Once Upon a Winter's Heart Read online

  “It will get easier…” Emma assured her. “In time it will.”

  Nona nodded, but her dark eyes did not look convinced.

  “Mom started to make dinner,” Emma explained.

  “Ah, yes, the roasted chicken.” Nona wrinkled her nose. “Is that what I smell?”

  “It got burnt.”

  Nona just shook her head. “Your mama,” she said quietly, “is not such a good cook still.”

  Emma smiled. “I know.”

  “But there is plenty of food here.” Nona waved to the old Frigidaire. “Everyone in the neighborhood, the church, even the bookstore patrons…they all have been bringing me food. As if I might starve to death.” She shook her head then looked around. “Did your mother go home?”

  “No. She’s still here.” Emma was unsure of how much to say.

  Nona frowned. “Where is she?”

  “I think she went upstairs.”

  “Why is she still here?” Nona’s dark eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  Emma just shrugged.

  “Something is wrong.” Nona lowered her voice. “With your mama and papa. I know it’s so. Saundra is trying to keep it from me. But I can feel it in my old bones.”

  Without saying a word, Emma simply nodded. “I heated up the lasagna for us,” she said lightly. “I think it’s ready to serve now.”

  “Lasagna.” Nona sighed. “Poppi loved my lasagna.”

  “I’ll go see if Mom wants to join us for dinner.”

  Nona’s dark eyes flashed with concern again. “Tell your mama that there is no sense hiding anything from me, Emma. I will figure it out…eventually.”

  Emma gave her a sad smile. “I’ll let her know.”

  “And I will open a bottle of rosé.” She sighed. “I think Poppi would like that.”

  A fresh pang of sadness went through Emma as she went off to find her mother. How was it possible that Poppi was gone?

  “Is this about New Year’s Eve?” Nona asked her daughter-in-law as they were finishing up their dinner.

  Saundra looked down at her empty wine glass, shaking her head no.

  “What happened on New Year’s Eve?” Emma asked.

  “Nothing,” Saundra snapped.

  “That’s right,” Nona said. “Nothing. You are making a mountain out of a mole hole.”

  “You mean molehill,” Emma said quietly. Nona had always gotten her metaphors and euphemisms mixed up.

  Nona waved her hand at Emma. “You know what I mean, dolce. Your mother is still having hurt feelings for New Year’s Eve—almost a month ago.”

  “What happened?” Emma asked her mom again.

  “Your father humiliated me,” Saundra told Emma. “That’s what happened.”

  “Yes, Rob was not on his best behavior,” Nona sadly conceded. “And all this time—four weeks later you are still angry at him? What about forgiveness, Saundra?”

  “I’ve given that man thirty-six years of forgiveness.”

  “That is marriage,” Nona patiently told her. “You love each other. You hurt each other. You forgive each other. You move on…always forward.” She sniffed. “Until it is over with.”

  Emma reached over and put her hand on her grandmother’s. “You and Poppi had a very special love,” she said gently. “I don’t think a love like that can really be over with. Do you?”

  Nona’s brow creased. “Maybe not.”

  “Well, the kind of love Poppi gave you was a whole lot different than what Rob has given me.” Saundra spoke in a wounded tone. “It’s too bad Poppi didn’t teach his only son how to love his wife better.”

  “Poppi taught by example,” Nona told her. “Maybe Rob wasn’t watching. And he makes his own choices. We all do.”

  “And don’t forget there are two sides to everything,” Emma pointed out.

  “You’re blaming me?” Saundra scowled at Emma. “Your father made a pass at Patty Hiatt on New Year’s Eve, right in front of God and everyone, and you’re blaming me for it?”

  “Rob had too much to drink,” Nona said calmly. “You admitted this to me yourself.”

  “Everyone had too much to drink,” Saundra argued. “It was New Year’s Eve.”

  “Nona’s right,” Emma said. “You need to forgive and forget…move on, Mom.”

  “I did move on, Emma. I moved out.”

  Nona pushed her chair back with a weary sigh. “Please, scusa me. I am tired.” She slowly stood. “I am going to bed now.”

  “I’m sorry,” Saundra said with genuine concern. “I didn’t mean to talk about this tonight. I knew it would upset—”

  “No, no.” Nona held up her hand. “We made you talk about it, Saundra. And it is good for you to talk about it. Get it out into the open. A festering wound cannot heal.” She leaned over and kissed her daughter-in-law’s cheek. “Forgive him while there is still time,” she said quietly. “Because you never know, cara. You never know…”

  Emma started clearing the table, wishing for something positive or hopeful to say, but coming up empty. Nona came over and kissed Emma’s cheek. “Thank you for coming to me, dolce.” She glanced over at Saundra, who was still sitting and frowning down at her plate. “If your mama stays the night, you will have to share the guest bedroom together.”

  Emma gave Nona a knowing look. “Well, I can’t imagine that Mom will want to spend the night away from her fancy Sleep Number bed that she’s always bragging about.”

  “And that just shows how much you know.” Saundra got up, carrying her dish to the kitchen.

  Nona’s brows arched. “Sleep well, cara mia,” she told Emma as she left the dining room.

  Emma waited until she heard her grandmother’s bedroom door close. “Mom, are you really spending the night here?”

  “I am.” Saundra started running water into the kitchen sink.

  “What about Dad?”

  “What about him?”

  “Does he know where you are?”

  “No.”

  “Won’t he be worried?”

  Saundra shrugged as she tied on Nona’s apron. “I doubt he’ll even notice I’m gone.”

  “Mom.” Emma slowly extracted the dish drainer from beneath the sink and, taking her time to arrange it just so on the counter, she literally bit her tongue. It would only make matters worse if she spoke her mind and said something truly hurtful. “Mom…you know that Dad has just lost his father and now his wife has gone AWOL. Don’t you think that’s a lot to put on a man his age? What if he gets so stressed out that he has a heart attack or a stroke or something?”

  “Your father just had a physical before Christmas. According to Dr. Maxwell, he’s fit as a fiddle.”

  “Even so.” Emma reached for a clean dish towel. “He must be worried.”

  “Good. I hope he is.” Saundra shook a finger at Emma. “Now don’t you go telling him where I’m at—you understand?”

  “The games that people play…” Emma removed a clean dish towel from the drawer.

  “Do you mind washing?” Saundra wiggled her red glittering fingernails in front of Emma. “I just got a manicure on Monday and I’m not sure how well these gels hold up in dishwater.”

  Emma handed her mom the towel and moved in front of the sink. “Don’t you think you’re acting a little childish?” she said as she set the glasses into the hot soapy water, just the way Nona had taught her to do long ago. “Running out on Dad like this? I mean, if you really wanted to leave Dad, why couldn’t you have waited until after the funeral?”

  “It wasn’t as if I planned it like this,” Saundra admitted as Emma rinsed a glass and set it in the drainer. “If Poppi hadn’t died, we probably wouldn’t have gotten into the fight in the first place.”

  “I thought the fight was over Patty Hiatt on New Year’s Eve?”

  “That’s what started it.…” Saundra slowly dried the glass.

  “And if it’s any comfort, I can understand how that would hurt your feelings,” Emma conceded as she rinsed anoth
er glass. “But like Nona said, that was weeks ago. It’s nearly February. Surely if it wasn’t bad enough for you to leave him back when it happened, you should be over it by now.”

  “I honestly thought I was nearly over it, Emma. But this morning, well, your father and I were having coffee just like we usually do before work. And we were civilly discussing Poppi’s passing and all that needed to be done today. Because Nona was determined to have the funeral service three days after Poppi’s death. Anyway, we were talking and…well, your father had the audacity to point out that his parents’ marriage was so superior…so much better than ours had ever been.” Saundra set the glass down with a loud clink. “And I’m sorry, but it just vexed me.”

  “But that’s true, Mom. Poppi and Nona’s marriage was almost magical.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of that. But for Rob to throw that in my face the way he did—and here I’ve been helping with his mother.” She furiously dried the next glass. “And I was barely over New Year’s Eve—” She turned to stare at Emma. “And you do recall that Patty’s my best friend. At least she was. Well, it was just too much. More than I could handle. And I was so angry. And our marriage seemed so hopeless. Really, it’s a sham of a marriage. Anyway, it was as if a light went on inside my head. And that’s when I decided to leave him and come stay with Nona.”

  “Did you tell him you were leaving him?”

  “No, of course, not.”

  Now they washed and dried in silence for a few minutes. Emma could not think of a single thing to say that would improve the situation. And, really, she rationalized, if she just left her mom alone she would probably go home, wagging her tail behind her. Emma smiled to herself as she scrubbed a plate—one night sleeping on one of those hard twin beds in the guest room and her mom’s Sleep Number bed would be calling to her.

  “So how are Anne and Tristan doing these days?” Emma asked, hoping to break the stony silence.

  “Well, of course, your sister was devastated to hear about Poppi. And Tristan took it quite hard too, poor boy. You know, despite the wide gap in their ages, Tristan and Poppi had been getting quite close after Gerard left. I keep telling your father he should spend more time with his grandson, but does he listen to me? No, he would rather play golf in his spare time.”

  “He plays golf in the winter?”

  “No, of course, not. You know what I mean, Emma. Your father is always too busy—for everyone.”

  “Do you think Anne and Gerard will ever get back together?” Emma set a plate in the dish drainer. “I mean they were married all those years. I would think that would mean something.”

  “Don’t forget it was a marriage of convenience. If Anne hadn’t been pregnant, I doubt they would’ve married at all.”

  “But Anne was in love with Gerard.”

  “She was so young, Emma. Eighteen is far too young to know who you are or what you want out of life. Even Anne admits that she outgrew Gerard.”

  “But he’s Tristan’s father and that alone should count for—”

  “Really? What kind of father insists on moving his wife and child halfway around the world to some—”

  “Florida isn’t exactly halfway around the world, Mom.”

  “It is to a nine-year-old boy who has friends and family right here.”

  “He would’ve made new friends.”

  “And family?” Saundra’s brow creased. “Or doesn’t that amount to anything?”

  “Well…think about it, Mom. His great-grandpa just died. His grandparents seem to be headed for divorce court and—”

  “You were always such a pessimist, Emma.”

  “A realist.” Emma set a bowl into the drainer with a thud. “Why don’t I finish this up, Mom? I know you’ve had a busy day helping Nona and plus there’s the stress with Dad. You’re probably exhausted.”

  Saundra hung her towel over the chrome towel bar. “Thank you, dear. I appreciate that.”

  Emma glanced curiously at her mom. “So are you really spending the night here?”

  “I told you I was, didn’t I?” Saundra squared her shoulders. “I even packed my bags. Come to think of it, they’re still in my car. I better get them inside before my new moisturizer freezes out in the cold. At twenty dollars an ounce, I wouldn’t want it to get ruined.”

  “No, no…you wouldn’t.”

  As soon as Saundra stepped outside, Emma grabbed the phone and called her parents’ number. To her relief, her dad answered on the first ring.

  “Dad,” she said quickly. “It’s Emma.”

  “Oh, Emma, are you with Nona now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is…uh…is your mother there?”

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to answer that.”

  “So she is there!”

  “Don’t say you heard it from me.”

  “I tried her cell, but she’s got it turned off.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “How long does she plan to stay?” he asked.

  “Indefinitely…or so she claims.”

  He chuckled.

  “You think this is funny?” Emma demanded.

  “No…not at all. But I know your mother. She won’t last more than one night on those old twin beds. Trust me.”

  “Yeah, I had the exact same thought. I wouldn’t be surprised if she goes home in the middle of the night, Dad.”

  “Don’t tell her I know she’s there, okay?”

  “Why not?”

  “Let’s just say she’s made her bed…let her lie in it.” He chuckled again.

  “What about you?” Emma asked. “Don’t you have to take responsibility for some of this too?”

  He let out a long sigh. “I’ve been taking responsibility for all of it…for a long time now, Emma. Maybe your mother is right. Maybe we do need a break from each other.”

  “Really?” Emma peered out the window to see her mom unloading bags from the trunk. From the size of the pile, it looked as if she was setting out for a two-week vacation or longer.

  “Don’t sound so sad, Emma.”

  “But you have so much history…all those years…your family…your image in the community…doesn’t it matter?”

  “Sure, it matters. But I got to thinking, honey…after I heard the news about your grandpa…I got to thinking about my parents’ marriage and how happy they were together. And the truth is I’ve always felt a little envious. More than a little envious.”

  “Then why not follow their example?”

  He let out another long sigh. “I wish it were that simple, honey.”

  Emma heard the front door open. “I think Mom’s coming in,” she whispered.

  “Don’t tell her,” he said quickly. “And I’ll talk to you tomorrow…at Poppi’s service.”

  Emma hung up the phone and returned to the dishes. It used to bother her that Nona didn’t have a dishwasher; now she thought it was kind of sweet and comforting. Taking time to hand wash the dishes slowed life down a bit…gave a person time to think and reflect. She carefully stacked the pretty Franciscan ware dishes in the glass-fronted cabinet. The pattern was called Desert Rose. As a girl Emma had always thought it sounded like such an exotic name—a desert rose seemed so far removed from their small town in the foothills of the Cascade mountain range.

  Emma ran her finger over a raised pink flower on a teacup before she closed the door. Emma had always loved the cheerful dishes and Nona had promised to give them to her when she got married. Like that was ever going to happen. Emma closed the cabinet door and sighed. And, really, it wouldn’t seem like Nona’s house without these familiar plates gracing the old dining room table. Perhaps it was all for the best after all.

  Chapter 3

  Once Emma got her car unpacked, stashing most of her things in what used to be Poppi’s library but now looked more like a storage room, she tiptoed up the stairs to peek into the guest bedroom.

  “Oh, there you are.” Saundra peered up over her reading glasses. With sev
eral pillows behind her and one of Nona’s afghans on top of her bed, she looked fairly comfy and cozy and had a book in her lap. Emma considered pointing out that her mother was in what had always been considered Emma’s bed, but knew that would be childish. Instead Emma set her overnight bag on what used to be Anne’s bed and the only part of the room that wasn’t already occupied with her mother’s extensive collection of Louis Vuitton luggage.

  “I was unpacking my car,” Emma told her mother as she unzipped her bag.

  “Is that all you brought with you?” Saundra frowned at the small bag.

  “No. I brought everything with me. Most of it’s in Poppi’s library.”

  “Oh…” Her mom’s attention returned to her romance novel.

  Emma extracted her pajamas as well as her toiletries bag then started to leave the room.

  “It’s okay, you can change in here.” Without looking up, Saundra absently flipped a page. “I don’t mind.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Maybe I mind.”

  Saundra glanced up from her book with a furrowed brow. “Oh, yes, I completely forgot. You’re the one who hates to dress and undress in front of anyone.” She chuckled. “My self-conscious child.”

  Emma forced a stiff smile. “Excuse me for not being an exhibitionist like my mom and sister.” Emma tried not to feel irked as she went down the hall to the bathroom. But, really, she had not counted on being roommates with her mother tonight. She peeked curiously into Nona’s sewing room, wondering if she could possibly set up camp in there since it used to have a hide-a-bed, but like Poppi’s library, it seemed to have turned into a storage room as well. Perhaps Emma could convince Nona to have a garage sale this spring…clear some of these things out.

  In the bathroom, which was just as cold as she remembered from childhood, Emma decided to get rid of the chill by enjoying a nice hot bath in the old claw-foot tub. And maybe by the time she finished her mother would have dozed off and she could go peacefully to sleep. As always there was a bottle of lavender-infused Epsom salts, which, after a good shaking, came tumbling out into the steaming water. This was going to feel good.

  As the bathtub slowly filled, Emma brushed her teeth and put her long curly dark brown hair into a messy bun. She paused to examine her reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. In some ways it didn’t seem all that different from the girl who used to peer into the same mirror as a child. Same wild hair and dark brown eyes, same pointy nose and slightly pouty lips. Thanks to the foggy mirror, the crow’s feet she’d recently noticed were not visible. Thirty-two seemed a bit young for wrinkles, and although some of her friends were already doing Botox, Emma was convinced that an “untouched” face had more character. She’d see how she felt about this ten years from now.