Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3)(25)
It was dark now, after ten, and Susannah should be more than ready to collapse into bed, but her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. The house was a shambles. Drawers open, cupboards, too. The floors were littered with remnants of her mother’s life and, in many ways, Susannah’s own. Emotion was close to the surface and grew closer with every minute.
Susannah realized she should phone her family and then go to bed, but sleep would be impossible. Nor did she feel like escaping into mindless television. She stood and wandered aimlessly from room to room, thinking she should sort through a few things, start packing what had been left. But her back hurt and her heart hurt and she’d never felt more alone.
The whole situation was just so painful. Yes, she knew it was the right decision for all involved—but then why was she feeling this relentless guilt?
The phone rang and she glanced at it, not sure she was up to answering. Her father had believed caller ID was an unnecessary expense so she could only speculate who’d be phoning this late at night. It was probably her daughter, but Susannah didn’t have the energy to cope with more of Chrissie’s entreaties and complaints. Turning away, she decided not to answer. Then she changed her mind and impulsively grabbed the receiver.
“Hello.” She kept her tone as level as possible.
“Hi, it’s Carolyn. I’m sorry to call so late but—”
“Carolyn.” Susannah didn’t bother to disguise her relief.
“How’d the move go?”
Susannah leaned against the kitchen wall and wrapped the long cord around her elbow. Her father hadn’t believed in cordless phones, either. “Pretty well—except that Mom hates it already. She put on a good front but I could see how unhappy she was.”
“I tried phoning a couple of times, and I wondered when there wasn’t any answer.”
“I stayed with Mom until she went to bed.” Susannah stared out the dark kitchen window as she tried to make sense of all the emotions churning inside her. “I couldn’t make myself leave. Mom seemed so small and broken—as if her life was over.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I was aware that the move would be difficult for her, but I didn’t realize how hard it would be for me.” She couldn’t restrain a low sob, and it embarrassed her. Susannah wasn’t the type of woman who gave in to tears easily and yet here she was, an emotional mess.
“Is there anything I can do?” Carolyn asked.
Susannah was grateful for her friend’s sympathy. “No…it’s just that I feel so awful about doing this to Mom, even though I know it was necessary.” She paused. “I don’t want to be the one making these decisions.”
“I was on my own with my mother after Dad died,” Carolyn reminded her. “Trust me, I know how hard this is. I didn’t need to move Mom into a facility, thankfully, but sometimes I wonder if she might’ve done better with other women her age.” Abruptly changing the subject, she added, “The reason I phoned was to see if you could come for dinner one night next week. Thursday works best for everyone else.”
“Everyone else?” Susannah repeated. “Who’s everyone?”
“I ran into Sandy Giddings and she mentioned seeing you at Wal-Mart, so I invited her, along with Yvette Lawton and Lisa Mitchell. Is that okay?”
“Of course!”
Sandy, Lisa and Yvette had been Susannah’s best friends through high school. “I didn’t know you’d been friends with them, too.”
“We’re acquaintances more than friends,” Carolyn explained, “but I want to connect with the community and this seemed a painless way to get reacquainted.”
“It sounds great. Thanks for setting everything up.”
“Girls’ night out,” Carolyn said.
Susannah could use a night to relax with old friends. Although she’d lost touch with these women, she felt excited about seeing them again. Carolyn might need to reconnect with the community, but Susannah needed to connect with her past. That had become clear to her. Sandy, Yvette, Lisa and Carolyn were part of her personal history.
She and Carolyn chatted a few minutes longer and afterward she felt much better. She sat in front of the television again, flicking through channels, but she still couldn’t concentrate. Then she went to bed, but it was a long time before she slept.
Her dreams were filled with memories of her childhood, of her mother baking cookies and serving as her Camp Fire Leader. She dreamed of summer walks with her father, going for ice-cream cones—always strawberry for her, vanilla for him. As a judge, he was a community leader and to her, he’d seemed the most wonderful man in the world. Her opinion had changed when she entered high school and she’d discovered how dictatorial and unreasonable he was. She dreamed of the yearly Easter egg hunts she’d participated in as a kid and swimming in the local pool with her friends.
The next morning, the sun shining in her bedroom window woke Susannah. It was a pleasant way to wake up, especially when the clear, bright sunshine was accompanied by the sound of birdsong. She showered and dressed, and made a pot of coffee, drinking her first cup outside. Before leaving to visit her mother, she watered the plants, lingering among the roses for a few minutes and marveling anew at her mother’s energy. Vivian might have let other things go, but she’d maintained her garden. Then she loaded the car with a few odds and ends for her mother’s new home and headed out.