Between Yesterday and Tomorrow, page 18
part #3 of Enter the Between Series
I sat on the top step of the second-floor landing and took deep breaths. If I called her, she’d interfere. She’d demand I come home, stop this foolishness. Her way of showing love was to regulate my life, which I would no longer allow. “God bless you, Mom,” I said, my chest banded in pain. “I’ll make it up to you some day. Promise.”
❂❂❂
It was Tuesday, the day before Thanksgiving. Maya was already here. Our father would arrive soon. Veronica and I had helped Maya settle into the bedroom suite across the hall from mine, and we were sitting at the kitchen table discussing where Bob would best fit in.
“I still say we put him in the studio apartment in the attic,” Veronica said.
“It’s probably haunted,” I grumbled. “He’d freak out.”
“I doubt it,” Veronica said. “He’s not a sensitive like you.”
“True,” I admitted, “and it would give him more privacy.”
It was early yet, and the backyard was still in shadow, but there was no fog. I stared at the brick sidewalk leading to the garage. Several birds were pecking into its crevices, finding their breakfast there free for the taking. “Coffee anyone?” I asked, getting up to pour myself a refill.
Veronica held up her nutritional drink. Chocolate today. “I’m fine.”
I glanced at Maya’s glass of water, sitting on the table untouched. “Last chance for a cup of hot java.”
She shook her head. “No thanks.”
“How about some hot chocolate?” I persisted.
A blank stare. “No thanks.”
I shrugged. Coffee wasn’t as healthy as water or a nutritional drink, but for me it was one of life’s simple pleasures. And this morning, I was all for simple pleasures.
“So, where’s the cat?” Maya asked.
I set my coffee on the table and headed back to the counter for the homemade chocolate chip cookies I’d baked for our Thanksgiving guests. Veronica frowned as I handed a cookie to Maya as if the offering offended her. “I haven’t seen or heard a damn thing,” she said, implying she’d searched the entire house, which I knew she hadn’t. “In fact, things have been quite normal around here, considering the house belongs to Marjorie’s friend, Anne. She’s a witch you know.”
“A very generous witch,” I said. “One who not only provided a roof over our heads, but a wealth of information about yoga and the nutritional supplements you’ve been living on since our arrival.”
“Hold it,” Veronica said. “I wasn’t criticizing Anne. I met her, too, remember? And I think she’s great.”
“Anne?” Maya asked.
“Yes, Anne Bolen,” I said. “You know, this is her house.”
“Shane has a sister named Anne,” Maya said, her face tilted as if she were asking a question instead of making a statement.”
“Oh,” I said, not about to delve into one of my least favorite subjects: Dr. Shane Donovan. “Back to your question about the cat. I saw it for the first time in the attic in what I call the studio apartment. Then Thursday morning it jumped onto my bed.”
Maya giggled. “Nice wake-up call.”
“Better than a rooster,” Veronica said.
“Then a woman came rushing in. She said her name was Christine, and while I was sitting there with my mouth hanging open, she lectured me about still being in bed. I tell you, she sounded just like my adoptive mother, ordering me around as if I were a kid. The really frustrating part is that before she took off she called me, ‘Marjorie,’ and I didn’t have time to ask who she was and how she knew my name.”
“She’s a ghost,” Veronica said, trying to stifle a yawn.
The left side of Maya’s face paled, even more so than usual. “Shane had a great aunt named Christine. In fact, the armoire Shane gave me once belonged to her. She raised him from the age of five and died soon after he graduated from medical school, just before he started his general surgery residency.”
Veronica eyed Maya, her mouth forming a silent oh.
Anne had never mentioned having a brother. Or an aunt. In fact, she’d rarely mentioned her personal life at all. Nope. I wouldn’t believe it. Not without proof.
“He mentioned being raised in a big house,” Maya continued, looking around her with renewed interest. “That it was crammed full of antiques and that the armoire wouldn’t be missed. Do you think this is the place?”
The coffee wasn’t settling well. My throat and chest burned.
“Wild,” Veronica said. “Shane living here? Let’s call him and find out.”
“We agreed on emergency phone use only during our stay here,” I said, still pushed out of shape about her ditching our agreement to sign us up for a yoga class. Okay, so we hadn’t made it official with a notary and thumbprints next to our signatures. But she’d broken her word, without explanation or apology, which probably ran along the line of doing it for our own good.
Veronica stood and headed for the sink with her empty glass. “Okay then, you two wait for Dad while I go visit Shane.”
“But you don’t know where he lives,” I said.
She winked at Maya. “Do now.”
Before I could respond, someone knocked on the screen door.
“Damn,” Veronica said. “Dad’s here.”
I smiled. “Looks like Dr. Donovan will have to wait.”
Veronica snorted. “Still calling him doctor, huh?”
Maya looked back and forth between us, then rose to answer the door. “Papa,” she cried, taking his hand and pulling him into the kitchen. “Welcome. Welcome.”
Bob looked around, wide-eyed. “This kitchen is so white.”
Maya gave him a hug. Not a short two-second hug, but a solid, seven-second bear hug with a tight squeeze. “Where’s your suitcase?”
“In the car. I wanted to make sure you girls meant it about me staying here.” His gaze settled on the plate of homemade cookies. “Chocolate chip, my favorite.”
“Give me your keys,” Veronica said. “I’ll get your bagga…stuff.” It sounded like she’d been about to say baggage before catching herself.
Bob fumbled in his coat pocket. “You sure?”
“Positive,” Maya said. “We have so much catching up to do.”
He handed Veronica the keys, but his eyes remained fixed on Maya.
“Would you like some coffee?” I asked, having second thoughts about inviting him to stay, though there was no going back now.
He looked at me for the first time. “Coffee?”
I held up my empty mug. “Tastes great with chocolate chip cookies.”
He turned to look out the back door. “Here comes Veronica with my bags.”
“Hold it with the coffee, Marjorie,” Maya said. “Let’s take Papa to his room first.”
“But we never decided for sure—”
“The studio apartment,” Maya said. “It’s in the attic, right?”
I nodded. What was the big hurry?
Veronica entered the kitchen carrying two exquisite brown leather bags, a reminder that our father was a wealthy man, a fact easily forgotten given the poverty of his existence. “Here’s your stuff, Dad,” she said. “Gotta go.”
Bob blinked, then scowled. “Go? Where?”
“You haven’t even moved in yet,” Veronica said, “and you’re already butting into my business.”
Bob lifted his chin. “I thought you’d want to stay and visit for a while.”
Veronica backed out the door. “All right if I use your car, Marjorie?”
“Sure,” I said, upset with her for being so difficult. The least she could do was try to be civil. This was supposed to be a time for bonding, for giving thanks as a family.
“Tell Shane hi for me,” Maya said, and I wondered if she’d relayed this message for our father’s benefit, to clue him in, make him feel involved.
He picked up on it immediately. “Shane?”
“Dr. Shane Donovan,” I said. “Remember, the man I told you about?”
His expression cleared. “The guy who’s going to fix Maya’s face?” He turned to Maya, and I held my breath. “I’m so happy for you, baby. Finally, you’ll be as beautiful as your sisters.”
Maya smiled. “Come on Papa, I’ll take you to your room. The attic room, right, Marjorie?”
“No,” I said. The attic room belonged to our ghost boarder and her cat. “Give him the turret suite above mine. The temperature’s more consistent there and it’ll save him from climbing an extra set of stairs.”
“Chicken,” Veronica said, with a farewell wave.
I waved back. Soon we’d hear more than I wanted or needed about Dr. Shane Donovan. “Dear God. Please don’t let him be Anne’s brother.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
THE NEWS VERONICA BROUGHT home that afternoon wasn’t good; at least not from my view. The rest of the family thought it fabulous. “Just think,” Maya said. “Shane’s your best friend’s brother and once lived in this house. Isn’t that amazing?” Veronica thought Dr. Donovan’s kinship to Anne was an awesome coincidence. Bob couldn’t quit grinning. To him, the doctor, like Santa, bore only gifts and goodwill. Trouble was, we were about to celebrate Thanksgiving, not Christmas, and I didn’t believe for one minute the doctor’s concept of goodwill included pure, unconditional, and self-denying love. I was so tired of coincidences, I wanted to cry. Why couldn’t life run smoothly for a change, allow us to spend a few days together without incident? Picturing Dr. Shane Donovan as Anne’s brother was impossible for me. My mind couldn’t stretch that far. So, I let it go.
What I couldn’t let go, though, was the hope that having my family together under one roof would cause a loving and permanent bond. Sure, the four of us had different outlooks on life and therefore different agendas, but we could work around that, compromise, learn from one another. Personal growth includes acknowledging one’s own character deficiencies. I didn’t need Dr. Mendez to remind me of that. I, for instance, distrusted Dr. Donovan’s judgment and intentions, but that didn’t give me the right to decide what Maya should and shouldn’t do. I was acting and sounding like my adoptive mother, pushing my agenda instead of stepping back and honoring my sister’s right to freewill. Maya hadn’t asked for my advice. She hadn’t invited me in. When did caring cross into interference? For the sake of peace, I needed to back off and mind my own business, even if that meant watching her make a decision with which I disagreed.
I could sure use Antonia’s advice now. Why hadn’t she made her presence known, if not to the others, at least to me? I’d half expected some form of communication between us on Halloween night, when the veil between the human and spirit worlds was particularly thin. But no. Of course not. That would’ve been too predictable, too easy. So why not now? Wasn’t this family reunion what Antonia had been striving for, the reason she’d come back from the grave?
After delivering the startling news about Dr. Donovan, Veronica made a quick retreat into the basement. Maya and Bob headed to the parlor for a chat. Which left me in a house that suddenly seemed too small. I slipped out through the back-porch door and made my way to the labyrinth, my hands reaching into my fanny pack for my mouse totem, before realizing it was no longer there. I wondered if Bob had lost it again, then pushed the thought from my mind.
Instead, I concentrated on the call of the resident birds staying behind to winter in Anne’s backyard—the high, whistled fee-bee-bees and raspy chick-a-dee-dees of what my field guide identified as Chestnut-Backed Chickadees and the noisy kwesh and check notes of the Western Scrub Jay. Birds hopped and swooped between the branches and needles of the conifers above and the dense foliage below with sharp chinks and musical pur-lees. Sparrows and kinglets landed on the labyrinth as if urging me on with ohh-dear-mees and look-at-mes.
According to my research, the walk from the labyrinth’s entrance to its center represented purgation, where one attempts to release, empty, and let go of the need to control. I took a deep breath and entered the circle. This was supposed to be a nurturing experience, taken at a slow pace, no rushing through to capture the prize in the center. Under the guidance of the birds’ wheezy trills and warbles, I concentrated on the intricate path, allowing my worries to fade and my intuitive mind to surface. The route was long and illogical—six semi-right-angle turns, twenty-eight U-turns—yet a trek I could safely get lost on, secure in knowing it would ultimately lead to the right place. So, it came as no surprise that the first clue signifying I was anywhere near my destination was being there, in the place of illumination, meditation, and prayer. A woodpecker called from above wake-up, wake-up, wake-up as I set down my marker stones and opened my mind and heart to what awaited me in the labyrinth’s center.
Your struggle has only just begun.
This wasn’t what I’d expected. Advice from my subconscious, yes. Dire predictions from my birth mother, no. I’d thought my stay in Pacific Grove was about over, that soon I’d be headed back home. Antonia, however, was never the bearer of good news, her specialty, throwing out new and unexpected challenges. “What struggle?” I asked, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice. “We found Bob. We found Maya. They’re both here now. What more do you—”
Be strong, Sunwalker. The end is near.
“The end?” I cried, the sound of my voice muffled by the gathering mist. Even sheltered under massive evergreens, the keen edge of a penetrating breeze sliced through my clothes. “Less than five minutes ago, you said the struggle had just begun.”
You will not be alone.
“Of course, I won’t. I have Veronica. I have Maya. I have Dad.”
No response from my mother.
I snatched up the marker stones and dropped them into my fanny pack, trying not to be angry. I’d come to the labyrinth to open my mind and heart, not shut them down. The counterclockwise walk out from the center symbolized the act of taking what I’d received there into the world, along with a renewed sense of empowerment and strength. As I retraced the steps I’d taken in, I tried to digest and integrate Antonia’s words—The struggle has just begun. You must be strong. Instead, bitterness swelled in my chest like an expandable water toy absorbing four hundred times its weight. Why bother? As far as I could tell, she’d spelled out more disaster. As I stepped out of the circle, accompanied by the bold descending caw of a crow, she imparted one last message. In the end, all will be well.
❂❂❂
“Where’s Veronica?” Maya asked when I came in through the back-porch door.
“In the basement,” I said. “Hibernating.” Maya cocked her head and looked at me as if I were a rare species not conducive to our environment. “Okay. That wasn’t very nice, was it?”
“Hibernating works,” Maya said. “Do you think she’d mind if I joined her?”
I shrugged. The anger I still bore my mother had shifted to Veronica, which wasn’t fair. She’d done nothing wrong. “Guess the only way to find out is to ask her. She made it clear she didn’t want me down there.”
“Does she bite?”
“A little,” I said, smiling. “But it doesn’t hurt much. Only in the heart.”
“She’s been through a lot, hasn’t she?” Maya asked.
“You mean because of our father?”
“He’d be a hard person to live with.”
“Yes.”
“You turn to nature to remember who you are, Marjorie, and Veronica has chosen the isolation of the basement.”
“And yoga,” I added.
“Nature is full of small homilies, isn’t it?”
I laughed. “And sometimes, I even understand one of them.” Maya seemed so wise, so caring, so advanced in her spiritual search. “I gather you find yourself by serving others.”
She smiled so gently, I felt drawn to her light. “With God as my guide.”
“I wonder who guides our mother,” I said. “Does God reach out to her, too? I mean, from where does she get the wisdom, or inclination, to counsel me as she does? My adoptive mother tries to bend me to her will, while Antonia goads me to stand on my own two feet. Then she turns around and encourages Veronica, who’s broken free of her oppressive father, to go back and face him. I don’t get it.”
“Maybe because our father knew the secret, she wanted him to share,” Maya said.
I shook my head, confused. “Why didn’t she come right out and tell us about you instead of requesting we meet with our father and reopening old wounds?”
“Maybe there’s more to the secret than my existence. Antonia knows Veronica has to face her father before she can overcome the inner barriers that limit her.”
“Yet she had me escape my adoptive mother.”
“Do you hate her?” Maya asked.
“Truus? No. I love her very much.”
“Well, then your case isn’t the same as Veronica’s. Veronica will never find peace as long as she’s bound by hate. She has taken her father’s abuse in silence and anger and is now looking within for her part in it. She’s bleeding inside, Marjorie, crying out in her own sarcastic way. As a result, she’s incapable of seeing the bright side of anything. She’s in danger of losing compassion. Whereas your problem has more to do with fear, the fear of standing up for what you believe in, the fear that you might fail. We all respond to life’s challenges in our own unique ways.”
While Maya spoke, I wondered what life challenges she had experienced. If I asked, I doubted she’d tell me. And even if she did, she’d give it a rosy cast. “Maya,” I said. “How do you deal with the fear?”
“I replace it with what I want and then expect it to be true,” she said. “Life moves in the direction of our thoughts.”
“Okay. Done,” I said with a cocky grin.
Maya gave me the thumbs up. “That’s it then.”
My grin grew wider. Couldn’t help it. She had that effect on me. She made even the ridiculous sound credible. “But nothing’s changed.”
“Of course, it has, silly. Once you get the idea implanted in your mind, everything falls into place. The people and circumstances you need will be drawn into your experience just when needed.”
