East of the Sun: a 20th century inspirational romance.

by Hope Franke Strauss

Eden threw her covers off in frustration, annoyed by her daughter’s heavy breathing. She admitted defeat, and decided to try warm milk.

  Cozy in her big chair she sipped the hot liquid carefully. No sense adding a burnt tongue to her roster of problems.

  As much as it bugged her to imagine Cade and Hillary together, Eden knew she was being unfair. She was the one who had wanted a new life. She had started to see someone else first. She couldn’t have Cade at her disposal and Justin, too. She had to let Cade go.

  Tomorrow night she would see Justin. Maybe being with him again would bring everything into perspective. He had an exciting life and she wanted to be a part of it. She must remember to call Marti first thing in the morning.

  Eden continued to sip the warm milk, relishing its small comfort. If only her life could reflect the peace and tranquility that permeated the quiet and darkness of nighttime.

  She couldn’t stop her mind from digging. There was still the mystery of the missing eighteen years to unravel. Had her parents really married twice? Eden jumped out of her chair and walked to the shelving unit that had all the photo albums in it. She slid open the doors that concealed the books and pulled them out one by one. She was very familiar with them all, having looked through each one many times throughout her life.

  Still, she hadn’t noticed it before that the old albums stopped with her parents’ graduation. One album contained black-and-white photographs of her grandparents, both Emerson and Williams, and of her mother, father, uncles and aunt as children. The next album began with her parents’ wedding in 1964, and the rest of the photographs were mostly of Eden in her various stages of growing up.

  Eden examined the wedding photo thoroughly. It was real enough. The photographer’s name was embossed on the lower, right corner. They had happy, peaceful smiles on their faces. Eden didn’t remember them ever having a serious fight. There were no pictures of a reception or guests, just several of a honeymoon in Hawaii.

  Eighteen years missing, a big black hole. Eden searched the room for anything that might hold pictures or information about those years. There had to be something in the house that pointed to the truth. Some clue.

  Eden rummaged through the closets, the small storage room, the laundry room. Nothing. She stood at the door of her dad’s office. The answer would be in there. She was sure of it. Something held her back. It felt so wrong to go through his things without permission, like opening someone else’s mail.

  Of course, this was different. Her father was dead. Someone had to go through his things sometime. She took another step forward, nervously rolling out his office chair. Her heart palpitated like a stone skipping on water. Did she really want to know? How much pain would the truth inflict on her already thin and fraying emotional state?

  Twirling her thumbs she roused up the courage to open the top desk drawer. She was just at the point of no return when the voice of her mother went off like a shotgun.

  “What are you doing? You’re not allowed in here!”

  “Mom! You scared the pants off me.”

  “Josh will have your hide if he finds you in here. Now get out!”

  Eden had no energy to fight. She gave up willingly, losing by default.

  “You’re right, Mom. Let’s go back to bed.”

  This time she had no problem falling asleep. The trouble came when it was time to wake up.

  “Mommy, Mommy, there’s someone at the door!”

  The blankets were weighted down with lead, her eyelids heavy and sealed tight. Eden mumbled a slobbery reply and clung tightly to her pillow.

  “Mom. Timmy’s mother is here.”

  Eden groaned. Preschool. She had slept in. Pulling herself out of bed she wrestled with her housecoat, dumb sleeves always inside out, and headed downstairs, ignoring her disheveled state.

  Tina Holsom stood apologetically at the front door. “I’m sorry, Eden. You were sleeping. I guess Sophie’s not going to pre-school this morning?”

  “I wanna go!” Sophie’s eyes pleaded with Eden. She was still in her pyjamas, no breakfast, no snack prepared.

  “I can’t believe I slept in.” Eden combed her hands through her hair, trying to rustle up some dignity.

  “It happens. I’d wait for Sophie, but I’m already running late and I have an appointment I can’t miss.”

  “That’s okay. I understand.”

  “Mommy!”

  “Thanks, Tina. Bye.”

  “I wanna go to school!”

  “I know honey, but we slept in.”

  “I didn’t sleep in. I was waiting for you!”

  Eden checked the clock in the kitchen. Joan from the Alzheimer’s Society would be there within the hour. She didn’t have time to get herself, Eleanor and Sophie ready, take Sophie to school and be back before Joan arrived.

  “Oh, well. It’s okay to miss preschool sometimes.” Eden yawned and stretched.

  “I wanna go!” Sophie shouted, stomping her feet.

  “Sophie, you stop that right now! Get upstairs to your room before I paddle your behind!”

  Sophie stormed upstairs, stopping at the top to scream, “I hate you!”

  Eden crumbled into her chair. Sophie couldn’t know how much she’d just hurt her. She was doing her best. At only four years old, Sophie was already breaking her heart.

  She thought of her own parents, what she had put them through, glimpsing for the first time how deeply she must have hurt them. She hadn’t understood her parents at all before becoming a parent herself.

  Sophie’s bitter complaints against her could be heard throughout the house. Eden sighed. You reap what you sow. Her mother used to say that.

  Clinging to the railing with one hand, her cane in the other, Eleanor carefully descended the stairs. She had her dress on inside out, but, Eden thought, at least she wasn’t a walking underwear rack. Eden watched as Eleanor made tiny steps to the kitchen.

  Satisfied that Eleanor was content with cereal—the last time Eleanor had made toast all the smoke alarms went off—Eden scooted upstairs for a shower. Her showers had grown longer in duration over time. She would often wait until the hot water ran out completely, so unwilling was she to face the day. The hot water bill was through the roof, but she didn’t care. It was the only luxury she could succumb to.

  Wrapped up in towels she stepped softly into her room. Sophie had cried herself to sleep. Eden took in her image. Soft cheeks, pink lips, long dark eyelashes: she was an angel. Eden’s heart swelled with maternal love and she choked back tears. What could she do to keep from losing her?

  Eden dressed quickly. Closing the door, she tiptoed down the hall and descended the steps. Her hand flew to her mouth when she got to the bottom of the stairwell. The front door stood wide open. She had forgotten to lock the door.

  “Mom!” Eden scanned the house just in case. “Mom!” She ran out the door in her bare feet, dodging bushes and trees like a madman, hoping to spot her mother somewhere in the yard.

  It had been thirty minutes since she had left Eleanor in the kitchen. She could have gone anywhere.

  Eden rushed back to the house and threw on her shoes. She ran down the driveway calling for her. Did she go left or right? Eden guessed she would’ve gone the direction of the store since it would be the most familiar to Eleanor, so she headed right, checking all the yards on the way. Her mind raced. Maybe she should go back and call the police? A little farther.

  She couldn’t see Eleanor anywhere. She headed back, rehearsing in her mind what she would tell the police officer when he arrived. “I’m a delinquent daughter, sir. I left her alone with the door unlocked.” What if something happened to her? It would be her fault. Maybe then they would put her away. That thought actually offered a twisted sort of comfort.

  Eden circled back and turned the corner, onto the driveway. Eleanor was there. A shudder of relief traveled throughout Eden’s entire nervous system, followed by acute, fervent anger.

  “Mom! Where were you? Don’t you ever do that a
gain! Do you hear me? I was worried sick.” Eden ran up behind her, noticing a bundle of something in Eleanor’s arms. “What is that, Mom? What do you have?”

  Eleanor stopped, a big grin on her face. She held out her arms as if presenting Eden with a gift.

  It was clothing, slightly damp, a clothes pin still hanging from one item. She had been to the neighbour’s yard and had stolen her laundry off the line.

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” Eden led Eleanor back to the house and locked it up tight. Now she had to go through the humiliation of returning Mrs. Friesen’s laundry. Eleanor dropped her bundle of stolen goods on the kitchen table. Eden quickly sorted through it: a large girdle, two bras, and a pair of underpants. What was with the underwear fixation? Eden didn’t know who would be more embarrassed when she returned them, her or Mrs. Friesen.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, I would like to return your underwear.” Or how about, “My mother’s ill, and she got it in her head to borrow your underwear.” The whole scenario made Eden snort out loud. Then she lost it completely and surrendered to an irrepressible urge to laugh. It got worse.

  “Mrs. Friesen, we’re part of the share the underwear society and would like you to be a member. My mother here has a bag of underwear she thought you would like to try.

  “Mrs. Friesen, we’re with the anti-underwear commission. We disagree with the principle of underwear altogether and are rallying for support. Support, get it?

  “Boycott underwear!”

  “Mommy, are you okay?”

  Sophie was awake, dolly under arm, apparently with forgiveness in her heart.

  “Yes, dear, I’m fine.” Eden struggled to compose herself, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” Eden pulled Sophie to herself and gave her a hug.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Good. Let’s have breakfast then.”

  Eden gathered up Mrs. Friesen’s underwear and stuffed them into a bag. She would deliver them to her anonymously. After dark.

  27

  Eleanor

  SHE HAD BEEN a guest at the Emerson house countless times, but to actually be living there, Ellie still couldn’t believe it. It had all happened so fast.

  She reread the letter over and over again. The proposal.

  Dear Ellie,

  Life’s not worth living without you.

  Marry me.

  Yours forever,

  Josh

  Her chest tightened with misery. He was gone again. Fishing. Now here she was a stranger in her husband’s home, with her own pa only a farmyard away.

  Pa had called her a tramp and a whore. He chased her from the house shouting loud enough for the neighbourhood to hear how she had brought shame to her dead mother’s memory. She could still smell the revolting stench of whisky. She ran from him, sobbing and heaving, into her mother’s garden, and there, she vomited.

  She’d lived with the Emerson family ever since, first sharing a bedroom with Lillian, then after they were married, moving into this room with Josh. Her pa didn’t come to the wedding.

  She picked up the framed photograph on the nightstand. It showed Josh and her on their wedding day. Ellie wore one of her mother’s lace dresses; she’d had to steal into the house while Pa was working to get it. Josh was so handsome. He wore the only suit he owned and had to borrow the slick shoes. Ellie and Lillian held bouquets of stolen flowers they had cut from her mother’s garden the night before. Her heart rate sped up at the memory, so terrified was she of her father’s wrath and rebuke had he spotted them.

  Staring at Joshua’s picture wouldn’t bring him home any faster. She put it down and reclined on their soft bed. Her hand automatically went to her round tummy. Would it be a son? The spitting image of Josh? This thought made her smile. He would be so proud.

  If only they could move into their own place. She was an intruder here and Mrs. Emerson wasn’t quite sure what to do with her around all the time. The queen of her kitchen, her mother-in-law sidestepped around Ellie as she worked her way expertly around the small room. She gave Ellie simple jobs then corrected her a number of times before taking over and completing the task herself. She finally sent Ellie to her room with a, “You look pale, Ellie. Why don’t you go rest?”

  She was tired, but too anxious to sleep. After shifting around uncomfortably, Ellie pulled herself out of bed. She shuffled to the bedroom door, opened it and looked out. Retreating back she moved to the window, wanting to open it. Sweat had broken across her brow, and she felt like the air was too stuffy to breath.

  The window was stiff. Ellie put all her strength into it, and with a grunt pushed it open.

  If one had happened to see her face through the window, they would have seen surprise or maybe fear. Not because of what she could see outside. Ellie looked down. There was a puddle of water on the floor. Suddenly she was gripped by pain.

  “Mrs. Emerson!” Ellie waddled to the door and shouted again. “Mrs. Emerson!”

  Her mother-in-law looked in, tea-towel in hand. “What is it?”

  Ellie, overcome with another pain, grabbed her stomach.

  “Don’t just stand there, you silly girl. Lie down.” Mrs. Emerson, dropped her towel, helping Ellie on the bed.

  “The baby’s coming!” Ellie shouted.

  “I can see that.”

  “You must fetch, Joshua!”

  “That’s not possible.

  “Please!”

  “Get a hold of yourself, Ellie. You’re not the first woman in the world to have a baby while the father is away. Now, I must call for a doctor.”

  She left Ellie alone. Ellie stroked the photograph of her husband one more time before the next pain came.

  28

  Eden

  JOAN from the Alzheimer’s Society arrived before Eden had a chance to pour the milk. She glanced in the hall mirror before unbolting the front door, despairing at her image. She was sans makeup and looked like something a dog had dragged in. She shook out her hair as if that would work a makeover miracle, and opened the door.

  Joan was petite, though a little overweight. Her silver hair framed a round pleasant face with a radiant smile.

  “You must be Eden!” She shook Eden’s hand warmly.

  “Come in. It’s been a bit hectic around here this morning, so I’m not really ready.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not in a hurry. I’ll just wait here in the living room.” Joan took off her jacket and hung it up in the closet by the door. She was about to sit in the chair when she made a sudden change to the couch. Could she sense that it was Eden’s only refuge? More points for her.

  Eden finished with breakfast and set Sophie and Eleanor up at the kitchen table with a puzzle. Eden found it satisfying to see her mother take delight in little things, and she took some joy in the fact that Sophie was storing up some pleasant memories of her grandmother.

  Eden resisted the urge to dodge upstairs to put on her face. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “That’s quite alright,” Joan said. “You look tired.”

  “Well, I didn’t get much sleep last night. Would you like coffee or tea?”

  “No, thank you. I think you have enough to do without waiting on me, too. How are you doing?”

  “I don’t know.” Eden let herself sink into her chair. “To be honest, I feel like I’m beginning to unravel.”

  “How long have you been caring for your mother?”

  “Only three months.”

  “By yourself?”

  “I have a friend who comes over occasionally, mostly at night though, when Mom and Sophie are sleeping.”

  “You have a young child, too.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “Yes. Sophie is four. She’s in the kitchen with my mom.”

  “That’s work enough isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Her father and I are separated, so she’s finding the adjustment difficult.”

  “My, my. You do have your hands full. You didn’t
know what stage of the disease your mother is in when I asked on the phone. Could you tell me about her?”

  Eden described the episode from that morning, minus the part about her underwear jokes. Joan nodded and hummed like she’d been there before, so Eden asked her if she’d ever cared for a person with Alzheimer’s disease.

  “Yes, dear. I cared for my eldest sister. She was twelve years my senior. She lived with me for the last eight years of her life. The final years were very difficult, and I wouldn’t have survived it on my own. I only wish I wouldn’t have been so stubborn and proud so that I would have sought help earlier. You’ve made a wise choice by calling now. May I meet your mother?”

  Eden showed Joan to the kitchen and introduced her to Sophie and Eleanor. Sophie smiled politely and said hello.

  “I don’t know you,” Eleanor said.

  “I’m a new friend. My name is Joan.”

  “Hello.”

  “And what is your name?”

  Eleanor cocked her head. “I don’t know you. Who is this, Lillian?”

  “Her name is Joan.”

  Joan continued, “Do you know your address, Eleanor? Where do you live?” Eleanor played with a puzzle piece.

  “How many children do you have, Eleanor?”

  “Two.”

  “Only one,” Eden corrected, though her mother’s answer gave her the creeps. “Just me.”

  Eleanor turned to Joan, “What is your name?”

  “I’m Joan.” Pointing to Sophie, she asked Eleanor, “Do you know this sweet little girl?”

  Eleanor answered by saying, “I don’t know you. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Joan. I’m visiting your daughter Eden.” Joan motioned for Eden to join her back in the living room.

  “I believe your mother may be near the end of the second stage,” Joan said, “though you’d have to get a doctor to confirm it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Joan sat down and set her bag on her lap, then opened it and retrieved a handful of brochures.