The House on Sugar Plum Lane (20 page)

Your deception is making your life miserable.

Maybe it was, but she wouldn't have admitted that to the bushy-faced stranger.

When she'd told him she didn't have time to talk to him, he'd said,
I suggest you find the time. Not with me, but with God.

As a rule, she didn't pray. To be honest, she didn't feel worthy and feared that any request or plea that she had would fall on deaf ears. So whenever times had been tough, she'd depended upon her mother's faith to get her through.

They'd talked about that once, and her mom had said, “You can't get to Heaven on your mother's coattails, Barbie. God doesn't have granddaughters.”

But Barbara had blown her mom off.

Her life had been going well in those days, and she'd had almost everything in the world she could ever want.

Yet it was all a façade, wasn't it?

The deception had become so much a part of her that the ugly truth had engrained itself upon her soul.

Oh, dear God. Was that what she'd done, what she'd become?

“I'm sorry,” she whispered as she sat in the midst of a professionally decorated living room that suddenly seemed dank and empty. “I made a mistake years ago by betraying my husband's trust. I broke the promise I'd made to love and honor him until death, and instead of confessing, I hid it from him. And now look at me.”

While her thoughts had been directed to God, the confession she'd just made didn't seem to be enough, and she dropped to her knees beside the sofa and bowed her head in shame, in submissiveness. “I can't do it alone anymore, Lord. I've made a complete mess of it. I need You to take control of my life again. With Your help, I'll tell Joseph what I did. And I'll ask him to forgive me. If he can't, if he blows up, if he rants and raves, if he leaves me, then I'll face the consequences. But I'll face them—with You to help me.”

She waited in silence to hear something, expecting a thunderous clap followed by a flash of light. Waited to feel something that would convince her that everything was going to be all right from here on out.

Yet she didn't hear or feel anything, other than a gradual sense of peace that began to settle over her, a relief that lifted from her shoulders and made her want to rise up.

“Thank you,” she said as she basked in the first sense of forgiveness she'd ever really had. And for the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt worthy to be in God's presence, worthy to lay the burdens of her heart on Him. “While You're here with me, do you suppose You could spare a miracle for Joey? I won't make the mistake of telling You how or when to do it, but I'm asking You to please heal Joey, as well as our family. And I'd like You to place my world back on its axis—Your axis, Lord. Amen.”

Just as though he'd been waiting out in the front yard for the spiritual dust to settle, Joseph opened the door and passed through the marble-tiled entry. “Honey? I'm home.”

He entered the living room, where Barbara had been kneeling just moments before, and caught her gaze. He frowned, sensing that bad news was about to be shared. His brow, which had thickened with age and had become threaded with silver over the years, arched. “Oh, no. Is it…Joey?”

“No,” she said. “He's not any worse. It's just that I…” She pointed to the cream-colored brocade sofa. “Please sit down. I have a confession to make.”

“You didn't forget to transfer money into your household account again, did you?”

“I'm afraid it's worse than that.” Her throat suddenly went dry and fear pounded at the back of her neck. Yet she forced herself to say what needed to be said. “I…uh…” Taking a fortifying breath, she pressed on. “I've kept a secret from you for years, Joseph. Something I'm terribly ashamed of, something I was afraid you'd never forgive me for doing.”

He took a seat on the sofa and stroked the length of his left leg, which had been injured when his plane made a crash landing in Vietnam. It often bothered him when he was tired or stressed. “What's so bad that you think I'd never forgive you?”

She took another deep breath of courage, then stepped out on a limb that was sure to break. “I cheated on you when you were in the service. And I got pregnant. I gave the baby up for adoption so that you'd never know about it.”

Shock, betrayal, and disbelief swam in his eyes, but he didn't utter a single word.

“I'm sorry,” she added, as if those two simple words could somehow make it all right. “I was young, impulsive—selfish. And the guy meant nothing to me. I loved you. I still do. And I've tried to make it up to you over the years.”

He blinked, as though trying to make sense of it all. “You're telling me about this
now?
”

“I'm sure, with the campaign coming up, you didn't need any surprises. And…Well, she came to see me nearly a year ago. I refused to see or talk to her, but today, a private investigator approached me, and he…” She paused, trying to catch a hint of Joseph's reaction, his pain, his anger.

She was met only with silence—cold, hard, brittle.

“I'm sorry,” she said again. “So very sorry.”

“For what?” he asked. “Cheating on me? Betraying my trust? Breaking our vows?”

“Yes, for all of that,” she said. “It only happened once, and the relationship didn't last. It was a very long time ago, and I've never done anything like it since.”

Joseph stood, his shoulders slumped, and he slowly shook his head. “What about the deception, Barb? We've been living a lie, and you never even once thought to tell me.”

Then he did exactly what she'd always feared he would.

He walked out of the house and shut the door.

 

The coroner had arrived late that afternoon and released Captain's body to the funeral home. Apparently, the elderly man had planned ahead, making the arrangements with the mortuary of his choice and paying for their services in advance.

All afternoon, Eddie had stayed with Maria, keeping her company. And as strange as it might seem, there was really no other place he would have rather been.

He was sorry that Captain had died, that the kids had seen the paramedics fail to bring him back, and that Maria had gone through it all. But death was, unfortunately, a part of life, even if people didn't like to think about it.

The kids had been a little quiet and downcast for a while, but Maria talked to them about it, telling them that Captain was happy now, that he was in a much better place. And they'd seemed to understand and to accept it.

Eddie had figured that the sooner they fell into their daily routine, the better. And while that routine really had nothing to do with him, he couldn't help wanting to hang around a little longer.

So he'd suggested they take the kids to Roy's Burger Roundup, a new burger place with an indoor playground. Maria had balked a little, until Amy, who'd been keeping the kids occupied next door, volunteered to keep Ellie while they were gone.

And now here they were, taking seats at a white Formica-covered table, while the kids dashed off to play on the indoor playground, with its colorful climbing tubes and slides.

“It's been a weird day,” Maria said.

“You can say that again.” Eddie studied the woman across from him. “But do you know what? Captain lived a full life, and there's no doubt in my mind where he's at right now.”

“I know.” She smiled at him, her pretty brown eyes glistening. “It's still sad, though.”

As a tear slipped down her cheek, he reached across the table and brushed it away with his thumb, only to see another take its place. “I'm sorry, honey.”

The term of endearment had just rolled right out, and while he wished he could reel it back in, she didn't seem to be bothered by it.

“You're a great guy, Eddie. I'm really glad that we…well, that we got to know each other.”

He hoped she wasn't going to finish with some kind of breakup line, especially when they hadn't even gone on a real date yet.

She attempted a smile that shifted into an awkward, I'm-still-on-the-verge-of-tears tremble. And all Eddie could think of doing was to wrap his arms around her, to do his best to protect her.

Yet more than the table separated them, reminding him of the conversation he'd had with Captain just days before.

“I need to tell you something,” he said.

“What's that?”

“Captain once asked me if my intentions were honorable when it came to you.”

She smiled, cocked her head slightly to the side. “Are they?”

He nodded. “Yes. Absolutely.”

She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers, letting him know that she was glad things were taking a serious romantic turn.

Yet even though Captain had passed away and couldn't take him aside right now, Eddie had the feeling the old man would have pressed him to be up front with Maria and not to hold anything back—even if the revelation caused the warmth of her touch to chill and the threads that bound them together to snap.

He supposed he owed her that much, and while he didn't like taking the risk, there was no other decent way to have an honorable relationship with her.

“There's something else I have to tell you,” he said.

“What's that?”

It was his last chance to backpedal, to keep his shame to himself. But if they were going to have a lasting relationship, it needed to be honest from the start.

“When I was seventeen, I had a girlfriend who lived in Mexico, about an hour from Tijuana.” He waited a beat to continue, realizing he could still change his mind about what he was about to say, but she deserved better than that—maybe she even deserved better than him.

So he took a breath and released it, buying time—or maybe courage. “It wasn't planned, and it certainly wasn't convenient, but she got pregnant. Supporting a wife and a baby was going to change my college plans, but I couldn't let her go through that alone. So I decided to bring her to Fairbrook and marry her.”

Maria's touch lightened, but she didn't pull away—yet. So he pressed on. “She couldn't cross the border legally, so I decided to sneak her into the States in the trunk of my friend's car.”

“Did you get caught?”

“Yeah, but not the way you might think. I was so nervous that when a car slipped up close behind me, I assumed it was a border patrol agent on my tail and drove faster. I hoped to hit the freeway, then exit before they could catch me.”

Eddie's thoughts rolled back to that night, and he again felt the desperation, the fear. His hands grew clammy again, threatening to dampen the tabletop, and his stomach lurched. But he forced himself to go on, to lay it all on the table. “I sped through town, thinking that they'd send her back to Rosarito, that they'd separate us, and so I stepped on the gas. I hadn't meant to be reckless, but I'd only had my driver's license for a year or so, and…”

Just as if it was yesterday, Eddie could hear the skids, the crunch of metal upon metal. And his voice, heavy with the guilt he still couldn't kick, dropped an octave as he forced himself to tell it all. “I ran a red light, and someone broadsided my car, hitting the trunk and bashing it in. Cecelia was killed, and the baby, a little girl, lived only a few hours.”

Maria turned his hand over and covered his palm, dampness and all, with hers. “I'm so sorry, Eddie.”

“Yeah, it was tough. I…uh…” He cleared his throat, hoping he could finish the story and praying that, when she heard the rest, she wouldn't let go, that she wouldn't pull back. “I was arrested, tried, and convicted of gross vehicular manslaughter. My attorney managed to get them to drop the federal charges of smuggling an illegal alien, but I was in prison for almost five years.”

Through their tentative connection, he felt her tense, draw back.

“I know you're probably reluctant to get involved with anyone who's been in prison, but I swear to you. I never was in trouble with the law before. And I'll never be again.”

She continued to only look at him, yet she hadn't let go of his hand, which he hoped was a good sign. He tried his best to read her expression, but he couldn't seem to make sense of it.

“I know you have issues about your ex-husband being incarcerated,” he added. “And you don't deserve to hook up with a guy who might drag you and the kids into that sort of mess. But I'm off probation, and it's all behind me now.”

At least, he sure hoped that it was. If she couldn't accept his past, then he might never be able to completely shake it himself.

“It's a little unsettling,” she said, giving his hand a warm squeeze. “But I appreciate your honesty.”

“Does that mean you'll still go out with me?”

Tears welled in her eyes, and he was afraid to hear her answer. Yet her response was a nod, followed by, “Yes, Eddie. I've gotten a clear picture of the kind of man you are deep inside, and if you don't think a woman with three kids is too much for you to consider, then I'm willing to see where this goes.”

Eddie's heart was swelling so big and pounding so hard, he was afraid it would burst. “You won't be sorry, Maria.”

“I hope you won't be, either.”

“Sorry about getting involved with you?” he asked, amazed she'd even think that might be the case.

“I'm quite a few years older than you, and—”

He lifted their clasped hands and pressed a kiss on her knuckles, silencing her it seemed before saying, “Don't believe that bill of goods that your ex may have implied. You're a wonderful woman, a loving mom. And your second husband is going to be one lucky guy.”

Her eyes brightened, and her cheeks flushed.

Eddie didn't dare tell her that he had a burning desire to be that guy.

After his unplanned meeting with Craig Houston had been interrupted, Brandon left the church office, drove to the beach, and parked along the busy two-lane coastal highway.

At that point, he couldn't have gone back to the office even if he'd wanted to. It would have been too awkward after bailing out on Kara at lunch.

The sun had dipped low over the ocean, and the beach crowd had thinned out, leaving the gulls to fight over any picnic scraps that had been left behind.

Out on the water, a couple of die-hard surfers sat on their boards where the waves broke. But for the most part, the shore was deserted and provided a great respite from the trials and tribulations of life.

Brandon used to come to this very spot when he was a kid. He'd usually ride his skateboard to the bus stop, then take number 636 to the beach. It had been a good way to escape a lousy childhood, so it seemed appropriate to come here now.

Maybe a walk on the beach would help him sort through his problems, his options—what few there seemed to be.

He opened the driver's door, shed his jacket, and tossed it onto the passenger seat. Then he slipped out of his loafers and peeled off his socks. After locking his belongings in the car, he walked toward the water, eager to roll up his pants and wade along the shore.

The sand was warm, and the grains massaged his bare feet. A couple of seagulls swooped overhead and cried out as the waves ebbed and flowed.

He didn't know how long he'd walked, twenty or thirty minutes, he guessed, when his cell phone rang. He would have let it go, thinking it was someone at the office trying to reach him. But on the outside chance it was Amy, he glanced at the lighted display.

The number wasn't one he recognized, although it was local. And for some reason, he felt compelled to answer. “Hello?”

“Mr. Masterson? This is Craig Houston from Parkside Community Church.”

Brandon had left a business card with the secretary, so he wasn't surprised that the minister had called him back.

“I'm sorry I had to cut you off earlier today,” Craig said.

“No problem. I understand. Besides, I showed up at your office without an appointment.” Who more than a busy attorney understood the ramifications of dropping in unannounced?

“Hey, if Jesse was involved in our meeting, then I'm inclined to think it was a
divine
appointment.”

Brandon wasn't convinced about that, although it did seem odd that the homeless man had put two and two together and figured out that he and Chuck were related.

“Are you interested in talking to your dad?” Craig asked.

Not really, although he was still grasping at straws when it came to Amy. And if there was some connection to his lousy relationship with his father and the split from his wife, then maybe he ought to agree. “Where can I find him?”

“He's at Pacifica General Hospital.”

Something told Brandon his old man hadn't landed a job there, that he might be having health problems. “What's wrong?”

“He's got cancer, and the prognosis isn't good.”

The news, while startling, left him only numb. Shouldn't he feel something more than an unsettling buzz?

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he finally said, still trying to sort through his reaction, to temper his response.

“He's talked to me about you on several occasions,” Craig said, “and I know he'd like to see you.”

Brandon didn't know what to say—not just to the minister, but to his dad, too. Under the best of circumstances, he'd be at a loss. But with the man dying?

“I'm sure things were bad when you were growing up. Chuck made it clear to me that he failed you. So I can understand if you don't want to talk to him. But I hope you consider going to visit him, especially when the window of opportunity is closing on you both.”

His lack of emotion—anger, resentment, love—bothered him. Yet so did the ticking clock.

“Do you know what room he's in?” Brandon asked.

“Four-fourteen. And if you're thinking about going tonight, visiting hours are from seven to nine.”

Brandon glanced at his wristwatch. What else did he have going on today? Going home to an empty house? Eating take-out and watching a boring movie on TV?

He thanked the minister, then headed back to where he'd parked his car. About twenty minutes later, he leaned against the side of his Mercedes and tried to brush the sand from his feet. Then he slipped into his shoes and socks.

The grit that remained was irritating with each step he took, but he wouldn't go home first to shower.

If he was going to check on his dad, he needed to do it before time ran out.

On his dad.

But on his marriage, too.

 

It had been a sad day, and Amy was glad that it was nearly over. Thank goodness Callie hadn't been around when the paramedics had tried—but failed—to save Captain's life.

As soon as Amy had realized what had happened, she'd sent the neighborhood children home and taken Sara, Danny, and Wally next door, leaving their mother to wait for the coroner.

Afterward, Eddie suggested they take Maria's kids out to dinner, which Amy thought was a good idea.

“We have Ellie to think about,” Maria had reminded him. “I don't think she's up for anything like that.”

“I don't mind looking after her,” Amy had said. “Steph is going to bring Callie to me, so I'll just wait here until you get home.”

And now here she was, seated in the living room with Ellie, who didn't seem to notice that anything was out of sync, even though there were stacks of boxes in the living room of the house that had once been hers.

Amy had fixed grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken noodle soup for dinner, but neither she nor Ellie had done more than pick at their food.

It made her wonder if, somewhere beneath the foggy surface, Ellie was aware of the fact that Captain had died, if a part of her was in mourning. Or maybe she realized that she'd reached the end of her own journey, that she would pass away one day soon.

Amy studied her great-grandmother, who sat in the brown tweed recliner. The memory quilt, which had once been folded, was now draped across the chair. The bulk of the fabric was underneath her on the seat cushion, while one corner hung over the armrest.

Ellie's arthritic hand rested atop a square of blue gingham with white eyelet trim, although she seemed oblivious to everything around her.

Next to her, on the lamp table, Ellie's Bible rested with the prayer list still folded within its pages, a silent testimony of the requests that had been answered, as well as the one that hadn't.

A cloak of sadness draped over Amy as she realized just how bad Ellie's dementia had gotten, and try as she might, she couldn't seem to shake the heavy darkness.

Ellie was still alive when Amy had located the house on Sugar Plum Lane, but she was so far removed from reality that she might as well be dead.

Amy cast a sympathetic glance at the elderly woman, whose head was bowed as though weighed down by it all, too. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and easy.

Why had God taken Captain today and not Ellie?

It seemed like a senseless choice. Yet rather than ponder the ins and outs of a divine plan—whatever it might be—Amy bowed her own head, clasped her hands in her lap, and offered up a prayer of her own.

“Ellie's been a good woman, a faithful believer, yet she never got a chance to meet Angel like she wanted to. She never even learned that the baby girl was named Susan, that she grew up to be a loving daughter, a talented musician, a budding artist….” Tears filled Amy's eyes. “And that she was a wonderful mother.”

The grief that swelled in Amy's heart wasn't only for her mom, who she missed terribly, but for Ellie, too. The poor woman had waited nearly a half century to see her only granddaughter again, yet “Angel” had died before the two could meet.

Ellie had even tucked that request in her Bible, as though she'd been holding on to a promise—Ask and it shall be given unto you. But it hadn't worked in this case.

“What would it have hurt,” Amy prayed, “to have let my mother find Ellie a year ago, when she was searching so hard for her roots? If they'd met back then, Ellie would have been more in touch with reality. And my mom would have still been alive.” Guilt rose in Amy's chest, clawing its way into her throat, trying to reach for the words and pull them back.

Who was she to take God to task, to suggest that He'd been asleep on the job?

Her already bowed head slumped lower until her chin nearly touched her chest. “I'm sorry, Lord. I really didn't mean to criticize You. I know that I can only see but a moment, and You have all of eternity in mind. So even though it still doesn't make sense to me, I trust You to somehow make things right—in Your own way, in Your own time. Bless Ellie now. Give her Your peace and comfort. And when it's her time to go, welcome her home.”

Amy had scarcely uttered an amen when the doorbell rang.

It was too early for Eddie and Maria's return, so she suspected it was Steph bringing Callie home. She swung open the door and realized she'd been right.

“Hi, Mommy!” her daughter said.

“Hey, sweetie. Come on in.” Amy scanned the porch and lawn, then asked her friend, “Where's Rachel?”

“At home with Jake.”

Before Amy could thank Steph, a swatch of fur brushed across her bare calf and she gasped. Her hand flew to her chest and she jumped aside, only to see that a blur of white and brown had rushed into the room.

“Oh, look,” Callie said, “it's Patches.”

The cat took a running leap, landing right in Ellie's lap, causing the unsuspecting woman to blink and lurch back in surprise.

Patches meowed and snuggled against her elderly mistress as if hoping for a loving pat, a kind word—recognition of some kind.

Poor thing, Amy thought. Ellie's dementia had taken a toll on the stray, too.

“Patches loves you,” Callie said as she drew close to the old woman, showing the same kindness she'd seen Sara model.

While planning to commend her daughter later, Amy returned her gaze to Steph. “Thanks so much for keeping Callie today.”

“No problem. The girls had a wonderful time together. They're more like sisters than friends.” Steph craned her neck, taking a peek inside the living room. “So this is it?”

“Yeah. What do you think?”

“It's quaint and ripe with possibilities. I'm sure it would be fun to refurbish and decorate a house like this.”

Amy thought so, too.

“Is that the woman?” Steph asked, indicating Ellie, who studied the cat in her lap while the child stood next to her.

“Yes, and I'd give anything to be able to have a heart-to-heart with her, but I'm afraid that's impossible. She doesn't have any idea who I am.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Me, too.”

Steph nodded toward her car, which was parked at the curb. “Well, I really need to go. Jake's been working late this past week, and we've hardly had any time together. So he's getting Rachel ready for bed, and then, after she falls asleep, we're going to put on a movie and spend some time alone.”

Amy knew firsthand how it felt to have a husband put in extra hours at the office, yet Steph seemed eager to get home and have a quiet evening with Jake.

Had Brandon been the one who'd worked late, Amy would have been primed for an argument when he got home. Then he would have defended his dedication to his job, and they would have had a quiet evening, all right—the kind silenced by anger and resentment.

“Thanks again,” Amy told Steph. “I'll make it up to you someday.”

“Don't worry about that. I'm glad that I could help out.”

As Amy closed the door, she turned back to the living room, where Ellie sat on the recliner with Patches in her lap and a faint smile on her lips.

“You've been gone for days,” the elderly woman told the stray. “And I was worried about you.”

Patches hunkered down and curled into a ball, purring, no doubt, and clearly happy to be home at last.

“Ellie,” Callie said. “I saw your kitty yesterday, and she climbed way up in a tree in Sara's backyard. I was scared and wanted to call the fire department to get her down.”

Ellie placed a hand on Callie's cheek and blessed her with a warm smile. “Patches is a very good climber. See? She got down all by herself.”

The logical response took Amy aback, and she eased closer, wondering if Ellie was having a lucid moment—and praying that she was. As she neared the sofa, one of the old floor-boards squeaked and Ellie glanced up.

She scrunched her brow, and her tired blue eyes narrowed as she studied Amy with a quizzical gaze. “Have we met?”

“Yes. At Maria's house.” On a whim, as Amy closed the gap between them, she added, “I'm Angel's daughter.”

Ellie blinked, and something in her eyes sparked. She looked at Callie, and her head cocked slightly to the side. “Don't you mean her mother?”

Please,
Amy prayed silently.
Don't let this moment fade, Lord. Let me have just one conversation with her. We—Mom and I—have waited so long.

Amy dropped to her knees beside the recliner and reached for Ellie's frail hand. “My mother—
Angel
—was born on September nineteenth, nineteen sixty-six, at Palomar Hospital. She was adopted by Carlo and Gina Rossi, and they named her Susan.”

Ellie's head listed to the other side; she was clearly confused. But what else was new? The poor woman had been having trouble making sense of things for months.

Knowing that the conversation wasn't going anywhere and convinced that she was wasting her time, Amy still couldn't help giving Ellie's hand a gentle squeeze. “Susan was the baby Barbara gave up for adoption, and I'm her daughter.”