I'm not being fair. I'm wallowing in self-pity and making myself sick! I know Jeanne. And I know Fred. And they are both good and generous people. It's my children who can't see past themselves!

Lord, I can't think this way. For Annie's sake, I have to lift my chin up and take whatever comes. But I'll tell You this. I'm tired of turning the other cheek. In fact, I'm sick to death of it.

Things didn't get easier for Leota as the day wore on. In fact, things became more complicated. Corban didn't like Eleanor, and he made no effort to hide his feelings. Annie tried to make conversation, but only Fred helped keep it going. Then Sam and Susan arrived, and Eleanor's hackles went up. She was like a German shepherd with a salesman trapped on the front porch; it was a sight to see. Sam couldn't blink an eye without Eleanor observing the nuance. He certainly wasn't making his feelings a secret, either. Every time he looked at Annie, the expression on his face declared, I'm in love with this girl. All of which only served to madden Eleanor all the more.

Lin Sansan Ng, Do Weon, and Kim stopped by, and not long after came Juanita, Jorge, Marisa, Elena, and Raoul.

Eleanor kept moving down the sofa until she was squeezed into a corner, and while Fred joined in the general conversation, Eleanor moved herself all the way to the outside edge of the family circle.

"Chris said to thank you for the information you gave him the other day," Juanita told Annie. "He said the group sounded the most hopeful. Miles is declining rapidly."

Eleanor looked at Annie. "Who are Chris and Miles?"

"They live in the house four doors down on the other side of the street," Annie explained. "Miles is very sick."

"AIDS," Juanita said sadly.

Leota saw Eleanor blanch. She could just imagine what was going on in Eleanor's mind. Her daughter, Annie, was living in a mixed-race ghetto with an old lady on her last legs, who would linger for who knew how long, and now, her innocent little girl was mixing with homosexuals as well!

"AIDS?" Eleanor stared.

"Annie met them a few weeks ago."

Eleanor's gaze swung to Annie, fierce with silent demand.

"They're estranged from their families. Miles is dying, Mother. I don't agree with their lifestyle, but they are neighbors and they need our help."

"Your hands are full already, Anne-Lynn. All day, every day, for who knows how long."

Annie blushed. Her eyes became fierce with warning. "I fix extra portions and take them dinner a couple of times a week. It's no big deal."

Leota couldn't allow this to go on. "I gave Annie permission to do it." Miraculously, her words were clear enough for Eleanor to understand.

Eleanor lunged forward so that she sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands like open claws on her knees. "It's all very well for you to be magnanimous at Annie's expense, Mother. You're over eighty. You've lived a full life. Don't you care what risks my daughter takes? It's not enough that she's living here with you in this crime-infested neighborhood, but you put her in contact with AIDS!"

"Mother!"

Leota used every ounce of willpower she possessed not to cry. Crying would only make things a hundred times worse. Besides, she understood Eleanor's fierceness. Hadn't she felt the same way about her children when Mama Reinhardt was dividing their loyalties?

Is that what I've done, Lord?

Annie stood stricken, looking back and forth as the battle raged around her. The poor girl was standing between the two firing lines, not sure where to find safety. It was always the innocent who were killed.

"What's not right?" Corban's face flushed with temper as he stared at Eleanor. "That, unlike you, Annie has a heart? That, unlike you, she's capable of loving someone else more than herself?"

"Now, just a minute!" Fred rose suddenly, like a knight in shining armor to shield his wife.

Eleanor aimed her animosity at Corban. "This is none of your business! Who are you anyway? What do you think you're going to get by coming over here and kissing up to my mother?"

Corban's face turned dark red. "It seems to me it's none of your business either, Mrs. Gaines. You bowed out of Leota's life a long time ago, and Annie's an adult. She can make her own decisions."

"Stop it!" Annie covered her face and started to cry. "Just stop it! All of you." She fled to the kitchen.

Eleanor's face convulsed briefly. To anyone else, it was just a flicker, but Leota saw straight into her hurting child. It was like a crack in a concrete wall around a garden. Just a second's glimpse-but she saw that a storm had ripped away at the landscape. Oh, my child, my poor child. Then the mortar of old resentments was poured in to repair the wall. Leota could feel Eleanor's gaze fix upon her in accusation. "Maybe this gathering wasn't such a good idea after all."

Corban's eyes flashed. "Maybe the list should've been cut by two!" He followed Annie into the kitchen. Embarrassed, Juanita quickly gathered her children, as did Lin Sansan. They went out through the kitchen, making their exit quietly. Leota knew they would make apologies to Annie before leaving.

Oh, God, my family, my precious family. Help us. We are torn asunder. The enemy has laid waste to us.

Sam sat in stony silence, his eyes on fire. Susan's chin jutted, tears running down her face, her eyes fixed on Eleanor. "Why do you always do this to Annie? For as long as I've known her, she's worked so hard to win your approval. Nothing pleases you."

"That's not true." Eleanor was trembling-Leota saw it in her hands, heard it in her voice. All eyes were on Eleanor now. It was ever thus. As you sow, so shall you then reap. The one condemning the loudest eventually received the condemnation. Water didn't run uphill, and Eleanor was drowning.

Helpless to do anything and unable to watch, Leota turned her face to the wall and wept.

The pains Leota had felt off and on over the past two years came again that night. She didn't ring the little bell Annie had put on her side table. She couldn't bear the thought of summoning Annie after such a devastating Christmas Day. The poor girl had wanted everything to be perfect. She had worked so hard, prayed so long. Now she needed rest. The pain eased by morning.

When Annie came in, Leota said she wanted to sleep longer. Annie looked troubled and asked questions, but Leota lied and said everything was fine. She said she had been having such a wonderful dream.

She couldn't bring herself to add to her granddaughter's misery by telling her that something was very, very wrong.

Chapter 23.

Annie noticed the change in her grandmother in the days following Christmas. She was always restless, shifting her body every minute or two as though no position was comfortable. Though Grandma had often been cranky since the stroke, she was more cranky than usual. Either her speech had improved greatly, or Annie was getting used to it and could more easily understand her. At first, it was funny the way Grandma Leota would talk at the television, telling the news commentator what was wrong with his shortsighted, canned presentation or that his views were "idiotic." It was when Grandma started talking cremation that Annie became alarmed. Annie tried to turn her conversation away from death, but Grandma Leota was fixed upon it. "Put me in the bulbs. They need bonemeal."

Annie called the doctor despite Grandma Leota's protests.

"I won't go!" Grandma Leota said, chin jutting. She was irascible, but Annie couldn't pretend everything was all right this time.

"Oh, yes, you will. Something's wrong, Grandma. I want the doctor to check you over."

"Nothing's wrong!"

"You're in pain! I know you are. You try to hide it from me, but I can tell."

Grandma tried charm, smiling and patting Annie's hand. "It's just my arthritis, sweetheart. I'm not a green sprout anymore. I'm ripe and ready for plucking."

Annie refused to give in. "The doctor might be able to give you something to make you more comfortable."

"I won't go! I won't! You'll have to carry me out of this house!"

Annie called Corban. He came the next morning, ignored Grandma Leota's vehement protests and downright abuse, lifted her from her wheelchair, and carried her out to Annie's car.

"It's a good thing her right arm is useless," Corban said, straightening. "I think she'd've given me a black eye."

Nora knew something was wrong when she heard the back door from the garage open. Fred never came home this early in the day. "What is it? What's happened?"

"Annie called me at the office. Your mother is in the hospital again."

Nora's heart sank. Was this the way it was going to be from here on? Her daughter unable to speak to her? Her daughter calling Fred so he could relay messages? "Another stroke?"

"The doctor thinks it could be cancer. She's undergoing tests."

Nora wilted against the back of her chair. Cancer! How was she going to face this when her life was already turning upside down? Her head ached. Her stomach was in turmoil. She felt sick in body and in spirit. She hadn't felt right since that awful Christmas Day. She should have stayed home rather than subject herself to such an emotional beating. Everyone had been against her. All because Annie had run to the kitchen in tears over something she'd said. And then her mother had cried.

What did I say? I can't even remember what I said to bring all that on. You'd have thought I was a dog making a mess on the living room rug the way they all looked at me.

The tongue is like a fire . . .

Oh, Lord, what did I say? Sometimes, when I'm so upset I can't think straight, I say things and then I can't even remember what I said.

Is that an excuse?

"I think we should go, Nora."

"The last thing I want to do is look at my mother in another hospital bed."

"Would you rather look at her in a coffin?"

Nora recoiled. "How can you say something like that?"

"Because you may not have much time left."

She searched his eyes. "Just what did Annie say?" Was he keeping something from her?

"Exactly what I've told you, but I have the feeling time is almost up."

"My time?" Why did he have to look at her like that? As though he could see inside her and understand things about her that she didn't even understand. She looked away, uncomfortable beneath his perusal. "I don't know what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean. You just don't want to face it." He brushed his knuckles gently along the line of her cheek. His tenderness had always touched some deep core within her. She loved him passionately, even when they didn't come together physically for a week or more at a time. She admired and respected him. And she often found herself wondering how she had been so lucky to find a man like him after two disastrous marriages. Fred was strong, but his strength didn't come from demanding his own way or believing he was always right. It came from something deep within him.

Oh, God, I know I'm not perfect. I know it! It's been driven home to me every day of my life. And it's been a hundred times worse over the past eight months since Annie couldn't bear to live with me anymore. Did I need that pounding on Christmas Day? I've always wanted to be a better mother than mine was. I've always wanted to do what's right, to rear my children to be better than anyone else. And all I've done is alienate everyone I love most. Two husbands. Michael. Annie. I'm amazed Fred hasn't left me.

She closed her eyes. If Fred hadn't been with her on Christmas Day to pick up the pieces, she knew she'd have come home and slashed her wrists or swallowed a bottle of pills. She'd been knocked off her high horse and come home in tears. Again. She always seemed to come home from her mother's house in tears. That house should be called the House of Wailing. Had anyone ever been happy there?

Annie's happy there.

"I don't know what to do anymore." She looked up at Fred. "I feel as though no one in the world loves me except you." And how long would that last? How long would it take before she alienated him as well?

"Annie loves you." He smiled down at her, that sweet, gentle smile. "She loved you enough to take your abuse for eighteen years."

For the first time, Nora didn't protest at the harsh assessment. She could take the truth from Fred because words weren't a weapon for him. His touch, his voice, his faithfulness made her safe with him, open. Had anyone else said she hadn't been a good mother, she would have done battle.

Yet it wasn't easy to hear. Stricken, she closed her eyes tightly and saw in her mind's eye the look on her daughter's face before she fled into the kitchen. Even as angry as she was, Nora had realized she had crushed her daughter's heart. Just as she had on Thanksgiving Day when she threw away the turkey Annie had made. She hadn't wanted to face it. It had been Susan who slapped her with the truth, and in a small way made her willing to listen to Fred now and feel the truth of his assessment.

It is true. Susan is right. No matter what Annie did, I always wanted her to do more. Fred is right. It was abuse. Oh, God, it's because of my mother that I'm like this.

And then she remembered her mother's tears.

No, it's not my mother's fault. It's my fault. Oh, God, it is. Why do I behave like this?

Because you don't measure up. You never have, the dark voice said. And you still don't.

"What do I have to do?" Fear and anguish were choking her. "I'm so afraid and I don't know what to do."

Fred took her hands and drew her up out of her chair. He held her close for a long moment. "Just be there for both of them." She was trembling, her head aching. "I love you," Fred said. "Do you know that?"

But for how long?

Fred drew back and cupped her face. "Look at me, Nora." When she did, scarcely able to see him through her tears, he said, "I know you a lot better than I did when we courted. And I love you better now than I did on the day I married you."

"I don't know how."

His smile was tender. "God knows." He kissed her as though sealing a promise. "I'll get your coat."

Corban was glad he'd stayed, especially when Annie told him she'd called her mother and uncle and both were coming. She was going to need all the support she could get, especially after the doctor just told her he didn't think Leota should be going home again. Better if she was transferred into a convalescent hospital for twenty-four-hour care during her last months of life. It seemed everything was wrong with the old lady's body. Corban thought about Leota joking with him a few months back.

"I'm like an old car, chassis's dented and rusty. I'm leaking fluids and can't even get out of my chair without a jump start."

Tears burned his eyes. He held them back, swallowed them down, put on a stoic face for Annie's sake.

When had Leota stopped being that cantankerous old hag to him and become Leota, an old lady he loved? Hands clasped between his knees, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.

Oh, Jesus, oh, God, if You're really up there and You care, please don't let Leota die. Get her well enough so Annie and I can get her out of here and take her home. That's where she wants to be when her time comes. Let me do that much for her.

"Have you heard anything more?"

At Nora Gaines's voice, he raised his head sharply.

Annie fumbled for his hand. "No. Nothing. They said it would be a while."

Corban held her hand firmly and met Nora's gaze in challenge. She looked back at him, but he didn't see a hint of the hostility that had been there on Christmas Day. She just looked sad. And old. It was as though she had aged in the few days since he'd seen her last. Strange. Suddenly, though he could scarcely believe it, he could see some of Leota in her. Maybe it was the eyes. He'd never noticed before.

"We came right away," Fred said. He extended his hand. "Thanks for helping, Corban."

Corban stood and shook hands with him. He couldn't see any way out of it without being rude and hurting Annie in the process. However, if the guy was dismissing him, he'd better think again. He didn't let go of Annie's hand and sat beside her again. "I'll stick around until we know more."

Fred nodded. "Of course."

Nora sat in a chair across from Annie. Annie glanced at her and then away.