River's Call Read online

  Winter was always their "off" season, but Anna didn't mind this dormancy. Instead, she used this time to regroup and plan for the upcoming year. She called it the dreaming season. It seemed that, more and more, the inn was acquiring a reputation as a place of healing, and recently she'd been approached by various individuals who wanted to plan group events there. While she was open to these ideas, she also felt protective of the inn and its image. She didn't want anyone coming here who would misuse the natural properties of the land and the river. Sometimes she couldn't quite explain it, not even to Clark, but she would get a feeling about someone and as a result decline their proposal for a certain event—sometimes saying "no" to tempting sums of money.

  "I know he was supposed to be a famous guru," she told Clark after she hung up the phone, "but something about the way this man spoke to me . . . well, he just sounded too self-important . . . and false. Do you think I was being too judgmental? Was I wrong to turn him down?"

  Clark smiled over the newspaper in his hands. "Not at all, Anna. I think you have an excellent sense about these things."

  Anna spent a lot of time with Babette, learning how to prepare some of her herbal recipes and remedies, and all the numerous uses of lavender. "I will leave my plants to you, chéri," Babette told her as they were working on a batch of marjoram oil.

  Anna just smiled. "I'm sure your plants would be happy to stay right where they are planted, Babette. It's such a nice sunny spot, especially nice for growing lavender."

  "Eets true. The hill is perfect for my lavender. I would hate to see them moved."

  Sometimes Hazel would join them during these times. Like Anna she had a strong interest in the herbs and plants and their medicinal uses. "So much gets lost when people assume you can replace everything old with something new." Hazel sighed as she carefully copied a recipe for a gout treatment. "Hopefully I'll be around long enough to publish a manual for the use of herbal medicine."

  "Oui!" Babette nodded eagerly. "I would love for young people to know these secrets. Ees so much better than taking a pill."

  "I wish we had something here that would help Lauren," Anna said sadly.

  "What's wrong with Lauren?" Hazel asked. "She seemed better than ever when she picked up Sarah in August."

  "Yes, I thought so too. But every time I talk to her, she sounds more and more downhearted. I know something is wrong with her. And yesterday she told me that she's taking some kind of medicine." Anna tried to recall the name. "I think it was called Valium. Have you heard of that?"

  "Valium for Lauren?" Hazel's brow creased. "That doesn't make sense."

  "I'm sure that's what she said it was," Anna said.

  "Mother's little helper." Hazel set down her pen.

  "What?" Anna felt confused.

  "It's what some people call Valium. It's been popular for several years now. Doctors all over the country have been prescribing it like candy to frustrated housewives and mothers. It's as if they think it's a magic pill, but it's highly addictive and really, it's not for everyone."

  "Do you think it will hurt Lauren?" Anna felt even more concerned now.

  "I'm not sure." Hazel pursed her lips. "I suppose it's helpful for those women who are overwrought and excited and anxious because it helps them to relax. But, as I recall, Lauren was never a particularly active person. She slept so much of the time. I honestly cannot imagine how a depressant would be of any help to her."

  "You're saying that Valium is a depressant?" Anna was surprised.

  "Yes."

  "But Lauren already seemed depressed." Anna turned down the heat beneath the cast iron pot. "I hardly think she needs something to make her more depressed."

  "Too bad we can't get Lauren to come out here for a visit," Hazel suggested, "maybe we could diagnose and treat her." She laughed. "Of course, we could get in trouble for practicing medicine without a license. But so should the doctor who's prescribing Valium for Lauren. I just can't help but think that is a big mistake."

  "Should I tell her?"

  "You might question her a bit . . . find out why the doctor prescribed it, how long she's been on it, how she's been spending her time."

  "I'm not sure Lauren will tell me all that. She's very closed up."

  "I know, chéri—you should go and see Lauren," Babette said suddenly. "Eet ees not busy here. Go, chéri. See to your daughter."

  "I suppose I could go visit."

  "We will prepare some things for Lauren," Babette declared. "To help her be happy again. And you will take them, chéri."

  "That's not a bad idea," Hazel agreed.

  "I'll talk to Clark about it."

  Anna's visit to see Lauren was very dismaying. Besides enjoying some time with Sarah, taking her to school and the park and the library, the rest of the four days spent there felt like a complete waste of time. Lauren refused to try any of the herbal remedies. She insisted that she needed to remain in bed until well past noon. "I just don't sleep at night," she told Anna. "The morning is my only time to get my rest." Then, Anna quickly discovered, even when Lauren got up she remained in her bathrobe, watching soap operas and chain smoking as well as sneaking drinks from a silver flask she always kept handy. Finally, about an hour before Sarah came home from school, Lauren would begin to get dressed and do her hair and makeup.

  The household routine would continue with Sarah arriving home on the school bus, coming in the back door, and stopping in the avocado green kitchen, where Mabel, who'd been rehired, would have a snack set out.

  "What do you do after school?" Anna asked Sarah on their first afternoon together.

  Sarah thought hard as she chewed on a Fig Newton.

  "Do you do things with your mommy?"

  Sarah shook her head then took a swig of milk. "Mommy is getting pretty for Daddy. I'm not allowed to disturb her."

  It seemed that Lauren never emerged from her boudoir until around four in the afternoon. But, to Anna's amazement, when she made her appearance, she looked like something straight out of a fashion magazine. She no longer wore the old trashy style of clothes. Apparently her trip to Europe had "refined" her sense of style and anyone who saw Lauren on the street would probably assume she was a responsible, practical, and quite attractive young housewife and mother.

  Walking through her home, which now had a strange hairy-looking carpeting called "shag" as well as some modern furnishings that seemed to be more about looks than comfort, Lauren seemed to be playing queen of the house. She would spend a bit of time with Sarah, inquiring about school, and telling her to go and clean herself up before dinner. Then she'd go over some housekeeping details with Mabel. At exactly five o'clock, Lauren would make a batch of martinis at the new bar, which sat in a corner of the living room. Not long after the drinks were mixed, Eunice would come over like clockwork, and at five-thirty Donald would arrive home from work.

  Anna had a hard time grasping how Sarah fit into this strange little household. Feeling sorry for her granddaughter, she did all she could to fill Sarah's time. The second evening of Anna's visit, Donald and Lauren went to the country club. The next evening they had a dinner date with friends. Lauren invited Anna to join them, but Anna politely declined. The relief on their faces was obvious.

  "Lauren and Donald seem to have an active social life,"

  Anna commented to Eunice after Sarah had gone to bed.

  Eunice nodded with a hard-to-read expression.

  "Sarah seems to be left by herself a lot."

  Again, Eunice nodded.

  "Does she ever have friends over?"

  "No . . . not that I've noticed."

  "What does she do?"

  Eunice shrugged as she put down the coffee table book about modern art. "She comes to visit me sometimes."

  "Really?"

  Eunice gave Anna an aggravated look. "Although you probably won't believe it, Sarah and I get along fairly well. Perhaps not as well as she gets along with you." She rolled her eyes upward ever so slightly. "Oh, don't think I
haven't heard all about her fabulous summer spent at the river, Anna. You'd think she'd been living in Disneyland the way the child prattles on."

  "We enjoyed her as much as she enjoyed us." Anna frowned.

  "I just wish that Lauren and Donald spent more time with her."

  "Oh, Anna, don't make so much of it. Sarah will be just fine. Children seem to grow up no matter the mistakes the parents make."

  "Is that how you raised Adam?"

  Eunice's brows arched slightly. "What are you suggesting?"

  "I'm not suggesting anything, Eunice. I'm just curious. I never had a chance to learn too much about Adam's upbringing. I know his father died when he was younger. And from what I heard, it seemed you spent quite a bit of time and energy on him. Weren't you two rather close?"

  Eunice seemed to soften now. "We were close. Adam was my right hand after his father passed. I depended on him for everything. He was my—my best friend." Her voice broke slightly.

  Anna leaned forward. "He was a good man, Eunice. You did a good job raising him."

  Eunice looked truly surprised. "You truly think so?"

  Anna nodded. "Oh, he was a bit spoiled. But you expect that with an only child. I was a little spoiled too."

  Eunice blinked. "You?"

  "In some ways I was. But I was also a hard worker. And Adam was a hard worker too. But he also knew how to play. I think one of the things that drew me to him was his sense of fun and adventure. He was always so full of life and fun. That was very attractive."

  "Yes," Eunice said eagerly. "He was full of life, wasn't he?"

  "I sometimes wonder what it would've been like if he hadn't been hurt like that . . . in the war."

  Eunice nodded sadly. "I do too. He never should've been in active service."

  "Why?"

  "He wasn't like that. He'd never been the sort of boy to play with guns or roughhouse like some boys. I remember how he tried to rescue a bird that flew into the picture window, putting it in a box with a tea towel, hoping that it would live . . . how he cried when it didn't." She sniffed. "He was too tenderhearted to march with a gun."

  "And yet he seemed eager to go." Anna remembered her dismay when he'd been so enthusiastic to join his buddies and head off to war.

  "That was his devil-may-care side . . . he loved adventures and had no idea what the war would really be like."

  "He found out quickly." Anna tried not to remember the look in his blue eyes when he returned to them . . . as if the light had gone out.

  Eunice was crying now, sitting by herself on the strangely-shaped sofa and wiping her eyes. Anna went over and sat next to her, wrapping an arm around the frail shoulders. "I wish we could've been friends," Anna confessed, "all those years when we were both suffering . . . I wish we'd known that we both missed him."

  Eunice nodded then quietly blew her nose. "I always blamed you, Anna," she whispered. "I felt you stole him from me . . . and then he never came back."

  "The war took him from both of us."

  "Yes . . . I think you are right."

  Now they just sat there for a long moment and then Eunice stiffened, squared her shoulders, and said it was time for bed. Anna stood, offering her a hand to help her up.

  Eunice paused after she stood, looking intently at Anna. "I have found that anger and bitterness become rather cumbersome the older I get."

  "It's better to just set those things aside."

  "Yes . . . I suppose so."

  Anna walked her through the house, going through the kitchen and to the back door. "It's dark out, Eunice, do you mind if I walk you home?"

  Eunice looked surprised and then relieved. "If you'd like."

  Anna smiled at her. "I would."

  Neither of them spoke as they walked down the brick paved path toward Eunice's little house, but at her door, Eunice thanked Anna. "And don't worry too much about Sarah," she said in a strangely gentle voice. "I will try to see that she's not too lonely."

  Anna reached over to grasp and squeeze Eunice's thin hand. "Thank you."

  So, as it turned out, Anna's visit seemed to have no impact whatsoever on Lauren, but the connection she made with Eunice made it all seem worthwhile.

  25

  Babette died in the early spring. She passed peacefully in her sleep just as the daffodils began to bloom. Although Anna was saddened to lose her dear old friend, she knew that Babette had lived a full and satisfying life. And Anna felt very thankful to have known her. Following Babette's funeral, Anna was stunned by two things. First, she'd had no idea that Babette was ninety-four years old. Equally surprising was that Babette had left all her worldly goods to Anna.

  "What will I do with her house and land and everything?" she asked Clark as they left the law office in Florence. "I already have my hands full at the inn."

  He shrugged. "Hold on to it, let me make some repairs on the house . . . then why not just wait and see?"

  "Yes . . . you're right. No hurry to figure it all out today. And, really, I'm honored that Babette left it to me."

  Of course, it wasn't until Anna began to sort through Babette's house that she realized just how much Babette had really left to her. Anna had always known Babette was wealthy. She'd grown up hearing stories of Babette's first husband Bernard and how he found gold shortly before his demise. But Anna didn't realize how many "treasures" Babette had squirreled away in her house. Whether it was fine china, sterling silver, crystal, or fine French linens, Babette had always had the best of everything. Besides that, she had jewelry, antiques, and most amazing of all, hidden beneath her bed in an old porcelain commode, of all things, was what Clark estimated might be several thousand dollars' worth of gold coins. Anna nearly fainted.

  Although Clark wisely suggested that most of the coins be locked in a safe at the inn, Anna decided that some of it would be sold and used to finish the much-needed repairs to Babette's property. Her plan was to restore the old house to its original splendor and perhaps one day use it as annex to the inn.

  Summer came and, to Anna's delight, Sarah was allowed to visit again. It seemed that they picked up right where they'd left off, though Sarah was a year older. But still, she loved helping—whether in the kitchen or the garden or even in the laundry, she never complained. Anna hoped that Lauren might come out and join them for a week or two and she tried numerous times to entice her, but Lauren wouldn't hear of it.

  "I have my commitments here," she told Anna.

  Anna wanted to question this. She'd seen what Lauren's days consisted of, but she knew that it was pointless to pick a fight with her daughter. Instead she focused her attention on Sarah and her guests. Plus, they were now preparing for a wedding. Marshall and Joanna had gotten engaged in May and the ceremony was set for the last week of August. Sarah had been invited to be a junior bridesmaid and couldn't have been happier.

  Again, it was another nearly perfect summer. Despite a long spell of cool and cloudy weather, not unusual on the Oregon coast, the rooms and cabins at the inn remained full. Then, as time for the wedding drew near, the inn began to fill up with family and friends of the wedding couple. Anna encouraged Lauren and Donald to come. She even promised them the use of Babette's lovely house, which was now fully restored, but the invitation was declined. Instead Anna invited Clark's exwife Rosalyn and her husband to occupy it. Perhaps that was a good thing, since Rosalyn could be somewhat demanding and Marshall seemed to appreciate having a bit of distance between them.

  Dorothy and her mother baked the wedding cake, and Anna and Jill arranged the flowers, most which came from Babette's gardens. It was a simple outdoor wedding, similar to Anna and Clark's, but Marshall and Joanna both insisted it was absolutely perfect. Fortunately it didn't rain until the happy couple was well on their way to their honeymoon.

  August came to an end too soon, and it was time to say goodbye to Sarah again. Instead of Lauren, Donald came to pick her up, arriving just before noon, which meant he'd been traveling since quite early in the morning. Anna enc
ouraged him to spend the night and refresh himself. He looked tired, with dark shadows beneath his eyes, but he refused, saying he needed to be at work the next day.

  Sarah blinked back tears as goodbye hugs were exchanged. Anna felt her heart was breaking. Everything in her wanted to beg Donald to just leave Sarah here, to demand that he allow his daughter a bit of happiness and a normal childhood. Instead she told Donald that Sarah was welcome to visit anytime . . . anytime at all.

  "Eunice isn't well," he told her as Sarah's bags were being loaded on the boat.

  Anna frowned. "Is it serious?"

  "I'm not sure." He glanced at his daughter. "But I think it will cheer her up to see Sarah."

  "Please give her my best," Anna told him. "And tell her I'll write."

  He nodded with a slightly grim expression.

  "And how is Lauren?" she asked quietly. Sarah was already in the boat now, offering to help Clark with the wheel.

  "She's the same." He glanced away as if uncomfortable.

  "Oh . . ." Anna didn't know what to say. "Well, if I can ever be of help, Donald. Or if Lauren ever wants to come out here to, well, to have a break . . ." Her voice trailed off as she wondered what Lauren could possibly need to take a break from. "Of course she's always welcome. You both are."

  Now Sarah came back to the side of the boat, looking expectantly at Anna. "Aren't you coming into town with us, Grandma?"

  "Sorry, sweetheart, I have to fix lunch and dinner. Remember Joanna and Jill aren't here to help now."

  Sarah's dark eyes grew shiny with tears as she tugged on the strings of her hooded sweatshirt, but she nodded bravely.

  "I love you," Anna mouthed to her as a big lump lodged in her throat.

  Sarah mouthed the words back then quickly turned away, putting her hands to her face. Anna knew Sarah was crying. She called out a husky goodbye, waving and wishing there was another way to do this. Clark tossed her a sympathetic glance then steered the boat out onto the sparkling river and revved up the motor.