One Mountain Away

скачать книгу бесплатно


“This would be easier,” Analiese finished for her.

“That’s actually not what I was going to say. No, I was going to say this would be impossible.”

“Really?”

“Here’s the truth, and I’ve given it a lot of thought. No matter our differences, I know I can trust you. And I know you’re going to give helping me your best shot. You’re going to be sensible and thorough, and you’re going to dig deeper than somebody who thinks he has all the answers at his fingertips because he’s too tired to look for more.”

“That may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my ministry.”

“And now you’re waiting for the punch line.”

“Something like that.”

Charlotte set her glass on the table and wiped her hands against her beige capris. “I should die more often. It makes for great repartee.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I think you mean that.”

“I think so, too.”

Charlotte was silent again, and Analiese sat quietly.

“I said I have a lot of regrets,” Charlotte began at last. “Here’s one of my biggest. When I heard the diagnosis, in the moments right before I zoomed off to Durham? I felt such a rush of relief.” She had been looking out at the pool, but now she turned. “Even though I was terrified, I thought, ‘It will be good to die and get this over with.’”

Analiese realized her concern must have shown, because Charlotte hurried on.

“I would never, never take my own life. You have to understand that. But when I realized living a long full life was probably out of my hands? I just wanted to close my eyes and wait for the end. My grandmother used to tell me death was the last mountain we have to climb, and just before she died, she opened her eyes and looked toward the window in her bedroom as if she were viewing a miracle.”

“That must be a good memory.”

“When the doctor told me my diagnosis? I thought about that day and about the look on her face, and I found myself hoping that she hadn’t really been looking at the gates of heaven, that there really wasn’t anything waiting for any of us except eternal sleep. That’s when I realized what a loss my life has been.”

When she didn’t know what to say, Analiese knew not to say a thing. She was almost certain this was not the moment for reassurance, although it felt wrong not to give it.

“I have to change things,” Charlotte said at last. “I realize whatever time I’ve been given, whether it’s months or years, I can’t die knowing I’ve made so many mistakes and never tried hard enough to set them right. I realize dying’s not about what comes next, because no matter how great or poor our faith, we really can’t know what’s waiting, or at least I can’t. For me it’s about what came before. The impact we had. The love we gave. The hearts we left intact…” She cleared her throat, and her eyes filled with tears. “Or broken.”

“I hope you aren’t saying that you’ve done nothing important with your life until now. Because you’ve given generously in many ways.”

“Too often for the wrong reasons.” Charlotte held up her hand to stop Analiese from continuing. “I realize nothing’s that cut and dried. I’ve done things because I knew they were important and right, and sometimes they were. But I’ve done so many things that seemed right and were terribly, terribly wrong. Like moving poor Minnie off her land. And here’s how I know. When I found out I was dying, I realized there wasn’t one person in the world who would really care. That I’ve lived fifty-two years, and while some people will feel conflicted, or even a little bit sad, no one will really miss me. Not because people are cruel, but because I haven’t given them a reason to.”

Analiese would have given almost anything to be able to contradict her, but not only wasn’t that the right approach, she was afraid what Charlotte had just said was true.

Who would miss Charlotte at the Church of the Covenant? The council and committee members whose opinions she had too often ignored or overlooked? The staff who winced whenever she approached with a new list of jobs or, worse, helpful advice on how to do their present ones?

And what about the rest of Charlotte’s contacts? She was said to have an iron grip at Falconview, with an annual exodus of staff who fell out of favor or disagreed with her one time too many. She’d served on boards all over town, but despite the advantages she brought of insight, financial support and prestige, she routinely tried the patience of administrators and board members alike.

Then, of course, there was her family, who were never mentioned, despite the fact that they lived right here in Asheville.

“Why haven’t you?” Analiese asked. “Why haven’t you allowed anybody to get close?”

“That would take longer to tell than we have now.”

“But it sounds like you understand, at least a little?”

“I had nothing but time when I was hooked up to those IVs at Duke. Everybody should be shut up alone in a room for weeks, with nothing to do but reconsider their lives.”

“And it wouldn’t hurt to have an actual death sentence to urge them on.”

“It’s quite the motivator.”

Analiese felt for the right words. “I admire you. I admire this—this desire to set things right, to reevaluate, even though your life could be nearing its end. But, Charlotte, are you trying to make a bargain with God?”

“No, I think God’s better than that.”

“This is a lot to admit to, especially to someone you’ve butted heads with in the past.”

“That’s what makes you perfect, Analiese. Because if you ever had anything to lose by being honest with me, you’ve lost it already. So I think I can count on you to continue being honest, to pull me up short if I go off half-cocked, to help me live out whatever time is left in a way that won’t come back to haunt me on my deathbed. That’s what frightens me most. That one day in the not so distant future I’ll have only moments to look back on my life and nothing I’ll see will give me comfort.”

Charlotte leaned closer. “I know I’m asking a lot, more than I should. You’ve probably already guessed one thing I want to try to set right before I die.”

“Minnie? You tried to give me money for the animal shelter….”

“When I got home that night I wrote a check in her honor and sent it off, anyway. But you were right, that’s not what she would have done. It’s a worthy cause, and I’m glad I did it, but she would have acted in a way that mattered personally, reached out without thinking about the consequences. So I’ll be looking for more ways to do that myself. To honor her.”

Analiese took Charlotte’s hands. It felt natural, although before today she could not have imagined touching Charlotte Hale spontaneously and with affection. “Do you want me to look for ways to help?”

“I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. I think I’ll know the right things when I see them. I just wanted someone to know what I’m feeling. And I guess I just needed to say this out loud.”

Analiese nodded, but she gripped Charlotte’s hands a little tighter and felt them soften in hers. “What else can I do?”

“Will you let me tell you about my daughter?”

Chapter Ten

First Day Journal: April 30

Each day at the park is like a human lifetime. Early in the morning everything sparkles with promise. Dew glistens on blades of grass; the sidewalks are empty pages sneakered feet have yet to write on. The air is still, as if a puff of breath from an angel’s lips is needed to set the day in motion.

As morning progresses, the park begins to waken. Birds sing on branches, and young lovers walk hand in hand. On benches like mine, coffee’s consumed, newspapers unfolded, cell phones pulled from pockets for casual conversations. Two mothers push strollers and chat. The sun peeks through the leafy canopy.

By afternoon balls whiz through the air and children shout commands. On the playground, mothers keep careful eyes on preschoolers who beg to swing higher. The climbing dome becomes a spaceship, the monkey bars an obstacle course over teeming pools of barracuda. The sun beats down on baseball caps and the open pages of books.

When evening comes, stragglers take their time departing, as if sorry to move on to other things. Some scoop up trash and toss it in bins. Others scuff feet in newly planted grass, as if making sure to leave their mark. Darkness is kept at bay by strategically placed lights.

In this way only is a day at the park different from a lifetime. No one and nothing can keep our darkness at bay, no matter how hard we try. I learned this in the hospital from a woman named Gwen, a powerful and uninvited lesson that haunts every step I take.

It’s morning now, and I’ve been waiting an hour. Maddie isn’t here, although she often comes to the park on Saturdays. I wonder how many friends she has. Are other children frightened of her seizures? Do they shun her to avoid the possibility of witnessing one?

Edna is here with her mother, who is typing on her laptop from a bench closer to the jungle gym. Her mother’s name is Samantha, and I came here for days before I realized exactly who she was. I knew her when she was a teenager. That this eluded me so long is a surprise, because Samantha is striking enough that even more than a decade later, I should have known her immediately.

In fairness to me, the girl I knew always carried herself as if she was spoiling for a fight. The woman smiles and moves with extraordinary grace. She laughs easily and clearly adores her daughter. She doesn’t seem to be watching Edna and her friends, but I know from watching her that she’s always aware. The transformation is so complete that I wonder what brought it about.

I wonder, too, about Samantha’s mother, Georgia Ferguson, once the Covenant Academy headmistress, where Taylor and Samantha, even Jeremy, Maddie’s father, went to school.

At the end of an hour Samantha gets up and approaches me. There’s no place to go without drawing attention, so I look away. She stops in front of me until I’m forced to glance up.

“She’s not coming today,” she says.

I don’t pretend not to understand. Instead, I thank her, and she nods and motions for Edna, who reluctantly follows her up the hill.

I wonder how long she’s known that I come here to watch my granddaughter. I wonder why she, of all people, cares enough not to expose that secret to my daughter. She hasn’t told Taylor, or I’m sure I would know. Although we haven’t spoken in years, Taylor would find and confront me.

My visit to the park has ended in disappointment, but I think I’ve discovered a friend, even though I don’t deserve her.

Chapter Eleven

AFTER LEAVING THE park, Charlotte found herself driving aimlessly before she thought about where to go. Since she had instinctively headed toward town, she parked near the center and stopped by the City Market, something she hadn’t done in years.

After a cup of coffee and some self-scrutiny, she wandered through the stalls, buying a pound of fresh red pepper linguine she knew Harmony would like, along with honey and eggs. The last vendor was selling woven baskets, and on impulse she bought one and filled it with another vendor’s fragrant handmade soaps, which bore romantic names like Moon Lady’s Ocean and Ginger Grass and Silk. She was glad she had come, because she knew exactly who to give the basket to, if she dared.

She pulled out her cell phone and got Samantha’s address by calling Falconview and asking the receptionist to scout directories. Five minutes later she was on her way.

Ten minutes after that she pulled up to a tiny brick cottage not far from the street where Taylor lived. The house was substantially smaller than those around it, with a front yard gobbled up by a circular driveway and what looked like a complete absence of yard in the back. Now Charlotte understood why Samantha and Edna spent so much time at the park.

A yellow Volkswagen was parked in the driveway, and Charlotte thought she’d probably found them at home. Before she could think too hard, she took a deep breath, tucked the basket under an arm and made her way to the front door to ring the bell. Laughter spilled out through open windows, and in a moment Edna answered the door.

“I’ve seen you at the park,” she said in greeting.

“Yes, you have,” Charlotte said. “My name’s Charlotte.” Up close the child was even prettier than she’d expected, but of course, her mother was stunning. Edna had green eyes set off by her coffee-and-cream skin, and her shining black hair fell in curls to just above her shoulders. Tiny hoops adorned her earlobes, and her smile was beyond magnificent.

“I brought your mother a present,” Charlotte said, “but I bet you’ll enjoy it, too.” She handed the basket to Edna, who rummaged through, picking up the first bar of soap to sniff it.

“This smells good!”

“I liked it, too.”

“Mom?” Edna shouted. Samantha, who probably could have heard a whisper in the tiny house, came out wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She stopped when she saw who their visitor was, then she smiled.

“Come in, Charlotte.”

Edna ran over to show her the basket, while a relieved Charlotte stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

“This is lovely,” Samantha said. “Edna, why don’t you put the basket in the bathroom? And choose a soap you’d like for your bath tonight.”

Edna turned, basket in hand. “Thank you,” she told Charlotte. Then she took off.

“Thank you from me, as well,” Samantha said. “But you know—”

“That I didn’t have to do it?” Charlotte found herself relaxing. “I know, but I wanted to. I think you’ve gone out on a limb for me, and for no good reason I can think of.”

“Except that I understand how much you probably wish you could know Maddie. Come sit down. Iced tea or hot?”

“Whatever’s easiest.”

Charlotte made herself at home on a comfortable slipcovered sofa and took a glass of iced tea when Samantha returned with a tray. She added lemon and a packet of sugar before she spoke.

“I think I’ve put you in an awkward situation. I take it you and Taylor are friends? And you haven’t told her about seeing me at the park?”

“We’ve been friends since the Academy. Of course she was younger than I was, but a kindred spirit. Neither of us was comfortable there. Now, of course, we have daughters in common.”

“I love watching Edna at the park. She’s quite a diplomat, in the best possible way.”

“I only recognized you last week. How long have you been coming?”

“At first just on and off. Then… Well, a lot recently.”

“I haven’t told Taylor.”

Charlotte wasn’t surprised, given Samantha’s kindness so far. “I want to talk to her, Samantha. Do you think she might listen?”

Samantha was silent for a long time. Charlotte watched as she doctored her tea. She wore a purple T-shirt with sequins sprinkled over swirls of violet, and denim shorts that showcased her long legs. Her movements as she lifted the cup, added sugar and lemon, were like waves in a gentle ocean. Charlotte understood why Edna was so graceful.

“I don’t think she will,” Samantha said at last. “And I’m sure it won’t help to have anyone else plead your case.”

“I would never ask you to do that, but this can’t go on. Nobody should have to keep secrets for me. I never meant to involve anybody else.”

“You must feel so frustrated.”

“That’s the least I deserve.”

Samantha was silent, and Charlotte was glad the younger woman didn’t deny it or make excuses for her.

“This has gone on so long, this trouble between the two of you,” Samantha said at last. “I know time can heal, but sometimes it can magnify pain. I’m afraid that’s what’s happened with this.”

“Do you have a suggestion?”

“Did you know they’re back to square one on medication for Maddie’s seizures? That’s why she wasn’t at the park today. So this is a stressful time for Taylor. Maybe not the best moment to pop back into her life.”

Charlotte wanted every detail, but she knew she had no right to information. Still, she had to ask. “I appreciate the warning, but is there anything at all you can you tell me about Maddie’s condition? Without feeling like you’re betraying Taylor?”

“You probably already know she has temporal lobe epilepsy and they’re on a roller coaster ride. They’re looking for the perfect combination of medications to halt the seizures, but from the reading I’ve done in my nursing journals, I’m not sure it’s that easy. Taylor and her doctor are determined, though.”