Читать книгу Leaves Of Hope - Catherine Palmer - Страница 11

His eyes like deep pools of chocolate, Thomas sat on the doorstep at the back of the Calhoun house and gazed at Jan. “Why not?” he asked her. “You could at least come and see it.”

Why not? Seated beside him, so close their hips touched, Jan hugged her middle. Thomas had graduated from college a week ago, and two days later, she had learned the awful, wonderful truth. Snuggled down inside her, in the soft folds of a perfect nest, their baby was growing.

So, why didn’t she want to spend next semester’s savings, risk the life of her unborn child, freak out her parents and board an airplane bound for a war-torn island off the coast of India? Why didn’t she want to just go off with Thomas Wood, unmarried and pregnant, like a couple of hippie backpackers with no ties and no morals, living on nothing but love? Who did he think she was, anyway?

“I can’t go with you, that’s all,” she said. Her hair, a waterfall of thick auburn curls, tumbled over her knees as she crouched barefoot on the step. “I’m only nineteen, and we’re not married and besides…I don’t want to go to India.”

“It’s not India, Jan. It’s Sri Lanka.” He picked up a strand of her hair and twirled it around his finger. Thomas had wonderful hands—big, brown, manly fingers with thick nails and calluses that proved he knew hard work. Of all the things about him that made her stomach do flip-flops, his hands were the best. She recalled the first time she had met Thomas—he’d been lifting a rosebush from a flower cart into the trunk of her mom’s car at the nursery his parents owned. She had noticed his hands first, loved them instantly, then looked at his face and realized she had seen him in school.

“Hi,” he had said to her, and hooked his thumbs on the pockets of his jeans. He gave her a crooked smile. “I think we were in biology together last semester.”

She had nearly melted into a puddle in the parking lot. How could any man have fingers like that? And those eyes! And that mouth! And why hadn’t she paid better attention in biology?

Now, almost two years later, she still felt the same. But it was no longer just a physical spark between them. Thomas had walked into her heart, broken down all her restraints, taken her body, given his in return, become her whole world. And now he wanted her to abandon family, friends, stability, security—everything—to follow him halfway around the globe.

How could she say yes?

How could she say no?

“We’ll be in India for less than a day,” he told her, as though that were the most natural thing in the world. “The plane lands in Madras, and then we switch airlines and fly to Colombo. Someone from the tea company will meet us in the city and drive us up to Nuwara Eliya.”

“I can’t go, Thomas.”

“I’ll help pay your way. It’s not as expensive as you think. Besides, you got a scholarship last year, and you’ll get one when you transfer over to UT-Tyler. I know you will. C’mon, It’ll be fun, the two of us together.”

“My parents would have a cow.”

“You’re not a kid anymore, Jan. They like me. So what if we travel together?”

“So what? We’re Christians! They would die of embarrassment if I went off on a vacation with my boyfriend. The whole church would know.”

She swallowed as she thought of the months to come. Everyone would soon know about the baby she was carrying. An abortion was out of the question. Jan was studying to become a teacher, and she loved children. All her life, she had dreamed of having a big family of her own. This was an unplanned beginning, but she wasn’t about to cut short her child’s life just because things had started badly. No, she would simply tell her parents what had happened, and then she would have the baby…and move into an apartment of her own…and try to finish school…and…

Fighting tears, she dipped her head. “Just go, Thomas. Go home. Do whatever you want. This isn’t going to work out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He turned and caught her by the shoulders, forcing her to face him. “Listen, Jan, I wrote you the whole time I was gone, didn’t I? It’s not like we were apart that long anyway. Three months. We both stayed faithful, and nothing changed between us. Why are you acting this way all of a sudden?”

“Nothing changed? You changed.”

“I did not. I just evolved into who I was already becoming. We’ve been together two years, Jan. You knew what I wanted out of life, and now it’s within my grasp. I got a great internship, I finished up my courses, I graduated, and now Wilson Teas wants me to come back and work there full-time. Management level. This is a great opportunity for me. And Sri Lanka is an amazing place. You’ll love it.”

“I’m not going, okay?” She pushed away from him and stood. Walking across the yard, she tugged her shorts down on her thighs and wondered how long she would even be able to wear them. By the end of summer, she’d be in maternity clothes. Unbelievable.

She could hear Thomas behind her. “What’s the big deal, Jan? Why are you pushing me away? I came all the way back to Texas to see you.”

“You came home to graduate.”

“And to be with you again. I care about you. I love you—you know that. Now come with me to Sri Lanka. Just for the summer. If you hate it, fine. But you won’t.”

She turned and set her hands on her hips. “You got cholera over there!”

“Yeah, and then I got well. I’m fine, now.”

“They’re having a civil war!”

“Not up in the mountains where we’ll be. The country’s an independent republic. It’s mainly just a problem between these two groups, the Tamils and the Sinhalese. The Tamils want an independent homeland, because they’re Hindus. The Sinhalese are Buddhists, and they’re the huge majority, and they’ve got the power.”

“I don’t care!” she sang out. “Tamils, Sinhalese—”

“But the government isn’t going to let the Tamils do anything too bad. Americans aren’t even a target. And the people I worked with on the tea estate are all really nice. I never felt afraid.” He raked his fingers through his long, shaggy brown hair. “You’ll be there with me for the Kandy Esala Perahera in July. It’s this amazing pageant with ten days of torch-bearers, whip-crackers, dancers and drummers. They’ve got elephants all decorated and lit up. Everyone told me it’s spectacular. We’ll see so much other stuff, too. This ancient ruined city called Anuradhapura has a temple that supposedly contains the right collarbone of Buddha.”

“What? Buddha’s collarbone? Come on, Thomas! That’s ridiculous!” Frowning at the very idea of herself in a place where people worshipped things like that, Jan stepped away from Thomas again. She spoke over her shoulder as she walked toward her mother’s flower garden. “That’s stupid! I mean, it’s just not for me, you know? I’m from Texas, Thomas, and I don’t need Buddha’s dumb collarbone to make my life complete. I don’t want to see a temple, and I don’t want to visit a place with malaria and cholera and bullets flying around. Okay? Okay? Can you just drop it?”

He stood by the picket fence, thumbs in his pockets the way she loved, staring at the ground. This conflict had been building between them for weeks. The moment Thomas got back, he’d begun putting subtle pressure on her—dropping hints, talking nonstop about the wonderful island and the amazing tea estate and the fascinating people. She kept her mouth shut, hoping the whole thing would go away.

Finally he mentioned that he might be offered a full-time job in Sri Lanka. Then he actually got a letter from the company offering him a contract. He wavered, talking about it one way and then another every time they were together. She’d tried to change the subject or ignore him. But today, after Jan had spent the morning hanging over the toilet vomiting, he’d told her he wanted her to go with him.

Not married. Nothing permanent. Just a trip. A summer vacation. See the place. Have a look around. Do some touring. Then she could return to Tyler and start her junior year at UT. A wonderful plan.

Right.

“Are you telling me you don’t ever want to go to Sri Lanka?” Thomas asked. “You wouldn’t even be willing to visit me there?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“But I want to work with tea!”

“You majored in agriculture, Thomas. Your parents own a rose company. Why on earth can’t you just stay here in Tyler and grow roses like everybody else? Why does it have to be tea?”

“I told you. I don’t want to be like everybody else. I want to see the world. I want to live in different places. Tea can take me wherever I want to go. They grow it in Kenya, Tanzania, South Africa, India, China, all over the globe. It will be an adventure. Don’t you see? A great life.”

“Well, have fun on your big adventure, then.” She turned away, blinking back tears. “Go, Thomas. Just go home. I don’t even want to see you again. You’ve changed so much.”

“I have not, Jan! Why do you keep accusing me of that?” He caught up to her again, setting his hands on her shoulders. “Please, babe, don’t be this way. It’s me you’re talking to, okay? The same guy as ever. Only, I found out the world is a big place, and I want to experience it. I want you with me. I want it to be us…together.”

“What are you saying?” She looked into his brown eyes. Was this a marriage proposal? If so, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “You said you wanted me to go to Sri Lanka with you for the summer and then come back here.”

“Right. That makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, you’d have to leave so you can finish college.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You couldn’t stay there. You wouldn’t have a work visa. Besides, you’re not even twenty yet.”

“But I’m old enough to travel halfway around the world with you? Old enough to flout my parents’ belief system and throw it in their faces? And then what? Come sashaying back to Tyler like nothing happened? Is that what you’re asking me to do, Thomas?”

“Is this about us having sex? Because if you’re going to go into your major guilt trip again—”

“This is about you telling me to act like an adult by going to Sri Lanka with you, and then turning right around and telling me I’m too young to marry you.”

“Marry me? I’m not ready to get married! I’m only twenty-two.”

“Fine, then. I don’t want to marry you, either.”

“Who said anything about getting married?”

“Nobody, because it’s not happening. Ever! Go to your stupid island and see Buddha’s collarbone and grow tea and have a wonderful life. I’m staying here in Tyler where I belong.”

“Come on, Jan. Don’t make such a big deal out of everything. I’m just talking about summer vacation. The two of us together. And maybe in the future…maybe if you like Sri Lanka…and after you get your degree…and I’m more settled…and older—”

“No, Thomas.” She brushed the tears from her cheeks. “No, no, no. If you want us to be together, you’d better stay here in Tyler. Because this is where I live. This is my home, and that’s my family in that house, and I’m going to get a degree and teach school, and have a baby and—” She hiccuped. “I’m going to marry someone who wants the same things I do, and we’ll have babies. Children, lots of them. And I won’t have to worry about my kids being blown up with land mines, or mosquitoes giving them all malaria, or any of that stupid stuff!”

“I love you, Jan! How can you tell me just to walk away from you like this?”

“I have my priorities.” She folded her hands over her stomach. “I know what’s most important in my life. And it’s not Sri Lanka.”

“It’s not me, you mean.”

“I didn’t say that.” She was crying so hard now that her nose had begun to run, and she felt like she might throw up again. “I love you, too, Thomas. I do. But I want the guy I met at Wood’s Nursery and Greenhouse. Not this foreigner you’ve turned into.”

“Jan, please. Try to understand. Try harder.”

“I can’t. No matter how hard I try, I don’t understand where you’re coming from. I want security. Stability. I need it. Nothing’s going to change that about me. You can’t change who I am into someone you want me to be.”

“And you can’t change me, either.”

They stared at each other. He was crying now, too, his eyes red and tears hanging on the fringes of his lower lashes. He swallowed and jammed his hands into his back pockets.

“Okay, then,” he said. “I guess this is it. It’s over between us.”

She nodded as bitter bile began to back up into her throat. “Bye.”

Before he could see her completely lose it, she ran across the yard, flung open the back door, made it to a bathroom and retched in the toilet.

Jan pressed her pillow against her face, blotting her tears. Dumb, dumb, dumb to be crying about Thomas Wood after all these years! She had done the right thing. To protect herself and her baby, she had cut him out of her life. Everything about him. She had thrown away the letters he had written her from Sri Lanka. She had packed the little gifts he had given her over their two years together—a pretty candle, a picture of the Rocky Mountains, a couple of science fiction novels she had forced herself to read, photos of the two of them together. Before he was scheduled to leave town, she had taken the box over to his house and dumped it on the front porch.

Three days later, she had discovered a box on her own front porch. Even now, the memory of Thomas’s handwriting on that brown cardboard made her heart hammer so hard, her pulse rang in her ears. She had knelt on the painted boards and pulled apart the flaps of the box. Expecting to find things she had given him, she was shocked to see a tea set sitting inside a nest of white foam peanuts.

It was beautiful. Covered with pink roses, her favorite flower, the teapot was rimmed in shining gold. Jan had lifted the pot in both hands, holding it to the afternoon sunlight, marveling at the glow of the glaze on the ivory china. Delicate bluebells, green leaves and yellow daisies mingled with the rose blossoms. The pot itself was a strange shape, squared into four corners with four small feet, yet somehow still soft and undulant. She had lifted the lid and peered inside to find a tiny white envelope wedged at the bottom of the pot.

Even now, lying in bed, a forty-five-year-old widow with three grown kids and a whole other life, she could see the words Thomas had written to her in blue ballpoint ink. “I bought this tea set for you at an antiques shop in London on my way back to Texas. I knew you would like it. The pattern is Summertime, and I had hoped that would be our time. I will always love you. Thomas.”

Setting the lid on the porch floor, Jan had turned over the teapot. Grimwade, it read. Royal Winton. Summertime.

She had taken out the creamer, a funny little squared-off thing with four feet that matched the teapot. And then she had studied the rectangular sugar bowl and the matched pair of gold lines that rimmed it on the inside. The set looked so pretty…too pretty…on the old, creaky porch.

Crying all over again—it seemed she was either crying or vomiting in those warm days of early summer—Jan had settled the china pieces back into their foam nest and carried the box upstairs to her bedroom. Briefly she had considered putting the tea set on her bedside table. But the thought of Thomas holding that delicate china in his big, wonderful hands…walking into an antiques store just for her…writing her the note…loving her…

“Oh, rats!” she breathed out. Jan threw back her covers and swung her feet out of bed. Plodding to the bathroom, she thought of how slender and long-legged she once had been. And how pudgy and ancient she felt these days. Thanks to her daughter’s snooping, she wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep. Tomorrow she would have swollen eyelids and a fat nose from crying all night. She would be irritable, and Beth would start bugging her about the tea set and Thomas and all the things Jan had worked so very hard to put away.

Well, Beth was not going to get the whole story. And that was that. Thomas was a good man, just as she had written. But he had not hesitated to walk out of the Calhoun backyard that afternoon. He hadn’t called or dropped in to say goodbye before flying off to Sri Lanka again. Only four short letters with strange stamps had appeared in the mailbox in Tyler.

Gone, just like that. Pfft. Out of Jan’s life, as though a match had been snuffed by the wind. Nothing had remained of those two years of passion, two years of insane, crazy, mad love. Nothing but Beth. Little brown-eyed, brown-haired Beth, who looked so much like her father, sometimes it was all Jan could do to keep from showing how deeply the child affected her.

Beth would stare long and intensely at her mother, just the way Thomas had, and Jan wanted to grab the little girl and hold on so tightly that maybe she could feel Thomas’s breath against her cheek again. And other times Beth would give a toss of her hair and go wandering off from the house for hours, never bothering to tell her mother where she was. That was when Jan fought to keep from snatching her by the shoulders and shouting out the speech she had often rehearsed for Thomas.

Stop leaving me! she wanted to yell. Stay with me, where you belong, and stop running away all the time! Don’t leave me alone! Need me…want me…be lost without me, the way I am without you.

But Beth had too much of Thomas Wood in her to read beyond her mother’s placid face and calm words. She didn’t see or understand or even care how much she meant to Jan. Like her father, she would happily jaunt off to Sri Lanka or Botswana or some other foreign place where you could die of cholera or require armed guards and Spanish lace to keep your house secure.

Genetics. All the nurture in the world couldn’t overcome a wanderer’s nature.

After blowing her nose and splashing water on her face, Jan walked back into the room and checked the clock on the bedside table. Nearly three. Great. And there was John, sitting in his oak picture frame, looking at her like he always did. “Get a grip, Jan,” he would say when her nerves unraveled and she began to fall apart. Nothing’s that bad. It’s not a big deal. Relax, honeybunch. Let it go.

She ought to paint some of John’s platitudes on her bedroom wall. They would comfort her the way her husband had with his calm, quiet smile and a pat of his hand. He would lean over and press his lips to her cheek and make that little smack.

“There you go, sweetie pie,” he would say. “Better now?”

And she was. Truly, John always made things better. From the day he had offered to marry her and become the father of her baby, to the day he exhaled his last, labored breath, John had brought peace and security into Jan’s life. He had given her everything she wanted and needed. Always. He hadn’t asked her to change. Or leave. Or go to strange places. He had just patted her hand and planted a kiss on her cheek and called her honeybunch. And that had been more than enough.

“Oh, John.” Taking up the photograph she had framed not long after his death, Jan gave the glass a wipe with the sleeve of her pink robe. “What am I supposed to do without you? You weren’t supposed to leave me. Thomas did that already. You were supposed to stay.”

Battling a new wave of tears, Jan took off her robe, lay back on her bed once more and shut her eyes, hugging the frame against her chest. Maybe she ought to pray. Beth always chided her mother for not being more religious. What would she say if she knew Jan wasn’t even going to church these days?

Well, what was the point? You prayed, and your husband died anyway. You went to church, and then what? Your kids grew up and left home. Your Sunday school class just got older and older until you couldn’t believe you belonged in the same room with those wrinkled, gray-haired fogies. Your preacher kept yammering on the same Bible verses again and again until you could practically preach his sermon for him. Potlucks and Bible studies and revivals and prayer meetings and on and on.

The thought of it all made Jan tired. Still holding John’s picture, she turned onto her side and pulled the sheet up over her ears. Just as she was sure she would never get to sleep, she realized she had been imagining herself in a shoe store buying a pair of hiking boots, which had nothing to do with anything. And then the hiking boots turned into furry yellow puppies. And that was the end of that.

Jan woke with a gasp. A slanted sunbeam warmed her cheek. It must be after nine! Good grief!

She sat up in bed, rubbed her face with her hands and blinked, trying to see through the residue of last night’s tears. Oh, great. This was not good. She needed to be up fixing breakfast for Beth. She ought to have taken a shower by now. Dried her hair. Put on makeup. Dressed in a pair of slacks and a nice top. She was still determined to take her daughter to the Rose Garden. Or the Azalea Walk. Either would be beautiful this time of year.

As she fumbled her way out of bed, Jan saw that she had slept with John’s framed photograph all night. Poor John…How hard he had battled that awful ALS—three years of fighting, until he had looked nothing like the man in the picture. She set it up on her bedside table again. This was how she would remember him—pudgy and freckled and grinning from ear to ear.

“There,” she said, taking a last look at the picture. She grabbed her robe and slipped it on as she hurried out into the kitchen. Thank goodness there were no signs of life. Beth must be sleeping in, as she always had on school holidays when she was younger.

Jan padded in her thick socks to the coffeemaker. She would get the pot started, and then she could run to the bathroom for a quick shower. This was going to be a better day, she thought as she stood at the sink to fill the glass carafe with water. She and Beth would start off on the right foot, and that way Jan could head off any…

She stared at her empty driveway. The rental car was gone.