Wallpaper with Roses

by Jenny Andersen

  Fifteen minutes later, she shrugged into her raincoat. She could have been home by now.

  Halfway home, it started to rain. She wanted to be grim and add this one more thing to Macklin’s account, but the rain came in big, fat, warm drops that caught the colors of the sunset and turned the world to rainbows. She threw back her head to catch them in her mouth and felt the day’s miseries melt.

  “Remember when you used to take me for walks on afternoons like this?” she asked her mother as soon as she had gotten home.

  Hilda stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Sarah peel off her raincoat. She laughed, memory stirring in her eyes. “You always wanted just one more trip around the block, and we always ended up coming home late and half drowned. Of course I remember.”

  Sarah hung up her coat. “Well, you were the best mother ever,” she said, hugging her. “Still are.”

  “I had a pretty good daughter,” her mother said, her voice soft. “Still do. Now, come in and let’s have some sherry and you can tell me about your day.”

  “Mmmm.” The kitchen was redolent of chicken and spices. “You’ve made dinner. It smells wonderful.”

  “I had help. It needs to cook for another half hour. Shall we sit in the parlor?”

  “Lovely. I’ll get the glasses.”

  “Already there. I’ve had a very good day.”

  “Every day should be a good one,” she said, and followed her mother down the hall. She wasn’t going to let anything spoil this evening, not even thoughts of Mr. Macklin. So she made an amusing story of his morning tirade and Beth’s subterfuge and Rob’s reaction.

  Her mother watched over the rim of her glass. She wasn’t smiling.

  Sarah felt her own smile fade. “Mother, it’s all right.”

  “Homer Macklin was a dreadful little boy. I remember him in second grade as a nasty, sneaking, little tattle-tale who didn’t have the courage to be a bully. He wasn’t much better in high school, although I must admit he was handsome. I don’t imagine he’s changed much.”

  Sarah smiled. “Not so handsome these days.”

  “A lifetime of meanness shows on the face,” Hilda said. “I’m sorry you have to work for him.”

  “Hard to imagine old Time-Clock Macklin as a teen hottie.” Sarah giggled. “You do put things in such delightful perspective. I’m going to have trouble not laughing in his face, because he still sounds like a second-grader. I can just imagine him...oh, dear.” Her words dissolved in more giggles.

  The timer chimed from the kitchen, and they settled down to the meal. Afterward, Sarah whipped through the dishes and carried a tray with tea and cookies into the music room to join her mother in front of the TV.

  Hilda had her favorite show on, and laughed as yet another monster sailed across the TV screen.

  Sarah shook her head. “I have trouble believing you love this program,” she said. “And it’s all reruns. I’ll bet you’ve seen every episode at least twice.”

  “More than that. Now hush.”

  Sarah hushed.

  When a commercial came on, she muted the volume. “I still don’t get it, Mother. I mean, a teen-ager who kills vampires? Why not something that has more meaning for you?”

  “Outside of Golden Girls reruns, what did you have in mind? There isn’t a lot of programming aimed at my age group, you know. And Buffy is—was, darn it—a very well-written program.”

  Yes, it was, and Sarah was a big fan herself. But when she thought about it, her mother was right. There wasn’t much for someone of an older generation on the schedule. Sarah shivered. Not much for her, either. She was getting old, too. Every time she had a new insight into the aging process, it was an unpleasant jolt.

  Worse jolts were to come, she knew. Her life was full, of pets and plans and casual friendships, but her mother was mainstay and friend, a necessary presence, the one who kept her from being alone. And no one lived forever. Someday she would be alone. She shuddered.

  She didn’t care what psychologists said about cutting umbilical cords, she cherished every minute with her mother. Seeing Hilda sick, aging...

  She wanted life back the way it used to be.

  II. VIOLET

  China Rose, Rosa chinensis var. Old Blush. A bushy rose that may be trained as a climber. Little fragrance, but a plenitude of flowers and continuity of bloom. Old Blush covers itself with floppy, mid-pink flowers. Romantically old-fashioned.

  Chapter 3

  “You want my checkbook again? Again?” Violet Henderson hugged her purse to her chest and glared across the kitchen table at her son. “How do I know you aren’t taking my money?”

  Rob got that look on his face again. That super-patient, the-old-lady’s-at-it-again look she hated so much. “I hope you’re kidding, Mum,” he said.

  “Of course.” Violet lowered her purse and relaxed her hands. “Even though you can’t pick up the paper these days without reading about how some ungrateful whelp has stolen all his poor relative’s money. I know you wouldn’t do anything like that.”

  Rob’s jaw went all square and stubborn, and Violet knew she had hurt his feelings. She had to keep those suspicious moments from showing. “Of course I wouldn’t,” he said. “I’m trying to keep you out of trouble. Your checkbook needs to be balanced more often than every six months, and you’re not doing it. Remember when you bounced all those checks. That cost you a hundred dollars.”

  “Oh, honestly. One little mistake. I wish you’d quit harping on that. I was sick.”

  “You weren’t sick for six months. Stop being so stubborn, Mum. I’m trying to help you here.”

  Violet looked at the uncompromising face that had replaced her sweet little boy and sighed. Just like his father. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Rob,” she said. “Don’t be so serious. It’ll all work out. The bank hasn’t made any mistakes, has it?”

  “No.”

  “So you see? Be a little more trusting. Everything is just fine, and I can’t imagine that will change. You shouldn’t be so paranoid.”

  Rob’s face got that hurt look, the one that always made her feel that she’d just kicked a puppy.

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” she said again.

  “I don’t know why you keep saying that. I’m trying to help. To take care of you. It’s not shameful to admit that you need my help.”

  “I’m not helpless.” He treated her as if she were some kind of idiot child, just like his father had. She’d show him helpless, but with her luck she’d break her arm if she tried to smack him.

  She couldn’t quite remember what the doctor had said about her bones last time she’d seen him, but it was something about being fragile. She wasn’t fragile. Not like her friend Hilda. Now that was a shame, indeed it was. Hilda had been through such a bad time. But she had her daughter, the dear girl had just dropped her own busy life to move home. Would Rob would do that for her, if she needed it?

  A flutter of motion caught her eye and she leaned closer to the window to see. It looked like a child coming up the stairs. Awful, the way her quiet old apartment building was filling up with children. She loved children, but these were so noisy. And rude. If she’d had the raising of some of them, they’d surely behave differently. Look at Rob.

  One of those rude children had pushed her on the stairs a day or two ago, and she’d have fallen for sure if that nice girl, a quiet shy one she’d never seen in the building before, hadn’t caught her. She turned away from the window and started at the large male figure at her kitchen table.

  “Oh, Rob.” How nice of him to take time to visit her. She knew how busy he was. But he’d startled her. “I wish you wouldn’t sneak in and startle me like that.”

  Her son gave her one of the looks that she’d been seeing more and more lately, before his face went shuttered and stony. “I’ll try to remember,” he said.

  Now what had she said wrong? Oh well. He was bent over a little computer, no, calculator was what he called it. “What are you doing?”
<
br />   “Balancing your checkbook, Mum.”

  “Oh, thank you, dear. But you don’t have to do that.”

  “Someone has to.”

  “There’s no need to take that tone with me, young man.”

  Even with her old lady vision, she could see his jaw muscles flex. Well, really. She plucked at her apron, but the fabric under her fingers wasn’t soft cotton. She looked down and realized she was still wearing her chenille bathrobe.

  Rob looked up and caught her motion. “How long have you had that robe?” he asked.

  “Oh, mercy. This old thing? I don’t even know. And don’t you go getting me some impractical new thing. This suits me just fine. It’s comfortable.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Is that my checkbook? Be sure you put it back in my purse when you’re done.”

  “You can’t write any more checks right now. There’s not enough money.”

  “I keep telling you, there are checks left. And you needn’t get that expression on your face. You look just like your father, God rest his miserly soul.”

  Unexpectedly, Rob laughed. “If I had a nickel for every time I heard you and Dad have that argument, there’d be money in the account,” he said. “I always wondered if you were pulling his leg or if you really believed what you were saying.” He picked up the checkbook. “I’m going to keep this so you can’t get into any trouble.”

  Before she could protest, her tall, handsome, infuriating son had kissed her on the cheek and zipped out the door. With her checkbook tucked firmly in his pocket.

  Annoying boy. But so good looking. And nice, in spite of all those awful military years. Violet hurried into the bedroom to dress. It was a beautiful day, and she’d just go for a walk in the park and enjoy the sunshine. Or was this the day that Miranda was coming for tea?

  Dear me, she really ought to write these things down.

  ****

  “Thanks for the heads-up, Carl.” Rob shifted to grip the phone more securely between his shoulder and ear, pulled off his jacket, and put his mother’s checkbook in his desk. He’d just managed to grab the ringing phone when he’d walked in the door. “I got hold of her checkbook today and ran the balance. It matches your figures. Thank goodness she’s still entering checks, even if she’s not doing the math.”

  “It’s a shame to see one of the pillars of the community going downhill like this. From what my predecessor tells me, I’m sure your father would have been—well,” Carl stammered and fell silent.

  Not surprised, that’s what his dad would have been. “She’s always been like this,” he said, smoothing over Carl’s obvious embarrassment. “Cyndy Everett was used to it, but I didn’t expect such a favor from the new bank manager. Really appreciate it.”

  “Mrs. Everett warned me—that is, told me—about some of the long-standing customers. She said that your mother has always been pretty special. Not her fault she’s getting old. It’s just a damned shame. Glad to do what I can to help.”

  Rob heard the regret in the banker’s voice. “The town’s lucky to have gotten you, I think. Anyway, I’m on my way downtown right now. I’ll come in and cover that last check. Thanks for not bouncing it.”

  “Good. That’s good.” Carl hesitated. “Look, Rob, it’s probably not my place to say anything, but have you thought about taking her down to that geriatrics clinic in Sacramento?”

  Rob frowned. “No. Why?”

  “Well, they’ve got some tests that might be helpful.”

  He got it, belatedly, and his temper flared. “My mother isn’t crazy. She’s always been like this. There’s nothing wrong with her except that she’s not paying attention. You don’t understand—” He stopped before he said something he’d regret. After all, Carl had saved him a peck of trouble, not to mention the bounced-check charges. “Never mind. I’ll be down there in a few minutes.”

  He drove downtown to the bank, getting madder by the block. Damn it. What was his mother thinking? He’d never known a more aggravating woman. Why wouldn’t she listen to him and stop doing stupid things? It was getting so that he was afraid to leave her alone, afraid to have her talk to strangers, afraid of what she might agree to on the phone.

  Maybe he should talk to Sarah. Her mother was the same age as his, and she didn’t seem to be having any problems, not mental ones. If he hurried, he’d be able to run into Sarah oh so casually at lunch and she wouldn’t think he was doing anything dumb like asking for help. He didn’t ask for help. He gave it.

  ****

  “Hey, Sarah, Beth,” Rob said when he reached the HE&M lunchroom.

  Sarah looked up. “Hi.”

  The smile that went with it made his heart thump just as it had in high school.

  “Hi, Rob,” Beth said. “Join us?”

  “Sure.” He set his sandwich and soda on the table and pulled up a chair. “How’s life in the fast lane?”

  “Pretty slow,” Sarah said. “How’s life in the low-stress zone?”

  Right. His life was a bowl of cherries. “I thought I’d take the afternoon off from all the relaxing and come enjoy your boss some more. He wants those shelves refinished.”

  “Already? Well, that’s our Macklin,” Beth said with a wry smile.

  “How’s your mother getting along, Sarah?” Rob asked. “You still staying with her?”

  Sarah nodded. “Yes. We were just talking about that when you came in.”

  “I’ll bet you miss your own place. You’ve been with her for a couple of months now, haven’t you? I’d go nuts if I had to live with my mother.”

  Sarah laughed. “She’s an original, all right.”

  “I always wondered how your father—” Beth bit off the sentence. “Well, that’s rude, isn’t it? Foot in mouth disease, that’s me.”

  “Dad adored every ditzy move she made. I’ve never seen two people so wrapped up in each other.”

  “They were sweet.” Sarah sighed. “It was great to see them. My mother was so worried about Violet after he died.”

  Rob answered the implied question in her voice. “Yeah. That was a bad time. I couldn’t get home and phone calls just don’t do it at times like that. I was afraid she wouldn’t make it.”

  “I’d forgotten. You were in the military, right?” Beth asked.

  Doing things he wouldn’t talk about even if he were allowed to. He gave a short nod. “Right,” he said, and changed the subject back to his mother. “Mum picked right up and went on. I don’t know how she did it, but I’m proud of her.”

  “But you—” Beth began what would undoubtedly have been an awkward question.

  “I think there may be more to her than meets the eye,” Sarah interrupted, keeping the conversation focused on his mother. “I mean, everyone thinks she’s the quintessential scatterbrain, but sometimes she’s just plain brilliant.”

  “True. Balanced by the moments like this morning. I had to take her checkbook away from her. She really believes that as long as there are checks, there’s money to cover them.”

  Sarah laughed. “That’s nothing new. I remember your father having the same argument with her. Around and around and around. They were so sweet.”

  “Sure, but...”

  “But it’s different when you’re the one responsible?” Sarah raised an eyebrow.

  “Nailed it.” He leaned back in his chair, all casual ease. “Don’t you have problems like that with your mother?”

  “Nope. She’s as sharp as ever. Sometimes she thinks rings around me. It’s her physical condition that’s the problem.”

  “That why you’re still staying with her?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “That and paranoid worry personality,” Beth put in. “She’s scared to death to let her mother be alone in that big house. She needs to get out more.”

  “Well, it’s scary. She’s moved back into her own bedroom, and she can barely get up and down the stairs.”

  He recognized her helpless frown. It was same one he felt wrink
le his own forehead when his mother did something particularly out-of-control and he couldn’t figure out what to do, given that matricide was neither socially nor emotionally acceptable. But this was a problem he could solve. “You could fix that. Why don’t you put in an elevator?”

  Sarah stared at him. “An elevator?”

  “It’s not like I suggested building a whole new house or something. Lots of people with big houses have one installed when they get older.”

  “You mean one of those things on the stairs, so she could ride up and down,” Sarah asked, doubt clear in her voice.

  “No. I mean taking a couple of big closets and putting in a real elevator. It’s easy. You’d have room for one that could hold two or three people, easy.” Or a wheelchair, or a gurney and a couple of EMTs, although he wasn’t going to say that.

  “I never thought of it,” Sarah said. “Wouldn’t it be awfully expensive?”

  He’d end up doing the job for the cost of materials. Some things were just inevitable. He sighed. “No, not very. How about I run by the house this evening and do some measurements and then I can give you an estimate.”

  “You can do it?”

  The surprise in Sarah’s voice should have ticked him off. Did, in fact, just a little. “Yeah, Sarah. I can do things like that.”

  “Then you could move back to your house,” Beth said. And you could get Casey out of the kennel, and Fred could come home from Pet Palace.”

  “You’ve been boarding a dog and a cat this whole time? Good Lord, they must be going nuts. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I never thought of it. It’s not the kind of thing you just go around telling semi-strangers about. It’s not like you could do anything about it.”

  “But I’m not a stranger, and I could. Beth, you should have let me know. I’ve got that big dog run, and it’s just sitting empty.”

  “Right. Just one more thing I’ve done wrong. Just because I don’t share all this touchy-feely take-care-of-mom stuff with you two.” Beth gathered up her sandwich wrapper and purse and flounced out of the room.

  Rob turned to Sarah. “I guess she and her mom are still at odds. I thought she was going to try to fix that.”