“Oh, yes, they definitely did; but you’re right, that’s their job.” I looked ahead as she slipped neatly into a slot, parallel parking by the sidewalk. “How did any of us get to be old enough to have kids? When did that happen?” I asked no one in particular.
“That’s a question I ask myself so often it’s insane. But we are. And now I’m a mommy, and I have Ethan.” Olivia cut the engine and released her seat belt, turning to look at me. “It didn’t happen the way I always hoped it would. You know—the great wedding, the fantasy honeymoon, starting a family after we’d had some time to just be married.” She sighed at the naivety, sliding her sunglasses up on her head so that I could see her eyes again. “It didn’t happen even remotely the way I always hoped it would. But I wouldn’t trade Ethan for anything; and I can’t imagine my life without him, even though his father and I aren’t together.”
I nodded. I may not have had children of my own, but I could certainly relate to the realization that things hadn’t exactly followed the path that I’d always envisioned. Even so, there were gifts that had come in the midst of it all that might never have been revealed without the presence of the trials that had ensued.
We climbed out of the car and walked the next few moments in silent contemplation, taking in the sights and smells and sounds of the day. It was glorious; and I could only hope that it would hold, at least while we were down here. The forecast had called for high chances of rain at some point, but so far I was seeing no signs that a shower was imminent.
We came to the carousel, its gate crowded with a stream of children and teenagers who were all waiting their turn at the horses. It was nice to see that the landmark was still so consistently such a hotbed of activity, and I wondered if Olivia had ever brought Ethan here.
“Ethan loves the carousel,” she said, as if in answer to my thoughts. “He’s even got a favorite horse all picked out.” She grinned and slid the sunglasses back down on her face to shield her eyes from the bright glare of the early afternoon sun.
“Have you brought him here a lot?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard above the childish squeals and the loud beat of the carousel’s music.
Olivia shook her head. “No, but we stayed with Grandpa for a week earlier this spring, and I think we came here almost every day. Ethan’s only just gotten to be old enough to really enjoy it, you know?”
I nodded. “So you never got to bring him to ride while Grammie was alive?”
Even though Olivia’s eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, I could see the pain on her face. “No, he was still too little for that, and getting too close to it scared him. It can be pretty loud when it gets going. But we did get to bring him a couple of times to watch from his stroller.”
“Olivia—” I started, hoping that now really was a good time to bring up the topic. “What did you think, when you found out that Grammie was engaged before she met Grandpa?”
She shrugged. “I was surprised, I guess. You know, that’s the kind of thing that you’d think would have been talked about, way before now, with all the stories that bounce around when everybody gets together. It makes sense, though, in some ways, that it didn’t,” she allowed, still facing forward to watch the carousel from where we stood on the sidewalk. “It was a long time ago, and everybody involved had families of their own to think about, instead of dragging it up and making everybody think it was something that no one got over. Grammie and Grandpa loved each other. That’s what ended up counting, don’t you think?”
“It is. Definitely,” I agreed. “And I know they had a good life together, for a lot of years. But I think the whole situation blinded her to just how special she was. That’s not the kind of thing you get over so easily.” I wondered if she understood where I was going, if I made sense to anyone but myself.
“No, it’s not,” Olivia replied. “But it didn’t make her a weak woman, Dellie. She changed; and no, she wasn’t as self-confident as she might have been if that hadn’t happened. But she also wouldn’t have ended up where she was—who she was—if things had gone differently and she had married George.” She turned to look at me. “Believe me, I know what it’s like to have a guy fill you full of promises and then just run off. It doesn’t feel good. It feels like there must be something wrong with you, and that maybe you won’t ever be able to trust someone with your heart again. He’s still out there, walking around, free to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, confident as ever. Meanwhile, you’re the one who got left. For whatever reason—good or bad—you’re still the one who got left, not the one who did the leaving. It’s hard to get past that sometimes.” Olivia crossed her arms, almost defensively, and the emotion crept in at the edges of her voice as she spoke. “But you have to. There’s no other choice, Dellie. You have to, and she did. Just like I did.”
I wondered if she even realized how greatly her words were resonating with me. True, I’d heard the same thing from other people; but hearing them now…it felt different somehow.
Almost as if my ears were hearing them differently, as if my heart was hearing them differently.
“But do you think she ever realized that she was such a special person?” I asked.
Olivia shook her head. “No, I don’t. But I think—I know—that she didn’t let it break her, either. She fell in love with someone else and had a family and made a future for herself that was still very, very good. Who knows, maybe it was even better than it would have been if she’d married George the way she thought she was going to. We don’t know that, and we can’t know that. Not for sure, anyway.” She paused, looking at me as though she was trying to gauge whether I was truly listening. “The big thing—the most important thing—is always, always, what you do with the life you get, Dellie. She did a lot with her life. I don’t think she died feeling like she didn’t have love all around her. I don’t think she died feeling as though she missed out on the life she should have had. I think she died feeling thankful for the children she raised and the husband she loved and the friends who made her life so full. She may not have realized—really and truly—how much she meant to people, but she was still strong and happy. And that’s how I think she would want us to remember her.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “And I know that, when it comes down to it, she wouldn’t want us to focus on that part of her life. Maybe that’s really why she didn’t want us to know about it. Part of her was afraid that we would be ashamed of her or think that she hadn’t been good enough for George. But maybe another part of her didn’t want us to think that it mattered to her anymore. Maybe I’ve let it matter too much,” I said thoughtfully. “I let it get so big in my head, like maybe it was something that she never really got past. So I was looking for answers, for signs that she was able to become happy and whole again, even after all the damage it did in the beginning. I got so focused on finding them that I was pretty much blind to them, as stupid as that is.”
“It’s not stupid, Dellie. I think it’s normal. You’ve been through a lot, and I know that part of you coming here was to help you try to get past that. I hope it’s helped at least get you started. You’ve changed, Dellie. I see it; everybody sees it. What you’ve been through—what you’ve been going through—and what you’re still going through. None of it is easy. You have to work at it. But you can. You’re strong enough for that. You just have to let yourself believe it.” She reached out and took my hand in both of hers, pressing the warmth of them into mine.
“Grammie would want that for you, too, Dellie. She was so proud of you and your writing, do you know that?” she asked. A small, guilty smile played on her lips. “I hate to admit it, but I used to feel a little bit envious over how proud she was.”
“Really?” I laughed. “That’s nuts. She was always talking about how proud she was of you, too, going to college while you’re working full-time and being with your company for so long,” I said, watching her expression closely as I spoke. “And I happen to know for a fact that she thought you were
incredibly talented at making cakes. The last time she and Grandpa came for a visit—when I got married, actually—she had this huge stack of pictures to show us of the cakes you’d been making. If that’s not proud, I don’t know what is!”
Olivia’s face flushed with pleasure. “Isn’t it funny how we always wonder if we’re making people proud of us, and if we’re living up to their expectations? When we were little, I used to think that you and Charlie were Grammie and Grandpa’s favorites, since your mom was their only daughter.”
“And I always thought you were the favorites, since you lived so close and got to spend so much time with them during the summer. I always felt like I was missing out on something!” I said, shaking my head at the silliness of it all.
“Now that I’m older—and so much wiser, I might add—I think that none of us were really their favorites. We’re all so different from each other, and I think that they appreciated those differences. So they loved as all equally, each in our own ways. Maybe being understanding of that comes from being a mother now and being able to see the ways that Ethan is just his own little person. He’s such a special boy, Dellie. And whether or not I ever find a man who loves me and loves Ethan, my life is rich.”
I smiled at her, feeling warm fingers of sunlight caress my shoulders as a light breeze ruffled at my hair. This is what happy feels like, I thought as I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it fill my lungs until it seemed as though the air itself could touch my soul. For some reason that I couldn’t explain, this very moment seemed different from all the other moments I’d had in my time here so far.
The sudden slap of a ball hitting my ankle as it skittered to a stop broke my reverie, and I opened my eyes to see a wide-eyed little girl staring up at me, looking startled and shy. She squatted down on chubby legs to pick up the bright pink ball, her palms splayed out to grip it, never once breaking her gaze as her mouth suddenly broke out into a grin. “Ball!” she squealed.
“Ball,” I agreed encouragingly, smiling back at her.
“Georgia, come back here!” a young woman shouted from a few feet away, her quick steps showing both frustration and panic. “I’m so sorry about that. She gets away so fast sometimes it scares me,” she said as she came closer. “I swear, she’s going to send me to an early grave. Come here, Doodlebug, let’s leave these two ladies alone and go ride the carousel, okay?” She scooped the tiny girl up in her arms, ensuring that the impish little redhead would be unable to escape again.
“Ride!” Georgia repeated with a shriek of glee, clapping her plump fingers together as she widened her blue eyes at me. “Ride, ride!”
“Hush, honey, we’re going. Let’s get your ball, and then we can go for a ride,” Georgia’s mother said, smoothing her daughter’s little yellow-and-white-checked gingham sundress.
I reached down and picked up the ball from where it rested on the sidewalk, then held out the pink plastic orb to the toddler. She lunged forward to take it from me, grinning widely as drool gathered just below her chin.
“How old is she?” Olivia asked the woman, the sound of her voice reminding me that she was there. She’d been so quiet until then that I’d almost thought she might have walked away for a minute.
“She’s eighteen months.”
“Ride!” Georgia squealed again, bouncing up and down with excitement in her mother’s arms.
“We’re not going to do anything if you don’t settle down, Georgia,” her mother scolded, trying to keep her hold on the squirming little body in her arms.
Georgia stilled at her mother’s words, seeming to understand the tone more than anything. But the excited grin remained in place, never once wavering as she looked first at her mother, then back at me.
“Ride?” she asked.
“Yes, ride. Now tell the nice ladies bye-bye,” the young mother instructed, waving her own hand to demonstrate. “Bye-bye,” she said again, turning to go.
Georgia waved her plump hand at us, jerkily opening and closing her fingers as she mimicked the words. “Bye-bye.”
“Bye-bye,” Olivia and I said back in unison.
“Wow, she’s cute,” Olivia murmured as the pair walked away, heading toward the carousel.
I nodded, wondering if my cousin was thinking of her son right now.
“She is—and she seemed so sweet, too. Were we ever that little?” I marveled.
“Once upon a time,” Olivia said. “A long, long time ago. It goes by so fast, doesn’t it? It’s amazing. I look at Ethan all the time and just have this overwhelming wish that I could freeze it all, keep him tiny and safe and happy, just the way he is now and never let him grow up. I wish that was possible. It’s sad how, when you get older, things seem to get so serious that you forget what it feels like to be so little and joyful, just because,” she went on, shaking her head contemplatively as we stood watching another stream of children scramble to lay claim to their horses before the carousel began another set of turns.
I slid a sidelong glance at her, feeling a smile creep up my face. “So then, Olivia,” I said holding my hand out to her, hoping she wouldn’t think I was being ridiculous. “Ride?”
The look on her face told me absolutely everything I needed to know.
“Ride!” she agreed, laughing as she took my hand.
And so we rode, each climbing onto a horse, hardly giving a thought to who might be watching as we rose and dipped in time to the band music, feeling as though we had been given—if only for those few moments—a chance to feel the unabashed joy of childhood.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I’m happy I got to see you today, Dellie,” Olivia said, hours later when we were saying good-bye. She reached out and hugged me tightly. “I had so much fun, and it was nice to have some time to really talk.”
I nodded, squeezing her back. “It’s been too long. I’m sorry for that,” I said, hoping she knew just how much I was sorry for and how much she meant to me.
“You don’t need to apologize. Just remember what I told you, Dellie. Remember that you can get through this—you’re strong enough to get through this. And remember how proud we all are of you,” she added, pulling back to look me in the eyes. “I have something for you, something that I hope will remind you of that, whenever you look at it.” Olivia reached into the purse she’d laid on the kitchen table when we’d come back to the house. She pulled out a small package wrapped in pink-and-white-striped paper, tied with a white satin ribbon.
I looked at her questioningly. “Why did you do this?”
Olivia shook her head, shushing my protest. “I wanted to,” she said simply, with a small, thoughtful smile. “Now open it.”
I did as I was instructed, tugging off the ribbon and carefully undoing the paper, trying to rip it as little as possible as I freed a small white box and found, nestled within a cotton lining, a silver pen encrusted with dozens of seed pearls. I fingered the pearls, feeling shocked and somewhat mystified.
“I think I should explain,” she said, picking up on my confusion. “It might seem like an odd thing to give you, but I saw it in an antique shop and knew that it had to be yours, since your middle name is Pearl. And I think Grammie would have agreed with me,” Olivia said, watching me carefully.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my confusion growing by the second.
“After I made my first wedding cake, Grammie gave me something very, very special, with a very special story behind it,” she said. “She gave me a beautiful cake server with a silver handle, engraved with her initials on it. She told me she wanted me to have it and think of her every time I used it and to remember that there are so many beautiful things that can come even when it seems like our dreams have been lost.” Tears were pooling in her blue eyes as she spoke, intensifying the color. “I didn’t really understand the cake server at first, but when she told me where it had come from, it all made sense.”
“Annabelle?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Olivia nodde
d. “To Grammie, that cake server was a precious treasure, and it made her realize that people believed in her. She gave it to me to show me how much she believed in me, to remind me that there were beautiful things ahead, even though it wasn’t going to be easy. And she said she wanted me to know how talented she thought I was.”
“You are. You’re so talented,” I said, reaching out to squeeze her hand.
“And so are you, Dellie, with your writing. So use that pen, Miss Writer, and believe in yourself the way that we believe in you. Take all this struggle and make beauty come from it, like an oyster does when it makes a pearl. Remember how much you’re worth. You, Odelle Pearl, are a treasure, and you have a story. Write that story,” she urged.
“Thank you, Olivia. And thank you for believing in me,” I said, feeling a warm swell of love for the wise, wonderful woman my cousin had become. “And while you’re reminding me of that, let me remind you, as well. Grammie was proud of you, and she believed in your talent. We’ve all seen what you can do, and it’s magical. Have faith in that. Let Grammie be more than your teacher—let her inspire you to really use that. I have no doubt that you could make it, Olivia. And I think that everyone would agree with me,” I urged.
“If only it was that simple, huh?” she said with a sad smile. I knew what was behind those words, the sense of responsibility she felt to have more than just dreams and frosting to support her family on, lest the sugar dissolve and leave her feeling like a failure. It seemed too risky, especially when Ethan was so dependent on her.
“If only,” I agreed. “But then again, if things were always simple, maybe we would stop being able to see the treasures.”
“Grandpa, do you remember Grammie having a silver-handled cake server? One with her initials engraved on it?” I asked, settling into Grammie’s blue chair as he sat in his, deeply engrossed in studying the printed TV guide that had come in the newspaper.
Life Without You Page 21
