Mothers and Daughters: An Anthology

by Deborah Bedford

  God, she’s served You faithfully. Where are You?

  Where He always seemed to be when Carrie prayed—far away.

  Frannie clawed at Carrie’s hand, caught hold and squeezed hard. “Pray for a miracle, Carrie. We could get a miracle.”

  “Yes…” But Carrie didn’t believe in miracles. “If anyone deserves one, you do.”

  Mother’s grip went lax. Bewildered helplessness hovered in the room like an unwanted guest.

  Carrie had no words to convey the sadness weighing beneath her breastbone. She simply didn’t know what to do anymore. Her mother was a rock, a fortress of strength and determination. If Frannie lost control—which she eventually would—Carrie wasn’t sure what would become of either of them.

  Desperate for some way to escape her agonized thoughts, Carrie rose, the mattress groaning, and began to pick up the scattered items, folding and neatly replacing them in drawers.

  After a few minutes, Frannie pushed Tux off her lap and rose from the patchwork-quilted bed to join Carrie in the cleanup effort.

  “I made quite a mess, didn’t I?” Her voice was quiet and regretful.

  “Drawers need to be reorganized once in a while,” Carrie said, as matter-of-factly as possible. With a snap of cloth, she shook out an outlandish fur blouse in leopard-skin print, then folded it next to an aqua leotard.

  As Carrie smoothed the garments into place, Fran placed a hand over hers, stopping her frantic busyness. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to let go like that. Sometimes I can’t seem to help myself.”

  Carrie’s eyes fell shut for one infinitesimal second. She didn’t want to think about this. She didn’t want to talk about it. But like an elephant in the room, the ugly facts filled the space and refused to be ignored.

  She opened her eyes to the wide double mirror above the old dresser and looked at her mother. They shared the same chestnut-brown hair and wide forehead, but that’s where the similarities ended. Now, a voice deep inside Carrie asked a frightening question. They were mother and child. Did Carrie, too, harbor the genetic disposition for Alzheimer’s disease?

  She spun away from the mirror and clutched at a handful of colorful scarves scattered on the floor in a kaleidoscope pattern. The smell of Mother’s cologne rose from the silky material. How many times as a child had Carrie buried her face in Frannie’s neck and inhaled that warm scent, secure in the knowledge that Mother would make everything all right.

  Even in those difficult days of financial and emotional struggle after Jake Adler slipped off an oil derrick and tumbled to his death fifty feet below, leaving her with two toddlers and a funeral bill, Frannie had always taken good care of Carrie and Robby.

  Now she’d lost her job. Soon she’d lose her mind.

  Who would make things all right now?

  Chapter Five

  Carrie drove straight from Mother’s house to the church. During the short drive, she formulated a dozen ways to get her point across, ending with the most powerful. She paid tithes to this church. Did they want to lose that?

  Her conscience tweaked a bit, questioning if the threat of withholding finances was the proper way to handle the situation, but she refused to let the doubts stop her. This was her mother they were kicking around. Bunch of hypocrites. Carrie was defending someone in need. As long as the end justified the means, she wouldn’t worry about the right or wrong of the action.

  As she breezed into the outer office of Maple Street Congregation, she stopped short to discover Kathleen Filbert already ensconced at Mother’s desk. Well, they certainly didn’t let any grass grow under their feet.

  “Hi, Carrie,” Kathleen said, if a bit warily.

  Ignoring the greeting, Carrie got straight to the point. “Is he in?”

  “Reverend Ellis?”

  “Yes.” She was in no mood to call him Reverend. Anyone who would fire a dependable, enthusiastic, sick employee who worked as cheaply as Mother couldn’t be too holy.

  The door to the inner office opened and the gentle-faced minister stepped out. “Why, hello, Carrie. Did you need to see me?”

  “I did.” Hitching her chin an inch higher, she followed him inside and perched on the edge of a lovely upholstered armchair she’d likely paid for.

  The minister settled behind the long, cherrywood desk. Above his head hung a picture of Jesus, hand outstretched, holding a rock. The caption said, “If any among you is without sin, let him cast the first stone.”

  Her thoughts exactly. They should have looked at their own problems before passing judgment on Mother. Not one of them was perfect, either.

  Without preamble, she attacked. “My mother has worked for this church, with and without pay for as long as I can remember. And even if she hadn’t, I would think a Christian organization would have had more compassion for someone who was already struggling with the frightening diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease.”

  Reverend Ellis’s mouth dropped. He blinked and leaned forward, forearms on the tidy desk. “Alzheimer’s disease? I had no idea.”

  Carrie pulled back, equally stunned. “Mother didn’t tell you?”

  The man shook his head, an array of emotions moving through his pale blue eyes. “That explains so much, but no, Frannie didn’t say one word about being ill.”

  Carrie put the finishing polish on a side table, complete with a vase of her very own lipstick snapdragons and blue bachelor’s buttons. She was good with flower arrangements and loved the look of fresh flowers all through the house, but tonight her hands were simply going through the motions.

  Dan had arrived home from work to collapse in his chair with the television blaring out bad news about war and death and the latest health scare. She had plenty of that already, thank you.

  “Everything is falling apart, Dan,” she said over the noise. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Dan shifted in the chair. She could tell by the incline of his head and the way his focus remained on the television that he was only half listening. “What’s up?”

  Besides the decibel level? “Two things. First, Mother had some kind of lapse today. One minute she was rambling about someone named Roland and the next she was back to normal.”

  Dan pointed the remote and pushed Mute. Now he was listening. The television meteorologist gestured at a U.S. map as if begging to be heard. “Your mother has never been normal.”

  “That’s not funny anymore.”

  “And you’re losing your sense of humor. Fran would have laughed.”

  Carrie huffed. Yes, Mother would have laughed, but nothing was funny.

  She eyed the vase one last time, scooted it an inch to the left and decided that would have to do for now. She had more important business to worry about.

  “The church fired her.” She went to stand in front of him, one hand curled against her hip. “Three days ago, but she didn’t tell us. She worried we’d be upset.” A worry that was justified. Upset didn’t begin to cover Carrie’s feelings.

  Two furrows appeared between Dan’s eyebrows. He popped his recliner to a sitting position. “Fired her? Why?”

  “Why do you think, Dan?” The man could be so obtuse. “She has Alzheimer’s. She forgets things.”

  “A lot of patients are productive at work for a time, depending on their job and the progress of the disease.” He grinned sheepishly; his wide shoulders bunched. “I’ve been reading on the Internet.”

  “Well, those sanctimonious church people who call themselves Christians didn’t even bother to ask if anything was wrong, although the symptoms were there for all to see. Without an ounce of human compassion in their hearts, they threw Mother out like used mop water.”

  Dan’s silence was telling. After trying to get him into church for years, this pretty much killed any chance of that happening. The man would never make Heaven at this rate. Well, it would be on the church’s head. They could explain Dan’s absence to God. Who would want to attend church with a bunch of hypocrites who preached Jesus’s love and then k
icked each other when the going got tough?

  “Mother didn’t say a word to defend herself. She let them fire her, gave them her blessing and cleaned out her desk. She never even mentioned the Alzheimer’s diagnosis.”

  Dan ran a hand over the back of his neck, massaging a shoulder. “I’d say she handled it pretty well.”

  “She’s devastated.”

  “Are you sure? Seems to me you’re the one taking it so hard.”

  Carrie recoiled, stung. “I expected you to understand.”

  “I’m trying to, Carrie. This is hard on everyone.”

  She inhaled through her nose and exhaled in a huff. She wouldn’t be a bit surprised to see steam flow out. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Nothing you can do.” He reached for the newspaper and shook it open with a noisy crinkle. “If the church fired her, she’s fired. Done deal.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about what to do with Mother.”

  “She’s fine most of the time, Carrie. You said yourself, the spells come and go. You don’t need to do anything with her.” He bent his head to the paper. He was a master at hiding his head in the sand or, in this case, in the newspaper.

  “Yet. But when? And how will we know?”

  Without looking up, Dan said, “We’ll know. Have you spoken to her doctor?”

  “I called him as soon as I got home. He doesn’t seem particularly worried at this point,” she admitted reluctantly. “He thinks Mother is coping quite well.”

  “There you are then.”

  Dan was so black-and-white at times he drove her insane. “What if she gets bad enough that we have to move her in with us?”

  The paper crinkled again as he turned to the sports page. “We have plenty of room.”

  Exasperated, Carrie dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling. “It’s not space that concerns me. Mother and I barely survived each other when I was a teenager. I can’t live with her.”

  “Would you stop borrowing trouble and just fix dinner? My ham sandwich wore off about an hour ago.”

  Carrie threw her hands into the air. “I should have known your stomach was more important than my mother.”

  With a sigh, Dan laid aside the newspaper and headed to the refrigerator. “Never mind. I’ll grill.”

  Guilt crept in like an unwanted guest. “I was going to make meat loaf.”

  Dan paid her no mind. Head stuck inside the freezer, he asked in a muffled voice, “Should I thaw out a steak for Lexi?”

  “She’s spending the night at Courtney’s.” Which meant she wouldn’t be here to act as a buffer in the cold war brewing between her parents. Carrie and Dan never fought in front of Lexi. Ever. As far as their daughter knew, they had the perfect marriage. They did most of the time. But sometimes during a crisis, Carrie felt as she had during those childbearing years when month after month had passed and she’d not been able to conceive. Alone. Let down. A failure.

  “You put on the steaks. I’ll make those double-baked potatoes you like so much.” His favorite food was the best truce she knew how to offer.

  Package of frozen steaks in one hand and the other holding the freezer door open, Dan turned to look at her, some of the stiffness leaving his sturdy shoulders. She wanted him to comfort her, to tell her everything would be all right.

  Instead, he said, “Fine,” slammed the freezer and went to the microwave. The cold scent of refrigerated air wafted out and mingled with the scent of tea steeping on the stove. The combination made her stomach roll.

  She went to the pantry for potatoes, dejection pressing in like an ominous black cloud.

  Frannie had been looking for an opportunity to talk to Dan alone for three days. When none presented itself, she did what she’d always done. She took the bull by the horns and called him up, asking him to stop by on his way home from the gym.

  Now, he sat in her living room, drinking Mountain Dew and pretending to admire her latest hat. He was the sweetest thing. She had thanked God a thousand times for sending Dan Martin into her daughter’s life.

  “I didn’t really ask you over here to look at my hat.” She set the pale pink confection on the coffee table.

  “I figured as much. What’s up? A snake in the bushes?” He reached down to scratch Tux’s ears. The old tom purred loudly.

  She laughed. “I hope not. Carrie about had apoplexy over the last one.” She took a sip of her own soda pop, letting the fizz bubble in her throat. “I’m running out of time, Dan.”

  He set his glass on the table, expression growing serious. “You seem fine to me.”

  “Most of the time. But we both know I won’t be for long, so let’s move on past that. I need your help.”

  “Anything.”

  “Carrie.”

  Broad hands on his jean-clad thighs, he nodded slowly. “I’m concerned, too. She stays worked up all the time like she’s mad at me and I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”

  “It’s not you, Danny boy.” The statement seemed to relieve him. “Carrie’s been upset for a long time.”

  “I think you’re right, but she’s worse lately. I love her more than anything, but I don’t know what to say to her anymore.”

  Fran patted his arm. “She thinks she let you down. Do you know that?”

  Two furrows creased the space between his eyebrows. “No way. How?”

  “Babies.”

  “Oh.”

  “I think it was the babies that turned her bitter.”

  “You think that’s the problem? After all this time?”

  “I think she blames God for letting her down. For letting you down.”

  He rubbed his chin, a scratchy, masculine sound. Tux hopped up to smell his face. “I get what you’re saying. Carrie thinks God is letting everyone down again because of you. She’s mad at God.”

  Frannie nodded. “Right. Carrie has this notion that if we work hard enough, do enough for God, He should make our lives perfect.”

  Dan smiled, if a little sadly. “Carrie does like for everything to be perfect.”

  “Yes, she does. Perfect house. Perfect flowers. Even her hair has to be cut exactly right or she’s in a huff for a week. But life isn’t perfect and God never said we wouldn’t have heartache and trouble.”

  “I still don’t know what to do.”

  Hoping to lighten him up and make him laugh, Frannie clapped her hands and rubbed them together like the villain in a movie. “Then you’ve come to the right place. Grannie Frannie has a few ideas.”

  Dan’s smile was a start. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  It was Fran’s turn to smile. “First, I need a promise.”

  “You got it.”

  “When my time comes, when I become a burden and get lost and can’t take care of myself, make Carrie put me in Sunset Care Center. I’ve already checked out the facilities, the care, the staff. It’s a good place.”

  The smile went out of him faster than a flea hop. “Fran.”

  “Promise me, Dan.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “You said you’d do anything. I need to know I won’t be a burden on my loved ones. That’s the thing that scares me most. I can handle fading into the sunset. I can’t handle knowing I’ve shortchanged all of you.”

  Dan picked up his soft drink and sipped; his Adam’s apple bobbed, a reminder of the last time she’d talked to Ken. Funny how her mind could forget some things and cling to others that she’d like to forget.

  “Please, Dan. I need this.”

  He set the glass down again. “All right, Frannie. For you and for Carrie, I’ll see to it.”

  She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you, Danny. I love you, you know.”

  “I know.” He gulped again, his eyes growing dangerously moist. For a man like Dan, showing this much emotion must be killing him.

  “Carrie needs you to love her unconditionally right now, Dan. Even when she’s a pai
n in the neck, and Lord knows she can be a big one, love her.”

  “I do.”

  “No, I mean, hold her, touch her, talk to her, let her know you’re sharing her pain.”

  “She’s been pretty distant lately.”

  “Then double up. Be sweet and huggy-kissy-lovey. She needs you to do that for her.”

  Dan shook his head, a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “You’re something, Frannie.”

  “No, honey, the Lord is something. Without Him I got no strength at all. Which brings me to the last thing I want to talk to you about.”

  “I can see there’s no escape.”

  Fran giggled. “None at all, my boy, so take it like a man.”

  He pretended to brace himself.

  “You might think about going to church with Carrie. Having you there would mean a lot to her.”

  He bristled. “I may not attend church, Frannie, but I believe in Jesus. Carrie has trouble understanding that, but I do.”

  “I know you do, honey. Your faith is obvious to anyone who looks. I believe a real Christian will be known by two things: By his love for others and the good fruit he bears. You aced the test a long time ago. But your wife puts a lot of stock in appearances. She’d love to have you sitting in a pew on Sunday morning.”

  Dan’s jaw tensed. “I can’t stomach being in a church with Jeff Rogers on the board when I know he cheats on his wife and knocks her around.”

  Fran had suspected as much. “That’s an ugly thing, Danny boy, and Jeff will answer for his actions, but he has nothing to do with your relationship with God.”

  He chewed on that for a few seconds. “I’ll think about it.”

  Frannie was satisfied with that. It was a start.

  “One last thing.”

  Dan’s mouth twitched. “Hit me with it.”

  “About those children the two of you always wanted? Well, The Lord and I have a brilliant idea.” She winked. “But I’m going to need your cooperation.”

  Praying he would agree, Fran launched into an explanation of her plan.

  Chapter Six

  By the time the heat of August sucked the breath from the lungs and caused the grass to shrivel into brown, crispy straws, Carrie had stopped trying to pray because it was pretty obvious God wasn’t listening. If she was honest, she was still upset with the church, even though they’d been unaware of Frannie’s illness. She continued to attend Sunday-morning service and to serve on committees, but a coldness had settled into her spirit that she couldn’t seem to shake. Worship service and church work left her drained instead of inspired.