Homeward Page 24

  “That’d be great, Meg. I’d like working at the gallery. And I can probably help at the bog, too, but I’d have to do it at certain times, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll go see what Mom’s doing.”

  Meg prepared herself to be sent away. She really should have phoned first, but when she’d seen Abner’s rig in town, it had seemed like the perfect opportunity. But perhaps Phoebe would be embarrassed.

  After a few minutes, Jason came back and said, “Come on in, Meg. Mom’s in the living room.”

  After seeing the front yard, Meg had thought the inside of the house might be messy as well. To her surprise, it was neat as a pin, although the dark furniture and worn carpet gave the place the feel of a cheap motel. Phoebe moved toward her, smiling warmly. She wore peach polyester pants and a Hawaiian shirt in bright tropical colors.

  “Hello, Meg,” said Phoebe. “I’m so glad you stopped by. I wanted to meet you at your mother’s funeral—well, it wasn’t exactly a funeral… Anyway, I wanted to meet you and tell you how sorry I am. Sunny was such a dear woman. I miss her a great deal, more than I can say. Now, come on in and sit down. I hardly ever get visitors out here, although your mother used to come once in a while. That would just make my day.” Phoebe sank down on the sagging brown couch and seemed to need a moment to catch her breath.

  “I didn’t mean to barge in on you, Phoebe, without calling. I didn’t even think.”

  Phoebe waved her hand. “Your timing couldn’t have been better. Abner’s out with the boys and probably won’t be back until late. Jason, can you get us some coffee? I just put a pot on. Would you like some coffee, Meg? And I just baked a pound cake. Bring in some of that, too, won’t you, Jason?”

  “Sure, Mom,” he called back.

  “Jason is a great kid,” said Meg. “I’ve appreciated his help at the bog. And I hope you don’t mind, but I offered him some part-time work at the gallery.”

  “That would be nice. He needs to get out more. How is it going with the gallery? Will it continue to stay in business like before?”

  “Sure. Nothing’s changed with the business.”

  “Good. Sunny would like that.”

  “I didn’t realize that you and Sunny were friends,” said Meg as Jason set down mugs of coffee and generous slices of pound cake.

  “Oh, it wasn’t as if we were real close. I know Sunny had dozens of friends. But she was a friend to me, and I don’t have many.” Phoebe pressed her lips together and stared down at the coffee table. “Well, now, you had better try some of my pound cake, Meg.”

  Meg took a plate and tried not to think of how many calories were in this huge slice. After the first bite, she no longer cared.

  “This is absolutely delicious, Phoebe!”

  Phoebe ducked her head shyly. “Thanks, Meg. If there’s one thing I do take a bit of pride in, it’s my baking.”

  “Grandmother has mentioned that you’ve sent baked goods over, and she loves them.”

  Phoebe smiled again.

  “Mom’s the best cook ever,” said Jason proudly. “There’s nothing she can’t bake, and better than anybody else.”

  “Oh, go on, you,” said Phoebe, obviously enjoying every minute of it.

  “My grandpa—well, Abner’s too, although I know he never met him—was quite a good cook. In fact, I recently found all his old cranberry recipes. You might be interested in some of them.”

  “Oh, I sure would, Meg. I just love trying new things.”

  “I’ll get copies made and bring them out to you.”

  “That would be wonderful. But, Meg?”

  “Yes?”

  “Next time, you might want to call first. You see, with Abner around, well—”

  “I understand. Sure, Phoebe, I’ll be glad to call first. And I hate to run, but I need to get back to help Clive close the shop.”

  “Clive’s working today?” asked Jason, his eyes bright.

  “Yes, this is her first day. She’s also coming out this weekend to help on the bog.” Meg glanced at Phoebe, unsure of how Abner’s wife felt about the cranberry bog. She imagined Phoebe sided with her husband, because they’d probably make quite a bit of money if the land was sold for development. So she was surprised by what Phoebe said next.

  “Meg, I know you won’t repeat this, but I don’t mind saying I’m real glad you’re doing what you are. I don’t understand why Abner has given up on the cranberries. Everything was going so well the first few years we were here, and then he seemed to get lazier and started drinking more, and now I just don’t know what to do about him half the time.”

  “I understand. Maybe if he sees them being brought back, that will encourage him to look at things differently.”

  “I don’t know, Meg. But I sure hope so.”

  “Thanks for the cake, Phoebe. It really was delicious.”

  “Jason,” Phoebe said. “You wrap up the rest of that loaf for Meg.” She turned to Meg. “You take it home with you. Maybe you can slice it up for your customers in the gallery. Sunny used to do that sometimes.”

  “That’s a great idea,” said Meg. “Thanks again for everything.”

  As Meg set the foil-covered loaf on the car seat beside her, she wondered if Phoebe would like to bake things on a regular basis for the gallery. It would give her some extra money, and it might be smart marketing to have some good snacks at the gallery.

  Just as Meg expected, Clive had had no problems managing the gallery. Meg thanked her and locked up, while Clive departed to the Feed and Seed to catch a ride home with her grandpa. Then Meg dashed upstairs and called Grandmother, inviting herself over for dinner.

  “I’ll tell Rosa to put another plate on,” said Grandmother.

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” said Meg.

  And she was. Rosa served dinner in Grandmother’s room, since she had been up a lot already today. Meg told her about the gallery, how she was settling into the apartment, and that she had actually sold a photo. When Grandmother had finished her last bite, Meg poured her another cup of tea.

  “How was your visit with Matthew?” asked Meg as she sipped her tea.

  Grandmother stiffened slightly. “It was fine.”

  “I asked Matthew to discuss putting something together for us in regard to the bog.”

  “Yes, he told me about it. I don’t quite understand why we need anything drawn up. After all, we’re family.”

  “Well,” Meg began, searching for the right words, “I plan to invest a bit of my own money—actually, quite a bit—and I don’t want Abner to sell the bog out from under us.”

  “He can’t sell what isn’t his,” said Grandmother indignantly.

  “Yes, I know, but I was a little worried. It will be pretty costly to restore the bog and—”

  “But, Meggie, you know I don’t have much money to spare,” said Grandmother, her eyes wide. “I never—”

  “No, Grandmother,” Meg interrupted gently, “you don’t understand. I don’t want you to put a single penny into this.”

  “But then, how will you manage?”

  “I decided it was something I wanted to do.”

  “But how can you afford it?”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not bankrupting myself. Besides, I want to do this for Grandpa, for the family. The cranberry bog is part of our heritage. And everyone—well, everyone but Abner—seems to want to see it preserved.”

  Grandmother set down her teacup and looked at Meg with concerned eyes. “I never meant for you to get this involved, Meggie. Putting money into this place...” She shook her head. “It was one thing when it was just you kids working on it. It seemed to amuse you—”

  “It’s more than amusement, Grandmother. And I thought you wanted to see it brought back. You told me that I could—”

  “But what about Abner?”

  “What about Abner?” Meg tried to keep the irritation out of her voice. After all, Abner was as much Grandmother’s grandchild as Meg was.
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  “Well, I just don’t know what he’s going to say about all this. Bringing in crews, spending all that money—”

  “My money, Grandmother. And remember, it is your land.”

  “I know, I know. I just don’t want to upset Abner.”

  “But what about all the upsetting that Abner is doing?”

  “I know; he’s not an easy one. But he has his problems, Meggie. You have to understand.”

  “Well, I understand that he doesn’t give a hoot about the bog and that he would sell this whole place in a second if he could.”

  Grandmother looked down into her lap. She started rubbing her hands together and then began to tremble.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Grandmother,” said Meg, feeling guilty. “I thought I was doing something good. But if it’s not right, or if it upsets you, I’ll call Cal and tell him you’ve—tell him we’ve changed our minds.”

  “No, no. I don’t want you to do that, Meggie. Not exactly.” Grandmother paused and shook her head. “If only there was some way to make everyone happy. If only—if only...” Grandmother’s eyes got a faraway look, and her lips continued to move as if she were speaking, but Meg couldn’t hear or understand the words. It frightened her, and she went out to ask for Rosa’s help.

  “It’s okay, Meg,” said Rosa as she turned off the TV. “She gets like that sometimes. But don’t you worry, I’ll take care of her now.”

  Meg drove home and wondered if she should tell Cal to put a stop to their plan. In all fairness, she would still need to pay him something for his efforts. But on the other hand, Grandmother had said to go ahead. Even if there was the tiniest chance that Grandmother might change her mind again, would it hurt anything to at least get things going to save the bog? Besides, if they stopped now, it would be too late—forever.

  Before she went to bed, Meg read some more in the Bible that Matthew had given her. Last night, she had started reading the Gospel that he was named after, and in it, she found a verse where Jesus told people not to worry about things but to trust their heavenly Father. She asked God to help her with that one. Worrying was such a natural thing for her to do. It would be hard to let go of. But she would try.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  Cal and the crew started to work on the bog on Friday. On Saturday, Meg went out to help while Erin kept shop. To Meg’s surprise and pleasure, Matthew dropped off Clive. But he didn’t leave. Jason joined them, too, and just before noon, Tom and the girls showed up. By late afternoon, Meg looked around and was amazed at how much had been accomplished in two short days. For the first time since she’d started, she believed that the bog might produce something besides weeds when it came time to harvest.

  “I’m real pleased,” said Cal at the end of the day. “I think by Tuesday we’ll be ready to start spraying.” He looked at the clipboard in his hand. “See here, Meggie, I’ve been keeping track of what kind of weeds are most prevalent in each area so we’ll know exactly what to spray.”

  “And I thought you were just doodling, Pop,” Matthew teased.

  “We’re not going to be able to save the four bogs on the east end, Meggie. They’re just too far gone; it’s not worth it. They can be replanted next fall.”

  Meg nodded. She had expected as much. “I guess we should be glad there’s only those four.”

  “That’s right. It’s downright amazing what good shape these plants are in, considering what they’ve been through. I never expected to see this many uprights.”

  Meg knew, from what Grandpa had taught her long ago, that uprights were one of the most important parts of the plants. The upright was where the berries would grow, and the more uprights on the plant, the better. She knew there weren’t nearly as many as there would be in a normal bog, but she was glad they had any.

  “I can’t believe I almost gave up, Cal.”

  “A lot of people would have, Meggie. The truth is, it’s nothing short of a miracle that things are looking this good.”

  “Well, I think someone’s looking after Meg,” said Matthew, putting his hand on her shoulder. She knew it was just a friendly gesture, like something a big brother might do, but just the same it made her breath catch in her throat.

  “But, as good as things are looking, we’re nowhere near done,” said Cal. “We’ve still got the herbicides, and you’ll still be needing lots of hand weeding because believe me, Meggie, these weeds may look like they’re under control now, but they’ll keep coming back. Then we’ve got to get some fertilizer on here, and there’s always the frost—”

  “Okay, Pop,” said Matthew. “Let’s not rain on her parade yet. I’m starving. How about we all head over to Mario’s for pizza? My treat.”

  “No, it should be my treat,” Meg protested.

  Matthew’s sandy eyebrows drew together in a mock frown. “Are you sure you want to argue with a lawyer, Meg?”

  “Maybe not.” Meg smiled. “But do you think they’ll let us in like this?” She held out her stained hands and looked down at her dirty shirt and jeans.

  Matthew gave a little tug on her French braid. “Sure. Mario’s a good buddy of mine.”

  They invaded Mario’s and were treated to excellent service and even better pizza. They stayed late, eating and talking until they were the only ones left in the restaurant.

  Meg thanked everyone as they left. It was incredible how helpful and friendly people were here. It reminded her of stories she’d heard about the good old days, with barn raisings and quilting bees. She realized that if she hadn’t been in such need, she probably never would have made all these friends.

  Back at her apartment Meg took a long, hot bath and then felt ready to collapse into bed. She was getting ready to do just that when she spotted the cedar chest. Each night she had been telling herself that she would get to it the following day, and when the next day arrived, she was just too busy. It was only ten o’clock now, and she used to stay up much later than this in the city, but that was before all this fresh air and exercise. Maybe she could stay up a little later, just this one night. Somehow, she felt it was time to look into Sunny’s past.

  She went over and carefully removed the old quilt from the top, then fit the key in the lock. It turned easily, and opened with a soft click. She lifted the lid and was met by the strong smell of cedar. Sunny had opened it for her once when she was little, and had shown her some old baby clothes inside. Meg couldn’t remember what else had been in it, but she remembered the smell.

  The chest wasn’t as full as Meg had expected it to be. She wondered if Sunny had already gone through and removed things that she didn’t want to leave behind, or if the things she’d taken out were in the boxes she’d already put together for Meg and Erin. Meg fingered through a stack of diplomas and awards that Sunny had received over the years. Sunny had devoted so much time and energy to her education during those early years, going to college year-round, taking night classes, and being on committees to win points with the administrators. And this was all that was left to show for it. No, Meg corrected herself. There was more. A lot more.

  Meg dug deeper, rifling through piles of old photos, programs, and newspaper clippings about art exhibits Sunny had directed at the university. She was getting close to the bottom and was about ready to go to bed when two things caught her eye. One was a stack of old letters, and the other was what looked like a journal, but the journal didn’t look old at all. The two were tied together with a red ribbon. Meg untied the ribbon and opened up the journal first, since it was on top. To her surprise, the very first entry was written to her. Sunny must have put this together, hoping that Meg would find it. She sat down on the floor and began to read.

  Dear Megan,

  I hope that somehow this finds its way into your hands because it might help explain many of the things that I’ve never had a chance to say to you. First of all, I must say that I am very sorry. I’m sorry for all that I put you through as a child, and I’m sorry that you felt the need to remove yourself so completely from m
y life, for what appears to be forever. I don’t ever expect to see you again, Megan, and if you’re reading this, it must mean that I am gone. Please understand I don’t hold that against you. No, it is my fault, Megan.

  I realize now that I was a complete failure as a mother. You told me that many times as a teenager, and you were right. I did let you down. I let Erin down, and I let myself down. And I am very, very sorry. I’ve considered trying to find you, but I want to respect your privacy. I know that should you ever want to, you’ll know where to find us. I pray that someday you will.

  The reason I’m writing this is because I’ve just discovered that I have only a few months to live, and I’m afraid I might die without having a chance to make things right with you. Or to at least try. I hope that you will be able to forgive me, because I know how terrible it feels to not be able to forgive someone in your family. I saw my father do it to my mother, and I saw myself do it to your father. Although everyone suffers, it is the children who pay the greatest price, and for that I’m truly sorry. I’ve already talked about this with Erin, and fortunately for her and her children, she believes in a Christian forgiveness. She has managed to break away from this vicious cycle. Megan, I hope that if you have children, you are not living in bitterness toward me—because if you are, watch out. It will spill over and poison your children, the way it did to me and the way it did to you.

  Meg could no longer read. Her eyes were filled with tears. She closed the journal and thought about Sunny’s words. For the first time, Meg was thankful she had no children, because what Sunny said was painfully true. Unforgiveness had been poisoning Meg over the years, and it eventually spilled out onto anyone who got close to her.

  She took a deep breath and thanked God that he was starting to teach her about forgiveness, even if she had a long way to go. Then she continued to read in the journal. Sunny wrote more about how the unforgiveness and bitterness in her life had begun with her own parents, but Meg still couldn’t figure out exactly what had happened. Like what she’d heard from Grandmother, Sunny also implied that Grandmother had done something wrong and that Grandpa had held it against her for a long time. Meg wondered what it could have been, but it seemed that Sunny was purposely not disclosing this information in the journal.