Susannah's Garden

“My friends are close by.”

Most of whom were dead or dying, but Susannah couldn’t bring herself to mention it. “I’d be able to visit far more often,” she offered as enticement, hoping against hope that her mother would see the advantages of moving.

Vivian sipped her coffee and allowed the cup to linger at her lips a moment longer than usual, as if she was considering the prospect again. Slowly she shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear, but this is my home. Seattle is way too big a city for me. I’d be lost there.”

Susannah reached across the table and took her mother’s fragile hand. “That’s something else we need to discuss. Mom, I’m afraid this house is too much for you.”

“What do you mean?” An edge sharpened her voice.

“I worry about you here all alone, trying to cope with maintenance and—”

“Nonsense.”

“Who’ll shovel the sidewalk when it snows?”

“I’ll hire a neighborhood boy.”

“What would you do if a water pipe broke?”

“The pipes aren’t going to break, Susannah. Now stop being difficult.”

Susannah didn’t feel she was the one who was being difficult. The more she thought about the problems faced by an elderly person living alone—especially an elderly person losing her memory—the more worried she became.

“I don’t know why you’d want to come all the way from Seattle to talk such nonsense to me,” Vivian said in a querulous voice.

Susannah remembered what Mrs. Henderson had said about her attempt to discuss assisted living back in March. That had probably influenced today’s response—if Vivian even remembered the earlier conversation. Regardless, Susannah had hoped that by pointing out a number of practical issues, she could get Vivian to realize on her own the advantages of moving into an assisted-living complex. Clearly that approach wasn’t going to work.

“Mom, I think we need to sell the house.”

“What?” Vivian banged her cup against the saucer, her eyes wide. “For the last time, Susannah, I am not leaving my home. I am stunned that you would even suggest such a thing.”

“Mother—”

Without another word, Vivian stood, deposited her cup and saucer in the sink and disappeared down the hallway to her bedroom, muttering as she left.

Susannah planted her elbows on the table, and cupped her ears with her hands. She closed her eyes, silently praying for wisdom. She hadn’t expected this to be easy, but so far she was getting absolutely nowhere.

After Vivian had dressed, she came back into the kitchen. Ignoring Susannah, she collected a straw basket and clippers. The garden was in full bloom; irises and roses were two of Susannah’s favorites and they were in abundant display along the white picket fence. The lilacs were pruned and shapely, and their heady scent drifted through the open window.

Given her mother’s limited endurance, Susannah had been surprised to discover that the garden looked quite good, although the fence was a disaster. The paint had faded and one entire section tilted precariously. Her father would never have allowed that to go unfixed for more than a day. He was a stickler for order, at home and in the courtroom.

“I thought I’d clean out the refrigerator,” Susannah said, making a peace offering.

Vivian kept her shoulders stiff as she pulled on her gloves. “If that’s what you want to do, go right ahead.”

“Mom.” Susannah walked toward her. “We still need to talk.”

“Not about me moving. That subject is closed.”

“I need to make sure you’re safe and well.”

“I don’t know why you’re so concerned all of a sudden. Besides, I’m getting stronger every day.” The back screen door slammed as Vivian walked out of the house.

Susannah sighed heavily. She didn’t want this to dissolve into a battle of wills between her and her mother.

It took her forty minutes to clean out the refrigerator. She discarded all the containers; the contents of some were impossible to determine. Among the identifiable remains, she found old tuna fish, green-tinged cottage cheese, rotting fruit and vegetables. Her mother saved every scrap and bit. Rather than leave this garbage to smell up the kitchen, she wrapped everything in plastic and carried it outside to the receptacle by the garage.

As she returned to the house, Susannah noticed that the shelves on the back porch were filled with dozens of senseless items. Her mother must’ve kept every plastic container she’d bought in the last six months. Piles of aluminum trays were neatly stacked, not for recycling, but for some future use. As a daughter of the Depression era, her mother tended to save everything, but it had never been this bad. Even empty toilet paper rolls were carefully piled up.

“Mom, what do you intend to do with all this stuff?” Susannah asked.

Her mother looked over from where she stood in her garden, a hose in one hand, and shrugged. “I’m saving it.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know yet.” She paused. “I never snooped around your house.”

“I’m not snooping. Everything’s out in plain sight.”

“Do I question what you save and don’t save?”

Susannah had to agree that she didn’t. She went back to the kitchen and wiped the counters. This wasn’t how she wanted the visit to go, but she couldn’t delay the inevitable, either.

“Would you like to ride down to the grocery store with me, Mom?” she asked when Vivian entered the house.

Vivian put one long-stem red rose in a vase and set it in the center of the table. “My lettuce is coming up nicely,” she said with satisfaction. “So are my herbs. Rosemary’s my favorite, you know.”

Susannah nodded. “Maybe we could take a drive around town when we’re finished our shopping.” She strived to make this sound like an enjoyable outing.

Vivian hesitated, as if she wasn’t quite ready to forgive her for their earlier argument. “That would be nice,” she finally agreed.

Together they drove to the Safeway. Vivian slipped her arm through Susannah’s as they crossed the parking lot and Susannah had the distinct feeling it was because she needed help maintaining her balance. This was also a silent message to let her know all was forgiven now.

They loaded the cart with food Susannah hoped would tempt her mother’s appetite. She bought macaroons, her mother’s favorite cookie. Asparagus, Ritz crackers and other treats Susannah knew her mother wouldn’t purchase for herself. She quietly put back a jar of Russian mustard Vivian had placed in the cart, but kept the olives.

They left the air-conditioned comfort of the store. The sun was out in full force and at ten o’clock it was nearly seventy-five degrees.

“It’s going to be a hot one today,” Susannah said as they transferred their groceries to the trunk of her car.

Her mother responded with a half smile. “I’m sorry, Susannah, but I wouldn’t do well in Seattle. I know you’re disappointed, but I can’t leave Colville. This is my home.”

A lump momentarily filled Susannah’s throat. “I know, Mom. I don’t want to take away your home. Please understand that I only want what’s best for you.”

“I’m the one who knows what’s best for me.”

“Of course you are. Assisted living doesn’t mean you’ll lose your independence. I—”

“Assisted living? Why bring that up?” Cutting her off, Vivian climbed inside the car and locked the door.

“Well, I guess that’s that,” Susannah said under her breath. She finished unloading the groceries, closed her trunk and parked the cart.

Opening the driver’s side door, she slid into her vehicle. “It wouldn’t hurt to take a look, would it?”

Her mother refused to answer.

“Mom, please don’t be so stubborn.”

Vivian turned her head away and gazed out the passenger window. In all her life Susannah had never seen her mother behave quite like this. Susannah had always viewed her mother as a subservient and obedient wife, the passive partner in that marriage. She couldn’t remember her mother going against her father’s dictates even once. Her father, the judge, ruled the home and his family. What he said was law.

Thinking about it now, Susannah marveled at the fact that, despite her father’s authoritarian ways, Vivian often managed to get what she wanted. The methods she employed were never direct. Vivian was a master manipulator, and that was clearer in retrospect than it had been at the time.

Now Susannah was compelled to be equally indirect. “I thought we’d go for a short drive,” she said pleasantly. She turned on the ignition and the air-conditioning kicked in, flooding the car with an influx of hot air until it gradually cooled.

Vivian remained quiet.

“You didn’t tell me there was a Wal-Mart in town,” Susannah said in conversational tones. “Want to go?” Her mother had always loved shopping.

“Oh.” Vivian smiled then and the tension eased from between Susannah’s shoulder blades.

Instead of going back to the house to drop off the groceries, Susannah detoured and drove past the first of the assisted-living facilities she’d contacted. It was a modern complex that resembled a nice hotel, with balconies and a fountain in front of the circular driveway.

Susannah didn’t say anything, but slowed as they drove past.

“You apparently don’t know your way home anymore,” her mother said, ice dripping from every word.

“Oh, I know where Chestnut Avenue is,” Susannah murmured. She shook her head. Vivian had never been to the assisted-living facility, but she knew exactly where it was located.

“I don’t want that milk to spoil.”

“It won’t.” Susannah turned and drove toward the house.

In less than five minutes, Susannah was unloading the car. She put the refrigerator items away and left the rest of the bags on the kitchen counter, afraid that if she delayed too long her mother might change her mind.

“You ready?” she asked.

“For what?” Her mother blinked as if confused.

“We’re going to Wal-Mart, remember?”

Vivian studied her, apparently not sure this was something that interested her.

Yeah, right, Susannah thought. She had trouble hiding a smile as the two of them went back to the car. The Wal-Mart parking lot was nearly full. This time her mother didn’t slide her arm through Susannah’s, but after a few steps she clasped Susannah’s elbow.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this many people since the Fourth of July parade,” Vivian said as the blue-vested store greeter steered a cart toward them.

“Payday at the mill,” the woman said, commenting on Vivian’s remark.

Carolyn was doing well this season, Susannah mused as she allowed her mother to push the cart. Having something to hold on to helped Vivian keep her balance.

They’d started down the first aisle when Susannah heard someone call her name. She turned to find a tall, slightly overweight woman watching her. It took a moment to realize who this was.

“Sandy? Sandy Thomas?”

“Susannah Leary?”

They broke out laughing at the same time. “My goodness, it’s years since I saw you.” Sandy’s eyes sparkled with unabashed delight.

Sandy had been a good friend, the kind of person who always saw things in a positive light. They’d kept in touch after graduation, and Susannah had served as a bridesmaid in Sandy’s wedding when she’d married Russell Giddings, the local pharmacist’s son.

“I didn’t know you lived in Colville,” Susannah said.

“Russ and I have been back for ages.”

Susannah smiled at Vivian. “You remember my mother, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course. Hello, Mrs. Leary.”

“Hello, dear. You were Susannah’s friend, right?”

Sandy nodded.

“My daughter’s trying to move me out of my home,” Vivian announced, loudly enough for several heads to turn in their direction.

“Mother!”

“Well, it’s true.” Vivian leaned against the cart. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“My mother’s living over at Altamira,” Sandy said. “And she loves it. She told me she was sorry she waited so long to move.”

Susannah smiled her gratitude.

Vivian crossed her arms in defiance. “I’m not leaving my home, and that’s all there is to it.”

Sandy shared a sympathetic look with Susannah. “Let’s get together soon,” she suggested.

Susannah shrugged, unsure what to tell her. Getting Vivian settled was her top priority. “I’d like to,” she began, “but…”

“I’m in the phone book, so call me.” Sandy squeezed her elbow, letting Susannah know she understood.

She would have welcomed the opportunity to visit with Sandy. They’d become friends after Carolyn was shipped off to boarding school. Sandy had been with her the night Jake had first asked her to dance.

A tingle of happiness went through her at the memory. They’d gone to a school function after the football game—a dance in the high school gym. Jake had been at the game, too, with Sharon, another girl from their class. He’d been talking to the players on the sidelines. Susannah had just started her junior year and Jake was a recent graduate. He worked at the mill and had stopped by the dance—without Sharon. Several of the senior girls flirted outrageously in hopes of getting his attention. Susannah thought he was the cutest boy in the universe, but she was convinced she didn’t have a chance with him. She was only sixteen; he was nineteen.

When Jake had crossed the gym floor and held out his hand to her, she’d nearly keeled over in a dead faint. He didn’t say a word as he drew her into his arms for a slow dance.

When the music faded, he’d looked into her eyes, smiled softly and touched her cheek with his index finger. Then, again without speaking, he walked away. If Sandy hadn’t come and collected her from the dance floor, Susannah figured she would’ve stood there like a statue with everyone dancing around her.

Oh, yes, Susannah definitely wanted to get together with Sandy. And not just because she’d have a chance to talk freely about Jake.

“This is a good price for—”

Her mother’s voice cut into Susannah’s musings. “It is,” she agreed automatically, although she didn’t have a clue what Vivian was talking about. Suddenly—impulsively—she faced her mother. Jake’s name hadn’t been mentioned in over thirty years and it was time for answers.

“Mom,” Susannah said. “Do you know whatever happened to Jake Presley?”

“Who?”

“Jake Presley, my boyfriend in high school.”

“He wasn’t that singer, was he?”

“No, Mom,” Susannah said. “That was Elvis.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?”

She nodded. “I’m asking about Jake Presley. He used to live in Colville, remember?”

Her mother considered the question. “What did his father do?”

“He worked at the mill.” Susannah strained her memory, but she couldn’t recall his first name. Jake had been an only child. His mother had run off when he was four or five and he lived with his father.

After a moment, Vivian shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t remember any Jake Presley.”

“That’s all right,” Susannah said and struggled to hide her disappointment.

“I’m sorry.” Her mother seemed genuinely apologetic.

“It’s all right, Mom,” she said again.

Only it wasn’t.

CHAPTER

7

Vivian had turned on the Food Channel, pen and pad on her lap as she wrote down recipe after recipe. Puzzled, Susannah watched her mother. As best as she could figure, Vivian hadn’t cooked a meal in months.

Susannah hadn’t brought up the subject of assisted living since this morning, but she was biding her time. Getting her mother to be reasonable would require some inventiveness.

“Mom, I’m going to call Joe and the kids,” she said, getting up from the sofa.

“Okay.” Her mother’s eyes didn’t waver from the television screen.

Susannah walked into the kitchen and picked up her cell phone, which she’d left on the table. She sat down and hit the first button on her speed-dial. Pressing the phone to her ear she waited. Three rings passed before Chrissie answered.

“Hi,” her daughter said, sounding more cheerful than she had in their last conversation.

“It’s Mom.”

“Oh.” Her voice flattened. “How’s Grandma?”

“Okay. What about you?”

“All right, I guess.”

“Don’t act so enthusiastic.”

“Dad’s making me cook dinner again,” Chrissie muttered. “He said I couldn’t make anything that came from a box.”

“Your father and I are trying to avoid processed foods as much as possible.”

“He wants me to create a menu for his approval. Can you believe it? I spent two hours in the kitchen this afternoon. This is my vacation, too, and now I’m stuck at home and bored out of my mind.”

Susannah didn’t remind Chrissie that if she had a job, none of this would be happening; she knew her words wouldn’t be appreciated any more than her advice would.

“I haven’t heard from Jason.” Her daughter’s depression and frustration were evident even over the phone.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“No wonder he was so eager for me to go home. It’s just that—oh, never mind, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Are you sure you’ve read the situation correctly? Why not just wait and see?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she fumed. Her daughter made a scoffing sound. “I knew something was wrong the minute he came to take me to the airport. A woman knows, Mom. Something happened between him and Katie, and I think it’s been going on for a while. I didn’t pick up on it until that day, and now I’m furious with him and Katie.”

Susannah had no idea what to say, so she added another lame, “Wait and see. It might not be as bad as you think.”

“Oh, yes, it is.” Chrissie groaned in derision. “The situation here isn’t helping, either.”

“What do you mean?” Susannah asked.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Chrissie repeated. “You’re with Grandma and I’m stuck here. Thanks a lot, Mom. Thanks a lot.” Having said that, she slammed down the phone and screamed for Joe.

A minute later her husband picked up the receiver. “Hi, Suze,” he said. “How’s Colville?”

“Growing. There are so many changes I can hardly keep track. I took Mom shopping and she practically bought out the shoe department at Wal-Mart.”

She heard his gentle amusement. “I wondered where you got your penchant for shoes.” Shoes had always been Susannah’s weakness.

“How’s it going with your mother?” he asked.

“Not good.” She described how her mother had embarrassed her in front of Sandy.

“She feels threatened,” Joe said. “You would, too, in similar circumstances.”

“Maybe, but…”

After spending an entire day with her mother and witnessing how easily she tired, Susannah was more concerned than ever. They’d had to stop frequently for breaks; once Vivian had even taken a brief nap on a pull-out sofa in the furniture department, with Susannah standing anxiously by.

“I don’t know how to handle this. The minute I bring up the subject of assisted living, she gets defensive and angry.”

“Did you mention the phone call from her neighbor?”

Susannah straightened. “No. But maybe if Mrs. Henderson and I both talked to her, Mom might listen.”

“She might think you’re ganging up on her, too.”

Her husband had a good point. “You’re right, she probably will. I’ll tell her about the phone call first and if I have to, I’ll bring in Mrs. Henderson.”

“Did you take her to tour any of the facilities?”

Susannah sighed in discouragement. She hadn’t even gotten close. “I drove past one, and Mom made some sarcastic remark about not knowing the way home.”

Joe chuckled. “She’s got quite a stubborn streak.”

“I don’t remember her being like this. My mother was the soul of tact and graciousness, and all of a sudden she’s—” Susannah didn’t finish. She noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to look. To her horror, she found her mother in the hallway, listening in on her conversation. Lowering the phone, she whirled around. “Mom?”

With a sheepish look, her mother walked into the kitchen. Susannah didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, but suspected it had been quite a while.

“Joe,” Susannah breathed, shocked that her mother would stoop to eavesdropping. “My mother was standing in the hallway, listening to our conversation.”

“I’m not leaving my home,” Vivian said loudly, “and you can’t make me.”

“Susannah?” Joe’s voice rang in her ear.

“I’ll call you later.”

“Okay.” She heard the drone of the disconnected line from her cell phone before she clicked it off.

“Mom, I think we should talk,” Susannah said, gesturing for Vivian to join her.

“Not if you’re going to say what I think you are.” Her mother started to back out of the kitchen.

“Aren’t you curious about why I drove over here earlier than I’d originally planned?”

Her mother hesitated. “A little.”

“Sit down, Mom.” Again Susannah motioned toward the other end of the table.

“I’ll miss my show.”

“The Food Channel runs the same episode in the morning, and before you say anything, it’s perfectly all right to watch television in the middle of the day.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed, and her expression seemed to say she wasn’t sure she should trust her daughter. This wasn’t the way Susannah wanted to begin such a crucial conversation. Instead of arguing further, she leaped into it. “Martha phoned me in Seattle, and I talked to Mrs. Henderson, too.”

Her mother sat down on the chair, her posture straight, her eyes filled with defiance. “All right, tell me what Rachel’s saying behind my back. As for that Martha, she’s not to be trusted.”

“Mother, Mrs. Henderson is your friend.” She’d intercede for Martha later.

“She’s jealous of my garden. She always has been.” Her mother crossed her arms defensively. “Her gladioli and irises never do as well as mine. Her roses, either.”

Susannah intended to avoid that issue, in case it turned into another War of the Roses. “Mrs. Henderson called because she was worried about you. So is Martha. Your friends are concerned.”

A sheepish look came over Vivian. “You’d be lost and confused, too, if you lost your husband of fifty-nine years.”

Susannah said nothing.

“I will die in this house, Susannah. It’s my home. It’s where I belong. I am not moving.”

The situation was impossible. “Mother, please listen because I need you to hear me.”

“I am listening. I just don’t like what I’m hearing.”

“I talked to Dr. Bethel a few days ago, and he agrees it’s time for you to make the transition to a facility.” Susannah had called him the morning of her departure, wanting not only his assessment but any ammunition he could provide.

Her mother gasped, as if her longtime physician had betrayed her. “I don’t believe it!”

“Please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. I’ve made appointments to tour Altamira and Whispering Willows tomorrow.”

“Then you’ll go by yourself, because I refuse to be part of it.”

A crescent-shaped moon was tucked in a corner of the sky as Vivian sat in her garden, a wad of tissue in her hand. She couldn’t sleep. The wind-up clock George had used for years had ticked relentlessly at her bedside as she counted off the hours. Soon it would be daylight and she had yet to fall asleep. It felt as if everyone she knew and trusted had turned against her, including her own daughter. She’d once considered Rachel Henderson a friend, but no longer. Even Dr. Bethel and Martha. She wished she could talk to George; he’d know what was best. But he’d only come to her that one time.

So Vivian had decided to sit outside. Whenever she shut her eyes, all she could think about was the fact that she was going to lose her home. Susannah wanted to move her in with strangers. She couldn’t leave Chestnut Avenue.

She was old and had lost so much already. She’d buried her husband and her only son. All she had left was her daughter, her house, her things. A lifetime of everything that was most important surrounded her in this home. All her pictures. Her furniture. The crystal vase that had belonged to her grandmother, whose mother had brought it from Poland. Vivian treasured it. Her flowers had never looked more beautiful than in that vase….