Winter in Full Bloom

by Anita Higman

  “What are you up to?” Mr. Averill crossed his arms. “You sound like you’re going somewhere, which is—”

  “I am, Charles.” With great composure, Mrs. Averill said, “I’m leaving you.”

  “You can’t do that.” Mr. Averill glowered at his wife.

  “You no longer have any say in the matter.” Her expression was one of tranquility, but it wasn’t without despair.

  “What? You already had this planned out?”

  “I knew how this would go today. I prayed it would not, but there is such a thing as free will, and you’ve decided to go down this road … this path of bitterness. Well, it’s a path I can no longer travel with you. You see, it’s slowly killing me. My heart doctor says I cannot keep living under this kind of ongoing stress, or I will have a heart attack. Not just heart flutters and the racing heartbeat that sent me to the hospital several months ago, but the real thing. I want to save my health for you and for our son. I’d like to be alive in case God gives us the blessing of grandchildren. So, for now, I’m going.”

  “But where will you live?” Mr. Averill rose from his chair.

  “I’m not going to Australia,” she replied, “but I can understand why Marcus went that far. Maybe it’s not far enough. But I’m going to live with my friend Susanna out in the country. She’s invited me to stay. I’m not coming back until you’ve had counseling sessions with the pastor and you’ve proven that you mean to love this family again and not pour it full of hate.”

  “This is preposterous. Silly, even. I won’t let you go.” His eyes flashed with fury.

  “Yes, I thought you might say something like that.” Mrs. Averill’s wrinkles seemed to deepen. “But my bags are already packed.” She turned away from her husband and looked at me. “I’m sorry you heard all this, Lily. It was very upsetting for me to have a stranger see this side of us, but what’s done is done. I don’t know how you two feel about each other, but if it turns out to be serious, Lily, I hope you won’t hold this day against us as a family.”

  “No, not at all.” I gave her my warmest smile.

  “Good. We used to be a good and loving family, but we lost our way. Maybe that’s what happened to your sister. I’m glad she’s back home. Someday our son will be able to know home again, the way it used to be.”

  “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Averill.” I had no idea what more I could say. I wanted to comfort the woman, and yet I could sense that Marcus’s father wasn’t going to tolerate much more chatter.

  “Thank you for that, Lily. I hope we can meet again in happier times … someday.” Mrs. Averill said to her son, “I love you. More than you know. I’m sorry this happened on your special day of homecoming. Please don’t feel this is your fault. With God’s help there will be better days.”

  “I love you, Mom,” Marcus said. “And I’m sorry too.”

  Mrs. Averill focused on her husband again. “Charles, there are meals in the freezer for two weeks ahead. But after that, you’ll be on your own. Marcus and Lily, please finish your lunch if you’d like. But if you’ll excuse me.”

  Mr. Averill jolted toward his wife as if he were going to physically stop her from going, but she calmly looked at him. Something in her stare must have made him retreat, since he sat back down.

  Marcus’s mother picked up her plate with the uneaten food, took one look into the mirror on the dining room wall, and left the room.

  Mr. Averill turned to his son. “I hope you’re satisfied. Look what you’ve done now.” He turned his fury on me. “And you, young lady, were no help to be here … encouraging my son the way you did, to take back up with that dreadful profession.”

  I rose, feeling sick at my stomach. “Perhaps Marcus and I should go now. I’ve intruded long enough.”

  “Yes, you have,” Mr. Averill said.

  Marcus rose and slapped his napkin down on the table. “You may speak to me in any way you choose, but you will not speak to Lily that way. She is innocent of any wrongdoing in spite of what you say. She is one of the finest people I have ever had the pleasure to know. I had hoped you would both get to know her as I do.”

  Mr. Averill grunted.

  “And please stop being so hard on Mom,” Marcus said. “She loves you. You need to think about what the doctor said about her health. It would be tragic to have another funeral.” He refocused on me. “Lily, it’s best we go … for now.”

  Mr. Averill remained in his chair and in his brooding silence as Marcus escorted me out of the dining room.

  Later, in the car, after a profound apology from Marcus—concerning his father’s behavior and for bringing me along on such a doomed excursion—our drive on I-45 toward Houston became a quiet one. I had my own thoughts to plague me, wondering why it was that families got so far off the path that they could no longer find their way back. Marcus may have been thinking the same thing. I didn’t know. Normally, I would have blamed myself somehow and cried a river until my head throbbed, but I could see that the situation was more complex than that. And my tears would not have helped.

  Just as I considered a beefy conversation with the Almighty, lightning and thunder rolled in around us—not the emotional kind but the weather kind. The blackest clouds I’d ever seen trolled in behind our car as if chasing us, and then in one great blast, the storm unleashed several more lightning bolts—surely enough energy to power a city—making me let out a yelp and swerve the car so much that I nearly ran us off the freeway.

  Marcus grabbed the dash.

  I pulled over on the side of the road as I let out a happy holler that we were still alive.

  My whoop sounded so ridiculous there was nothing to do but laugh. That part felt good. We needed the release. And Marcus needed to see that other people were fully capable of having car accidents.

  Then the rain clouds let go in a big way as if the angels were pelting us with millions of water balloons. The wind, gusty and wild, seemed to be playing a game of tug-of-war with our car.

  I scrunched up my shoulders. “Do you think there’s a funnel cloud above us?”

  Marcus pointed to the underpass. “Why don’t we pull under that bridge until it calms down.”

  “Okay.” I came to a stop beneath the underpass. The roar of the storm lessened—being muffled under the bridge—enough to let us relax for a moment. “That’s better.”

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you this whole drive, but I felt we needed time to think,” Marcus said. “Well, I needed to think. So, maybe this is a good time to talk.”

  I ground my thumbs into the steering wheel. “Guess I know what you’re wanting to talk about.”

  “You don’t know all of it.” Marcus tugged on his hair like he might consider pulling some of it out. “As I mentioned earlier, I shouldn’t have asked you to come along with me this first time with my parents. You should never have had to witness that … to be subjected to those insults. I’m especially sorry, since you’ve been through a lot with your mother recently.”

  “It’s okay. I’m stronger than I used to be. And I was glad to have been by your side.”

  Marcus touched my cheek. “Please know, in case you’re thinking about blaming yourself for any of this, which I know you have a tendency to do … not a bit of it was your fault. To be honest, though, I never imagined my mother would leave him. I hadn’t spent much time thinking about her burden, grieving for Ellie while she tried to keep Dad from spiraling out of control. She seemed to be at her wit’s end with him, and I can’t blame her. He’s no longer himself. My father wasn’t this way when I was growing up. Well, on an occasion he had a temper, but he wasn’t bitter like you saw him today. He was a good man, quiet strength. I’m sure he still is, under all those layers of grief.”

  “I’m sure he is. Grief is pretty horrible stuff. Emotions we don’t really know how to deal with. We just fumble around with them.”

  “How true,” Marcus said.

  “In spite of the harsh words, I feel sorry for your father. He must be hurting so
mething awful to say the things he did.”

  “Thank you for saying that. For not hating my father and for not running out of the house in the heat of the battle, which would have been tempting.”

  I smiled. “There was a moment or two at the table that fleeing would have been appealing.”

  Marcus reached over to the keys and shut off the engine. “That’s better. There’s something else I want to say. You know, I had such conflicting emotions while we were all arguing around the table. There we were in the midst of this war with my father and my mother’s love being strained to the ends, and it could have made some people cynical about love for the rest of their lives. And yet all the while as I looked across the table at you I was thinking …”

  “Oh?” My skin prickled.

  “I was thinking … that I have never loved anyone more in my life than when I gazed at you today.”

  I chuckled. Giggled was more like it. “Do you mind saying it again?” I touched my arms. “I got goose bumps when you said it.”

  Marcus laughed. “I love you, Lily. I do. I know it’s early on in our relationship, but I’m not going to try and hide it any longer. Or even wait until the storm passes from my life with my parents. And to think it all started between us from the moment I saw you on that park bench stuffing your mouth full of marshmallows and being all feisty and miserable because of your empty nest. It started there.” He lifted my hand and placed it over his heart. “But it ended right here … in this spot.”

  I felt thunderstruck, and it had nothing to do with the storm raging above the overpass. I loved him too, but was the timing right to say these things?

  “Lily, you’ve gotten awfully quiet. This would be a good time for you to say something. Anything at all.” He clasped my hand in his.

  “You are such a dear. But are you sure what you’re experiencing isn’t something else? Are you sure it’s love?”

  “What else could I be feeling?” Marcus asked.

  “I don’t know, maybe a grateful heart that you made it out of your parents’ house alive today?”

  He chuckled. “No, that’s not what I’m feeling.”

  “Sorry. That wasn’t funny.”

  “Well, it was a little funny.”

  I grinned. “It’s just—”

  “No, Love, there’s no talking me out of this. I know exactly what I feel. I’m forty … certainly not a boy anymore, even though I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’m a grown man, and I’ve dated plenty of women. I’ve seen some of the world. I know the underbelly of family life. It can be miserable at times, and yet I’ve still been able to fall in love.”

  “But why? Why do you love me? I can’t believe I’m trying to talk a man out of loving me, but love always seemed precarious to me. Like the loveliest bloom on the trellis, always way out of reach.”

  “Listen to you. Where did you get such a sad notion of love?”

  “Certainly not from my daughter. I’m not sure a mother could love a daughter more than I love my Julie, and I know she loves me. But romantic love, well, I’ve never fully understood it.”

  Marcus studied me then. “But didn’t you and your husband fall in love once upon a time?”

  “I loved him, yes. Well, since you already know so much about me … about my husband’s transgression and all … I might as well tell you the rest. Richard claimed to love me, but I always wondered. My husband grew up in poverty, and when he saw my mother’s house and wealth, well, I think he became much more enamored with me after that. At the time we dated, my mother was in poor health from time to time, so Richard may have gotten the idea that he would inherit her fortune soon after we were married. But as it turned out, Richard’s health failed first, with his heart attack.”

  Thunder drummed around us, but the intensity had lessened. Perhaps the storm was moving on now. “It feels wrong to say these things about Richard,” I went on to say, “since he’s not here to defend himself. I never talk about this sort of thing with Julie. I want her to have only pleasant thoughts about her father. And for the most part, he was a good father. But as far as romantic love I just wasn’t sure where he stood. At least after we were married. He made plenty of declarations beforehand.” I paused, wondering how much more I should elaborate. “So, that’s my sad tale of woe about love. I guess it has tainted me for all time.”

  “No, not for all time.” Marcus fingered the tassel on the end of my scarf. “You just need to know my heart. For me, love isn’t precarious or the loveliest bloom on the trellis, far out of reach. For me, it’s something you hold on to. My love isn’t going anywhere. And as far as money, well, you don’t have to worry about me coming after yours. I have plenty of it in my trust. I don’t need your mother’s fortune either. She’s welcome to live to one hundred and beyond. I just want you. That’s all.”

  “Okay. Good speech. I like it.”

  “But as you know, love needs to be reciprocated if it’s going to work right.” He rested back in his seat but didn’t take his eyes off me.

  Oh, Lord, is this the right time to say how I feel? Is it too soon? Too ill-timed? Maybe love was more like being perched on the edge of a rock face with the thinnest of ropes to let us down. “Marcus, even though I wasn’t sure how my husband felt or how much he loved me, I always knew what love felt like.” Here we go, Lord, I’m heading over the edge. “And it looks and feels like I’m pretty hopelessly in love with you too.”

  “That is good news. The best. Especially after such a bleak house, Dickens kind of morning. You’ve made my day, Lily, my life.”

  I rested back in the seat, staring at the muddy-streaked windshield. It wasn’t the best time for love to show up, but there it was just the same, improbable and lovely like the flutter of hummingbird wings. “I didn’t go to Australia to fall in love, but God gave it to me anyway. To both of us.” I chuckled at the sound of it. “Now, will you please kiss me?”

  Marcus grasped both ends of my scarf and pulled me over to his lips. As we kissed thunder rolled around us like the applause from an unseen audience. Could it be the angels sounding their joy?

  When we’d put the soft murmuring touches on our kiss, the sun eased out from behind the rain clouds, spraying the earth with light, brilliant and promising. The two clashing opposites reminded me of life—the storms and the sun all mixed together. “But there is one thing I need to add to this moment.” I cringed at the negative sound of my words.

  “One more thing?” Marcus pulled back but didn’t let go of me.

  “Even though this sounds like a bad movie line, sometimes marriage needs more than love. I mean, if this were to lead to marriage, there’re all sorts of hurdles we’d have to jump over.”

  “Yes, love usually leads to marriage. At least that is what I’m hoping for … but what hurdles do you mean, exactly?”

  “Well, I would want Julie to grow to care for you too. I would want her blessing. But beyond that, well, God says there’s a time for everything under heaven. For everything there is a season. I just don’t think this is our season. After what I saw today with your family, and with me just now bringing my sister home, trying to plug her back into my family.” And with her pregnancy and her need for help. “Maybe it should be a season of sewing our families back together, not a time for us. At least not yet.”

  “You were right … I was going to propose. You got a little ahead of me, but I intended to ask you in a romantic setting, not in the middle of a thunderstorm.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I pulled my hand away. “I was being presumptuous, thinking you were about to propose, since you mentioned love and all. In fact, I’m suddenly a little embarrassed.” My face flushed, thinking about my audacity.

  “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. You just connected the dots.”

  “But maybe this makes it easier on you, in a way. To say no to your proposal now rather than you having to spend your life savings on a fancy meal.”

  Marcus shook his head. “The ever practical Lily. I’ll bet you g
et all the wear out of your shoes even if they’re pinching the life out of your toes. And I’m guessing you eat the cheese in your fridge even if it’s turning fuzzy green.”

  “Yes on both. I just wear those shoes when I don’t have to walk too far, and I scrape the fuzzy green off the cheese.”

  He grinned.

  “Okay, so you’ve seen behind the curtain. Just for the record, I did throw out my cheese when I got home from Melbourne. It was beyond fuzzy.”

  “Well, you’re making progress then. But I’m concerned that it’s still the same Lily who won’t let herself enjoy wedded bliss until everyone around her is as happy as she is.”

  “Hmm. Maybe you know me a little too well.” The real me still had a few closed petals in need of some warm rays. I looked out the window at the concrete beams of the underpass. There they were holding up the bridge, doing their job well, but they were dirty and used and unthought-of, while everyone drove over them without a care. Was I trying to be those beams, holding up the world? My family? And no one had given my needs any consideration? No, that thought had a selfish ring to it, and I would have none of it.

  I scooted down in my seat, trying to find a more comfortable spot. “I think you mean well, Marcus, but right now you’re being Dudley, the seal pup, in your Horace and Dudley series. He gave profound speeches to his family to get what he wanted. He was very persuasive, just as you are. But I stand by my homily on seasons.”

  He groaned. “I should never have told you I was Miles Hooper. I thought you’d be enamored with the idea, but you’re more interested in using my characters against me than worshiping my presence in your life. It hurts. It really does.” He put up his hands, pretending offense, but holding back a grin the whole time.

  “Guess it’s not fighting fair to slam you with your own imagination. But you’re wrong. I am enamored with Miles Hooper as well as Marcus Averill. Sometimes I can hear Miles, the writer, in some of the little things you say. It’s sweet and stirring and fascinating to say the least. But you wouldn’t want me to marry you for your celebrity.”