Day by Day (24 page)

Judy’s words hung in the air like a curtain separating the past from the present. She waited, patiently, to see whether or not Candy would accept her mother’s apology and pull that curtain back to let the light of honesty and forgiveness shine on the present and guide their way through the future.

With a sigh, Candy laid her cheek on top of the pillow
she held. “I spent a lot of hours in therapy talking about us, about growing up, and about growing apart. I’ve spent a lot of hours talking about Brian and the kind of mother I’ve been to him so far. I wish I could do it all over again, but I guess I just did the best for him that I could, too. But I want to do better. I want to be a better mother, a better person, a better daughter.”

Judy tossed a second pillow at her daughter. “Believe it.”

Candy was so surprised when the pillow hit her shoulder, she let it fall to the bed. “Are you picking a fight with me?” she asked, holding her own pillow in front of her like a shield.

“Only if you want one. If you don’t believe in yourself, if you don’t believe God will never let you struggle alone, even if no one else seems to care, then you’ve given up the fight already.”

With a twinkle in her eye, Candy tossed her pillow at Judy with one hand and grabbed the pillow from the bed with the other for protection. “Okay. I believe. Do you?”

“Me?” Judy snatched the pillow, tossed it up in the air and let it land on the floor behind her. “Yes, I believe. I believe in God. I trust Him to help me to believe in myself, and I trust Him to help me believe in you. It’s not going to be easy. Not for either one of us,” she warned. “This old house is chock-full of memories and not all of them are good. Brian’s really happy you’re here, but you have a lot of mending to do with your son. And somehow, we’ve got to work out exactly how we’re going to manage living together again for a little while and how soon you might be able to live with Brian on your own.”

“I know,” Candy murmured and stood up straighter.

“And living in Welleswood again means you’re going to need a pretty thick skin, too. This is a small town, but people have big memories and lots of folks, unfortunately, like to gossip.”

“Daddy always said I had more guts than brains,” she argued.

“Well you’ll need both, along with a good dose of faith.”

Candy put her pillow at the top of the bed. “That’s easy.”

“Really?” Judy picked up her pillow from the floor, dusted it off, and put it on the bed.

“Sure, Mom. Any time I run short of guts or brains or faith, I’ll just borrow some. You’ve got plenty, right?”

Judy smiled. Whether it took guts or brains or faith or just a whole bunch of love, she had plenty of each and no one she would like to share them with more than her daughter. “One day at a time,” she cautioned, praying each day would lead to weeks and then months and perhaps years of a drug-free life for her daughter.

“What about tomorrow? Were you really serious about asking Ann to let me help out at the salon?”

Judy laughed. “Sure I was serious. I’ll call her tomorrow. You can’t do much with the customers, though. Not without a license. Since Ann will be working in clients’ homes, you could open up in the morning and get everything ready for me, make appointments and clean up. I could teach you how to order the supplies, too.”

“Great.”

“No,
great
would be if you were computer savvy and could not only put all of our old records on my very new, very neglected and very confusing computer, but get it up and running to handle the current business.”

Candy’s grin stretched from ear to ear and back again. “Get ready for great, Mom.”

“Y-you know computers?”

“Compliments of the great state of California. Sleep in tomorrow. All I need is the key to the salon. After I get Brian to school, I’ll open up the salon and start the computer work before you get there.”

“Pinch me. I must be dreaming.”

“Only if you’ll pinch me back,” Candy teased.

Judy picked up a pillow. “Would you settle for a pillow fight?”

Candy’s eyes widened. “Mom! Are you serious? First we have ice cream at Scoops for dinner. Now you want a pillow fight?” She shook her head. “You’re losing it, Mom.”

Judy swung a pillow at her. “And it feels good, too!”

“Mom!”

“Come on, Candy. It’s fun! Give it your best!”

“Mom, you’re acting crazy. This is silly!”

“Just making up for missed opportunities,” she countered and squealed when Candy swung a pillow in her direction. There would be plenty of days ahead when serious issues would arise, when they would lock horns and disagree, especially where Brian was concerned, and it would take a long time before Judy truly trusted her daughter again.

But right now, their tomorrows would have to wait.

Right now, today was all that mattered.

Today, joy and laughter felt just about right.

T
he following Monday had
detour
written all over it.

Despite all her efforts to carefully plan out her day, Ginger met one roadblock after another, and she had to scramble again and again to reorganize her day. Vincent’s three-thirty dentist appointment, a routine six-month checkup, had to be rescheduled for the next day when the dentist had an unexpected emergency. Tyler’s business trip was still on, but his flight to Atlanta had been canceled. He had managed to book a later flight, which meant she would be cooking instead of taking Vincent out for a quick supper. When she realized she had left all the notes she had made for the Mother’s Day Breakfast at home on the kitchen counter, she left work even earlier to rush home before meeting Barbara and Judy at The Diner.

She slipped in the back door and headed straight for the folder. A steady beeping challenged the silence in the house to announce there were telephone messages and led her
from the counter to the telephone. Despite the national Do Not Call list, she and Tyler usually had several solicitations on the answering machine daily. She would barely be on time as it was, and she was half-tempted to erase the messages without bothering to listen to them. The very nature of her day, however, encouraged her to take the time to check the messages, but she did not bother to remove her coat.

About ten seconds into the first message, announcing that Vincent was entitled to a full year’s supply of vitamins, she hit the skip button. Ditto for the second message announcing Tyler had won yet another free trip to Florida. She had her hand poised to hit the skip button one last time for the third message—until she heard Lily’s voice.

“Mom? It’s me. I know you’re at work, but I need to talk to you. Please call me back on my cell phone as soon as you get home. It’s important, but don’t say anything to Vincent. Thanks.”

Ginger pressed Save and replayed the message. There was no sense of urgency or sadness in Lily’s words, but Ginger did detect a high level of stress. Worried about Lily and the baby she was carrying, yet hopeful Lily had finally realized she had made a mistake by hiding Vincent away, Ginger checked the caller ID for Lily’s number and called her immediately.

Lily answered on the first ring. “Mom?”

“Yes. What’s wrong? Are you all right? Is the baby—”

“We’re fine. Look, now’s not a good time for me to talk. I thought you wouldn’t be home till after three. Can I call you back in a little bit?”

“No. I have a meeting. I’m already late. Can’t you at least tell me—”

“I’ll call you back in five minutes. Please wait. It’s important,” she insisted and hung up.

Ginger stared at the telephone in her hand for a moment, gritted her teeth and prayed for patience as yet another roadblock detoured her plans for the day. “It’s important to you,” she grumbled. “It’s always important to you.” Frustrated and close to anger at her daughter for being so selfish and at herself for letting Lily impose her will, Ginger channeled her negative emotions into positive action. After she put her coat on the back of a kitchen chair, she pulled the café curtains open to let in the afternoon sun and started to empty the dishwasher.

Her mind, however, raced through a barrage of thoughts, which she sorted into useless and constructive. As she stacked the dinner plates and put them back into the top cabinet, she tried to filter out useless thoughts such as how selfish Lily had become and how difficult it was to understand Lily’s ease at walking away from Vincent or how unfair it was that Ginger would never really know Lily’s new child, her own grandchild. Mercy, Ginger did not even know when Lily’s baby was due, although she guessed sometime between early to late spring.

She lined up the mugs and glasses in the cabinet, one by one, and shook her head. She used to be an optimist, seeing every glass half-full instead of half-empty. But one abbreviated call from Lily and every glass looked totally empty, just like any hope she’d had that Lily would come to her senses.

She carried the utensil basket to the drawer. While she sorted the flatware into the appropriate sections, she whispered the little prayer she had learned as a child.
“All I need is a forkful of faith, and a knife to slice through my fears. With a spoonful of God’s precious mercy, I’ll be patient and kind all my years.” She bowed her head and repeated the prayer silently again, afraid she would need the drawerful of flatware to make it through her conversation with Lily with both patience and kindness.

After ten minutes passed with no call from Lily, Ginger called The Diner and left a message for Barbara and Judy telling them she had a problem at home and would not be able to meet with them today, but she would see them next Monday. When the telephone finally rang a long fifteen minutes later, Ginger saw Lily’s cell phone number on the caller ID, picked up the receiver and closed her eyes for a moment to help her concentrate. Patience and kindness. “Yes, Lily.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. Things are pretty hectic right now. Paul and I moved into our own home last week, but there are still workmen everywhere.”

Ginger did not respond.

“Well, anyway, here’s the problem. Mother Taft wants to meet you and Daddy. I’ve been putting her off for months now, but she’s been pressuring me pretty hard lately to have you both up for a weekend. I—I’m running out of excuses, and I was wondering…” She paused to take a deep breath. “I was wondering if you and Daddy could come to Boston this weekend to meet the Tafts. It’ll only be this once.”

Ginger clenched her free hand into a fist and battled tears. “I wasn’t aware your Daddy and I were such a problem to you, or that you needed to make excuses for us or that you even cared to see us.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She huffed. “You have no idea how hard it’s been for me, and with the baby coming in April—”

“It’s been hard on everyone here, too.” She paused before she lost her patience. Maybe she had misunderstood what Lily meant. Maybe Lily was really reaching out and trying to bring her son back into her life. “What about Vincent? Are we supposed to bring him with us for this weekend get-together?”

“Mom, you know he can’t come. Couldn’t you get a sitter for him? It’s only for the weekend.”

Disappointment filled Ginger’s spirit. “No, it’s not just the weekend. It’s more than that. My problem is that you want us to come up to Boston and lie for you and pretend he doesn’t even exist. I won’t do that, and I don’t need to talk to your father to know that he wouldn’t do that, either. Besides, what would we tell Vincent? That we’re going to see his mother, but he can’t go with us because she doesn’t want to see him?”

“Vincent wouldn’t have to know you were coming to see me. Mom, please. This means a lot to me.”

“And you mean even more to me,” Ginger countered, “but I won’t lie to the Tafts for you and I won’t lie to Vincent, either. I’ve done quite enough of that already, hoping you’ll realize how foolish you’ve been before I have to tell him he won’t ever be able to go home with you. Apparently, you still don’t have a clue about what you’re doing to your son, do you?”

Lily’s voice turned shrill. “I’m doing what’s best for everyone. I’m sorry if you don’t understand that, but…never mind. You’ve actually made it easy for me. Now I
won’t have to make up an excuse. I can tell Mother Taft the truth this time. You were invited, but refused to come.”

Ginger blinked hard, but tears still blurred her vision and she lost her final grip on patience. “Don’t delude yourself. You can’t claim to tell the truth unless you tell the whole truth, Lily, and that means telling your in-laws about Vincent. You can’t build a life on a foundation of lies. Sooner or later, when you can’t tell the truth from the lies, it might be too late and the very things you want will slip out of your grasp,” she warned.

Drawing a deep breath she went on. “Daddy and I love you, but we don’t understand you anymore. More importantly, Vincent loves you and he needs you. You’re his mother, and as much as Daddy and I try, we can’t take your place. That’s the truth, the only truth you need to think about.”

“You’re so, so wrong, Mom. The truth is you’re—you’re jealous,” Lily snapped.

“Jealous? Of what?”

Lily snorted. “Don’t be absurd.”

“No, you’re absurd if you think for one moment you can continue to act like a selfish brat and blame anything that happens when you don’t get your way on me or your father,” she said, losing her struggle to be kind or understanding. “You want the truth? Take a good hard look at yourself in the mirror. I don’t think you’ll like what you see. I know I sure don’t like what I see in you anymore.”

“Just…just forget I called, Mom, and I’ll do my best to forget, too. But don’t count on it. In the meantime, I’m going to contact a few of those boarding schools again and see if I can’t find a better place for Vincent to live. That way you
won’t have to worry about ever seeing him again, either, because I’ll make sure you won’t,” she threatened and disconnected.

Trembling, Ginger barely managed to hang up the telephone before she collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. She was ashamed of herself for losing her temper and she was beyond distraught to think that her last words to her daughter had flowed from a fountain of anger—words she could never take back. She cradled her face in her hands, muffling the sound of her deep, chest-rattling sobs that filled the air. Overwrought, she made no excuses for herself and faced a bitter truth of her own. Because of her anger, she had lost more than her daughter, probably for good. She may have lost her grandson, too.

Gradually, her sobs subsided into quiet weeping.

If only she had been more patient with Lily.

If only she had been kinder to Lily.

If only…

Startled by an urgent rap at the kitchen door, she stiffened and sat up straight. She wiped her face with her hands and pressed the palm of her hand hard against her forehead. She couldn’t let anyone see her now. She did not have to look in the mirror to know her eyes were red and swollen and her makeup was smeared beyond repair.

“Ginger? We know you’re in there. It’s Barbara and Judy.”

Ginger groaned softly and caught her breath for a moment. Maybe if she held very still, they would think she was upstairs and could not hear them at the door.

Judy, however, made that idea impossible when she suddenly appeared outside the kitchen window, peeked inside and waved.

With no choice left to her, Ginger got up from the table and opened the door. She even managed half a smile. “I’m sorry. Didn’t you get my message?”

“They told us at The Diner you had a problem at home so we thought we’d see if we could help,” Barbara offered.

“You look like you might need someone to talk to,” Judy suggested.

Close to tears again, Ginger swallowed hard. “I’m a mess, inside and out,” she murmured. Self-consciously, she wiped at her cheeks again. “I’m not sure talking about it would solve anything.”

“It might make you feel better,” Barbara countered.

Judy shrugged. “But maybe not. Talking about it might even make you feel worse. Probably will, since neither one of us has a single problem in our lives big enough to make us cry our hearts out in the middle of the day,” she warned sarcastically. “Come on. Grab your coat. The sun’s warm. Let’s just take a long walk together. You won’t have to say a word, and the fresh air will do you good.”

Barbara smiled. “Just a walk sounds good to me. How about a stroll around the park?”

Outnumbered and anxious to avoid talking about her disastrous conversation with her daughter, Ginger grabbed her coat and a house key. Once she was outside, she locked the door behind her and followed her friends around the side of the house to the front sidewalk.

Judy, however, led them into the street. When Ginger and Barbara hesitated, she laughed. “Come on. We’re all big girls. We can walk in the street without getting hit by a car. The sidewalk isn’t wide enough for all three of us to walk side by side.”

Ginger was too drained to argue. She fell in step with Barbara on one side of her and Judy on the other. As promised, neither of her friends attempted to start a conversation. Within a block or two, Ginger relaxed enough to set aside her troubled thoughts and concentrate on just walking and enjoying the fresh air.

The sun was warm for January. The air was cold, but not biting, and the desolate landscape matched her mood. Barren trees and gardens gave the neighborhood an open feel and provided good views of backyards no longer blocked by lush summer foliage. Overhead, nests abandoned by birds and squirrels lay waiting to be filled again when another cycle of birth began in the spring. Still early afternoon, the day was hushed, except for the sound of their footsteps on the paved streets which were still stained by road salt and littered with sand along the curbs—streets that would again be covered with snow before winter’s end.

When they finally reached Welles Park, Ginger slipped her hands into her coat pockets and followed Judy’s lead across the crisp, short grass to the lake at the center of the park. The gazebo at the opposite end of the lake offered seating, but also shadowed the sun. Ginger was glad they continued to walk instead. The lake was no longer frozen, and a flock of Canada geese pecked along the shoreline just beyond the reach of the cold gray water.

The fountain in the middle of the lake had been turned off for winter, and in her mind’s eye, Ginger saw the lake as it had been on New Year’s Eve for the prayer service. The memory of all those luminaries on the lake, however, did not lift the darkness from her spirit.

Ginger paused for a moment, spied the log near the shore of the lake where she and Tyler and Vincent had perched to put on their skates on Christmas Day and ambled toward it. When she sat down, her friends joined her, one on either side of her like bookends. “We made a lot of memories here,” she whispered. She glanced at the lake, numb to all thoughts now save for her conversation with Lily and the possibility that Vincent would be taken away from her and Tyler.

Although Ginger knew she could tell Barbara and Judy almost anything, she did not want to rehash her conversation with Lily. Not right now. Her despair at this moment ran too deep. Her thoughts wandered back to the early years of her marriage when her three children had been babies—years when she and Tyler and the children had been so happy together. She sighed. “When you first became a mother, did either of you think there would ever be anything that would come between you and your baby? That there would come a time when you would be estranged?”