by Laura Abbot
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON Monday before Geneva felt like moving from her bed to the wheelchair. Carmen had been hovering over her ever since her arrival the night before, pampering her with a hearty chicken-tortilla soup, sopaipillas and, best of all, her creamy, homemade flan. Even so, Geneva had trouble summoning any appetite.
“Your strength, señorita. Please to eat some more.”
In Carmen’s sad eyes and her own exhausted body, Geneva read the truth. She was much weaker. The simple act of breathing required enormous effort. Now, sitting in the ocean-view bay window, a pillow propped behind her back, she summoned the will to think about the future. The house was in order, or would be when Kyle Becker finished staining the trim. Her legal affairs had been attended to. More troubling was what to do about Annie. Nothing would change the past. The best she could hope for was that Kyle would help Annie through the next few months.
Friday night had been difficult for both of them—and emotionally it had taken more out of her than even she had supposed. Should she have confronted the girl earlier? Somehow helped her to get into counseling? Hindsight is wonderful, Geneva thought with a snort.
Drained of the energy to continue their conversation, Geneva had spent the day resting, drifting in and out of sleep. Even now, with sunlight frosting the waves, it was difficult to stay focused either on the scene before her or on her thoughts. Was this how it was? Dying? A gradual fading away. A dimming of the light. Fatigue weighing like a heavy blanket.
“Miss Greer, would you like to see the final results?” How long had Kyle Becker been standing there? Had she fallen asleep again?
“Mercy, you startled me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “No, I know you didn’t. And, yes, I would love to see what you’ve done with the house.”
He picked up the oxygen tank and wheeled her slowly through the downstairs, pointing out the floor-boards he’d replaced, the newly painted replacement Sheetrock, the refinished mantelpiece and the caulking around the windows. “Now for the upstairs.”
“Oh, I can’t do that. The wheelchair is heavy and—”
“Nonsense.” Then as if he’d done it all his life, Kyle leaned over, put one arm around her shoulders and another under her knees and lifted her, oxygen tank and all. Then, slowly and with great care, he carried her upstairs.
Her eyes filled with tears. She had thought never again to see the bedroom in which she’d spent such happy girlhood hours or to catch a glimpse of the panoramic seascape out the upstairs hall dormer window. With his elbow, Kyle rapped on Annie’s closed door.
The look on her face when she opened it was priceless—a combination of surprise, doubt and joy. “Auntie G.—”
“We’re having a building inspection,” Kyle said as he stepped into the room and lowered her to the rocking chair her own mother had used when Geneva had been a little girl.
Glancing around the room and up at the ceiling, she could see that Kyle had repaired the ceiling and refreshed the paint. Her eyes strayed to the double bed and to the quilt her grandmother had made and to the worktable where scraps of material lay in colorful profusion. She drew a deep, labored breath, and whether it was a result of memory or a newly restored sense of smell, the fragrances of lemon oil, salt spray and lavender drifted over her.
“Okay?” Kyle asked.
“Better than that. You’ve done exactly what I asked. You’ve restored my past.” She reached up and took the young man’s hands in hers. “Thank you,” she said, looking directly into his eyes. “For everything.”
He nodded in understanding, holding the connection for a beat. That was when she became convinced. He would be there for Annie.
They continued the eye contact until Annie spoke up. “We were lucky, weren’t we, Auntie G., to find such a fine craftsman.”
Geneva smiled. “And such a fine human being.” Before sentiment took an even greater toll, she turned to Annie and nodded toward the worktable. “Now that I’m up here, show me some more of your creations.”
Kyle waited while Annie spread out an array of purses, beautifully made and wildly distinctive. In her day, Geneva knew, she would not have hesitated to spend a small fortune for one.
The clatter of footsteps on the stairs interrupted the inspection. “Santo Dios! Señorita.” Carmen stood panting in the doorway. “I was worried. You disappear. I look and look.”
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said. “I should have told you I brought Miss Greer up here.”
“Please, young man, call me Auntie G.”
Kyle placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’d be honored.” Then he added in a raspy voice, “Auntie G.”
Geneva glanced from her beloved great-niece to Carmen, her faithful friend, and then to the strong young man to whom she had committed her dear Annie. “I love you all,” she said simply. “But I’m tired. Kyle, could you—”
“My pleasure, Auntie G.” Then, as if she were light as a feather, he cradled her in his arms and started down the stairs.
It felt so good to surrender to his strength, to let herself be carried against his warm chest and rest in the steady beat of his heart. In that moment, she knew it with overpowering relief. All would be well. She could go now.
EARLY THURSDAY AFTERNOON Annie perched on a kitchen stool chopping onions for the casserole Carmen was preparing. As the older woman worked, she hummed a sweetly mournful tune under her breath. The shared quiet, while companionable, was also fraught with the unutterable. Each day since Auntie G.’s trip upstairs, she had grown frailer, her breathing more erratic and difficult, her wakeful periods shorter. On Tuesday Annie had called the doctor and the social worker, making arrangements for full nursing care, beginning Sunday when Carmen was to leave. So long as Carmen was here, comforting in her concern and efficiency, Annie could cope. But with strangers under the roof? She didn’t know how she could bear it. She sniffled, lying to herself that the onions were responsible for the moisture clouding her eyes.
“Is soon, mi niña.”
Annie didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I know.”
“I pray for peaceful end. Your tia, she had a good life. Sunshine, friends, love, beauty. And you.”
Setting down the knife, Annie pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “Thank you, Carmen. I like hearing about how happy she was. She makes other people happy, too, just being around her. Like Kyle Becker.”
Where had that come from? She had stored Monday’s bittersweet memory of Kyle showing Auntie G. the house, afraid to draw it out and examine it too closely. Because in the moment when he’d picked up the old woman and held her close, Annie had fallen in love with him. When had that playful, teasing guy she’d known in high school turned into a kind and gentle man who knew intuitively what her great-aunt needed?
“Señor Kyle, he made this home a palace for her.”
“And for me.” Then, out of the blue, Annie was struck by what would happen next. After…after…She wouldn’t let her mind form the words. Would she be able to stay here? Or was it time to go in a different direction? But could she bring herself to sell the family cottage? A feeling of rudderlessness swept over her, matched only by that May morning when she’d fled Eden Bay and all that was familiar. Now, paradoxically, it was that very familiarity that confused her. In subtle ways with each passing day, she was feeling more at home here, even with all its difficult memories, than she did in Bisbee.
Carmen resumed her humming. Annie slid from the stool and went to check on her great-aunt. Tiptoeing into the darkened room, she inspected the oxygen level in the tank. Fine, for now. Then she stood at the end of the bed, trying to memorize each detail of Auntie G.’s face. Yet this was not the face she wanted to remember. She turned to the bureau and studied the framed photograph of a younger Auntie G. sitting at a Parisian outdoor café, her short dark hair curling around her face, her delighted smile welcoming someone off camera. One of her lovers? It was this vibrant creature An
nie could remember swooping into town once in a blue moon, bringing with her the most exotic gifts from places with strange-sounding names—Istanbul, Kuala Lumpur, Nairobi. No matter the occasion or how much time had elapsed since Annie had seen her, Auntie G. always had a knack for making her feel special.
She didn’t know how long she’d stood there, as if by doing so she could stave off the inevitable, when the phone ringing in the kitchen drew her attention. Reluctantly, she left the bedside.
“For you.” Carmen met her in the hall, handing her the portable phone.
“Annie, it’s Carolee. I was wondering about your aunt.”
As she filled Carolee in on Geneva’s condition, Annie walked toward the stairs and sat on the third step, clinging to this sympathetic voice from the outside world.
“It sounds as if you’re doing all the right things. I’m glad you’re having home care. Those nurses are great and will be a big help. Besides, my friend, you need to tend to yourself. It’s pretty easy for the caregiver to get run-down.”
“I appreciate your call, Carolee. I needed a reality check. It’s easy to lose track of the days.”
“Understandable. I, uh, have another reason for calling. I thought maybe you could use a change of scene. If I came by later this afternoon, would you be able to join me for a walk on the beach? So often when I get home from my shift at the hospital, there’s so much to do that my exercise routine suffers, as you could undoubtedly tell from my, shall we say, ample body. Anyway, I’d love your company.”
Carolee’s unpretentious chatter provided a sorely needed tonic. “I think I could leave Auntie G. for a while and, frankly, right about now a walk on the beach sounds better that a full-blown spa treatment.”
They settled on a time, and when Annie returned the phone to its cradle, her mood had lightened.
KYLE HAD SUCCESSFULLY avoided coming into contact with Rosemary for the better part of the week. With time, he supposed, their relationship would become less awkward. Particularly if Margaret would stop fueling the fire. Bruce had been in and out of the office, preoccupied with getting municipal approval for the condominium development. Likewise, Kyle himself had been mostly out of the office the past few days, so there had been no time to talk with Bruce. Delaying the inevitable conversation wasn’t an option. Kyle needed to find out where he stood.
He’d stayed late on this Thursday to work up a bid on a huge home renovation, one where the new owner had said, “Spare no expense.” If he could pull it off, the project would be a showcase for AAA Builders. Before last Friday night with Rosemary, it might even have been a stepping stone toward eventually taking over when Bruce retired.
Rita and the office staff had left for the day when he heard the front door open. Stepping into the lobby, Bruce was balancing rolled-up sets of plans. “Here, let me help.” Kyle stepped forward and relieved the man of his burden, and then followed him into his darkened office where he set the plans on a conference table. “How’d it go with the planning commission?”
Bruce turned on the desk lamp and sank into his leather desk chair. “As usual, we hit a few snags, but I’m hopeful it’s something that can be addressed.” He let out a sigh. “Construction I enjoy. Red tape is another matter.” Then, as if remembering his manners, he looked up and said, “Have a seat.”
Bruce filled him in on the problems with the condo project and they brainstormed possible solutions. When they’d exhausted the subject, the worry lines had eased around Bruce’s eyes. “Thanks, Kyle. I appreciate those suggestions.”
Kyle felt his stomach muscles tighten. “If you have the time, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Janet’s off at bridge club, so I have nothing but time. Shoot.”
“This is a ticklish subject, one I’m not real comfortable with.”
Bruce leaned forward, clasping his hands on his desk. “You can talk to me about anything, son.”
“It’s Rosemary.”
The older man nodded. “I thought so. You won’t be surprised to learn the Nemec females are pretty upset.”
“I figured as much. What about you?” Kyle felt perspiration gathering between his shoulder blades. “Your opinion matters a lot to me. I want you to know that I never intended to hurt Rosemary. That would be disrespectful to you and would dishonor Pete.”
“Let’s get one thing straight. Your personal life and the business are two separate things. If you’re worried about your job, let me set your mind at ease. You’re too valuable to me and to the company to let something like a failed romance stand in the way.”
Kyle’s grip on the chair relaxed. “I appreciate that.”
Bruce cocked an eyebrow. “You were never in love with her.” It wasn’t a question.
“I think the world of Rosemary. She’s been like a kid sister. But love? No.”
“She has a romantic streak. I’ve been wondering if fixating on you wasn’t one way she tried to hold her brother close.”
Kyle couldn’t overlook the sadness coloring the man’s eyes. “Maybe. I imagine we all try to do that. There isn’t a day that I don’t think of Pete.”
“She’ll get over her disappointment. Sure, I don’t like seeing her upset, but she deserves to be loved.”
“I couldn’t agree more. In some ways, I wish it could’ve been me. Your family means so much.”
“And that isn’t going away. We’ll ride out this storm. All of us. I love my daughter. However, I suspect any heartbreak is more due to her wishful thinking than to any fault of yours.” He stood and extended his hand. “Thanks for clearing the air, son.”
In that moment, the man’s fairness and affection reminded Kyle so much of Pete that he found it difficult to speak. All he could do was nod before retreating to his cubicle.
ANNIE WAITED for Carolee on the porch, enjoying, as best she could, the mild spring evening. When Carolee pulled up in an older-model Toyota and parked, Annie noticed she was still wearing her pink scrubs. “I didn’t have time to change,” Carolee said, approaching the porch. Her flyaway hair blew in the wind and Annie could see a hint of the girl she used to know beneath the matronly exterior.
Smiling, Annie stood. “I wasn’t aware there was a beach dress code.”
Carolee returned the smile. “Well, thank God for that. Ready?”
“I’ve been looking forward to it. Let’s go.”
On their way down to the beach, Carolee asked more questions about Geneva, and Annie shared her concern about her great-aunt’s weakening condition.
“That’s often the way it is with congestive heart failure,” Carolee said sympathetically. “At some point breathing puts too much stress on the heart. It must be difficult to stand by, feeling helpless.”
Carolee’s understanding moved Annie deeply, and for a few moments they walked in silence. Matching each other stride for stride, they’d gone about half a mile down the beach when Carolee spoke.
“What are your plans? Will you stay in Eden Bay?”
Annie appreciated that Carolee had not added after your great-aunt’s death.
“I-I’m not sure.” It had been one thing to ponder this question for herself, but to be confronted with it by another brought her uncertain future front and center.
“You always seemed so happy here.” Carolee stopped, studying the waves crashing along the shoreline. Then she faced Annie. “What happened to that happiness?”
“Happiness is sometimes in the eye of the beholder. My life was not always what it seemed to others.”
“It must’ve been hard for you after your mother died.”
“Yes, it was.” Annie started walking, familiar dread spreading through her. She would never again be ready to talk about George.
“You might be surprised how many friends you have here.”
Two that I can count. Carolee and Kyle. “I left, Carolee. Abruptly. Without any explanation. I imagine that’s hard for some to forget. There are bound to be questions, and I’m not strong enough
to face them.”
“Nobody’s asking, Annie. At least I’m not. Whatever happened that caused you to leave happened in the past. This is now.” She linked her arm through Annie’s. “I’d love it if you stayed. I could use a friend like you.”
The invitation spread a warm glow through Annie’s body. To be wanted in Eden Bay. Accepted with no strings. It was a heady prospect. “Thank you, Carolee. I appreciate your friendship. Especially right now.”
At the breakwater, they turned and reversed their steps. Heading up the hill toward the cottage, Carolee drew ragged breaths. Bending over and placing her hands on her knees, she rested momentarily. “See how out of shape I am? Gotta make myself do this more often.”
“Anytime. I’d enjoy your company.”
Carolee straightened. “Me, too, Annie. Me, too.”
They had made it to Carolee’s car when Carmen burst out the door and ran to the edge of the porch. “Annie, please to come quickly.” Above the wind, her next words made Annie momentarily dizzy. “It’s Señorita.”
Carolee sprinted with her to the house where they followed Carmen into the bedroom. Geneva’s face was waxen and her breaths came in shuddering rales. Carolee quickly examined her, then drew Annie into the hall.
“Honey, you have a choice here. My experience tells me she won’t linger much longer. We can call an ambulance to take her to the hospital or check with the doctor about comfort measures we can take here. Does she have a DNR order?”
Annie’s heart was beating so fast she could hardly take in the question. “You mean a Do Not Resuscitate?”
Carolee nodded.
“Yes.” Annie’s thoughts were going in a million directions. It was too soon. This couldn’t be happening. But it was. She struggled to hold on to her emotions. “She…” Her throat constricted. “She…wanted to be here. For the end.”
“Then that’s the way it will be. Let’s phone the doctor. Then I’ll call home and let them know I’m staying with you.”
