Simple Gifts

by Lori Copeland

  I picked up the glass and drained it in one long swallow. I’d thought I’d reached the peak of irrationality, but obviously not. Was it possible to cancel the contract? Let Tracey know I’d changed my mind and no longer wanted to sell?

  “Talk’ll die down.” Joe obviously thought my distress originated from the editorial columns. Heated letters were nothing compared to the anguish coursing through my veins when I thought of Vic and Lana in Aunt Beth’s house. Going about their lives, attending church on Sunday.

  Dr. and Mrs. Vic Brewster.

  It wasn’t fair. I should be living here; I should be Mrs. Vic Brewster…

  I caught my willful thoughts. I’d lost it. Somewhere between here and Glen Ellyn, I’d lost my last shred of common sense. I was freaking out over a man who at the moment had me at the top of his Judas list. A man I’d betrayed for years. I sprang up and refilled my glass with tap water and downed it. Joe watched, looking as though he might need to throw a net over me.

  “It’s the model upsetting you, isn’t it?”

  “Yes…no.” I raised my eyes. “What model?”

  “Of Herman. The one the shelter is unveiling at tomorrow night’s town council meeting.”

  I continued to stare blankly at him.

  “You know. The one the letters mentioned?”

  I grabbed for the plastic Wal-Mart sack. “Missed that.” Air! I needed air!

  “Marlene.” Joe cleared a spot on the cluttered table and unfolded the newspaper. Adjusting his glasses on the tip of his nose, he proceeded to read aloud.

  “‘In deference to the growing controversy, the shelter has decided to order a replica of said statue. It is the committee’s desire to allay fears of the monument’s detrimental effect on Parnass Springs by showing the supreme craftsmanship and intent of proposed statue.’ “

  Yep. Missed that, and now Joe kindly pointed out my oversight. I slammed my hand on the table. “Heaven help us all!”

  “I’m not so sure a replica isn’t a good idea. Once folks see what’s intended, the naysayers will back off.”

  “The Parishes will never back off, and I can’t say that I blame them.”

  “What? I thought you’d decided to let the statue go up.”

  “I had, but after I met the Parishes…” I bit my lower lip. “When I met them and saw the kind of people they were…that they honestly wanted this whole painful thing to be over…Oh Joe! I don’t know what to do.”

  He shook his head. “On, off. On, off. You have to make up your mind, Marlene. Either you want your father recognized or you don’t.”

  “Honestly? I don’t know what I want.” I told him about finding the cigar box and Herman’s personal items. “It hit me hard that I’d never done anything to acknowledge my father. That’s why I wrote the editorial, not because I wanted to persuade the opposition to let the statue go up.”

  “The editorial was quite touching. Herman would have been proud; I’m sure Ingrid appreciated the gesture.”

  My mind traveled back to the moment I’d shown Ingrid my editorial. I watched varying emotions play across her face, then tears swell to her faded eyes. She’d handed the paper back to me with a sanctimonious, “Well, Marlene. For once you did the right thing.”

  I’d felt my fingers curl in a death lock around the now rolled-up newspaper. If she’d been a fly, I’d have swatted her.

  “You know Ingrid. Even if she did appreciate the effort, she’d die before she let me know it. She’s funding the statue!”

  Joe. Good old Joe leaned over and squeezed my shoulder. “You did a good thing, Marly. Don’t let Ingrid rain on your parade.”

  “That’s just it. This whole statue thing has turned into a parade, and I want it stopped. I’m going home, Joe. I’m going to the town meeting tomorrow night, and I’m withdrawing my support of the statue. After that, they can do what they want. Ingrid will be upset, but she’ll get over it.”

  If she took to the wheelchair again, I’d have no choice but to take her to Glen Ellyn or put her in assisted living here. But I was through with Parnass Springs, through with Vic, and through with the whole mess.

  Most of all, I was through with games.

  And yes, if I intended to clean up my act, I had to admit to my foolish games. I was the one who lied. I needed to face Vic, and yet I’d taken the only way out I knew. The coward’s way, shirking responsibility and leaving a path of devastation in my wake. No wonder the Lord remained vaguely detached from my frantic pleas for help.

  Vic should have confronted me the moment my lie was exposed, declared his undying love and forgiven me in a gracious, Christlike way.

  Well, isn’t that what you expected, Marlene?

  I should live in Aunt Beth’s house.

  I should be Mrs. Vic Brewster and live happily ever after.

  I should know donkeys would line dance before any of the above happened. I’d sown my wild oats, and now I was stuck with nothing but runny oatmeal.

  Joe might be mild-mannered, but he had mighty determination. Like father, like son. Vic had Joe’s stubbornness, his resolve to face life head-on. Both shone brightly in Joe’s face, and so did common sense. He never once led me wrong or gave me bad advice.

  He sat me down, hands bracing my shoulders. Eyes so like Vic’s pinned me to the seat. “Now you listen to me, Marlene. I haven’t often been stern with you, but I am about to seriously hurt your feelings. This madness you’ve been carrying on year after year has to stop. You have seriously jeopardized any future you and Vic might have.”

  I shrugged his hands aside. “I don’t need a lecture.”

  “You need a good time-out, young lady.” Joe suddenly turned into a Joe I didn’t know—he’d turned into Vic. Serious, no-nonsense Vic, and I didn’t like the change. I wanted my old Joe—my kind, understanding let-Marly-alone Joe. This man was anything but sympathetic to my cause. Tired lines circled his eyes, and he seemed a bit more stooped than I remembered. Joe had seen and heard it all. How weary he must be of every excuse man had invented for self-interest and pitiless misery.

  Right now he was looking at the world champion of both, and I wasn’t proud of the title.

  “You’re right.” I gathered my pride and replaced it with mock sarcasm. “I take it you have something you want to say to me.”

  “You take it correctly.” He drew a chair closer and sat down. Crossing his hands, he studied his fingers. “Marlene. What I’m about say is unkind and I apologize, but you know you’re the daughter I never had.”

  “I know…I love you, Joe.”

  “Very well and good, and I love you. But sweet talk won’t get you out of what I’m about to say.”

  “Fire away.”

  “You are a spoiled, willful child in an adult body. Beth was too old to raise you, and Ingrid too wishy-washy. I watched you grow up in a world where everyone bent backwards to accommodate you because of Herman.”

  I didn’t like Herman’s and my situation spoken about with such open candor. Our situation was mostly addressed in whispered snatches. I squirmed, prickly beneath his penetrating gaze.

  Joe’s eyes softened, gentled. “Herman gave you life, but I like to think I helped shape that life, and you’re not living the life we shaped together.” He reached for my hands and his touch calmed me. Hands that had soothed childhood cuts and bruises, encouraged my dreams, and softened my letdowns. Disappointment warred with pride in his eyes.

  “You’re a lovely woman, and I’m going to tell you what others have only skirted around all your life. You got a rough deal; Herman had a worse one. I can’t explain why God allows mental disability or senseless diseases—only he knows the answer. I do know that one day we’ll have new bodies, and sickness, death, and pain will be no more. You were given the mental and physical abilities to overcome your family medical history; Herman is now free of his burden.” His hold tightened. “Listen to me, daughter. You’re still young. If God desires, you’ll have many years ahead of you, years to realize your dr
eams, years to enjoy life, to love, to race with the wind. Go to Vic. Confess what he already knows, and make your apologies. I can’t say with certainty what he’ll do, but I know what the effect will be on you. You’ll bloom into the woman God intended, a woman full of love and grace. All you have to do is allow the bitterness to drain away.”

  His words were like cleansing needles piercing ugly wounds. Not easy to hear, but healing. Lifting my eyes, I faced my accuser. “Do you think Vic will forgive me?” I clung to his hand, fearing that if I let loose of Joe, I’d let go of Vic too.

  “Forgive you, yes. Will he forget, and will his love be strong enough to overcome the past? That’s what you want, isn’t it? To complete the dream that you and Vic began as children, to join as one, to grow old together?”

  Pride fell away and I was so glad to rid myself of the burdensome garment. The missing weight left me buoyant, ready to do and face what I must. “I’ve dreamt of nothing less since the day I left Parnass Springs.”

  “Then for heaven’s sake—and the sakes of everybody else who’s been forced to stand by all these years and watch this drama play out—go to the man and tell him your feelings.”

  “Oh, Joe, he’ll be so furious with me. All these years I’ve allowed him to think that Noel was still in my life.”

  “He’s already furious with you! And the world! He’s a good man, Marlene, but he has his limits.” Joe sighed. “I pray daily you’ll settle this lie, because it’s strangling what could be a wonderful thing.”

  I reached for a napkin to blow my nose. “What if I go to him and he rejects my apology? His relationship with Julie was founded on trust.” It’d be a cold day in August when he’d trust me again. “He loved her so deeply.”

  “He did.” Joe’s confirmation didn’t do much to bolster my motivation. “But love comes in all forms, Marlene. You should know that. Your love for Herman was different than your love for Sara. Vic shared a deep and steadfast love with Julie, but Vic also remembers and grieves the love of his youth—the love of his life. And that’s you, no matter how hard he tries to deny that fact, even to himself. Go to him, honey. Take advantage of what God has so richly put in your life. Not many find a love that spans year after year, trial after trial—and you and Vic have had your trials.” He released another deep sigh. “Melba and I had that love. It’s a rare gift, Marlene. Don’t throw it away.”

  A priceless gift, love, and I’d had more than my share in life and failed to be grateful for it. Beth, though single and eccentric, and Ingrid, though staid and bitter at life, had nonetheless sacrificed to raise an infant.

  Herman in his simple mind had allowed me angelic love; how many could claim that?

  “I have so many apologies to make.”

  Joe shrugged. “Name me a person who doesn’t? Isn’t it fortunate we serve a forgiving God? Now go and be the Proverbs 31 woman.”

  He’d had me up till then. I was anything but a woman early-to-rise to serve my household with glee. But I could do better. And I knew exactly where I was going to start. I would confess my lie to Vic and face the consequences.

  I hugged this man, without whom I could never have faced life. “Thank you.”

  He hugged me back. “Thank you for listening. Now go do what’s right.”

  “I will.” And this time I meant it.

  That evening I showed Ingrid the cigar box. Her fingers stroked the worn lid. “Herman’s treasures. The things he kept in here were important to him.”

  She opened the box and looked inside. I knew what she saw; things saved by the loved stepson who would never reach his full potential. She lifted the items, one by one. The pictures of me she placed to one side. “He was so proud of you.”

  “I know that now. I was too young back then to understand. Ingrid, do you think I was spoiled?”

  “Back then, you mean?”

  I nodded.

  She sat in silence. “The past is gone; I’d say you grew to be as good as most. Maybe better.” She picked up the cheap ring. “Herman’s wedding band.”

  I stared at her, not sure I’d heard right. “His what? Herman was…married?”

  “He thought he was. He and Lexy. Couldn’t convince him any different. He wore that silly ring until it got too tight. I’d thought he’d lost it, but he put it in here.”

  Whoa! Hang on just a ding-dong minute here. Herman believed he was married to Lexy Parish. That was…

  My eyes went wide. It was exhilarating!

  My father thought he and my mother were married! Molestation had nothing to do with my conception, my birth. I was born out of commitment and love, not the adolescent hormones of two mentally challenged people. “Is that why I came into the world?”

  She nodded. “He said they had the right. Seems he and Lexy loved children, maybe because they were both infants themselves. When the doctors told us about the pregnancy, it like to have killed us, but then we pulled up our socks and carried on.”

  That they had.

  Herman’s morals had been straight and honorable all along. He thought, in his simple way, he’d married the woman he loved. Suddenly I saw it as clear as day.

  The heritage my father left me wasn’t one of mental lack or scandal. Not hardly. My father’s heritage was one thing. Love.

  That realization firmed my resolve even more. It was time for me to act on my true birthright.

  I left Ingrid’s and drove by the vet clinic. The security light was off, and Vic’s pickup was gone. The truck wasn’t in Joe’s drive when I left.

  Where was he?

  I called twice more before exhaustion drove me to bed. I slept fitfully. Confession weighed heavily on my mind. I tossed, getting up twice to peer out the window to the darkened cottage behind Joe’s place. Vic’s home remained dark.

  Oh Vic, come home. Please come home.

  Thirteen

  I was up and dressed before dawn Saturday morning. I picked up the phone and dialed Joe. His sleepy voice came on the line. “’Lo?”

  “Hi. I notice Vic’s truck is gone.”

  “Yeah, you just missed him. He sat up all night with a sick animal—I heard him stop by a few minutes ago to shower and change, and then he was off again. Can I help you?”

  “No, I need to talk to him. You have any idea when he’ll be back?”

  “He said something about vaccinating some cows. Good gravy, Marly. Do you know what time it is?”

  “Very early. I apologize, Joe. Do you expect him back soon?”

  “Should be back by early afternoon, I’d guess.”

  Joe wasn’t thrilled that I’d roused him out of bed at this hour, but Joe was Joe, and for some inexplicable reason, he’d understood my need when I asked my next question.

  “Joe, do you know where I can find my mother? I’m assuming that she is alive?”

  I waited for his shock. Maybe even outrage. Instead, I heard him fumble for his glasses, then rustle some paper. What was he—?

  “Woodland Health Care. It’s an hour’s drive from here. Here’s the address and phone number.”

  He’d looked it up in the phone book. Good ole Joe.

  “Thanks.”

  I moved so fast, I was probably halfway to Walgreens by the time Joe stumbled back to bed. I bought a small stuffed bear and candy kisses, and then, heart pounding, drove to the nursing facility. My resolve almost failed me when I arrived, and I sat in the car for thirty minutes trying to get enough courage to go inside.

  Lord, please…help me. Am I doing the right thing? Don’t let me make matters worse.

  Sunlight filtered through budding oaks at the Woodland Health Care facility as dawn broke the eastern sky. My eyes swept the brick facade that had been my mother’s home the majority of her life. Towering trees, an immaculate lawn, beds of colorful annuals already planted. The serene landscape lent a certain calmness and acceptance that immediately seized me.

  And I knew. This was the right thing to do.

  A warming breeze ruffled my arm, warning
me that my light Windbreaker would be too heavy later. The weatherman on the radio was predicting “unusually high temperatures for this next-to-last day of April. And an 80 percent chance for thunderstorms by evening. Folks,” he cautioned, “this is a big system, one we’ll be watching closely.”

  Switching off the radio, I reached for the shopping bag I’d filled with the stuffed toy and Hershey’s Kisses. Did my mother like chocolate?

  She’s a woman, isn’t she?

  Could I do this? Did I really want to do this?

  The smell of breakfast lingered in the hallways when I walked into the facility. I sniffed—bacon and something sweet. Light streamed from a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows encircling the north end of the building. Carpeted seating areas were spotless from the work of morning cleaning crews. As health facilities went, this one was exceptional. The Parishes must pay a handsome amount to keep their daughter here year after year.

  I located a bank of elevators, then the reception desk. Joe hadn’t known much about Lexy Parish, other than he’d heard that she had been moved to Woodlands shortly after my birth. I handed the slip of paper with Parish written on it to the smiling, pink-smocked lady behind the desk.

  “Lexy Parish? Yes.” She typed in the name and a moment later wrote a room number on a pad. “Take the second elevator to the third floor and turn right.”

  Instead of a home, the facility suddenly felt like a hospital. Yet when the double doors opened and I stepped out into an atrium, I immediately relaxed. Birds flittered overhead. The soft but unmistakable trickle of a waterfall followed me down a warm, symmetrical-patterned tile walkway lit by soft landscape lighting. Benches nestled among exotic plants and palms that reached to the high-vaulted sky roof. My heart beat in my throat as I approached room 312—which, from what I could see through the slightly ajar door, wasn’t a room but an apartment. I could hear the hum of a vacuum.

  My nursing instinct kicked in, and I walked through the door before I realized I wasn’t at work. Backing out quickly, I took a deep breath. No one had seen me. I’d stepped into a nicely appointed but empty sitting area.