Rachel Lee (27 page)

"I know you did." A tear rolled down Hannah's cheek. "I know you did."

Silence fell over the room. The early winter night seemed to creep inside with them, and Hannah felt the chill in her heart. She'd made so many mistakes, apparently more than she'd even realized. And she could no longer figure out which was the worst one. Maybe they were all equally heinous. Certainly they all 'had caused enough pain.

Right now, healing all those wounds looked like an insurmountable task.

She might, with time, persuade Joni to forgive her, but then there was Witt. He was such a hardheaded man, and she could anticipate his anger. And his refusal to ever forgive her. But for his sake and Joni's, she had to confess as soon as it seemed safe.

But not yet. Deep inside she felt she had to settle things with Joni first, to be sure that Joni stood on a firm base from which to meet the uproar with Witt. Never mind what it did to Hannah; she needed to be sure Joni was going to be okay.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you and Witt ever marry? Really."

Hannah didn't know how to answer that. "I'm not sure we have that kind of relationship."

"The spark was there once."

"A long time ago."

"But you love each other. I can see it in everything about you two."

Hannah sighed. "I don't know. Maybe we both feel guilty for what happened. Maybe that settled the whole thing forever."

Joni sighed and turned her head a little, so that she was looking away.

"People are so stupid."

"People make mistakes. It's how we learn. I wouldn't call it stupidity."

"You're probably right. I think I have a tendency to see things too much in black and white."

"We all do when we're young. The curse of getting old seems to be that everything starts to look dingy shades of gray."

"You're not old."

Hannah smiled at her daughter but said quite honestly, "Sometimes I feel older than those mountains out there."

Joni remained quiet for a few minutes. Just as Hannah began to wonder if she'd fallen asleep, Joni spoke. "Have you ever been happy, Mom?

Ever?"

"I'm content."

"That isn't what I asked. I asked if you've ever been happy. It's not the same thing as contentment."

Hannah didn't quite know how to answer that. Happy? She'd always equated it with being content. But Joni didn't, and thinking about it, she realized there was a difference. "I've been happy at times," she finally said slowly. "

"But not in my memory. I can't remember when you ever seemed to feel on top of the world."

"That's a hard place to reach."

"Maybe." Joni frowned. "I want to be happy. I don't mean deliriously happy. But I want more than contentment. I'd like a little joy, too."

Hannah nodded. She didn't have the heart to tell her daughter that she was looking for the end of the rainbow. Life didn't let people feel that way for long, or often.

But as soon as she had the thought, she realized that there was something wrong with thinking that way. Had she really allowed the disappointments in her life to skew her so much? It wasn't as if there had been that many.

"Mom? What was your childhood like? You never talk about it."

"There isn't much to tell. I was born on the reservation. You know that. And my mom died when I was four, so I don't remember much about her. A cousin who lived in Pueblo took me in."

"Was she nice?"

"Nice enough. I had no complaints." Which wasn't exactly true. The cousin had taken care of the basics, but grudgingly, never failing to remind Hannah that she was a charity case. "She was an old woman. It wasn't easy for her. But I never did without anything." Except, maybe, love.

"What about your father? Why didn't he keep you?"

"He was long gone, I guess. I don't even know who he was, and my cousin would never speak of him."

"Oh." Joni's gaze moved to the window again, and it seemed to Hannah that her face had saddened.

"It doesn't matter," Hannah said. "I never knew him, so I couldn't really miss him. Oh, I suppose I missed the idea of having a father, but I couldn't miss him, if you understand."

Joni nodded. "And this cousin never spoke a word?"

"Not about him. She talked about my mother some, usually saying she was a good-for-nothing, but I never knew why. I asked her once, and she'd say, " It don't matter, just don't you turn out like her. ""

"Ouch."

Hannah smiled faintly. "It was a good enough answer to keep me from asking again."

"I bet. So basically you had a hard childhood."

"Not really. I was never abused."

"But you were lonely."

Joni's perspicacity surprised her. With that surprise came the realization that she was accustomed to thinking her daughter was utterly self-centered. Maybe some of that was starting to wear off with increasing maturity. "I suppose I was. I pretty much kept to myself until I went to nursing school. I made some good friends there."

"And then you met Dad. Lewis."

"Yes." Hannah smiled softly as she remembered. "He was exciting. He made me feel dizzy and high and special. I'd never felt like that before." Then she grimaced. "I suppose I should have been leery. It should have dawned on me that I couldn't be the only one he charmed out of her socks."

"But even then, why would you think he was taking advantage of everyone he charmed?"

"I don't know." Hannah sighed. "It never occurred to me. I just assumed he was showering me with all that attention because he thought I was special. And I guess he did. For a while."

She twisted her hands together and watched her fingers grip each other.

"You know, Joni, I know what that woman said, and that Lewis never denied it. But ... I sometimes wonder what i did wrong. He married me, after all, and I'm sure he could have taken his pick of nurses. So there must have been something else about me that drew him. And somewhere along the way, I must have ruined it."

Moving cautiously, Joni sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Just then Martina returned with a cold can of 7UP. "Sorry, she said breezily. " No ginger ale. Hope this will do. "

"That's great, thanks," Joni said with pleasure. "I don't know how I can be so thirsty when I'm on an

IV.

"

"An IV doesn't do much for the cotton in your mouth, especially when you're talking. And what the heck are you doing getting out of bed?"

"I wanted to hug my mother."

Hannah's cheeks warmed with pleasure.

Martina put her hands on her hips. "So tell her to come over here."

"And I wanted to go to the bathroom."

"You know you're supposed to have somebody with you. Right beside you.

So..."

"I'll do it," Hannah said. "I haven't forgotten all my nursing skills."

Martina relaxed. "Fine. But if I find out she's been cheating, I'm gonna sit on her."

When Martina was gone, Joni pulled the tab of the soft drink and drank thirstily,

"That's going to leave an aftertaste," Hannah said.

"I don't care. I can have water then. Right now I just want to clean out my mouth."

After Hannah had escorted her to the bathroom and back to bed, Joni used the switch to put the head of the bed up higher.

"You're feeling better," Hannah noted.

"The headache's letting up a little bit. And I've got more questions I want to ask."

Hannah realized she'd been hoping that Joni was done for now. She had been feeling emotionally worn-out even before she'd learned of the accident, just from dealing with Witt and the rupture with Joni. Since then, she'd drained her reserves even lower, until now she didn't know if she had an ounce left to run on.

But she didn't want to postpone this talk, either. They were rolling, and it felt as if they were actually moving forward together, as if Joni was beginning to understand. It would be a mistake to halt this now.

Joni spoke. "Maybe you're being too hard on yourself. Maybe you didn't do anything to ruin it, Mom. Maybe he was just the kind of guy who couldn't be content for long."

"But why did he pick me?" It was a question that had plagued Hannah for a long, long time, but even as she said it, she knew it was unfair to ask it of Joni.

How could Joni possibly know any more about it than Hannah did?

"I don't know, Mom. Any more than you do. But you're a beautiful, exotic-looking woman. Maybe he found some kind of thrill in that. Or maybe he felt he could take advantage of you more than the others. Or maybe he just thought he really loved you. Only he wasn't the kind of guy who could love any one person for long."

Hannah sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you that question."

Joni shrugged. "Why not? It's helping me understand some of what happened. The point is, I don't think you should take responsibility for his failings. At least that's what they taught me in psych class,"

she qualified almost ruefully.

Hannah smiled back at her. "That's what I heard, too. Funny how we do it anyway."

"Yeah." Joni wiggled on the bed and took another sip of her 7UP. "You don't have to stay with me all night, Mom. It's going to be long."

"Only because you can't sleep. And I want to be here."

"Thanks."

Silence fell again, but this time not as chilling as it had felt earlier. Hannah, who was willing to hug even slender hopes to her breast, hugged the awareness that Joni wasn't getting angry with her but instead was actually trying to make her feel better. But something else needed saying, and she said it.

"Honey, I'm sorry I hurt you."

Joni nodded and for a little while looked out the window. "I was hurt," she said finally. "Not in the way people usually mean when they say they're hurt. It's not as if you did something intended to wound me. But ... I was hurt. Because things were different. It was like an earthquake. Afterward so much is tilted and askew. My whole world looked that way."

"I imagine so."

"Then there was doubt. Namely, how much of what I thought I knew was true? I felt almost like I didn't have any foundation at all."

Hannah nodded. "Yes. I understand that."

"But, I guess ... well, it's not as if some stranger is my father. It's Uncle Witt. Of course, right now, I don't like him very much."

"Right now I don't like him very much."

Joni's eyebrows lifted. "Really?"

"Really," Hannah said frankly. "He's being a pain in the ass."

Hannah rarely talked that way, and a startled laugh escaped Joni.

"Well, it's true," Hannah said. "He disowned you over a little thing like passing the bid to Hardy."

"I thought you didn't approve of my doing that."

"Well, I didn't, because I felt your first loyalty should have been to Witt. But what harm was done? He could still turn down the bid. It certainly wasn't worth disowning you."

"I don't know, Mom. I was impulsive. Angry at the way ... well, don't think me harsh and uncaring, but Karen's been shadowing our lives for a long time now. Even Dad's death didn't shadow my life the way Karen's has. At least, not for as long. There's something ... not right about it."

Hannah sighed. "I think we've had this discussion, honey, but you need to understand that losing a child is far, far worse than losing a wife or friend. It's as if the whole soul rebels, because it seems so unnatural."

"Maybe. But that doesn't justify the amount of anger and hate Witt is carrying around, or the fact that he's using it to control me."

"He's not controlling you. He just didn't want you to associate with Hardy."

"But Hardy used to be my friend, Mom. And Witt never took that into account, did he? Anyway, it's not his fault I feel shadowed. Not completely, anyway."

Hannah wanted to pursue that, but before she could, Joni asked another question. "So Witt's really been bugging you since he got out of the hospital, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. He's been impossible, but I think he's more scared than anything."

"Maybe. Although it's hard to imagine Witt scared."

"That's because he always gets angry."

"Sheesh. Men." Joni sighed in disgust.

Hannah shrugged. "They're different."

"Sometimes. Hardy isn't. Well, Hardy's just special in a lot of ways."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He actually listens to me." Joni's face darkened a little.

"Of course, he told me it was time for me to grow up."

Hannah wisely kept silent. She suspected that whether she agreed or disagreed with Hardy's assessment, Joni was going to get angry with her. Although part of her agreed with Hardy. Joni was only twenty-six, young still. Certainly young enough to tend to see things in black and white. Young enough to charge full tilt into situations she didn't totally understand. Young enough to be unwilling to compromise.

Yet, even from the vantage of Hannah's greater years, that didn't look like such a bad thing. She envied Joni's passion and commitment, even if it did need to be tempered a little with experience.

But her comments about Hardy were interesting in and of themselves.

Back when Joni had been in high school, Hannah had suspected that Joni was sweet on Hardy, even though he was dating Karen. Hannah had never mentioned it, and Joni had never acted on those feelings, but it had still been apparent, to Hannah at least, that Joni felt something other than friendship when she looked at Hardy.

She wondered if Joni was feeling guilty about that, if that was the reason she'd chosen in such a startling way to stand up to Witt over Hardy. Maybe. But she didn't know how to ask without upsetting Joni all over again.

The idea, though, that Karen had shadowed all their lives--well, Joni was right about that. Karen had, if only because of Witt. And she really couldn't blame Joni for trying to break free. Although she wondered why Joni hadn't taken the easy route and simply moved away.

That thought brought her right back to Hardy. Apparently Joni still felt some of that longing for him. Maybe was feeling a fresh case of it. It wouldn't be surprising.