The Many Lives of June Crandall

by Suzanne Whitfield Vince

  She took a sip of water, then held her hands out before her. Thank God she wasn't performing brain surgery today. Not that she ever performed brain surgery, but still. She stared at the door--just a few short steps away--and wondered how she was going to muster strength enough to get there.

  As she took one step forward and then another, she realized that by writing her story she hadn't just broken down the walls, she had transcended them. She gathered a bolstering breath, pulled open the door, and strode purposefully to the podium. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, then gazed up at the eager audience, pleased to see that so many had come. ""Good afternoon," she began. "My name is Grace Elizabeth Adams, and I'm here to share the real story behind my book, The Many Lives of June Crandall."

  The book signing began promptly at four o'clock. Grace's hand still trembled as she gripped the pen. But she'd done it. She'd told the world--or at least the two dozen or so people who'd come to hear her talk--her story. And it wasn't as difficult as she'd imagined. A few people cried, and they all applauded when she finished. Some even rushed up to hug her and tell her how brave she'd been. Antonio had been first in line.

  As she signed books and posed for photos, her smile was genuine. She loved meeting the people as they came through the line. Some had read the book already and told her how much they'd enjoyed it.

  Near the end of the signing, Grace heard some commotion at the back of the line, but wasn't able to see what was going on. She continued to greet each person, signing their books and posing for pictures. When the last customer approached, without looking up she asked, "Who shall I make this out to?"

  When the customer didn't reply, she looked up to find a familiar face looking back at her.

  "What's your name?" Grace asked again, trying to place her. The woman looked down at Grace and when their eyes met, there was recognition at last as the woman spoke.

  "Hello, Grace. My name is June Crandall."

  PART III

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A rush of air filled her lungs and froze there. The woman before her disappeared into a sea of black, and the ground leapt up to meet her.

  "Grace, wake up. Come on, now."

  Consciousness dawned slowly. The voice that spoke to her was far away. She wasn't sure where she was. She felt like she was coming out of one of her wild dreams. One of her June Crandall dreams.

  "Grace, wake up."

  The bed under her was very hard, though, and scratchy. And who was calling her?

  She opened her eyes and found that she was lying on a carpeted floor, under a table, with a metal folding chair towering over her. Someone was patting her cheek. Was it Beth?

  Her thoughts were fuzzy, but she was vaguely aware that something significant had happened.

  And then she remembered.

  The bookstore, her book signing, her...

  Oh, my God!

  She searched the sea of faces towering over her, and like a homing beacon, her eyes zeroed in on...her mother.

  Her breath betrayed her, came in rapid-fire gasps. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn't hold her. She stumbled back. Someone caught her.

  She was aware of a strident voice nearby. "Who the hell do you think you are? Do you know what this poor girl has been through in her life? Who are you to come in here--"

  Grace raised her arm. "No, it's okay." She stood on colt-like legs and faced the woman she'd dreamed about so often, so long ago. The woman she'd longed to meet her entire life. A longing so old and so powerful it felt like it was built into her bones.

  Grace reached out to touch the familiar face, older now but still recognizable from the sketches in her trunk at home.

  "Is it really you?" Her voice was a whisper.

  The woman nodded through her tears.

  Grace stared at her, examining her as though she were looking at the fine details of a painting, or a sketch. This was her mother, of that she was sure.

  She blacked out again.

  This time she came to in a chair. It only took her a second to recognize the setting--the bookstore owner's office. Beth and the store manager clustered around her. There, on a smaller chair at her knee, was June Crandall.

  Still not a dream.

  "Please," she said to the others, "would you leave us alone?"

  "You're sure?" Beth said. "Do you want me to call Antonio?""

  "No, please don't call Antonio. He has a late client meeting and he'd just worry. You can leave us alone. I'm all right."

  When it was just the two of them, June who spoke first. "I know how much of a shock this must be. It is to me, too. You must have a lot of questions. So do I. Maybe we should...would you like to come to my apartment to talk?"

  Grace studied the woman before her. This just couldn't be. Or could it? She had dreamed about her, had been so certain that June Crandall was her mother, but her birth certificate told a different story. She wanted so badly to believe it was true, but it just seemed so...impossible.

  So, yes, she did have a lot of questions. She found herself nodding, agreeing to meet the woman. To meet...her mother? Numbly, she accepted the piece of paper with the woman's address on it, and somehow managed to tell her she would see her soon. She stood on unsteady legs, shuffled to the door and held it open.

  The woman stood to leave, but before she did, she turned to face her. "They told me you were dead, Grace. That you died at birth. I want you to know, more than anything else, that I would never in a million years have given you up. I loved you more than life itself, and I've never stopped.""

  Grace's heart tripped over the words and she fell into June's arms. That question, more than any other, was the one she'd needed answered. It was what she''d always believed, deep in her heart. But was it true? Could all of this really be happening? She drew back and stared at the woman again, just to be sure it was real. It was.

  Closing the door behind June, Grace sat alone in the office of the bookstore, trying to absorb what had just happened. If the woman hadn't resembled her sketches so closely, she would've thought her to be some crackpot, out to make a buck on the book somehow. But in her heart, she knew that the woman was who she said she was. She didn't know how the woman had found her, or where she'd been for the past twenty-seven years, but she had time to figure all that out.

  They told me you were dead.

  Grace went to the ladies' room and splashed cold water on her face. Then she picked up her cell phone and dialed Antonio, but changed her mind and snapped the phone shut. He was probably still in his client meeting anyway, and she wanted to do this alone. She would tell him about it after the meeting.

  She shrugged into her coat, and despite Beth's plea to take someone with her just in case, she left the store and hailed a cab.

  The driver pulled up in front of the woman's building. She paid him, stepped out of the cab then stood, rooted to the ground, wanting nothing more than to rush up the stairs and into her mother's arms once again. But something held her back.

  What if it was all a mistake? Or a dream that she would wake up from the minute her mother answered the door? She pinched herself and it hurt, so she put one foot forward and climbed the steps.

  When she reached the top, she rang the bell and waited. Her heart felt as though it were sprinting down the street without her. She reached to press the bell again just as the door was pulled open.

  Relief swept through her when she saw June's face. It hadn't been a dream. It was real. She smiled and immediately saw her smile reflected back to her on the woman's face. She stepped inside, peeled off the layers of warm clothes she wore, and placed them in her mother's extended arms.

  June took her hand and led her into the living room, where she'd set out some tea and cookies. Grace sat on one of the throw pillows on the floor and leaned against the sofa. June did the same. Without asking, June poured them both some tea, and for a long moment they sat there, taking each other in.

  It was Grace who broke the silence. "Is this really happening?
Are you really my mother?"

  June stared at her with moisture rimmed lashes and smiled. "It is and I am."

  "How did you find me?"

  "From your book."

  Grace pursed her lips. "I don't understand. I mean yes, the book is about a woman named June Crandall, but how did you know it was about you?""

  "I didn't, at least not until I got to the end." June reached over and withdrew a document from a folder that was sitting on the coffee table.

  Grace took the document and looked it over. It was a birth certificate. June's apparently. She scanned through the various details--hospital, attending physician, witnesses--and then it jumped out at her. June's father's name was Edward Crandall, and her mother's name--

  "Your mother's name was Elena Borgese?" It was one of the few details she hadn't changed in the book.

  "That's how I knew you were my daughter. I'm still not sure how all the pieces fit together, but when I saw you, I knew without a doubt that you were mine.""

  "What was it about me that made you know for sure?"

  "You look just like your father."

  Grace could not contain her smile. "My father? Really? But my birth certificate said that my father was unknown."

  "It's a lie, Grace. Your father's name was Guillermo Torres. I called him Will."

  Wow, she hadn't even considered it, but it turned out she had two parents. But wait...

  "Was?"

  Pain filled her mother's eyes at the mention of her father.

  Grace took June's hand. "If it's too painful, you don't need to talk about it."

  June took a deep breath. "No, it's okay. You deserve to know about your father. He was a good man...boy, actually. He was just a boy when we met, and I was just a young, starry-eyed girl."

  Grace laughed. "Was it love at first sight?"

  June smiled and nodded. "Oh, yes. Was it ever."

  Grace nodded encouragingly, hoping she would go on.

  "I loved reading romance novels back then," June said. "I was a young, foolish girl in search of love. My mother died when I was just eight. She and my father had been madly in love. I wanted to experience that kind of love, so I lost myself in books. You see, when I read a good romance novel, I'd fancy myself the beautiful heroine waiting to be rescued by her handsome prince. One day, I was sitting out by the pool reading a particularly juicy book and..."

  Chapter Thirty

  1976

  "June!" her father called in that tone he got when he was on the verge of losing his patience.

  The book leapt from her hands, landing at the feet of the handsome stranger standing beside her father. He bent down and picked it up. She was suddenly too aware of the title, Redeeming Passion. He handed it back to her with a slight grin. Her body prickled with embarrassment and her cheeks flushed as she stood to greet her father and his guest.

  "Sweetheart," her father said more calmly. "This is Guillermo Torres. Juan's son. He'll be working with his father over the summer. Guillermo, this is my daughter, June."

  Guillermo offered his hand to her, and when she placed her hand in his, she felt a spark so electrifying that she was sure it must have been visible to everyone around her. She could see in his eyes that he felt something too. It was a moment that would change the course of their lives forever.

  "It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Crandall," Guillermo said.

  June's eyes widened as the recognition dawned. The last time she'd seen Guillermo, he'd been a skinny kid. But then, so had she. Now Guillermo was tall and broad shouldered. And ridiculously good-looking.

  "Thank you, it's a pleasure to see you again as well," she said, averting her eyes and hoping her father hadn't noticed how flustered she was.

  The Torres family had been faithful and competent servants to the Crandall family for almost forty years. They were highly skilled, hardworking, and as honest as they came. But June knew that her father would never allow a relationship between the two of them. It was strictly forbidden for June to fraternize with the help. And that's all Guillermo was to them. The help. The summer help at that.

  From the first day of summer break, June stayed out by the pool longer than usual, pretending to read, eyes hovering just above the top of her book whenever Guillermo was in sight.

  She caught him sneaking a peek in her direction a few times, and when he did, her lips curled upward. Nobody seemed to notice that June, who normally read two or three books per week, was still reading the same book three weeks after Guillermo had arrived.

  One day, June went into the house at lunchtime and made herself a sandwich. She saw Guillermo, Juan, and some of the other men sitting at a table in the backyard eating lunch. On a whim, she grabbed the pitcher of cold lemonade from the refrigerator, along with some tall glasses, and brought them outside.

  She smiled at the men and they thanked her for the lemonade. She did this again for the next three days. The day after that, she brought her sandwich and a bag of chips to share outside and sat at the table with the men to eat her lunch.

  The men exchanged puzzled looks and June simply smiled at them and proceeded to eat her sandwich in silence. No words were spoken that day, or the next, so on the third day she inserted herself between Juan and another man--across from Guillermo--and struck up a conversation herself.

  "So, how's it going, Juan?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Guillermo smile as he reached for a chip.

  "Muy bien, senorita," Juan said. "Gracias."

  That was as far as they got that day, so the following day she spoke directly to Guillermo.

  "So, Guillermo, how's it going?"

  Guillermo smiled. "Just fine, Miss June. How are you?"

  Unable to contain her smile, she sat up straight and pulled her shoulders back. "I'm very well today. Thank you for asking."

  Guillermo eyed the other men, who feigned disinterest in the conversation. "I noticed that you read every day by the pool. What do you like to read?" He grinned. "I mean, besides romance novels."

  Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. She could never tell him that she read those books because they made her fall in love with men as handsome as he was, men who swept her off her feet and carried her away on white stallions.

  "All kinds of books, actually. Mysteries, biographies, classics and the like. What about you, Guillermo, do you like to read?"

  "Oh, yes ma'am. I read mostly literature classics and some non-fiction works. I also love poetry." He glanced again at the men and some of them snickered.

  June almost choked on her sandwich. A boy who loved poetry? How...unusual. How romantic! From the day she met him, his had been the face she saw when she pictured the hero in her romance novels, but since that day she had confined her romance reading to her bedroom. She could not take the chance that he would get close enough to her, poolside, to see that she was reading more of those silly books.

  Juan told his son that it was time for them to get back to work. He smiled at June and thanked her again for her kindness. "We have many beautiful flowers to plant for you today," he said. The men waved goodbye to her and went back to work.

  In the days that followed, June continued to eat her lunch with the men. Eventually they started leaving the two kids alone. They talked about books they'd both read--Guillermo shared her love of P.G. Wodehouse, of all things--and about what life was like for Guillermo back in Guadalajara, Mexico. By the middle of summer, June had a full-blown crush on him. She couldn't tell whether he felt the same way, though, because while he was always very nice, he always kept a certain distance.

  In late July, she decided to take matters into her own hands. Just before Guillermo went back to work after lunch one day, June asked him what time he got off work.

  "We usually finish around five o'clock in the afternoon," he said.

  She looked around casually to make sure nobody was watching, then leaned across the table. "Do you know the big oak tree on the back of the property?"

  "Yes, Miss June."
<
br />   "Will you meet me there tonight, after you get off work?"

  Guillermo blushed, but his smile told her he was pleased. He locked eyes with hers and nodded. "I will meet you there, but I must shower first. Is six o'clock okay?"

  "Yes, that will be fine." Her heart beat wildly out of control. "I will bring something to eat, so don't eat dinner. And, Guillermo?"

  "Yes, Miss June?"

  "Would you please call me June? Just June?"

  Guillermo laughed. "Okay, June. I will see you tonight." He smiled shyly, tossed her a quick wave, and rushed back to work.

  June was dizzy with excitement when she stepped inside the house. Now all she had to do was figure out how to sneak a picnic basket full of food out of the house without anyone noticing. She wasn't worried about her father coming home, but she didn''t want anyone on the staff to know what she was up to for fear that it might get Guillermo in trouble. It had to be her secret. Hers and Guillermo's. Her heart leapt at the thought.

  Luckily, their refrigerator was always fully stocked and the cooks had just made a fresh batch of fried chicken, which would be perfect for an evening picnic. She snuck half a dozen pieces, some potato salad, and the rest of the cherry pie that was on the counter. She added a couple bottles of soda to the basket, grabbed a blanket from the linen closet, and left through the servant's entrance.

  She wound her way through the enormous garden to the fence line, and finally, to her favorite tree--a massive, century-old oak--under which she'd shared many picnics with her mother when she was young. She cherished those memories, but even after all these years, they still tugged at her heart.

  "Good evening, June."

  She dropped the basket. He was standing right behind her.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "Did I scare you?""

  "No," she said. "Well, yes, maybe a little. I was just thinking about my mother. We spent a lot of time here when I was young, and I haven''t been out here since she...since she passed away." She spread the blanket and sat down.