by Terri DuLong
Sybile’s illness may have weakened her body but I could see it hadn’t dampened her feisty spirit. “I’ll make some tea. Twila Faye sent you some homemade preserves. How about some on toast?”
“I’m not hungry,” Sybile replied, sounding like a whiny child.
Saren and I exchanged glances but remained quiet as I went into the kitchen to prepare the tea.
“I’m glad you’re back home,” I heard Saren say, followed by silence. Damn her, I thought, the least she could do is be nice to him.
When I brought the tea, Sybile looked up. “Now you have all my instructions in order, right? You know exactly what to do for my farewell?”
I noticed how the woman had used the word farewell rather than funeral. I nodded, passing a cup and saucer to Sybile. “I have your notebook. I know what you want.”
“And Noah? Have you been in touch with him?”
“About the boat? Yes, he said of course he’ll take us out on the water.”
Sybile sighed in annoyance. “Not the boat. About you. You and him.”
Now it was my turn to be annoyed. “Look, Sybile, you’ve been in control of everything. Your illness and your death. But it’s time to stop trying to tie up loose ends before you leave this earth. Sometimes things can’t be wrapped up the way you want them to be.”
“Honey, as long as you’re still breathing, you can make anything happen. So stop kidding yourself. So—have you been in touch?”
“God, you’re impossible. But yeah, he dropped by the shop to inquire about you.”
“And?”
“And he said if I needed anything or to talk to somebody to call him.”
A satisfied smile crossed Sybile’s face. “Now, that’s more like it. Now all you have to—” A coughing spasm didn’t allow her to finish.
Saren rushed to her side, while Sybile attempted to catch her breath. After a few moments, her rapid breathing resumed.
I knew that normal respirations were between sixteen and twenty. Watching the rise and fall of Sybile’s chest, I knew my mother’s probably hovered close to forty.
Dabbing her eyes with a tissue, Sybile asked, “And when is that nurse supposed to get here? What good is she if she’ll be sleeping during the night?”
“She’ll stop by later today,” Saren explained. “And for right now, she won’t be here during the night. Just a daily visit to check on you. And…when the time comes, there’ll be three nurses coming to do eight-hour shifts. So she won’t be sleeping on the job, Sybile.”
“Oh,” was all she said.
“Are you sure I can’t make you some lunch? How about some fruit?” I asked.
Sybile shook her head. “Just the tea. And after I finish this, I might lay down here for a nap. I think the drive made me tired.”
I saw the concern on Saren’s face. “Well, then, I think I’ll go home for a while. I’ll be back later this evening though. If the nurse has any questions, tell her to call me. I’ll be home the rest of the day catching up on things.”
Leaning over to kiss Sybile’s cheek, I patted Saren’s shoulder. “You both take it easy. It wouldn’t hurt you to doze off for a while either, Saren.”
“When’s Monica coming?” Sybile asked.
“She’s not quite sure, but she was thinking about early next week.”
“Yes, tell her to come then,” Sybile replied with a bold tone. “I want her here next week.”
I caught the insistence in my mother’s voice. “I’ll let her know,” I said softly, before walking out the door.
When Monica arrived, I knew she found her grandmother had greatly deteriorated from the last time she’d seen her. I was at the Lighthouse with Dora and Marin when my daughter pulled into the driveway.
Sybile was propped up with pillows in the hospital bed. A few days earlier it had been her request to begin using it. With a smile on her face, Monica walked over to Sybile taking her hand and placing a kiss on her cheek.
“Well, if you don’t just look like queen of the island with all those lacy pillows.”
Joy covered Sybile’s face as she gripped her granddaughter’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Of course I’m here. Had to get away from all the noise in Gainesville,” she kidded.
“Dora made a delicious quiche. How about a slice?”
“Sounds great,” Monica said, releasing Sybile’s hand to hug Marin and Dora. “Where’s Saren?”
“We sent him home to get some decent sleep,” Dora said. “Poor man was ready to keel over from being here night and day. Told him we women could look after Sybile just fine.”
Monica laughed. “And we can.”
Joining me in the kitchen, Monica whispered, “How’s she really doing?”
I shook my head. “Not good. Sleeping more and more. Her mind is still lucid though. But her breathing and weakness is much worse.”
When we returned to the living room, Sybile was pushing herself up straighter against the pillows. “I want the two of you,” she said, pointing to Monica and me, “and Saren to come by tomorrow morning. Morning is my best time. When I don’t feel so woozy. I want you here.”
I exchanged a look with Monica and we nodded. When Sybile volunteered nothing more, I asked, “Any particular reason?”
“Yeah,” Sybile replied in a strong voice. “Because I said so.”
“Sounds to me like she’s getting all her ducks in a row,” Alison said.
Pouring milk into the mashed potatoes, I nodded and smiled. “Yeah, but her ducks have always been in a row.”
“You know what I mean—the final lineup.”
“I agree. She keeps asking about the memorial arrangements and driving me nuts checking on Noah and me.”
Alison raised an eyebrow. “Where’s it at with the two of you?”
“I’m not sure. Friendly. Civil. I haven’t seen him since he stopped by the shop a few weeks ago.”
“And why not?”
“Why not?” I spooned the potatoes into a serving bowl.
“Why haven’t you called him like he asked you to?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know because…I really would like to see him and talk to him.”
“You’re such a damn fool, Syd. Just do it. Call him.”
I placed the bowl on the table. Placing hands on my hips, I said, “You know what? You’re right. You’re right, Ali. I’m going to call him after we finish supper.”
Alison rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Of course I’m right. It just always takes you so damn long to figure that out.”
Later that evening I sat on my balcony, a glass of cognac in my hand, and Noah at my side.
“I’m glad you called,” he said, staring at the setting sun.
I looked over at him. “I’m glad I did too.”
He reached for my hand. “Have you sorted things out in your mind?”
Enjoying the feel of my hand in his, I said, “Somewhat.”
“Enough for you and me to resume seeing each other?”
“I think so.” I paused for a few moments, clutching his hand and feeling a renewed energy course through my body. “Yes,” I said, with more conviction. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”
Noah leaned over and taking my face in his hands, he smiled. “Good,” he said, letting his lips brush mine. “Good. Because I love a woman that knows what she wants.”
39
If the situation hadn’t been so dire, I would have chuckled. There sat Sybile, wearing a lacy bed jacket, supported by a multitude of pillows while the three of us sat quiet and stone-faced waiting for an explanation as to why we’d been beckoned. Sybile reminded me of the queen in my childhood story books—regal, efficient, and in charge. Convening this gathering to assert her power and demands on her peons, one final time.
After a few moments, Sybile broke the silence. “I suppose it isn’t odd that a dying woman would summon her loved ones to her bedside. For whatever reason. You know, there was a time when I used to
wonder how I’d die—would it be sudden, in an accident? Without a moment to think about it. Or would it be long and drawn out, giving me plenty of time to think over the life I was leaving? My choice was to go fast—poof! Just like that and I’d be gone. No recriminations, nothing. Just gone.”
I was surprised by the vitality Sybile was displaying this morning. She appeared stronger, and some of her determination had returned to her voice.
“But I didn’t get my choice. Many times in death, as in life, we don’t. But I also learned to accept the hand I was dealt. I asked the three of you here this morning because there’s something I now feel compelled to tell you—something that maybe I should have told you long ago.”
I slid forward on my chair, waiting.
Without any preamble whatsoever, looking directly at me, Sybile blurted out, “You wanted to know who your father is—Saren’s your father.”
Lightheadedness overcame me as I reached forward and gripped the bed rail. It had been one thing to suspect for months the possibility that Saren was my father and quite another to now hear my mother confirm it. At the mention of Saren’s name, my glance shot to the elderly man sitting on the other side of my daughter. The shocked expression on his face told me he’d had no prior knowledge of this and I heard him say, “That can’t be possible.”
“Oh, it’s possible alright.”
I was backtracking in my mind the story that Sybile had told me all those months ago about my birth. Sybile had left the island and she never saw Saren again except briefly in Manhattan before he left for Paris. Unless…
“It’s very possible,” Sybile continued. “I know you always wanted to protect my reputation, Saren, but now’s the time to be honest. You know as well as I do that we slept together that one night—that one night before you flew off to Paris.”
With a million thoughts racing through my head, I felt Monica take my hand and squeeze it and I saw my daughter’s other hand reach out for Saren’s.
For a brief moment I was concerned that such a shock could be dangerous for him. But the look on his face was calm. Calm but bewildered.
“I don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t understand why on earth you couldn’t tell me. All these years, all these empty, lonely years…” He released Monica’s hand to begin pacing around the room.
“That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to hate me. I was selfish, I won’t lie about that. I wanted my career, my fame, and had I told you, you would have insisted that we marry. Marry and raise our child. And I just couldn’t do that. That lifestyle wasn’t for me. So I made the decision that you were better off not to know. You didn’t need to know.”
Saren spun around to face Sybile. “How dare you make that decision for me! It wasn’t just your decision to make. How dare you deprive me of a daughter—and a granddaughter, that I never knew.” Tears flowed down his face as he stood there not taking his eyes from Sybile.
She let out a deep sigh and nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. I didn’t think so then. But now—all these years later, maybe you’re right.”
“All these lost years later,” Saren replied in a raised voice.
“I can’t make up for those years. They’re gone. You have no idea how close I came to taking this secret to my grave. But I felt it was more important to risk the hatred of all three of you—because after I’m gone, at least you’ll have each other. Maybe you can have the love and relationship that I denied to all of you.”
Without saying a word, Monica got up, walked to the side of the bed, and took Sybile in her arms. “That was a hard thing to do, Billie,” she said softly.
Saren turned on his heels, walked outside to the deck, and I followed.
Leaning against the railing, we stood silent watching the gulls swoop over the shimmering water.
Saren—this man standing beside me—had given me life every bit as much as Sybile had. For the past nine months I’d wondered who my father was—had even suspected it could possibly be him. And for nine months Sybile refused to tell me. And all that time he was right here. A feeling of awkwardness came over me. Nothing like having the truth forced on you. What must he be feeling?
“Are you alright?” I asked.
He nodded. “I’m angry. All my life I’ve loved her and all these years she kept this secret from me. How could she do such a thing?”
“She’s loved you too, Saren. So it must have been a very difficult thing for her. And by telling us now, before it was too late, I think she’s proved that love.” I heard myself voicing the words, but the sense of understanding for Sybile surprised me. “I guess she feels now, what’s she got to lose? She won’t be with us much longer. If you hate her, you’ll do so in death. Not for all these years she’s been alive.”
“You’re my daughter,” I heard Saren say with wonder. “My daughter.”
I reached for the veined hand that rested on the railing and squeezed it. “And you’re my dad.”
Saren turned and pulled me into an embrace. “Imagine that. You’re my daughter,” he repeated again.
I smiled. “She couldn’t have chosen a better father for me. You’re a very special person, Saren, and I’m proud to be your daughter.”
He released our embrace to reach into his pocket for a handkerchief. Wiping his eyes, he said, “She’s really given me a gift, ya know. The best gift possible.”
“Maybe that’s how she wants it. To be able to leave this world giving you a part of herself. She was never able to in life, but death has enabled her to do this.”
Saren nodded slowly. “I think you’re right.” He patted my arm. “I have a very brilliant daughter, you know.”
Putting an arm around his shoulder, I smiled. “Of course you do. She takes after her father. Let’s go inside and see Sybile.”
“Well, if this doesn’t beat all,” Dora said, glancing around the table at Monica, Saren, and me.
“You really didn’t know this?” I asked, while taking the bowl of green beans that Saren had passed me.
Dora shook her head. “No, I surely didn’t. I’m as surprised as all of you. But I won’t lie, there were a few times that I wondered if possibly Saren was involved. Sybile was so secretive though, I never mentioned it to her.”
“That’s a long time to live with a secret like this, isn’t it?” Monica took a bite of the meatloaf Dora had prepared.
“My sister always was her own person. Had a knack for keeping things to herself. Makes me angry though—she just as easily could have passed on without telling either one of you.”
Saren nodded. “Yeah, I thought that too. But she didn’t.”
“How was she when you left her this evening? Do you think she feels more at peace now?”
“I’ve seen this happen before in my nursing career. Once somebody shares something or maybe has a visitor they’ve been waiting for, it’s like they can begin to let go. She’s been sleeping pretty much all afternoon and when the nurse arrived, she suggested getting ’round the clock coverage now.” I pushed the food around my plate. “I think she does feel more at peace, Dora. I wasn’t willing to understand before, but like Monica said, that’s a heavy burden to live with for over fifty years.”
“Well, all I can say is, our family just seems to keep growing.” Picking up her glass of iced tea, she tipped it in Saren’s direction. “Welcome to the family, Saren. Officially.”
Smiling, he lifted his glass in salute. “I’m real grateful to Sybile. Oh sure, maybe it would have been nice if things had worked out differently. But you know that old saying, it’s never too late.”
“And what a bonus for me,” Monica said. “Finding not only my birth grandmother, but a grandfather too. I agree with Saren—it’s never too late and everything usually happens in its own time.”
Following dessert and cleaning up, I glanced at the clock over Dora’s refrigerator. Seven-thirty. I’d called Noah earlier to share my news with him and he’d told me to stop by after dinner.
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“Well, everyone, if it’s alright, I’m going to head over to Noah’s.”
Three smiles beamed back at me.
“Of course it’s alright,” Dora said.
“I’ll be spending the night at Sybile’s, so I’ll be going back in a little while.” Saren stood up from the table.
“You gave the nurse your cell number, Mom, so go and have a relaxing evening. She’ll call you if there’s any change.”
I stretched my legs out in front of me on the lounge. Turning my head, I watched Noah at the garden bar preparing a gin and tonic for us.
“Here ya go.” Passing me a glass he settled into the lounge beside me.
“To life,” I said, touching the rim of his glass.
“I’ll drink to that.” Taking a sip he reached for my hand.
Just the touch of his hand caused heat between us. What I felt was sensual mixed with contentment. We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.
I rested my head back, looking up at the sky. A sweet fragrance filled the air. Above me, ibis flew past leaving the island for the night heading to a sanctuary offshore.
“Tired?” Noah asked.
“Weary. It’s been a tough couple months.”
“You’ve been through a lot emotionally. You might want to…” He stopped mid-sentence.
Turning toward him, I said, “What? Might want to what?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. I was about to suggest something, but I don’t want you to think I’m telling you what to do again.”
I squeezed his hand and smiled. “At least you’re aware of it. Tell me.”
“I was just thinking it might be nice for you to take some time for yourself—after. You know, take a trip for a couple weeks. Close the shop for a while to have a rest.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Never. Maybe I could be persuaded to take that trip with you.”
“As lovely as that sounds, why would I want to leave all of this? I can close the shop for a while and relax right here as well as anywhere.”
“Very true. You’ll know what’s best.”
