Life Is A Foreign Language (36 page)

“Do you want to tell me about Michael?”

So Nina told Lillian—about the way they met when she fell off the ladder. She talked about his attentiveness and loving ways, his spirituality, his care of the clinic and its patients. While she talked, she relived incidents she’d shared with Michael. She told Lillian about his passion for roses, about the Festival and his triumph. Recounting certain episodes of their short time together, bringing back memories of Michael put another layer of scab on Nina’s wound, and she felt closer to Lillian, respectful of Nina’s hurt, understanding of the great loss she had sustained.

On one of Nina’s last nights they were tidying the kitchen together. Nina wiped off the counter while Lillian swept the floor.

“Let’s take a break,” Nina said. “I’m leaving soon, who knows when we’ll have an opportunity to talk face to face. Know that I’m there for you if you need me.” She took a few steps closer to Lillian and held out her arms. “Come here. Let me hug you. I love you very much. I want to thank you for your generosity and warmth during my stay. You’ve all been wonderful to me.”

Strong, stubborn, proud Lillian wrapped her arms around Nina, hugged and sobbed. “Mami, there are no words to express how grateful I am that we’ve had this time together. I’ve discovered what a great and courageous woman you are. I hope to resemble you one day.”

Leaving her family was every bit as painful as Nina had expected. She was grateful she had an early morning flight from Geneva. She wanted to spare them and herself last minute leave-taking. They said their good-byes the evening before, and Nina let herself out of the house while everybody was still asleep, walking on tiptoe to Danny waiting for her in his car by the front gate.

Danny drove her to the Geneva airport, chatting aimlessly during the ride. At the airport he was strong when he put his arms around her before she went through passport control.

“Happy landing, Mami. Call me when you get in so I know you made it back safely.”

She nodded.

“If you need me, if you feel lonely, I’ll be right over. Don’t feel you have to be brave.”

“I won’t.”

“I love you, Mami. So very much.”

She brushed away her tears. “I love you too, cheri.”

Without looking back she turned, showed her passport for a cursory inspection and walked through security check. She found a restroom, locked the door to a stall, leaned against the wall and cried.

Contrary to her habit, Nina flew Business Class to Miami. Emotionally spent, tearful and sad, she wanted to be comfortable and needed privacy that the narrow seating in Economy didn’t permit. When the meal was served, she ate a few forkfuls of the salad and a small piece of cheese. She drank a glass of white wine and tried to nap. Her thoughts drifted. Images scrolled behind closed eyelids—the twins’ laughing faces, Lillian’s eyes filled with tears of compassion when Nina talked about Michael. Her and Michael’s many thwarted plans. They never attended Oren’s meditation group together, never returned to Bokeelia in daylight to browse the art stores, never saw the sunset from Michael’s yacht. Apart from dancing that night on her lanai when he first kissed her, they never went ballroom dancing.

Time had run out so fast.

As agreed, Brian met Nina’s plane. She saw him, and her mind went blank—his resemblance to Michael was striking. It was in his prematurely grey hair highlighted by the sun, in his dancing, glittering blue eyes, and in the way he had of looking from under his brow. Then the illusion disappeared. She sighed and smiled at him.

With an arm around her shoulders he hugged her briefly. “Hi. Welcome home.”

“Thanks. How are you? How are Samantha and Michaela? And Cindy?”

“Good. They’re doing well. Mom returned to Minnesota, glad to get away from the heat and the bugs.” He grinned. “It was great having her with us, but we discovered Samantha could manage very well. Michaela is a good baby. How was your trip?”

“I had a nice visit. Did me good to be with my children and the grandkids. I feel like a rootless plant without them. Still, I wouldn’t go back to live there. I find it stifling, and the climate’s too awful.”

He chuckled. “Good for us. We love having you. Now that Mom’s left, it’s a bit empty.” He looked down on the floor, shoulders stooped.

Gently she brought his hand to her face and rubbed her cheek against it. “I know, Brian. It’s so indescribably tough. We have to stick together. Michael would expect that of us.” She spotted her suitcase on the carrousel and made a dash for it.

Walking to his car, Brian carrying her bag, he glanced at her. “Where do you want to go? Home or a hotel?”

“Home, Brian. It’s time I went home.”

“Good for you. You have to take that step sooner or later. The longer you wait the harder it gets.”

“Yes. Michael will always be with me, no matter where I am. I’ll always love him. With time I may accept that he’s gone from me.”

The wound was so fresh—she still cried when she talked about him, but she had to talk.

“We have to help each other heal,” she said. “He won’t have peace as long as I hang on to him, so I practice letting go. A little at a time. This is one of the things I learned from Michael, to let go, a bit at a time.”

“You’re right, Nina. We all have to virtually remove our hands from Dad’s casket.”

It was early evening when Brian parked in her driveway, that magical hour when the last rays of the sun bathed the world in hues of orange and deep copper, the sky crimson. It was the time of day she loved so much, when she used to sit on the lanai waiting for Michael, or he had already arrived, and they would have a drink together.

She opened the front door. Brian preceded her inside, put her suitcase on the floor, and went from window to window to open the blinds. From the living room she saw her bedroom filled with gold from the last rays of sunlight. Memories lurched in every corner; Michael cooking shrimp for her, the many things they shared, their impromptu meal in bed one lazy evening. She imagined she could hear him laugh low in his throat, smell cigarette smoke on the air although he never smoked inside.

Brian glanced at her. “In case you decided to come home rather than a hotel, we had our cleaning lady do some dusting and wash the bathrooms. She’s put clean sheets on your bed and there’s some food and drinks in the fridge.”

“Oh Brian, thank you so much.”

Dear Brian, so considerate and kind, just like Michael.
But no, not like Michael. She must learn not to compare any of them to him.

Brian touched her arm. “Would you like to come over for a drink, say hi to Samantha?”

“I’ll take a rain check. I’m tired and I have to get used to being alone in the house. I’ll come tomorrow. Then we’ll talk. Give Samantha a hug and a kiss to Michaela.”

After Brian left, she toured her home, walking from room to room. It was cool and smelled clean. She took the suitcase into her bedroom. In a frame on the bedside table was a snapshot of Michael and her, one she hadn’t seen before. Picking it up, she studied the photo. It showed him in profile, holding his arm around her shoulders, while she hugged the huge bouquet of roses, head tilted back to gaze into his eyes, happiness manifest in their broad smiles. Before setting the picture down, she touched his face with the tip of her finger.

Although she was tired, she unpacked, tidied up, and had a shower. Remembering her promise to Danny, she phoned him to tell him she’d arrived.

“I’m staying in the house. This is my home now, and I’ve been away far too long.”

“That’s good, Mami. I’m glad you’re on your own turf. Take care, you hear.”

After the call, she went to sit on the lanai, thinking wistfully back on her arrival in her new home only a few months ago.

In that short time she had lived a love and a lifetime.

While she had been busy inside, night had fallen. The familiar concert of crickets and frogs reminded her of other nights here. Everything reminded her.

On the lanai on this dark night, the wind was still, the humidity high. Michael felt close.

When she leaned forward to light a candle on the table she saw it—the bouquet of the “Nina Brochard” roses he gave her when he asked her to marry him. Nina guessed that Samantha had dried the flowers and placed them in an earthenware vase on the table next to the candleholders.

Since her arrival, Nina had been brave, keeping busy and holding it all together. The sight of the roses was more than she could bear. On the table, she leaned her face on her arms and cried.

Had she been wise to come back here?

Chapter 42
 

Towards the afternoon the next day when the doorbell rang, Nina opened to let Brian in. He touched his cheek to hers. “I’m home early from work. Come on over.”

“I saw your car in your driveway, but wanted to give you time to unwind. I’ll join you in a minute.”

From her bedroom she collected a canvas bag stuffed with things she’d brought from France. They were small gifts of no consequence, except she’d taken pleasure in choosing and looked forward to offering them. A little something for everybody; chocolates from Switzerland, perfume, embroidered place mats.

Most of the gifts were for Michaela. She was only a few days old when Nina last saw her, and she didn’t have a clear recollection of the baby, only that she was tiny.

Both Samantha and Brian treated Nina like family. They went about their business and didn’t fuss over her.

Samantha had laid out refreshments and fruit on the coffee table in the living room. Nina sank into an armchair and groaned from pleasure as it eased the ache in her muscles after the long flight that a night in bed hadn’t quite removed.

Nina looked around. “Where’s the little princess?”

“Asleep. She’ll be another hour yet.”

They were pleased with their presents. Samantha exclaiming that this was her favorite perfume. Brian immediately opened his tablet of bitter-sweet chocolate, offered it to Samantha and Nina, who both declined. “I love this thick bar. One small piece slowly melts in my mouth, the aftertaste lingering for a long time. Thank you, dear Nina.”

She handed Samantha a small packet in gold paper with a red bow. “This is for Michaela.”

“What is it? May I open it?” Samantha unwrapped the box. Raising it to eye level, she opened it just a crack to peek inside. The contents were covered by a layer of cotton wool, so she had to lift off the cover and remove the cotton to see the gold and ruby bracelet.

“It’s beautiful. Look, Brian, isn’t it darling.”

“If it’s too big now, I can have it shortened. When she grows there are some links of gold and a few rubies, so it can be lengthened.” The bracelet came with a matching pair of ear studs. “You’ll decide when to have her ears pierced.”

They both got up to hug her. “Thanks. I’ll make sure Michaela remembers she received her first jewelry from you.”

When the gifts were distributed they sat, all three at a loss for words. Brian drummed his fingers against the edge of the table, a habit when he was tense. Samantha fussed with the vase of flowers on the table. Nina sipped her decaf that tasted bitter.

Brian took Samantha’s hand and held it between both his and glanced at Nina. “Tell me, what are your plans? Or haven’t you had time to make any?”

“Yes, I have. Michael and I agreed that I should do pro bono work at the clinic three half days a week, starting this fall. But I prefer to start within the next couple of weeks, if it can be arranged.”

He nodded. “Yes, Dad mentioned this. I think it’s a great idea. Won’t work interfere with your granddaughters’ visit later this summer?”

“No, it won’t be a problem. While the twins are here I’ll schedule my appointments around our activities. I have to keep busy. I’m waiting to hear from the publisher about my book.” She thought for a moment. “It would mean a lot to me if Nicholson’s would publish it. That would give my life direction and meaning now that Michael’s gone.”

His face serious, Brian nodded. “I truly wish it for you.”

She glanced at him. “Now about the clinic, would you mind checking with the Board of the Foundation, to see if they have any objection to me starting to work now rather than wait until fall?”

“I’ll do it right away and let you know.”

Samantha smiled. “I’m sure they want to kiss your feet from gratitude to get an experienced therapist for free.”

“Seems to me you’ll be very busy,” Brian said.

“That’s healthy. I’m not running away from my pain, but by being idle I only feed it and end up depressed. I’m planning to resume spiritual counseling with Oren and meditation with his group. The way Michael talked about his beliefs made spirituality sound attractive, and his outlook on life made me want to learn more. I like Oren, and the group is what I need right now.”

Brian leaned forward in his chair. “Good for you. I think you seem better.”

“I’m not sure. It’s so tough.”

Samantha glanced at her. “Give yourself time. It hasn’t been all that long.”

Nina thought she heard a sound, and turned her head in the direction, listening. “Do I hear Michaela?”

They all listened for a moment. Brian stood. “Yep, that’s my daughter.” He left and returned a few minutes later with a little bundle of a baby, her back against his chest. He placed her in Nina’s arms.

This was the first time Nina held her. Michaela was so petite and so perfect. Nina examined her. Then she let out her breath, holding the baby against her breast and leaned her cheek against the very dark hair. She looked like a miniature of Samantha. There wasn’t the slightest resemblance to Michael.

Typical of babies, Michaela had big eyes. Her face was small and heart shaped, the eyes a dark brown. On her left iris she had the same beauty spot as Samantha. Michaela’s eyes looked unblinking into Nina’s. Her small fist nudged Nina’s ear.

Michaela found the empty spot in Nina’s heart. Slipping inside, she made herself at home.

My spiritual granddaughter.

Nina went to work at the clinic and found that her coworkers, both the doctors and the medical assistants, were supportive and helpful. They explained how the system worked from a practical and legal aspect. They gave her valuable information and little tidbits on some of her patients, details not contained in patients’ case files, because some data didn’t pertain to their pathology.