Leaves of Hope

by Catherine Palmer

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, of course not! It’s just that…Well, get in here quick!”

  She threw open the door, grabbed Beth’s arm and yanked her into the living room. Beth stared for a moment. Then she flipped on the overhead light.

  “Mother! What is going on?”

  “I am coloring my hair. What does it look like?”

  “In the dark?”

  “I don’t want people to know I’m home. They come over, you know. To borrow things. Why didn’t you warn me you were coming?”

  “Warn you? Am I that much trouble?”

  “No, no, honey. It’s just that I’m—I’m not prepared for company.”

  “I’m your daughter, for crying out loud! I came because I wanted to talk to you. I need to ask you something.”

  Oh, dear. Jan’s shoulders fell. This was going to be about Thomas Wood. No doubt Beth had dug up more information she felt her mother just had to know. Which had probably brought on more questions in Beth’s mind. What if Thomas had gotten married, and he’d fathered some other children? So now Beth wanted to ask her mother if it was all right to meet these half brothers and half sisters—which it certainly was not! Beth’s two brothers were all anyone could ask for in siblings. You didn’t get better brothers than Bobby and Billy. Well, there was nothing to do now but get this over with.

  “Come on in and sit down,” Jan told her daughter. “Would you like a cup of tea? I’ve got a box of Darjeeling.”

  The look on Beth’s face as she gazed at her mother said everything.

  Tea.

  Thomas wasn’t dead. He was still working on that tea plantation in Sri Lanka. The tsunami hadn’t killed him after all. Oh, this was going to be much worse than she’d feared.

  “Never mind about tea,” Jan said quickly. “I’ll get us some lemonade. I made a fresh batch right before I put this—Oh, no!” She slapped both hands on her head. “I’ve got to wash this color off before it eats away my hair! Just sit down, Beth. And stay there. Don’t do anything. Don’t look at the pictures. Don’t touch any of my things!”

  Her heart racing, Jan turned on the faucet in the kitchen sink to warm the water. Then she ran into the bathroom and grabbed her shampoo and conditioner and a towel. This was awful. Terrible. Beth would see the pictures of the children. She would ask questions and start prying. Jan’s hair would probably fall out in huge handfuls of Auburn Glow. And then they would have to talk about Thomas, right at the moment when Jan felt the most vulnerable—with ratty hair and her drawings exposed to public view and the refrigerator empty except for a couple of oranges and a bottle of milk.

  Without knowing why, Jan bent her head over the sink, pushed it under the warm water and burst into tears. Why weren’t things turning out better? She was supposed to be happy here at the lake. She was supposed to feel busy and fulfilled and healed. The mourning ought to be over, but it wasn’t. John would never come back, but somehow Thomas had, even though she didn’t want him. And Beth, Bobby and Billy had wandered off to live their own lives. It wasn’t good, or fair, or right that she be stuck in this place with Jim Blevins and Trixie and the wrong hair color.

  “Mom?” Beth’s voice came from behind her. “Are you all right? You seem…upset.”

  “No, no, I’m fine.” Jan sniffled, breathing in a stream of water that instantly choked her. She grabbed the towel and blindly wiped at her face. Beth couldn’t know she was crying. A daughter should never see a mother’s deepest hurts. It was all right for Beth to know the weekenders frustrated her and Jim’s dog dug up her roses. But not this terrible loneliness. Beth should never get a sense of that. She should see Jan as strong and optimistic and hopeful. Full of life and spunk, as always.

  “Well, it looks like my hair didn’t get eaten up by peroxide, after all!” she sang out as she wrapped the towel around her head. “You sure caught me at my worst, honey. But it’s wonderful to see you. Come here this minute and give me a hug!”

  Beth obliged, and Jan reveled once again in the sweet pressure of warm arms around her shoulders, soft skin against her cheek and the flowery smell of her daughter’s fragrance. Beth might have rejected her pink bedroom and frilly dresses, but she still smelled of roses. Always…roses and lavender and honeysuckle. Precious little girl…precious child…

  “Did you bring your bag, sweetie?” Jan asked as she took out two glasses and poured the lemonade. “How long can you stay? I hope you’ll be here all weekend this time.”

  “My bag is in the living room. Mom, have you been crying? Your face is red, and your eyes—”

  “You know those awful fumes in hair dye. I think I’m allergic to this new color. It never has set well with me. Here you go. Would you like some cereal? You must be famished.”

  “No, I ate on the way in.”

  “That’s a relief, because I’m on another diet. Fruit and cereal. Have you heard about it?”

  “Mom, you’re so tiny. I don’t know why you always think you have to diet.”

  “Tiny? You obviously haven’t taken a good look at my hips lately. A woman who bore three children can never be too careful about her hips. They’re liable to spread all over the place if she doesn’t watch out.” She took a sip of lemonade. “Well, let’s go sit out on the porch and watch the neighbors’ bug zappers. It’s quality entertainment, as they say.”

  Beth smiled for the first time since walking in the door. “Those blue lights on everyone’s decks? I wondered what those were.”

  “I don’t understand why people can’t just put screens on their porches. That awful sound of bugs being fried…It wears on my nerves. But you can’t sit outside on a summer evening without hearing it.”

  The two women moved through the front door and sat in chairs facing the lake. With her towel-wrapped hair, Jan felt like a foreign queen. She ought to be entitled to make royal maternal pronouncements. You may not visit your half siblings. You must stay here for a full week, behaving as a daughter ought. You may not ever again mention Thomas Wood.

  Beth spoke up. “It’s about my father. I have some questions.”

  Jan immediately felt her stomach tighten. “If you’re speaking of John Lowell, I’ll be happy to answer anything.”

  “Yeah, it’s about Dad.” Beth moistened her lips. “I’ve been thinking about him so much lately. I really miss him. I wanted to know what you saw in him, Mom. At the beginning, I mean. What made you agree to marry this man you hardly knew?”

  “Oh. Well…” Jan couldn’t have been more surprised at the question. She plucked the towel from her hair and laid it on the table. Maybe Thomas Wood was old news now. Perhaps the long trip to Botswana and England had given Beth some perspective and had negated the importance of digging around in the past. That would be a definite relief.

  “Your father always had a great reputation,” Jan said softly. “Even way back then. He was such a wonderful man. So stable and secure. Everyone who knew him loved him as much as I did. He had lots of friends. And he was very nice to my parents. The epitome of politeness. The moment my brother introduced us, I knew John was just the sort of person for me.”

  “How? How could you tell so fast?”

  “Oh, let me think…” Reflecting, Jan rubbed her fingers across her scalp, shaking droplets everywhere and enjoying the feel of the cool night air flowing through her damp hair. She actually couldn’t remember much about meeting John that first time. He had appeared at the door, and before she knew it, he was a part of her life. The life of the whole family.

  “He fit,” she said at last. “He and I fit together. We both wanted the same things in life. You, for starters. John knew I was pregnant, and he never once held it against me. I was having another man’s baby, and that was that. No big deal.”

  “Why didn’t it bother him?”

  “John was quite a bit older, you know, and I think he had almost given up finding the right person to marry. He had wanted a family so much. His own home life was…difficult.” She lowered her head, remembering
the few times she had been over to visit her in-laws. Such disarray and confusion. Such shouting.

  “We didn’t talk about it much, but it was the alcoholism,” Jan said softly. “John had been raised with it, but he was smart enough to see it and avoid it. He knew exactly what he wanted, but he couldn’t figure out how to get it. That’s how it can be for people who grow up in families with so many problems. They don’t know what normal is, you know? And then John heard about me in the Sunday School prayer group. There I was, already halfway to being a little family of my own. So he wanted to become part of it immediately. He said to me…and I’ll never forget this…he said, ‘Let’s turn one plus one-and-a-half into three.’ Isn’t that sweet? Marriage would create an instant family for both of us, and we decided very quickly that we liked the idea a lot.”

  Beth ran her finger down the side of her glass, gathering droplets that fell through the top of the wrought-iron table onto the deck. Jan could see that her daughter was struggling. Had something happened on the overseas trip? Was she still upset about the conflict that had arisen during their last visit? Had Beth discovered information that had brought these questions about her father into her mind?

  “We didn’t have a fairy-tale beginning,” Jan admitted, “but that doesn’t change how good our marriage was. Your daddy loved you—”

  “Yes, I know,” Beth cut in. “I know that, Mom. You keep reminding me, but you don’t need to. I have no doubt he loved me. I felt it. He took care of me, and he never treated me any different from Bill and Bob except that I was a girl.”

  “That part was my fault. He would have taken you fishing and camping more, but I was afraid you’d turn into a bigger tomboy than you already were. All the same, you spent most of your time up in that oak tree in the backyard.”

  Jan could feel her daughter’s eyes regarding her in the darkness. Around them, cicadas buzzed, crickets chirped and bug zappers sent sparks into the night sky. Someone had lit a citronella candle nearby. The scent drifted through the screen, and Jan considered getting up to light a candle of her own. Vanilla maybe, or magnolia. But she didn’t want to break the spell of tentative peace that she and her daughter had managed to achieve.

  “I’m sorry about not being all sugar and spice and pink ruffles,” Beth mumbled, her head down. “Am I a huge disappointment to you?”

  “Honey, of course not! How could you even think such a thing? I’m so proud of all you’ve accomplished. Look at you—a college graduate living in New York and working at a job that takes you all over the world.”

  “But you don’t like those things. You’ve never understood me.”

  “Well, we’re different, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you and enjoy being with you. I think you’ve turned out so well.”

  “I’m not like you or Dad, am I? You married each other because you both wanted security. You wanted stability.”

  “That’s not the only reason. I thought he was as cute as a bug’s ear. That round little tummy and all that blond hair. John was just as jolly as he could be, and so much fun! But you know the main thing? He believed in me. He knew I wanted to get my college degree, and he made sure I had the chance, even with you, and then the boys coming along so quickly. He supported my desire to teach English, he didn’t mind my quotations on the walls and he never said a word about all the roses I painted through the years. There were so many things he could have resented, but he never did. He loved our home, and he loved you kids, and most of all…he loved me.”

  “Did you love him, Mom? Really love Dad?”

  “Of course I did. Beth, there are all sorts of love in this world. Your daddy didn’t sweep me off my feet like a knight in shining armor. He wasn’t the hero in some epic romance. But I didn’t need that. I needed a man who would take care of me and my child. I needed someone who could accept me for who I was. A husband who would protect me. John did all that and more. True love goes far beyond the silly, dizzy feeling that makes you act without thinking. It’s a real commitment to another person. Love is a promise to stick together through thick and thin.”

  “So, it can’t just happen all at once? You don’t believe in love at first sight?”

  “Not real love. Attraction. Passion, maybe. Affection. Fascination. But deep, abiding love is much more than that. It can’t happen until you really know someone fully. Warts and all.”

  Beth swirled the ice around in her lemonade glass. Then she took a sip. After she swallowed, she let out a deep breath.

  “I just don’t know,” she said, as if pronouncing the end of a conversation that she’d been having with someone other than Jan.

  “What don’t you know, sweetie?”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Something is bothering you. Why don’t you tell me about it, Beth? I may not have answers, but I’m a good listener.”

  “It’s this man I met.”

  A thrill of hope shot up Jan’s spine. A man! Well, now, this was unexpected news! Beth had dated in high school and college, but she never got serious with any of her boyfriends. In fact, that’s all they really were. Male friends. Jan had begun to wonder if any of her children would find mates. She worried that three years of watching their father’s health decline might have erased all the good memories of their happy, busy, active family. Maybe they only saw marriage as a burden, a duty, one person taking care of another as everything went slowly right down the drain.

  “Tell me about the man,” Jan said, hoping she sounded relaxed and indifferent. “Did you meet in New York?”

  “No, in Africa.”

  Oh, dear! That sounded like a recipe for problems. Where would he and Beth choose to live? Did they even speak the same language? Was the man a Christian? How could they ever agree on the right way to raise a child? And would they expect Jan to go to Africa to see her grandchildren?

  She took too big a mouthful of lemonade and nearly choked getting it down. This was not a happy announcement. No matter how much Jan wanted Beth to find love and joy in a marriage, this sort of situation simply could not be good. But how could a mother ward it off? What could even be said in such a case?

  “You met in Africa?” she managed to blurt out.

  “He was the guy who kept putting his feet on my luggage while I was talking with you on the phone in the Nairobi airport. He’s president of a tea company in London. Miles is his name. He gave me his business card, and then I went to his office, and then we went to lunch, and then he told me he was falling in love with me. Just like that. I don’t think it’s possible at all, for him or for me, except that I can’t stop remembering the things he said to me. He asked me some questions, you know? And he told me what he’d been thinking about. Anyway, I left my Bible on the table in the pub, and he found my business address in New York, and he sent it to me. He had written me a note, and he wants to see me again. But I’m just not sure that’s a good idea. What do you think?”

  Jan sat stock-still, as though she’d been pegged right down the spine by a steel bar. Information overload.

  A man with his feet on Beth’s luggage—Jan remembered that, and she hadn’t wanted such a person anywhere near her daughter. This was bad.

  But he was president of a tea company. This was good.

  Beth had gone to his office when they’d only just met? Bad.

  He had told her he was falling in love with her on the first date. Very bad.

  Beth had her Bible out on the table—now, that was good.

  But they had been in a pub at the time—oh, bad, bad, bad.

  Jan raked her fingers through her hair. She hadn’t remembered to put in gel. Forget gentle curls. Her hair would be standing straight out from her head by morning. But who could think of hair care when a daughter came along asking strange questions and then making indecipherable announcements?

  “Now, let me get this right,” Jan said, laying her hands flat on the table. “This man is an African.”

  “No, he’s British. Some kind of an aris
tocrat. He has a brother, and the two of them reminded me so much of…well, they were like Bob and Bill. Goofy. Bugging each other. I felt comfortable with them. Comfortable with Miles.”

  “But he had been very rude and obnoxious at the airport, hadn’t he?”

  “He calls himself boorish. I don’t think it’s necessarily bad, though. He inserts himself wherever he wants—as though he has total confidence in his ability to fit in. Except with me. He said he couldn’t peg me.”

  “Who can?” Jan chuckled, though she didn’t think it was all that funny. “Oh, Beth, this fellow has fallen for your enigmatic charms, just like all the other boys! I’m sure he was enraptured. But I don’t believe he could have been serious when he said he was in love with you. He doesn’t know you.”

  “But…we sort of do. We know each other.” She shook her head. “I can’t explain it. What I’m thinking sounds too ridiculous to even put into words. It’s like…it feels as though God put Miles into my life. Maybe the way He put Dad into your life.”

  “But your father came along to rescue me. You don’t need rescuing, Beth.”

  “I don’t need anything. Or anyone. I’m happy. I was happy. Now, I just keep thinking about him. Miles, Miles, Miles. He pops into my mind when I least expect it. It’s like he stormed in and took over. But he isn’t right, Mom. He’s not a Christian, for one thing. I mean, that’s the main issue. He doesn’t even own a Bible. How could God have put Miles into my life if he’s not a believer? And of course, there’s the fact that he lives in London. That would make dating difficult. It’s impossible to think we could work anything out.”

  “But you like him.”

  Beth’s dark eyes focused on her mother. “I do. I want to see him again. I keep almost picking up the phone and calling him. But I’m so afraid it’s wrong. I’ve tried hard to be true to my faith, and I can’t bear to think that I’d do something stupid and mess up my life. Miles can’t be from God, can he? This must be some kind of temptation I’m supposed to withstand. Right?”

  Jan sank back in her chair, recalling with some chagrin the fact that she had no idea where her own Bible was stashed. No doubt it was inside one of the cardboard boxes she hadn’t yet brought herself to open. She hadn’t felt any need for it, not even the couple of times she’d been to church recently. After all, they had Bibles in the pews if a person wanted to look something up.