Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3)(29)

Upset by what she’d read, Susannah flipped the pages to another section.

November 11, 1958

Both children have tonsillitis. The doctor thinks we should schedule surgery as soon as possible. This seems a somewhat drastic procedure to me. I worry about what might happen. I’ve read everything I could find at the library and was unsettled more than reassured. I talked to George after dinner, but his mind was on a court case. I don’t think he heard a word I said. He says I worry too much. Perhaps I do, but surgery, especially for Susannah, who’s so easily susceptible to ear infections, concerns me.

As it turned out, Vivian had been right. After the procedure, Susannah had developed an infection and ended up in the hospital for five days. Her memory of that time was cloudy. She did have a vivid image of her mother sitting by her bedside, holding her hand throughout the ordeal.

Distressed, Susannah put the journal aside and poured her tea. Her hand trembled slightly as she added milk and stirred. After the first sip, she reached for the diary again. The next entries all described mundane events—shopping trips, housecleaning, planting bulbs in her garden.

Susannah put down the diary and held her teacup in both hands as she considered what she’d read. In retrospect, she felt she shouldn’t have looked at her mother’s journal. Only that morning, she’d been bemoaning the fact that she’d never really known her father and now she was learning that she didn’t really know Vivian, either.

After a dinner of peanut butter on toast, Susannah drove back to Altamira to see her mother.

“Good evening,” Rose, who manned the front desk, greeted her as she walked in the door.

“I’m not arriving in the middle of dinner, am I?”

“Goodness, no. Dinner is served at five.”

Susannah knew that, but she’d been so involved with the diary she hadn’t noticed the time. The main meal of the day was at twelve, with a light supper in the afternoon.

She saw that several of the residents had congregated in the main room off the entry and an older gentleman sat at the piano, playing Broadway tunes. Five women, two in wheelchairs, nodded their heads to the music. Another wheelchair-bound woman had fallen asleep.

Susannah was sad that her mother wasn’t in the audience. It would help if Vivian made an effort to meet the others, but so far she hadn’t revealed the slightest bit of interest or cooperation.

Determined to do everything within her means to help Vivian adjust, Susannah walked down the long carpeted hallway to her mother’s suite. The door was closed. She tapped lightly but didn’t wait for a response before stepping inside.

Vivian sat in her favorite chair in front of the television, her back to Susannah.

“You can take the tray,” she muttered, apparently assuming that Susannah was an assistant.

Susannah glanced at the tray, still waiting on a small table near the door. As far as she could tell, Vivian hadn’t touched her dinner.

“Mom.”

“Oh, Susannah…” She twisted around in her chair. “I thought it was the girl.”

“You haven’t eaten.”

Her mother rose awkwardly to her feet, keeping one hand on the back of the chair for balance. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“Why not?” Susannah eyed the minestrone soup and fruit plate and found them artfully displayed. The meals at Altamira were good, and nothing like the institutional food one would expect.

“I’m just not,” Vivian grumbled. “Your father told me I should move here, but I don’t like it.”

“Sit down and I’ll bring your dinner,” Susannah suggested.

She set up a television tray once Vivian had returned to her chair. As soon as she was settled, Susannah brought her the fruit plate. “I’ll warm up the soup in the microwave,” she said.

To Susannah’s delight, her mother ate every bit of her meal. Soon afterward the assistant arrived and removed the tray. For the next hour, Susannah and her mother sat side by side and watched two game shows in silence.

“Mom,” Susannah said when Jeopardy ended, “I didn’t know you wanted to be a nurse.”

Her mother’s gaze slid to hers. “Who told you that?”

“I, ah…I came across something you’d written. While I was packing up the rest of your closet,” she explained quickly, gliding over the fact that the “something” had been her mother’s diary.

“I did consider it at one time,” Vivian admitted, reluctance in her voice.

“Why didn’t you?” Susannah felt disappointed for her mother but tried not to let it show.

Vivian considered the question. “Your father didn’t think it was a good idea, and he was right. A few years after that, George was appointed to the bench and our lives changed. He had a civic responsibility and I did, too.”

“You would’ve been a wonderful nurse,” Susannah said, careful to hide her emotions.

Vivian gazed at her thoughtfully. “Perhaps I would. Your father and I talked about it more than once, especially before he accepted the appointment. He realized his new role in the community would be almost as demanding on me,” she continued. “He asked me to stay home while you children were young. I agreed. That wasn’t the time for me to pursue a career, and then later, well…later I made the decision to stand with him, to be his helpmate. Being available to George and supporting his career was more important to me. It meant I was available to you children, too.”