38
Eden
MARTI dropped in for a surprise visit, presenting Eden with a box of Christmas oranges. Eden made them all a cup of hot chocolate before sitting down for a welcomed chat.
“I have to say, Eden, I’ve never seen a tree quite like it before.”
Eden selected an orange and began to peel it. “That’s a nice way of saying it’s hideous.”
“Maybe a little,” Marti chuckled. “I’m proud of you.”
“Oh?” Eden plopped a section of orange in her mouth.
“I expected you to be a basket case today, but you’re looking okay.”
“You should’ve dropped over yesterday. I’ll tell you, handing Sophie over to my mother-in-law was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. And Sophie was so excited, it broke my heart. We’ve never been apart over Christmas before.”
Marti pushed her red locks behind her ears and fiddled with one of her hoop earrings. “How long will she be gone?”
Eden groaned. “Five days. And when I think of her doing all the special family things with Hillary, I feel like throwing up.”
Marti nodded and sipped her hot chocolate. She was gracious enough, Eden thought, not to say I told you so.
She sighed heavily. “I’ve lost him.”
“Have you told him how you feel?”
Eden balked. “Are you kidding?”
“Maybe he’s just waiting for you to tell him you made a mistake, you know, apologise.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know why, Marti. It’s like this invisible being puts its fist up to my throat and squeezes. I’ve tried many times and I just get tongue-tied. I feel stupid.”
“Some would call that pride.”
“Some would.”
Eden emptied her cup, fished in her pocket for a piece of nico-gum and started to chew.
“Eden?”
“I know, I know. I need to apologise. I want to.” She nibbled on her lip. “I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That he won’t accept my apology. I don’t really deserve him to.”
“Of course you do. Anyway, you’re not responsible for his response to your apology. You’re only responsible for asking for it, and if you don’t do it, you’ll kick yourself.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right. But what do I do? How do I begin?”
“Phone him.”
Eden grimaced. “She’s there.”
“She’s not living with him, is she?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then she’s not always there. Just phone him.”
Eden watched as Eleanor played with the Nativity scene, rearranging Joseph, Mary and the baby Jesus figurines. Life was so simple for her now.
“Wouldn’t it be better to talk in person?” Eden asked. She was stalling she knew, but still, might it not be better?
“When does he come again?” Marti asked.
“I can invite him.”
“Then do it, Eden. It could be your last chance.”
The constant pit that had taken up residence in Eden’s stomach twisted.“What if he won’t come? What if he doesn’t love me anymore?”
“Then you know the truth,” she said sympathetically. “Then you know you tried. Has he asked for a divorce?”
“No.”
“That means you haven’t lost him completely.”
“I’m scared.”
“So is he. Eden?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you like to pray?”
Eden believed in God, but he was like a distant relative that visited twice a year at Christmas and Easter. She knew he was there somewhere, but out of touch somehow. She certainly never bothered him with her problems.
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I’ve done it. He feels so far away.”
“If God feels far away, Eden, he’s not the one who moved.”
Eden felt a lump of longing lodge in her throat. She was tired of trying to do things on her own. She was tired of feeling so alone. “I don’t know how to get back.”
“It’s easy,” Mari said. “I’ll lead the way.”
She held out her hand and Eden accepted it.
“Dear Jesus,” Marti began, “we’re grateful that you never leave us, and you never stop loving us. You’ve never left Eden and you’ve never left her side. We thank you that You are the God of second chances. The God of the impossible. You make a way where there is no way. We give you Cade and Sophie, and ask that you would put this little family back together again.”
Marti’s prayer went deep into Eden’s soul. She felt something she hadn’t felt in a long while. Hope.
39
Eleanor
PA’S DEATH was bittersweet. They said it was an accident, that he had missed the plank and stepped off a dock two stories high. Ellie heard the murmurs though. They said John Williams killed himself. He had been inebriated at the time. Angry, desperate men do rash things sometimes. He had worked at that mill all his life, knew it like the back of his hand. How would he have gotten on, now that the mill was about to close?
Ellie was truly sorrowful. Not only because her father had died, but for what they had lost as a family.
But with his death came her freedom. The house and the land were all hers. She could barely contain her joy when she and Josh moved their belongings down the road to the Williams house. She was sure Ma Emerson felt equally relieved.
Staring out the back kitchen window, Ellie could picture what the gardens would look like next year. She would tend them herself, renewing them in memory of her mother. She skipped through the kitchen into the living room and stood facing the fireplace. The wood crackled and spit. The smoky scent mixed with the pine smell of cleaner. The house had been a mess, but now it looked the way it was in her dreams, clean and tidy by her own hand of love.
Ellie felt like a child on her birthday. She stood in front of the living room window to gaze at the most surprising gift:snow. Virgin snow befell the entire city. Snow was a matter of fact for all of Canada except this small southwestern corner. Ellie could recall many winters with no snowfall at all.
The birch trees that lined the driveway stood at attention, their winter bare branches now frosted with a dazzling frock of white. Pa had planted those trees. They had grown so big they touched one another, with branches strong enough for Dana to climb.
Soon Josh would be home. She danced around the living room to a quiet song that sprang from her own red lips. Softly she skipped up the stairs, compelled again to peek at her sleeping daughter, so sweet and innocent.
“When you wake up,” she whispered, “Mama’s going to take you outside to play in the snow!”
40
Eden
THE COLD WINTER wind hollered and the branches of the tree scratched against the bedroom window. Eden hated that sound. It grated on her nerves and she cursed herself for forgetting to buy earplugs. Maybe she should hire someone to chop the tree down, or at least prune it. She pulled her blankets up around her chin. The windows were single pane glass and needed upgrading. They did nothing to keep the cold air outside where it belonged.
She huffed and threw the blankets off. As much as she needed this nap she could tell it wasn’t going to happen. Maybe she’d have more success downstairs on the couch. On the way out she stopped to look at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. It was not kind in its judgment of her. Blue circles around her eyes made her look like the loser after a boxing match. Yes, beauty sleep was definitely in order.
It was then, in the dim reflection in the mirror, that she caught sight of the narrow box behind her bedroom door. It was the one she had picked up from Aunt Lillian’s apartment. She’d been so busy dealing with her mother’s antics and coping with her broken heart, that she’d almost forgotten about it. Curiosity beat out fatigue. She lifted the box up onto the bed and pulled open the flaps.
It contained a series of nu
rsing diplomas and degrees belonging to Lillian. She had graduated from nurses college in 1948. The certificate with embossed lettering was now yellow with age, the corners curling up rebelliously. According to the papers Eden held in her hand, Aunt Lillian boasted a lustrous career: a couple years at a neighbourhood clinic, several years at a nursing home, and the rest of the time she spent working at the General Hospital, the final years of which she had risen to the ranks of head nurse.
Interspersed with these documents was a scattering of newspaper clippings.
“Mill Shuts Down,” dated December 2, 1948..
“General Hospital has New Head Nurse,” June 12, 1981.
“Local Residents Lose their Home to Fire.” The Emerson home. Dated January 3, 1969.
“Child Dies at Family Home.”
Eden’s blood cooled.
A four year old girl falls out of tree. Dead is Dana Louise, daughter of Joshua and Eleanor Emerson. Memorial service to be held at St. Matthews, Saturday, March 18. It was dated 1951.
41
Eden
1991
SO FAR, nineteen ninety-one had proven to be uneventful and unexciting. Eden hadn’t even stayed up until midnight on New Year’s Eve, a first since she was twelve. Marti had brought her cheesecake on her birthday three weeks later. The best part about turning twenty-five was that Cade had actually called. They didn’t talk for long, just enough for him to wish her a happy day, then he asked for Sophie. But at least he’d remembered.
A week later she invited him down. His tone was guarded, but he said he’d see what he could do about getting time off work. “Winters are busy for loggers, as you know,” he’d added curtly. He had yet to confirm a date.
“Are you finished your tea already, Mom?”
Eden’s cup was still three-quarters full. She took another sip. Now they were outside on the porch enjoying the early March sunshine after three days of heavy rain. There were several other things she could’ve been doing of course, like laundry, bill paying, vacuuming, but she would worry about that later. She wanted to spend time with her mother. “The gardens need work this year, don’t they?”
Eleanor nodded. “They’re beautiful.”
Eden thought her mother must be looking through a different set of specs than she was. She saw a jungle of weeds and unkempt flower bushes, albeit the recent blooms were every bright spectrum of the rainbow. She saw a lawn that needed mowing and trees that needed pruning, one of which was slowly dying, devoid of the new greenness of rebirth enjoyed by the others that surrounded it. But set against the backdrop of the blue sky and streaming rays of the sun, she had to admit there was a rustic beauty to be appreciated.
“You’re right, Mom. They’re beautiful.”
Eden carried most of the conversation now. Eleanor didn’t argue like she used to, or interrupt. Eden thought she was now treating her with the respect due to a neighbour or a friend. She suspected that her status as Lillian the sister-in-law had switched to Lillian the neighbour girl. In fact, Eleanor became very confused when Eden talked about her father as Eleanor’s husband. It saddened Eden but she was certain that Josh the husband didn’t exist in her mother’s mind anymore. He was now Josh the neighbour boy, and Eden thought that her mother even blushed when she spoke of him.
Through a break in the hedges Eden could see Mrs. Friesen busy with a hoe in her garden. Though she was older than Eleanor, she was still as spry as a fox. Eden tried to imagine her mother that way. After nine months of nursing her with this illness, Eden would have given anything for Eleanor to get her mind back, for her to be able to live life to its fullest potential.
Yet, Eden also had to concede that Eleanor was happy in her own simple way. She was contented with the small things—her flowers, her cats, playing with Sophie, doing simple crafts—that maybe she was more at peace with herself and her life than many others, including Eden.
Eleanor pointed and said, “It’s wet.”
A bluejay was taking a dip in the dirty water of the birdbath in the centre of one of the flower beds.
“He’s having fun, isn’t he, Mom?” They watched the noble bird until it considered itself groomed and flew off. “Maybe I should put clean water in the bath soon.”
Eden put her mug down on the bench beside Eleanor and stretched just like one of her mother’s cats, nice and slow. The fresh spring air invigorated her. She wasn’t used to spring coming so early. Up north there was still two feet of snow. Up north, Cade was still living without her. Up north, she was still part of his life.
Eden longed for Cade, but after his obvious disdain of her at Christmas time, the memories of which still seared her to the core. Despite Marti’s heart-filled prayer, Eden had started to lose hope of ever reconciling.
For now, she’d settle for the slow paced life that she had there with her mother and daughter. Sophie seemed to have settled in more, too, although she was pretty solemn for the first week after Christmas. But now she had a life with her new friends at preschool and had even asked to move into her father’s office, and claiming it for her own.
Mrs. Friesen ditched the hoe and got down on her knees. She looked like she was planting something. Eden wondered if she ever figured out the mystery behind her missing laundry.
Eleanor slowly eased herself out of her chair, her joints stiffer now.
“Let me help you, Mom.”
“It’s okay.” Eden guessed that she had to use the washroom after the tea. She wore diaper-like protection, had for the last few months. Eden decided to give her a head start and meet her in the washroom. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to this part of their role reversal, but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. Still, she was thankful when Alice came to visit.
Shortly after Eleanor left, Eden hoisted herself up out of her chair. She had just entered the kitchen when she heard a series of thumps and a bang.
“Mom!”
Eleanor lay in a grotesque twist at the foot of the stairs. Eden raced to her side. At first she thought her mother was dead. She put her head to her chest and was relieved to hear quick shallow breaths. She ran to the phone and dialled 911.
Eden was afraid to touch her. She stroked her head, fighting back tears. She had to stay calm. “It’s going to be okay, Mom,” she whispered with an assurance she didn’t feel. “Help is on the way. Just hang on okay?” she pleaded. “Just hang on.”
42
Eden
AFTER FILLING out a stack of forms, Eden became one of the nameless faces that lined the waiting room at the Emergency Unit of Vancouver General. A man sat forward in his chair with his face in his hands, another leaned back with his neck turned towards the TV screen, straining to hear the talk show in process. A young mother held a whimpering child in her lap. A family huddled together in a corner, faces distraught with tear lines marking their cheeks, seeking comfort from one another while they waited for some formidable doctor to come out from behind the stainless steel doors and the break the news, good or bad.
Eden dug deep into the pockets of her blue jeans seeking a quarter for the phone. In her haste she had left her purse behind. Sophie would be getting out of preschool soon and she needed to call Tina Holsom and ask her to pick her up. The right pocket fared no change and the left would prove to be equally empty.
She approached the nurse at the front desk.
“Excuse me. I just came in with my mother, Mrs. Emerson, the lady who fell down the stairs, and I realise I have forgotten my purse. Could I borrow a couple quarters for the phone?”
The nurse was dressed in a pink uniform. Her bleached-blond hair with grey roots was pinned tightly behind her ears. Her dark eyes were a few millimetres too close together in Eden’s opinion and she narrowed them together further in her analysis of her. Eden suspected that she had seen her fair share of shady characters come through the doors of emergency on a regular basis—thugs, drug dealers, prostitutes—but being that it was only late morning the room was relatively tame. She mustn’t have posed
much of a threat to the nurse, dressed in a crisp white cotton shirt with her hair pulled up in one of those squeegee things. The lack of make-up on Eden’s face probably added to her wholesome look. The nurse slipped her hand into the pocket of her uniform and handed Eden two quarters.
“Thank you,” Eden said.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, cracking a smile. Eden had a feeling the woman had seen too much hardship in her life as a nurse. She wasn’t one of the sugarcoated “so what would we like for breakfast today” types Eden had had when Sophie was born. Maternity must be the best place to work in a hospital, she thought. Misery less frequently visited there.
The pay phone was through the hall and around the corner. Eden had to pass by all the desperate faces again. She kept her eyes fastened on the scars of the well-traveled floor.
Tina was more than happy to pick up Sophie and expressed all the right sentiments of concern. The second quarter flipped nervously through the fingers of her right hand. She had asked for that one so she could phone Cade. He was the only family she had.
She inhaled a deep breath tainted with disinfectant and bleach, and dialled, hoping beyond hope that Hillary wouldn’t answer his phone. She didn’t.
“Cade? I’m so glad I got you.”
“What’s up?”
“It’s Mom.” Eden’s throat began to constrict. “She fell.”
“Speak up, Eden. I can’t hear you.”
“Mom fell down the stairs, Cade! She’s unconscious and something’s broken, her hip or her leg.”
“Oh, no. That’s terrible. Where are you now?”
“I’m at the hospital. They won’t let me see her.” It was funny, Eden thought, how when you felt like you had someone to lean on, you gave yourself permission to fall apart. She began to sniffle. “It’s my fault, Cade I should have gone with her.”
East of the Sun: a 20th century inspirational romance. Page 14
