"Well, that's not going to happen. It can't happen."

"If we go over there, it'll only encourage her to keep on with this plan of hers, Fred."

He'd snapped shut the book he had been reading all evening and dropped it on the table as he rose. "How you can know so little about your own daughter is beyond me, Nora. She's committed to taking care of your mother. Nothing you do or say is going to change anything. And that's what really gets to you, isn't it? You're no longer in control."

"She's throwing her life away."

"How many years do you think your mother has left? She's not going to live forever."

"She'll probably live to be a hundred."

"You'd better hope she does." And with that cryptic comment, Fred had gone up to bed.

Now she was tossing and turning and sleepless. Nora felt the tears running down into her hair. How many had she cried over the years, starting when her mother left her to go to work?

God, I can't go on this way. Sometimes I wish I were dead. Nothing ever works out the way I want it. I called Michael this morning, and he couldn't wait to get off the telephone. She was his mother, and he didn't even care about her.

How have you treated your mother?

Nora clenched her teeth. She abandoned me first. Michael is just like his father, Bryan.

The silence pressed in upon her. The darkness was oppressive. Shivering, she curled on her side, tucking herself against Fred, hoping his warmth would warm her.

I loved Dean Gardner. I loved him so much I thought I'd die when he left me for that other woman-what was her name? Dominique. I kept hoping he would tire of her and come back to me. Well, he did tire of her, but then he met Phyllis and then Penny. I've lost count of the women he's had over the years. What's the name of his new paramour? Monica. She fought the tears pricking at her eyes. God, I gave Dean all the love I had, and it wasn't enough to hold him. He was faithless. And now Anne-Lynn was proving to be just like her father. She'd forsaken Nora just the way Dean Gardner had.

You have forsaken her!

I haven't. Her mouth trembled. She'll probably marry that hoodlum, Sam Carter, and be miserable for the rest of her life.

And if that's My plan for her, what is that to you?

Tears burned hotter as she thought about Susan and Susan's mother and father. Now that their children were grown, they never had to call and ask them to come home. Their house was always full. All through the teen years, Anne-Lynn had wanted to be at the Carters' house every chance she got. Nora used to think it was because of Sam and his Rebel without a Cause magnetism, but even after Sam was put into juvenile hall, Anne-Lynn kept going. She had loved being with the Carters.

Every time Anne-Lynn asked to spend the night at Susan's, it hurt me. I felt as though she were defecting. I wanted her to love being at home with me, but she was like a bird trapped in my hands. The harder I held on, the harder she fought to be free.

And now she was free. She was free. And she was never coming back.

Oh, God, what is it about me that drives people away? All I've ever done is give my children everything I never had. All I want is for my children to have a better life than I had growing up. All she wanted was for them to love her.

All you want is to be their god.

No, I didn't say that.

She could hear the grandfather clock downstairs chime four. There was no use in trying to sleep. It was almost time to get up. She eased herself from beneath the covers and slipped into her robe and slippers.

The tree lights were still on downstairs, and the soft glow lit the stairs. She had wrapped the banister with boughs of pine, putting in touches of holly berries. It looked so lovely and filled the house with a woodsy aroma. The mantel looked perfect with the silk poinsettias tucked into more pine boughs, and the tall red, green, and white candles were the perfect touch. No professional decorator could have done a better job.

It looked as perfectly arranged as any store window.

It's all for show. It doesn't mean a thing.

Christmas means something to Annie.

She remembered her daughter's telephone message. The words came back as clearly as if they'd never been erased: "We're both doing fine. We'd love for you to come by for a visit. I hope you know you're welcome anytime, Mom."

Mom. Not Mother. She called me Mom.

And she'd said it so tenderly.

Nora went into the kitchen and ground fresh, gourmet-blend coffee beans. She boiled an egg, then warmed a croissant in the microwave. It was too cold to sit in the sunroom, so she turned up the heater and sat in the den, looking out the glass doors at the manicured lawn, topiary pines, and cleanly mulched and weeded ground ready for bulb planting. It would look like a park in the spring.

A park for people to walk through and leave, not a garden where visitors relaxed and lingered. A park where people had to enter through the house and get permission from the owner . . . not a garden with a back gate for neighbors to use.

Nora closed her eyes. She could see her mother outside the kitchen window, on her knees, her hands in the soil.

It had been such a shock seeing her in that hospital bed. She'd looked so white, so confused, so pale, so frail.

The sunrise glowed pink-orange. The clock in the hall chimed seven. Where had the time gone? All the years of struggling and surviving one disappointment after another, of searching and searching for some kind of peace, some sense of accomplishment and purpose . . .

"I hope you know you're welcome anytime, Mom."

Mom. She clung to that word like a lifeline. Mom.

At 8 a.m. she picked up the telephone, called her daughter, and asked if the invitation was still open.

And, of course, it was.

Chapter 22.

Christmas Eve morning, a UPS truck delivered two boxes, both addressed to Leota Reinhardt with Uncle George and Aunt Jeanne's return address. The larger box contained a VCR. "What is it?" Grandma Leota stared, completely baffled. Annie tried to explain.

The second box had a note in Jeanne's handwriting. We're sorry we couldn't be with you for Christmas. Hope you both enjoy the movies. Love, Jeanne, George, Marshall, and Mitzi. The box was packed full of movies: The Bells of St. Mary's, South Pacific, The King and I, Casablanca, Pocketful of Miracles, Ben-Hur, Miracle on 34th Street, and A Christmas Carol.

"A treasure trove, Grandma. Which one would you like to watch first?"

"You choose."

When Annie tried to install the VCR, she realized Grandma Leota's television set was so outdated that there were no connections. How much did a new television cost? Only a couple hundred dollars, but dollars her grandmother clearly did not have. "Oh, Grandma. I'm sorry." Was this going to be a day of disappointments? "I didn't realize."

"Won't miss what I never had," Grandma said, giving her lopsided smile. "Nice thought."

Annie nodded, too choked up to speak. She'd never thought much about modern conveniences until living with her grandmother. No dishwasher-not that there was much need for one with only two people eating off the dishes-and the washer and dryer were older than she was. Annie had spent one day cleaning out the dryer vent. She had thanked God for His protection because the vent had been so packed with lint, it was a miracle it hadn't caught fire and burned the house down. In fact, there were lots of things that needed to be done. The pipe under the kitchen sink had a leak. The roof gutters overflowed with water because the downspouts were clogged with leaves. One of the back steps felt soft from dry rot, which meant there were probably termites eating away at other parts of Grandma Leota's house. The roof should be redone; Annie had noticed a ceiling stain in her bedroom.

Annie didn't want to mention these things because she didn't want to worry her grandmother. Or worse, have her grandmother mistake concern for discontent. If something had to be fixed, she'd find a way to take care of it without worrying Grandma Leota.

Lord, don't let me get distracted by all these little unimportant things. So what if Grandma's brand-new VCR doesn't work. Forgive me for being disappointed. Poor Uncle George and Aunt Jeanne. They spent so much money on something Grandma can't even use when she would have rejoiced far more over a five-minute telephone call from them. Shaking her head, Annie brought a tray with hot chocolate and cookies into the living room. After serving her grandmother, she sat cross-legged in the easy chair and sipped her chocolate.

Annie's father called at three. "I sent your present late. You won't get it for a couple of days. You want me to tell you what it is?"

"Whatever it is, Dad, I'll like it."

"You're too easy. How's Leota doing?"

"Very well."

"And you? Wearing yourself out?"

"I have plenty of help. I've told you about Corban."

"And your mother? Does she help out, too?" When Annie remained silent, trying desperately to think of something to say that wouldn't put her mother in a bad light, her father gave a derisive laugh. "Never mind, Annie. I know her better than that. What she can't control, she chalks off as a complete loss."

"Daddy . . ."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm always saying that to you, aren't I?"

"How's Monica?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her since she moved out."

Oh, dear. "How long ago was this?"

"Last month. I thought I mentioned it."

"No, you didn't."

"She was pushing to get married. I've been down that road before and didn't want to be on it again. A few years of living with your mother-"

"I don't want to go down that road again either, Daddy." He didn't say anything to that, and she didn't want to end the call on a sour note. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too, honey. Maybe I'll fly up in a couple of weeks."

How many times had he promised to do that?

"You know you're always welcome, Daddy."

Nora and Fred pulled up in front of Leota's house midafternoon on Christmas Day. Nora groaned audibly when she recognized Corban Solsek's black sports car. "He's here again."

"Give the guy a chance," Fred said, getting out of the car. He helped her out and took her hand as they went up the walkway and steps. Annie was outside on the porch waiting for them. She was smiling, her eyes shining.

"I'm so glad you came!"

Nora's tension eased at the sight of her daughter. She looked so lovely in her long, green velour dress with a strand of pearls, her hair loose and curling over her shoulders. Nora looked for signs of strain, but saw only cheeks flushed with color and blue eyes shining with delight. And hope. It wasn't until Nora returned the hug that she felt the change. "You've lost weight."

"A couple pounds, I guess. Come in. It's cold out here, and Grandma's eager to see you both."

Nora took note of the Christmas tree first. It was right by the front door so it could be seen through the window. It was trimmed beautifully with old-fashioned glass bulbs, elves, and tinsel. Unable to look at her mother yet, she glanced around the room, amazed at the freshly painted walls, the polished furniture, the old carpet that now looked new, the table with pine branches and scented candles. A fire was crackling. The house no longer had that old smell of decay. It was filled with the pine scent of Christmas. Had the memories of this house not been so painful, she would've been utterly charmed by it.

"Corban bought the tree for us," Anne said. "And he helped string lights along the eaves across the front and along the side of the house by the drive. I put lights all through the garden. It looks like a winter wonderland at night. I'll plug them in as soon as it's dark enough so you can see it."

"Wait until you get the electric bill." Fred laughed as he bent down to talk quietly with Leota.

Nora hung back. She had avoided looking at her mother for as long as possible, and now that she did, her heart sank. She looked so old. One side of her face sagged slightly.

"Who gave you the VCR?" Fred said.

"Uncle George sent it to Grandma," Anne said.

Mortified, Nora wished she could hide the box of chocolate-covered cherries she had brought as a gift. What on earth was George thinking? Last year he'd sent a box of groceries. Actually, Jeanne had sent it. George didn't even bother to sign his name on the Christmas cards. Their cards always came with George and Jeanne signed at the bottom, in Jeanne's handwriting. And now this? A VCR? Were they trying to make her look bad?

"Do you need help hooking it up?" Fred looked eager at the idea.

Anne laughed and gave a slight shrug. "Actually, we can't. Grandma's TV was purchased before VCRs were invented."

"Oh, well, that's no problem. We'll get her a new set. Nora and I were wondering what to get you, Leota. Now we know."

Touched by his quick rescue, Nora slipped her hand into his. "You're looking much better than last I saw you," she said to her mother, then felt the heat climbing into her cheeks. She hadn't been to visit since her mother had left the hospital.

Leota let the evening flow around her. When Eleanor followed Annie into the kitchen, Leota could only pray her daughter wouldn't say something hurtful to Annie. They were like opposite sides of a coin. Eleanor took offense at the least provocation; Annie let everything slide. Eleanor was the warrior set on battling life into submission; Annie was a peacemaker, living with the hurt, swallowing the insulting remarks, and trying to rise above it and move forward.

I tried to do that, Lord. Maybe that's why watching the dynamics of their relationship makes me want to take a page from Eleanor's book. Oh, what I would say to her now if I had the tongue to do it!

Maybe if she'd spoken up, maybe if she'd defended herself instead of keeping silent . . . Silence didn't always bring peace. Allowing someone to behave disrespectfully more often made them rude and demanding of others.

I thought I was letting Eleanor vent her frustration and that would be the end of it. Instead, her life has been focused on discontent and disappointment. I would love to be able to go back and sit down with her when she was a little girl and teach her all over again. I'd say, "This is what's happening. This is the truth. This is what needs to be done. Join forces with me and your grandmother and grandfather and let's work together to keep this family together!"

Instead, she had tried to do it alone.

For what? For the glory? To be a martyr? To show herself how much better she was than poor Helene Reinhardt, who had to piece together the whole sorry mess by herself without any help from Leota or Papa?

Lord, forgive me.

Leota heard Eleanor and Annie talking.

"Why is Mother crying?" Eleanor was asking quietly, sounding uncomfortable.

"The stroke makes it difficult to contain her emotions," Annie said just as quietly.

They were acting as though her hearing had failed along with her ability to walk without clinging to someone or something! Oh, Lord, You have frustrated me! I can't talk clearly enough to make myself understood. Except by Annie. She's just like a young mother who understands the gibberish of her toddling child. And that's what I've become. Blabbering what I can while I hang on to my walker. Lord, I'd yell at You for allowing this to happen to me if I didn't think Eleanor and George would think I was crazy and make sure I was put away for good!

A VCR. For heaven's sake, what was George thinking? And now Fred was offering a television. Along with the box of chocolates Eleanor was trying to hide on the side table. I wonder if she thinks I have adult-onset diabetes . . . and she's going to kill me with kindness. Sadly, Leota could guess why they were being so generous all of a sudden. Would they be so munificent if they knew everything was already settled and filed with an attorney?