The Tea Series

by Sheila Horgan

  No matter the cause, please remember, Cara, you are very much like a cup of summer tea.

  Perhaps that is our connection. Summer tea.

  Cara, the joy you have brought to me, and to all that know you, is a gift that cannot be returned in measure.

  Thank you.

  With great affection and respect,

  Bernie”

  “Okay, so what’s your point?”

  “Dingleberry, either Bernie was bat-crap crazy, or she thought she was doing a good thing, leaving you everything in the trunk. She said that stuff is some of her most prized possessions. How does that translate into leaving you stuff that crazy people gave her?”

  “What?”

  “Okay, clean your ears. You are off on this thing that Bernie had all these crazy people around her and that they abused you.”

  “I didn’t say they abused me.”

  “You said they ruined your life.”

  “Teagan, don’t be logical on me now. This is an emotional issue, not a logical one.”

  “Logical or emotional, something isn’t right.”

  “Don’t do this. Don’t turn this into some huge thing that I don’t understand with four hundred and thirty-seven theories and then leave my head spinning with nothing more than when you started.”

  “You want the truth? It might take a few theories to get there, but I’m telling you, Cara, this whole thing that you have been talking about doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  “I remember those people, Teagan. I didn’t make it up.”

  “Cara — ”

  “Don’t. Why is it that you tell your story and nobody challenges it? Mom tells her story, and nobody challenges it. I tell mine, with all the stuff in the trunk to back it up, and still nobody believes me. You act like I’m making it up. Is that what you think? You think I made all this stuff up?”

  “No, you idiot, I don’t think you made anything up. Will you just calm down a minute? Give me a chance to explain what I do think, instead of assuming you know what I think when you have no idea what I think because you have no idea what I’m thinking whether you think you do or not.”

  “What?”

  “I did some research. Right about the time you would have been experiencing all this stuff, there was almost like a movement to change the way the country dealt with mentally challenged people. They were closing down all kinds of institutions all over the country. Many people had nobody to help them. They had been institutionalized so long that their family couldn’t or wouldn’t deal with them. Lots of people were left on the street, or churches took them in. That’s exactly the kind of person Bernie would help. That’s probably exactly what you got stuck in the middle of. But I’m not sure that’s the mystery of your trunk.”

  “Oh, please don’t do this.”

  “Cara, if you want to convince yourself that helping Bernie take care of some people who were odd is the secret behind the trunk, you go for it. It’s your trunk, your life. You can do whatever you want. But if it were me, I’d want to know the truth.”

  “You know I hate you right now, right?”

  “That’s okay. You’ll love me more later.”

  FIVE

  “MOM, CAN I come over?”

  “You never need to call and ask that, love. We will be home all the day through. Is everything alright?”

  “No. I need to talk. I was up all night. Got a bunch of work done for Adeline, which is good, because I’ve kind of been slacking lately, at least where my job is concerned. On the other hand, my house is spotless, Teagan is going to have to buy a freezer for Jessie’s mother, I’ve cooked so much food for that family, but my brain still hasn’t calmed down. I think I’m profoundly screwed up.”

  “Love, you have a thing or two you are dealing with at the minute. That does not mean you are anything less than you were previously. Would you like lunch?”

  “I thought I’d come now, if that is okay.”

  “I will put the kettle to boil.”

  “Is Daddy home?”

  “No, love. He has driven Mrs. Ladner to the doctor. I expect he will stay in the area while she is examined and then drive her home. He will most probably peruse that big new store on Barnapshire. The home improvement establishment. He is making noises about putting in a new fence and building a platform to put the washer and dryer on so that I don’t have to bend as much.”

  “That all sounds great. I’ll be there in a few minutes. You need anything, Mom?”

  “Not a thing.”

  With that she was gone.

  As promised, the kettle was boiled, and there were cups on the table when I arrived.

  Mom looked great. The trip to Ireland had put a sparkle in her eyes. Mom has always been a smiley person, that is what Bernie called it, but she seemed much happier since she’d been home. Okay, maybe happier isn’t the right word. Even dealing with everything she’s been dealing with, she seems different. In a good way.

  “The look of you tells quite a story, love. Not the most pleasant of tales. Are you unwell?”

  “Just confused.”

  “What can I do to help you?”

  “Mom, the whole Bernie thing is eating me alive. Now Teagan thinks I’m full of it.”

  “Full of what, love?”

  “She doesn’t think that all the stuff in Bernie’s trunk is from crazy people in Bernie’s life, and she doesn’t think that the crazy people were that big of a deal, and she thinks that there is a lot more to the story.”

  “Your sister is a bit of a storyteller, dear.”

  “You mean a liar?”

  “Not at all. My children are not that kind. I mean she has a huge imagination and can think of myriad stories that will bring you to just the spot on which you stand. She can bring you to that spot by hook or by crook, and she can do so with or without your blessing.”

  “Isn’t that the truth? She gets me going with all her conspiracy theories and her outrageous twists and turns, and then when it’s all done and I’m all turned around and can’t remember what is real and what is just Teagan, she comes up with this really objective and reasonable approach, and I just want to smack the crap out of her.”

  I didn’t even take a breath. “The other night we were watching a show on TV. The bad guy was threatening a girl. The good guy shows up at the girl’s house, and his knuckles are all beat up. The girl, and I, assumed that the good guy had beat up the bad guy to protect the girl’s honor. Teagan assumed that the good guy punched a brick wall a couple of times and that he was actually another bad guy who wanted to look like a good guy so that he could get the girl, but not because he loved her, because he wanted to use her for some completely other thing that we didn’t know about. Ya know the sick part?” I yelped. “Teagan was right!”

  “Cara…” Mom tried to get me back on track. She knows me. My sideways thinking. She knows if she lets me, I’ll talk about anything and everything except the very thing that I came over to talk about.

  People might call it an avoidance technique, but the truth is, I’m afraid of what I know, afraid of what I don’t know, and too much of a chicken to deal with any of it.

  “Sorry, Mom. I’m just so frustrated that I can’t see straight. First I get the trunk, and I’m all excited about what it holds. Teagan was on me all the time to open it and see what Bernie left me, but I wanted to open it slowly and enjoy it, or at least that’s what I convinced myself of. But now that all this is going on, with Bernie and the crazy people, I feel like maybe the reason I didn’t jump on opening everything was really because somewhere deep down inside of me, I knew that opening it was going to bring back all those memories, and I didn’t want to deal with it.”

  “And has it?”

  “Has it what?”

  “Has it brought back all those memories? Did each gift invoke its own kind of hell?”

  “Okay, don’t think I’m crazy, but I still haven’t opened everything.”

  “You certainly like throwing that word ar
ound of late. I am not at all sure that it is not far beneath you.”

  “What?”

  “Do you realize you are calling people that were very important to our Bernie ‘crazy’? At the best of it, the term is unkind. Do you know that these people were ill? The term brings to mind a frenzy of mental illness; is that what you remember? And if you remember it that way, mightn’t you find a better term for a debilitating illness?”

  “Okay, crazy might be the wrong word. But odd doesn’t seem strong enough.”

  “Did they hurt you, Cara?”

  “Physically? No.”

  “In any way?”

  “I don’t know. Does trauma count?”

  “That rightly depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “On a number of things, really. If you were traumatized at the time, you were well and truly able to hide that from everyone in this house. Quite a feat for anyone, but especially for a young child who was unable to get away with any mischief.”

  “I used to. I wasn’t always a perfect kid, you know. I told you I was going to Susan’s, and I went to the Red Ice instead.”

  “I’m quite aware of that, Cara.”

  “How? You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t kill me. I assumed you didn’t know.”

  “I was well aware. You went with that tall lad, the one from over near Brandon. His name escapes me at the minute, but he drove a silver car and had a ridiculous notion that he would one day be a professional wrestler.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “It was my business to know. Just like it was my business to know that you would tell your father and me that you were going to a school function, and Peter would pick you up in that little yellow car of his, and you would go to his basketball games instead.”

  “You knew?”

  “It was my business to know what my children are doing.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Cara, why would I challenge you to do something much less benign? If I took away your harmless rebellion, you would simply have escalated it to something much more challenging. That would have done neither of us any good at all.”

  “I never knew you knew, but that makes this even worse.”

  “Why is that, love?”

  “Because if you knew all that, then why didn’t you know what was going on with Bernie?”

  “Cara, I knew that you were spending time with Bernie, and I knew of Bernie’s compulsion to help people, especially people of Irish roots. That was never in question. Some of those people were as unique as our Bernie. Our Bernie came over when she was very young, found herself in bad sorts, and had to make a life of her own. She never married, although she came quite close once or twice. To my eye, she was always a trailblazer. It would never have come to my mind that she would do anything that would put anyone, especially those she loved, in any danger. And she loved you, Cara. Of all my children, she loved you the most. That is why it was such a shock to me when you told me of the problems that our Bernie created for you.”

  “But if you thought that she would never do something like that, why did you just take my word for it?”

  “Whatever does that mean, love?”

  “Why did you believe me? I came over here sounding like a crazy person, and I was in attack mode, not my finest hour, and I all but abused you while I was trying to get out what I know, but what I know is all these bits and pieces that don’t even make sense to me, but you didn’t deny me at all. You didn’t understand, and we had a communication problem there for a minute or two, but I knew, even when I was crazy and mad, that you would be there for me. You would never turn your back on me. Even when I thought I broke you.”

  “You are my daughter. If you told me the sun would extinguish in a moment’s time, I’d gather coats and candles. I did not raise a deceitful child. I do not believe any one of my kin would lie to me. At the worst of it, you were being fully honest with me. At the best of it, you were mistaken. Either way, my belief and faith in you never has, nor ever will, waiver in the slightest.”

  I tried not to cry.

  My tea was cold, which gave me an excuse to walk into the kitchen, put the kettle back on, and pull myself together.

  “Mom, what do you really think happened with Bernie?”

  “I have not a clue. I think the only way this mystery will find an end is for you to remember what happened and to try to look at it with all eyes.”

  “From my-view, Bernie’s view kind of thing?”

  “And the view of those Bernie helped.”

  “I know you’re right. I just don’t know why I’m so whacked-out about it.”

  “Remember your first grade classroom?”

  “Yep.”

  “Describe it for me.”

  “You walked in a door at the back of the room. There was a place just inside the door to hang your coat on a hook and little cubbyholes above that to stash your lunch bag. There were those old-fashioned desks, the ones that open up so you can put your papers inside, and a seat with bars across the bottom so you could stack your books. There were windows from ceiling to desk height. A big hook on a pole to open and close them. Curtains to pull when the nuns wanted the classroom dark. There were bulletin boards on the left. Chalkboard in the front. Teacher’s desk in the front on the right. A sink and counter across the back with a storage closet.”

  “And how big?”

  “I get it. When I was in first grade, it was huge. I had to jump to put my coat on the hook. Tore my blue coat and thought you were going to kill me.”

  “Over a coat, love?”

  “Yep. The last thing you told me before I went to class that day was to take care with my coat. Before the end of the day it was ripped. I didn’t even want to come home.”

  “Funny, I don’t remember it at all.”

  “Why would you? How many times did one of us come home with a ripped uniform or coat or whatever? Looking back, I see how silly my reaction was, but at the time, I was beside myself.”

  “Do you remember what happened when you arrived home, ripped jacket in hand?”

  “You told me that you were glad I pointed it out before the material frayed, said you were going to put a flower patch on it and that I would be able to tell easily by the flower that it was my jacket. You made a flower out of some fabric you were using for a quilt. You even embroidered little eyes and a smile on the flower. I loved that jacket and the flower. It made me feel special.”

  “At the other end of it I was probably sorry that I couldn’t go out and buy each of you new things instead of the passing from one to the next.”

  “That was never a problem for us, Mom. I loved the fact that Teagan and I shared clothes.”

  “Yes, you being so much taller, everything was a bit short on you, and you always had the most beautiful legs. Your sister hated you for that.” My mother laughed.

  “Teagan?”

  “Yes, she was always quite jealous of you. You were everything that she was not. Tall and thin without a care about makeup or the like. I’m sure you girls have spoken of it more than a time or two.”

  “Yes, but to be honest, I never believed her when she said it. I figured she was just trying to be nice. If you look like Teagan, why would you want to look like me?”

  “It hurts my heart to hear you say such a thing. You are a beautiful young woman, Cara.”

  “I know I’m okay, but I’m not like Teagan.”

  “Nor should you be.”

  “Okay, we’re off track. Even for me. Back to all things Bernie and the trunk.”

  “Very well.”

  “Mom, what should I do?”

  “Cara, you are a brave woman. Whatever it is that is bothering you about what is in the trunk, what it means, what the mystery is, if there is any mystery at all, the best thing you can do is to face it. Head on. With the support of those who love you, and you have many who do.”

  “But what if I can’t handle it?”


  “You can handle anything, love.”

  “It’s just been such a hard time. From ex-cops trying to kill me, to Barry beating the crap out of me. All the good things, like A.J., and Adeline giving me my dream job, and all the changes in the family, I just feel like my brain can’t handle anything else. I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t like change. I liked things the way they were. Sunday dinners. The whole family getting together all the time. Me knowing what was going to happen before it happened so I was ready.”

  “Listen to yourself, love. Those are the words of insecurity. Are you an insecure person?”

  “I guess so.”

  “I don’t believe that for a moment.”

  “Then why am I so afraid of things changing? Isn’t that what being insecure is about?”

  “Cara, if I was talking to one of your sisters, I’ll not name the one, I would think that perhaps her decisions were rooted in insecurity. That is the road she has chosen for this life. But you, my Cara, did not choose that road. You chose a road of boldness.”

  “Boldness?” I burst out laughing. “Mom, I’m the least bold person of all your kids. Look at Seamus. He’s out there conquering the corporate world every day. People know who he is. They wouldn’t dare cross him. I almost wet myself the day I had to cross him. What about Sinead? Look at how she is dealing with her life. On her terms. She’s just a baby, and she is more mature than I am.”

  Mom interrupted me. “Do you not see that it is often the seemingly subservient person who carries the most power? That it is you, the person who chooses to be the foundation of all the others, the one they all depend on, who is the strongest. Cara, you must know you are the strength of this family. You have been since you were but a wee little thing, seeing to it that each of your brothers and sisters, and to some extent your father and I, had all that we needed to face the day. From birth, my dear Cara, you have been the strongest of my children.”

  When I just looked kind of stuck, my mom continued, “A true believer is not the one shouting loudest from the rooftops, love. A true believer exists quietly, living her beliefs, without need for recognition. Your belief, in our family, in your life, in your way of doing things, has always been one of the things I take the most joy and perhaps even a bit of pride in. Love, watching you live your life has been a true blessing to your father and me. You have taught me more than you have learned from me, and I am grateful for it.”