Casey sensed there was more to her answer. She waited.
Finally, in a small voice, Meg said, “When was the first time I thought that maybe he was all my imagination? It was when I climbed out of the quarry and hid in the woods. I mean,” she said with sudden animation, even angst, “we were supposed to go somewhere good together. He was leading me there. I kept diving and diving, only I wouldn’t stay down.”
“Did you think he might have drowned?”
“No. Oh, no. Pete wouldn’t drown. He was strong. He was a good swimmer.” Self-conscious of the outburst, she gave Casey a sheepish smile. “Well, I imagined he was. But then he didn’t come back up to the surface to get me. I started getting tired, and he wasn’t there to help me stay underwater, and I couldn’t do it on my own. When I climbed out of the pool, he didn’t come. And then I just felt alone, like I’d always been.”
Casey thought about the last few times she’d tried to talk with Caroline, when her mother hadn’t responded. She had felt alone then, too. Thinking about being alone now, though, she didn’t feel as acute a pain. “Did you feel alone at the hospital?”
“At first I did. I didn’t know anyone. But they were all really nice. They wanted to help. I’d never had people wanting to help me before. Well, I had. There was Miriam. But she wasn’t like Pete.”
“Do you ever think you see Pete now? In stores? On the street?”
“How could I? He doesn’t exist. I made him up, because I needed him so bad.”
“Do you miss him?”
She started to shake her head, then stopped. Looking sheepish again, she said, “Sometimes. He loved me.”
Casey felt a stab of compassion. Impulsively, she rounded the bed and gave Meg a hug. “Other people love you, now. You’re a very lovable person.”
“You know what I mean,” Meg murmured.
Casey did. She had read
Flirting with Pete.
The kind of love Jenny had found in her Pete was something else.
“But it was a game,” Meg said softly. “I know that.”
Casey held her back and studied her face. Yet again she wore less makeup; her freckles were pale but distinct. Likewise, with the auburn rinse wearing off, her hair was becoming a more natural shade of red.
“A mind game,” Meg went on, meeting her gaze more surely. “I needed someone to take me away. I didn’t want to live if I had to be with Darden. I was desperate, so I played games. That’s what I learned at the hospital.”
“Do you believe it?”
She considered that. “I do. Don’t you?”
Casey nodded. She knew about games that the mind played. They were called psychoses. Some were brief, others prolonged. Some were debilitating, others not so. Jenny’s psychosis developed in response to a marked stressor, namely Darden’s imminent return from prison and the horror that would wreak on her life. Once removed from that situation, she had been successfully treated.
“Is that how you feel, when you hear your mother speak?” Meg asked.
Casey gave her a blank look.
“Desperate?” Meg added. “Like you need to play a mind game?”
Casey sat cross-legged on the bed in the dark. She was dressed for bed, but she hadn’t slept more than a few minutes. It was one in the morning. She had sent the night nurse down to the kitchen and was watching Caroline alone.
No, not alone. Angus was with her, curled up by Caroline’s feet. He seemed to have staked a claim to the spot, and hadn’t moved far from it since she had arrived.
Jordan came barefoot across the carpet. “Hey,” he whispered, lightly grazing her neck with the back of his hand. It was a brief gesture, incredibly tender, surprisingly reassuring. “Couldn’t sleep?”
She smiled, shook her head, reached for his hand.
He stood studying Caroline. “Her breathing sounds…”
“Bad.” Casey couldn’t delude herself.
He drew her hand to his mouth, kissed it, then flattened it on his chest and held it there. “What are you afraid of?” he asked quietly. “What’s bothering you most?”
Casey didn’t have to think for long. She had been asking herself the same question all night. “Being alone. Having no backup in life. I didn’t always agree with her, but I always knew she was there. She’s my mother. I’m not sure you get the same kind of unconditional love in your life from anyone but a mother. I’ve had clients who’ve never had that, and it haunts them. I’ve had clients who had it and lost it at too young an age. Here I am at thirty-four. I should be grateful for having had her all these years. Why am I so greedy to want more?”
“You said it. She’s your mother. It’s a unique relationship.”
“She loved me even through the bad times. She loved me when I was at my most unlovable.”
Jordan smiled. “I can’t imagine you being unlovable.”
“Trust me. I was. I was bratty. I was rebellious. I was totally obnoxious at times.”
“She must have known why. It’s easy to put up with things when you know the why of them.”
“It’s the unconditional-love thing. I was her only daughter. She had lots of friends, but only one daughter.”
“You’re using the past tense.”
Casey hadn’t planned it. The words had just come out that way. She watched Caroline’s face to see if she had noticed, too.
Of course, she hadn’t. Her eyes were closed, her life’s energy focused on breathing, on dragging air in and pushing it out, an increasing struggle, a plea.
A plea. Casey felt it.
Meg’s words echoed in her mind.
It’s like she’s trying to tell you something, only you can’t hear her, so she’s speaking louder and louder. What is she trying to say?
Ann Holmes’s words followed.
You need to help her, Casey. You need to let her know it’s okay.
“Is it okay?” Casey whispered.
She was looking at Caroline, but it was Jordan who answered. “Using the past tense? If you’ve used it, it’s okay. You’re the one who counts, Casey.”
“No,” Casey said. “This isn’t about me. It’s about her.” But as soon as the words were out, she knew they weren’t true. Caroline was beyond differentiating verb tenses. What mattered now, selfish as it sounded, was Casey’s own coming to terms with that. Her use of the past tense, after all this time adhering so carefully to present and future, meant something.
The subconscious often knew things first.
But Casey’s conscious self wasn’t far behind. Sitting there in the dark, she had the sudden understanding that her life had come together. Loose ends were connecting, needs were being met. She had resolved things in her mind between her parents, had found a special lover in Jordan, a blood relative in Meg, and an unexpected friend in Ruth. The townhouse was working for her. So was practicing solo. She had friends who loved her and colleagues who respected her. She had a garden that was an oasis in stormy times and pure bliss in calm ones.
What are you afraid of?
Jordan asked.
What’s bothering you most?
Being alone,
she had answered without pause.
It struck her now, though, that she wasn’t alone. If she hadn’t seen that before, the last few days had shown it to her. She was surrounded by people she cared about deeply and who cared deeply about her. She had a very rich life.
Alone? Alone was a term that she had come to use simply because she’d grown up in a single-parent home. But she had never been alone. Not really. Had she been her own client, she might have suggested— gently and nonconfrontationally— that she had used “alone” as an excuse for misbehavior, anger, even self-pity.
She didn’t feel any of those things now. Sitting here with Caroline and Jordan, she felt peaceful. Anger was gone. Bitterness was gone. So was fear.
Her mother would say she had finally grown up. And perhaps that was what Caroline had been waiting for, why she had hung on these three long years, living a life that was no life at all. She had been waiting for Casey to find that inner peace on her own, had given her time and space, which was very much the way Caroline had raised her. Casey had been a strong-willed child. She’d had a mind of her own, had needed to make her own mistakes and find her own answers. Now she had. Caroline had given her the time to do that. It was a final gift.
Jordan kissed the top of her head. “I’ll keep the bed warm,” he said, startlingly attuned to her thoughts and needs. “Call me if you want me.”
Casey choked up. She suspected the sudden swell of emotion had as much to do with her feelings for him as with what she had to do now. Unable to speak, she nodded silently. Her heart was full as she watched him leave the room.
Eyes filled with tears, she returned to Caroline. “He’s something, isn’t he?” she managed to ask through a smile. Then, “See?” she teased. “You can’t argue. If he were one of my earlier guys, you’d be telling me that I haven’t known him very long and that I should be cautious. But he’s a keeper, don’t you think?”
She brought Caroline’s hand to her mouth, kissed it, and tucked it under her chin. Her throat ached with emotion, but she forced words out. They couldn’t wait. It was time.
“Mom?” she whispered. “I need you to listen to what I have to say. This is really important.” She paused to wipe at the tears that trickled down her cheek. In the time it took to sniff back others, she felt a tiny remnant of fear. Once the words were out, she couldn’t take them back. But this was the right thing to do. She knew it in her heart.
“It’s okay, Mom,” she said ever so gently. “You can let go. I’m okay. I really am okay. You can let go now. You can leave.”
Hugging Caroline’s hand, she cried softly. But there was more to be said. She sniffled again and recomposed herself. “I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to suffer more than you have to. You’ve fought so hard, but you’re tired, and I can’t fault you for that. This has gone on too long. Let’s make it a good death.” Her voice rose to a wail on the last, and again she wept softly. It was another minute before she managed to continue, her voice hoarse. “If you’ve prolonged this for my sake, I’m sorry.” She took a broken breath. “No. Actually, I’m not sorry. Three years ago, I wasn’t ready. But I am now. You made it easier.” She went on more brightly. “I’m glad you met Jordan. He’s the one, Mom. I really think he is. Have you ever heard me say that before? No, you haven’t. But he’s only one of the things that’s right with my life.” She gave a small, mildly hysterical laugh. “I mean, did I think that things were
wrong
with my life? No. But now that the pieces are all falling into place, things are so
right
.” Her voice wavered, tears starting again. “I want things to… to be right for you, too. I want you peaceful. You deserve that. I love you so much.”
Sobbing quietly, she pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand and pressed it to her nose. She didn’t immediately speak when she regained control this time. Rather, she noticed Angus. No longer curled in a ball, he was sitting up now, large green eyes on Caroline. Her own eyes followed. Caroline was breathing more easily.
Her first thought was that she was imagining it. So she listened with a more objective ear. It gave her the same hopeful report.
Casey had no delusions. Gone were visions of Caroline recovering. Reality had quenched that hope. A new one had arisen, though. It had to do with dying in peace.
Convinced from this quieter breathing that she was saying the things Caroline needed to hear, Casey went on. Her voice was nasal now, thick with tears. “You were an incredible mother. I think I knew that deep down, even when I hated you. But you always did the right thing, Mom, even when that meant standing back and letting me mess up and then make amends. Even now. You hung on for me. I think you knew Connie died. You took a turn for the worse then. Still you hung on. But it’s okay,” her voice trembled, rose, broke. “It’s… okay to go, to let… go.”
Crying again, rocking back and forth ever so slightly, she pressed Caroline’s hand hard to her mouth. She didn’t try to stop the tears. This was the last physical support her mother would ever give her, and she took it greedily. The scent of eucalyptus was fading. She breathed the last of it in.
In time the weeping ebbed. Gently, she stroked Caroline’s forehead, her cheek, her hair. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m okay. I mean, you can never be dead as long as I’m around. I’m
you
in so many ways. I never saw it. Never wanted to see it. I wanted to be independent and do things my way, but my way was pretty often your way. Especially lately.” She actually smiled. “You’ll always be with me, Mom. Kind of like Jordan’s perennials. Every year, something’ll bloom in my life to remind me of you. It’ll always be different, never the same, but it’ll be good. Love lasts.”
Having said that, Casey was content. Suddenly exhausted, she lay down with Caroline, held her close, kept her warm, and put her ear to her mother’s heart until there was no beat left to hear.
Summer in the garden was a time of ripening. The birches filled out, the hemlocks grew taller, maple and oak leaves deepened to a richer green, junipers to a sea green-blue. Less chirpy now that the mating season was done, the birds were raising their young. As the weeks passed, those fledglings joined their parents pecking at seeds in the feeder. Bees hovered over the rhododendron, and when those blooms passed, the gardenias, and when those passed, the hydrangea. Butterflies flitted into the garden from time to time, beautiful to see, too quickly gone.
Casey’s practice thrived— just seemed to proliferate right along with Jordan’s impatiens. She didn’t know if it was her own reputation catching on, word passed on the sly by the likes of Emmett Walsh, or simply the cachet of having an office on Beacon Hill. But her schedule filled. After a month in Connie’s office, she felt she had been there forever. Apparently, so did Angus. Once he ventured from the master bedroom, he became her shadow. Oh, he was stealthy about it at first, keeping his distance, moving with silent dignity. But by the time the hostas in the garden had raised elegant purple spikes, he was curling right up to her thigh during client sessions. If he was indeed the spirit of Connie, she couldn’t complain.
Nor could she complain about Jordan. He helped her bury Caroline and live through the grief, and he kept her garden growing, always with a new bloom to succeed one that withered as summer progressed. Just as ferns grew to replace trillium, petunias took the place of sweet william, periwinkle spread, and lupine bloomed regal and tall, so Casey’s relationship with Jordan evolved. She didn’t rush it. After having been impulsive for much of her life, she needed time. With her mother gone now, and her father before that, she was the adult in the family. Loving Jordan had been a sudden thing, come on her at a precarious time. She wanted her life to settle and see if that love would take root.