe the time has come for me to return there and face my demons.”
“Very often time has a way of healing things and allowing us to do that,” I told her, not wanting to press for more information.
“Yeah, maybe,” was all she said.
We had decided to surprise Clarissa when we picked her up at the hospital and had Billie waiting in the backseat of the car. Watching their reunion, I couldn’t stop smiling. Clarissa was beside herself with joy as Billie cried and whined and wouldn’t stop licking Clarissa’s face during the drive home. The quirky little noises that Billie made almost sounded like she was talking and telling us how happy she was to have her beloved Clarissa back again.
