Читать книгу A Special Kind Of Family - Eileen Berger - Страница 9

Vanessa expected the morning’s routine to be similar to the day before, but shortly after she got downstairs, Mrs. Redding came across the yard, offering to stay until Aunt Phyl arrived. “…In case you want to go around to visit your grandmother on the way to work,” she told Vanessa.

She blinked back unexpected tears at Gin’s generosity. “I’d been wishing I could see her before her surgery. And may I ask another favor? I know Gram’s accident was already on the prayer chain, but could you start it again, saying that surgery is scheduled for ten o’clock and asking for prayers?”

“Rob put it on already.” Her hand was pressing firmly against Vanessa’s waist. “So you get going.”

It was a perfect autumn day, every direction she looked revealing countless shades of red, yellow, orange, even wine, elegantly set off by evergreens. This was her favorite season, and she recalled Gram saying last Sunday at a family get-together, “Each year I think God can’t make it any more beautiful, but He outdid Himself this October!”

The hills and mountains made Vanessa glad to be living here in north-central Pennsylvania. Gram kept thanking God for all this, but if He was really as all-powerful and all-knowing as she thought, wouldn’t He already know how much people enjoyed it?

Once she arrived at the hospital, it didn’t take Vanessa long to find Gram’s room. She sat on the edge of Gram’s hospital bed, holding her hand. “It’s okay, Gram, to admit you’re a little nervous about surgery.”

The older woman grinned at her. “All right, I am having some nervousness, and I’m aware that I’ll hurt a lot when I come to. However, I’ve lived with constant pain since my fall, and that won’t go away by itself. Once the surgery and the hurting are over—and the therapy—I expect to eventually get around fine.”

Vanessa leaned over and kissed Gram’s cheek, and didn’t realize until Gram’s arms came around her and the soft voice said, “Thank you, dear,” that this was the first in a long time that she’d been the one to initiate such a loving embrace with her grandmother.

Why am I like this? Am I afraid to show love because Mother used to push me away when I wanted to hug or kiss her, saying she hated getting all rumpled? Almost with reluctance, she straightened. “Rob’s put you on the prayer chain again.”

“Tell him I appreciate his doing that. Why should I worry with all those prayers uplifting me?”

Vanessa admired Gram’s being so bright-eyed and cheerful. “Do you have messages for the girls, or the family?” That sounds as though I’m offering to dispense her final words—as though I don’t think she’ll survive!

But before she’d figured how to make that sound better, Gram was saying, “Tell each of the girls how much I love her, just as she is now. And say that I also love her for what she will be, with God’s help and guidance. I respect her for sticking by the decision to have her baby, and I’m looking forward to helping her through that—and afterward.”

“Good morning, Gram!” Keith came strolling in, wearing a dark-blue business suit and tie. “And a good morning to you, also, Van.”

“Are Andi and Katherine going home today?” Gram asked.

His eyes sparkled. “Leave it to you to think first of happy prospects, Gram! Yes, they’ll be leaving later this morning, but right now they’re doing something extra special.” He stepped back a pace, his arm encircling his beautiful wife, who came in carrying a small, pink-wrapped bundle in her arms.

Andi looked indescribably happy. “Katherine and I got a special dispensation to leave our floor and come wish you the very best through surgery and recovery.”

Gram had been tilted upward slightly and now, without thinking, attempted to sit upright and reach for the sleeping infant. She gasped, face contorted with agony. Sinking back against her pillow, she wiped moisture from her upper lip and forehead. “Thanks, Andi,” she managed to say in an obvious struggle to keep her voice fairly normal. “How thoughtful and generous of you!”

“It’s pure selfishness on my part.” Andi was going along with Gram’s facade of being all right. “We couldn’t be in the same hospital and not come to be with you for at least a little while.” She leaned over to kiss her and to settle her daughter in the arms of her great-grandmother.

It was just a short time before a nurse came with yet another presurgery form, and Keith and Andi left with the baby. Vanessa had planned to stay until Gram was actually on her way to surgery, but Gram wouldn’t hear of it. “As you see, I’m being very well taken care of. I appreciate your coming, dear, but you run along to your office, and get all those important things taken care of.”

She didn’t want to leave, but there were calls which should already have been made and a mix-up in Research and Development she hoped wouldn’t be too difficult to straighten out. And she never knew what else could be awaiting her when she arrived.

While diligently working in her office at the plant, Vanessa received a call from her dad a little after two-thirty, letting her know that he was back from his business trip to Europe, and saying the surgery was over and Gram was in the recovery room, doing as well as could be expected.

She hated that expression; it meant so little! Was Gram as good as one would expect of someone her age, or good compared with everyone? And whose expectations did that refer to, anyway? Gram herself expected to be up and about quickly.

A shiver passed through her, there at the big desk in her pristinely organized office. Her own hopes had not been as high as they probably should be; Vanessa would never have Gram’s kind of faith. She had, of course, participated in AnnaMae’s prayer, and she’d been hoping a lot, but she didn’t really know….

It was several more hours before Keith’s call. “Hi, cousin!” he greeted her. “Good news—Gram was brought back to her room maybe an hour ago. She’s having a lot of pain, but they say things went well.”

“Great! About things going well, that is, not the pain. Are you still at the hospital?”

“I came home a few minutes ago. I’d brought Andi and Katherine here while Gram was in surgery, then had to go to the office for an hour or two, to take care of a rush matter. But I was there when they brought her back.”

There were unfamiliar sounds in the background. “Am I hearing your little one?”

He chuckled. “Up until we started talking, Katherine was quiet as could be.”

“I understand that happens when there’s a child in the family, but didn’t know they started this young.”

“See? We knew she’d be precocious!”

Vanessa was only half joking when she suggested, “How could she help but be with you as her father?”

“Much more so with her one-in-a-million mother!”

There was a softness in the way he said that, and Vanessa thought that might be the whisper of a kiss she heard, and then an even softer sigh. She was almost jealous of such a love as theirs, which she was half-afraid to hope for…to one day experience….

Vanessa pulled in behind the big black sedan parked in front of Gram’s house, wondering who was supplying dinner this time. She’d never been good at identifying vehicles and, besides, didn’t know what cars her grandmother’s friends drove. She seldom attended church except when she couldn’t get out of a special invitation by Gram to an occasional Easter or Christmas service.

She heard laughter as she entered the hallway, and Rob’s unmistakable deep voice. Gin Redding’s higher-pitched one then said, “She’d have called if she was going to be real late, so you’d better wait to dish up till she gets here.”

Vanessa was by now at the end of the hall, in the kitchen doorway. “It sounds as though I arrived just in time!”

They were all talking at once, then let Rob explain, “Mrs. Seaforth must have spent all day cooking and baking. She said she would prepare food if someone could deliver it, and I was the lucky one.”

“Aggie Seaforth sent all this?” The table was covered with homemade cinnamon rolls and two pies in addition to numerous bowls and containers. To the girls she added, “I thought she was old when I was a child.” Then she turned to ask Gin, “What is she now? In her mideighties?”

The neighbor was near the back door, apparently ready to leave. “Upper-eighties, at least—but I’ll bet she’s had one great day of it! She had seven kids, you know, then all those grandchildren. It probably seemed like old times for her to cook for the six of you. Or more…”

“Stay and eat with us, Gin.” Vanessa had walked over and was lifting lids. “There’s so much here, and you know what an excellent cook our dear Agatha is.”

“I don’t want to butt in….”

“You can’t butt in when you’re invited, and the more the merrier, as Gram would say. You certainly deserve it, after coming over twice today.

“And you stay, too, Rob. After all, you brought all this.”

Both protested only mildly before sitting down at the table. Gin gave thanks to God for the meal, and there was lively conversation as they ate. Everyone was relieved at the report of successful surgery, and optimistic about Gram’s recovery.

Only once did anyone mention Rob’s profession this time. He glanced toward Jana before replying, “I should get used to people wondering what kind of person chooses to become a mortician instead of a doctor or lawyer or automobile salesman or short-order cook. Y’know what happened when I first told Vanessa I’d decided to do this?”

She felt heat rising in her face and knew they must see her heightened coloring as he announced, “She laughed at me, that’s what!”

He had never referred to that before, and she’d hoped he had forgotten. “That was incredibly rude of me,” she admitted, looking at everyone except him, “but it was such a surprise. He’d talked for years of becoming a family practitioner or a physician’s assistant, or perhaps a physical therapist. And for a while he even considered becoming a minister.

“Any of those would have meant intense involvement with living people, and then there he was, speaking of working with…” she stammered, unsure how to finish the thought without mentioning corpses or bodies “…with people after they’ve died.” She forced herself to look at him and was relieved to see him smiling.

“It’s okay, Van.” His right hand seemed to be reaching toward her, but came to rest on the table’s edge. “I shouldn’t have teased about it.”

Vanessa didn’t know if Gin was deliberately maneuvering the conversation away from that topic when she told of two late-afternoon calls from people asking about Gram, but Vanessa was glad for the change of subject!

Rob soon explained that he had to leave, and she walked out with him and down the steps. “Thanks again for bringing Miz Aggie’s wonderful meal.”

His little nod was probably in place of saying You’re welcome, but his words were, “Do you always call her that?”

She chuckled. “She was my Sunday School teacher when I was maybe five or six. Gram and other ladies her age called her by her first name, so I did, too, until Gram corrected me. But Mrs. Seaforth said I could call her Miz Aggie—well, that’s what I understood, though she probably said, Mrs. Anyway, she’s been that to me and many others ever since.”

He stopped on the sidewalk. “She speaks very highly of you, Van, and is impressed with your moving right in here—taking care of the girls and everything.”

“Gram’s very concerned for them, and so am I. What’s remarkable is that other people are doing so much.”

He looked back toward the house. “I told Mrs. Redding that I could stay this afternoon until you got here, but she insisted she wanted to.”

Her shoe scuffed against the leaf-strewn flagstones. “In order to get this facility up and running, a number of conditions had to be met, one being that at no time can there be unsupervised visiting by a male.”

“I hadn’t thought of myself as a ‘visiting male.’” His mouth twisted into a smile. “But I can see that my motives could be suspect.”

“Several times men or boys have called, wanting to visit or to go out with one of the girls, so it is a necessary rule.” She grinned up at this man a good six inches taller than her height of five-eight. “There was no way of foreseeing that a nice, good-looking young mortician just might want to be helpful.” Is he wincing a little? It seems as though there’s a flicker of—what?

“I was already a man, Vanessa, even before becoming a funeral director—I was an individual before a professional.” His words seemed more subdued than usual, and there was something like pain in his eyes. “I still am.”

She glanced down at her shoe again, scraping back and forth in telltale discomfort. Transferring her weight to the offending foot, she looked back up into his deep-brown eyes, so near she could see herself in them. “I know.”

Rob hoped she really did think of him as a man; his regard for her had nothing to do with her efficiency as manager and executive secretary of the plant started several years before by Andi and her electronics-genius father. He wanted to continue the conversation with some casual remark, but before he could do so she returned to the previous subject. “Miz Aggie must have been relieved at your willingness to bring the meal she fixed.”

“It was my privilege. And I thank you for the invitation to stay for dinner.”

“It was the least we could do. For both you and Gin.”

Was she aware of his feelings and deliberately trying to remind him that it was not just he who’d been asked to stay? She started back toward the porch, but he noticed that she didn’t go up the steps until he waved as he pulled away. She appeared to be moving more slowly than usual—could it be his wishing that made it seem so?

What did he really know of the Vanessa McHenry of today? She was so beautiful he could still hardly keep from staring at her, like he used to in senior high. That perfect, light-complexioned, heart-shaped face above the classic column of her neck; the long blond hair with just enough wave to emphasize its softness and catch the sunlight or moon-glow—or fashioned into French braids, as she sometimes wore it….

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he turned into the alley, pushed the remote, and watched his garage door rise slowly. He drove in, got out of the car and started through the doorway into his house, almost forgetting to lower the door of the garage.

History does, indeed, repeat itself; you were so sure you could manage it this time—being a friend, just a helpful friend. But you never did get over her.

And you still have no idea what went wrong before, or how to keep it from happening again….

He went through the small utility room; everything was in order there and in the good-size kitchen. He’d promised himself that he would keep things neat when he bought this three-bedroom, ten-year-old brick ranch house.

He knew all too well from college days how easy it was to let things go. His room had always been in disarray and he was constantly searching for things. Well, he’d succeeded by sheer will-power in keeping that resolution; how could he now keep from falling even more deeply in love with this remarkable woman?

The sensible thing would be to keep a distance from her physically, but even considering that was painful.

Walking through the broad archway into the dining end of the large room stretching in front of the kitchen and one bedroom, Rob turned left into his office and pushed the answering machine’s flashing button. The first message was from Elmer Harnish, his partner, asking him to call a son of the man whose viewing was scheduled for the next morning at ten, prior to the memorial service. The second was his mother, and the third had been left by Betty Jefferson.

There was no question as to which callback to make first, as he always enjoyed Mom’s upbeat conversations. Several winters ago she’d been asked by Great-Aunt Beatrice Maroney to spend January and February with her in Fort Myers, on Florida’s Gulf side. They got along so well that they repeated this every year, each time her stay getting longer.

Physically better there, Aunt Bea decided to remain year-round. She was doing well, considering her ninety-two years, but diminishing eyesight meant she could no longer drive, and she wasn’t surefooted enough to walk far by herself.

“We appreciate your letting us know about Gram’s accident, and that she was going through surgery,” Sylvia Corland told him. “We’ve been praying for her, of course, but do need an update.”

He filled her in as much as possible, which led to her asking how Vanessa was making out with the five she, too, referred to as Gram’s girls.

“It’s been tough, Mom, so you might want to keep praying for Van. In addition to an extremely responsible load at work, she comes back at night and has to care for everything at her grandmother’s.”

“I’d think the girls would be able to go ahead with some things.”

“I don’t know for sure just what they’re capable of. Women from the church began what I know you sometimes did—they’re sending in the major meal of the day.”

“Well, good! That at least takes off some of the pressure.”

“But she’s trying to do too much—helping the three oldest with preparations for GEDs, making sure the younger ones keep up with their homework, seeing that each one does her part with laundry, cleaning and other tasks….”

“Does she seem overwhelmed?”

“No, she doesn’t, and I admire her for that.”

There was the briefest of pauses. “Just go easy, dear.”

He shouldn’t be surprised, but hadn’t expected her to sense his—love? Infatuation? “I took food for the first day, takeouts from the steak house.” He chose not to mention staying to eat that night or the next one! “Aggie Seaforth prepared today’s.”

They spoke of a number of things, but near the end she came back to their initial topic. “When you see Gram or Vanessa again, tell them they’re in our prayers. All of them are….”

The call to the deceased man’s son took only a few minutes as Rob reassured him that someone would be directing traffic at each of the two major intersections on Broad Street, so cars in the slow funeral procession would not get separated.

Also, there’d probably be no difficulty adding another person who wished to share memories at the service, but this should be discussed with their pastor right away. And it was, of course, too late to have his name on the printed memorial folder.

He was smiling as he made the third call. Betty was four or five years younger than Vanessa and himself, twenty-five or twenty-six. He remembered her in Youth Fellowship during the last year or two before he left for college, a bubbly, outgoing, bright-eyed redhead involved with every program and service project.

She married Paul Jefferson soon after high school graduation, and they now had a four-year-old son, a two-year-old daughter and an infant. “Thanks for calling back,” she greeted, “though you may be sorry you did.”

He laughed. “I promise to at least give you the chance to tell about it before I hang up.”

“I thought you might—hoped so, anyway. I was talking with Miz Aggie, and she said you delivered her dinner to Gram’s. Right?”

He’d already guessed what she wanted and quickly offered to deliver the dinner she would prepare the following day.

He slowly set down the phone. His shoulders were straight and head high as he sat down in the tall-backed oak chair and glanced at the many cubicles in his antique rolltop desk. As good as he felt right now, he should be able to zip through the paperwork which had accumulated over the past two days. If only he could keep from thinking about Vanessa for just a little while….