Joy Takes Flight Read online

  The trip home felt as if Paul was walking through memories. As they moved through the Financial District with its impressive French Renaissance architecture, he remembered trips into that part of town to do business with his father or with Robert. Union Square, with its Dewey Monument, was a place he’d spent a good deal of time. Susan had a penchant for fashion and one of her favorite places to shop was at O’Connor, Moffatt & Co. Sometimes he’d join her, and while she did her shopping, he’d visit with other men in the courtyard who were also waiting for their wives. Often, after Susan had completed her shopping, the two of them would share a picnic lunch on the lawns outside the plaza. It was fun to sit and chat outdoors and watch people come and go. His heart squeezed at the memory.

  When his brother turned onto Franklin Street, Paul’s mouth went dry. Was the entire family waiting for him? The car passed a parade of Victorian homes and then they reached the one where he’d grown up. It was a three-story house with a basement. He suddenly recalled a joke he and his brothers had pulled on his sisters. They’d convinced them that monsters lived in the basement. He smiled. Audrey had refused to set foot in the basement for two years, until their father insisted she face her fears.

  He studied the house. It looked bigger than he remembered, perhaps because the cabin he’d grown accustomed to was so small. The house was painted an olive green and had rows of narrow windows with white panes that gazed down on the street. Bay windows with lace curtains rounded out the southwest corner of the house on all three floors. The yard was well tended, shrubs neatly trimmed and the gardens free of weeds. The trees were bare and smartly pruned. Broad brick steps led to a landing and windowed front doors. Paul’s stomach tightened.

  Robert pulled to the side of the street. Before he could get out and open Audrey’s door, she’d climbed out on her own and was hurrying up the front steps.

  Robert grabbed Paul’s bag out of the trunk. “Figured you’d want to stay with Mother.”

  “Of course.” Paul headed up the steps and walked into a tiled vestibule. A large crystal chandelier lit the interior entrance and a mahogany table with a mirror over it stood along one wall. Paul glanced in the mirror as he moved past to hang his coat on the coatrack.

  Audrey waited at the foot of the stairs. “Mother’s in her room.”

  Paul gave a nod. His stomach felt queasy.

  Robert followed Paul inside. “I’ll put these in your room.” He hefted the suitcases slightly.

  “I can do that.”

  “No need,” Robert said.

  Paul removed his coat and hung it on the rack. The house felt overly warm. With the cool damp weather, he was certain fires burned in the hearths in the parlor and the front room, as well as the kitchen and the occupied bedrooms. “Warm,” he said.

  “You can’t be serious.” Audrey hugged herself. “It’s freezing. You’re simply used to the Arctic cold.”

  “I don’t live in the Arctic.”

  “Well, wherever it is you live. I know it’s much colder there than here and it’s buried in snow.”

  She was still peeved with him and rightly so. Paul made no mention of her snippy tone. “True. It is cold and we do have snow, but the summers are warm. It’s beautiful there. I’d like to show it to you.” He stared at her and felt a challenge coming from her. It reminded him of when they were children. “You’re mad at me for not coming home and I understand that, but you never came north either.”

  Audrey puckered out her lower lip. “My understanding was that you didn’t want visitors.” She looked at Robert. “Isn’t that right?”

  Robert cleared his throat. “Perhaps it would be better if we didn’t discuss this right now.”

  “Fine. But I am right.” Audrey removed a hat pin, lifted off her trendy hat, and placed it on a shelf above the coatrack. “I doubt I’d like it. I’m not fond of the country.”

  Although Paul wanted to defend his home, he bit his tongue. An argument would serve no good purpose. And one rarely won a disagreement with Audrey.

  He moved to the stairway and placed a hand on the mahogany banister. “Mother’s still in the same room?”

  “Yes. Go on up. I’m sure she’s waiting for you.” Robert took the steps, a bag in each hand.

  Paul sucked in a breath of courage and headed up, afraid of what he’d find. His mother had always been vigorous. He didn’t want to see her sickly and dying. He took each step with resolve. When he reached the top of the stairway, he stopped. Everything looked just as it had. The occasional table with a crystal vase brimming with flowers stood in the alcove at the top of the staircase. His mother had always kept flowers in the house. He headed down the hallway adorned with a vividly colored Oriental rug.

  When he reached her room, which was the last one at the end of the corridor, he stopped and stared at her bedroom door. He remembered how she’d insisted on this particular room because it offered the best view of San Francisco Bay. He opened the door, doing his best to be quiet in case she was asleep. The room was furnished with dark mahogany and a four-poster canopy bed sat like a centerpiece. His mother had always loved the bed. It had been a gift from his father. She sat among plump pillows, her gray hair braided and draped over one shoulder. Her white dressing gown looked as if it had been starched. She’d always been a small woman, but now she looked tiny in the large bed.

  Her bright blue eyes had dimmed and her complexion was pallid. She smiled and held out a hand to him. “I can barely believe what I see. Come here and give me a kiss.”

  Paul obeyed and bent and kissed his mother’s cheek. Her skin felt dry and paper thin. Shaking slightly, she placed her hands on his face, and then kissed both of his cheeks. “God has blessed me.”

  Although frail, she retained her inner strength and beauty. He sat on the bed and gently grasped her hand. “It’s good to be here.”

  “It took you long enough,” she said, her speech sounding as if it were barely managing to squeeze past her voice box. “I was beginning to think you’d never come home and I’d have to die without you.” She gave him a playful smile. “Stand up and let me have a look at you.”

  Paul stood and held his arms away from his sides. Being scrutinized made him feel uncomfortable.

  “Dear me. What’s happened to your hand?”

  “It’s nothing. A little cut that’s healing well.”

  She studied him, her eyes touched by pleasure. “You’ve become a strapping young man. Nearly as big as Robert.” She pressed her palms together. “It would seem Alaska has been good for you.” She narrowed her eyes. “But you should have come home sooner and more often.”

  “You’re right. I should have. I’m sorry, but I thought you understood . . . the why.”

  She puffed out a breath between shriveled lips. “I suppose I do. But the time comes when we must move on. It should not take something as drastic as my death to bring you home.”

  “I’m truly sorry. I see now how wrong I’ve been. But I did think about you and the rest of the family often. I missed you. I just couldn’t come back and face what had happened.”

  “It was a long time ago.” She caressed his cheek, her eyes holding his. “You’re still carrying around all that hurt, aren’t you?”

  Paul straightened. “Not so much now. I got married.”

  “Yes. Robert told me. I’m happy for you. And I heard there’s going to be a baby.”

  Paul cleared his throat. “Was. We lost the baby—a girl . . . just a few weeks ago.” An ache tightened his throat. He missed Kate.

  “Oh, Paul. I’m truly sorry.” She closed her eyes, and it looked like she was praying. When she opened them, she said, “Your little one is with the Father.” She glanced at the door. “Did you bring your bride with you?”

  “No. She wasn’t up to the trip.” Paul knew that wasn’t entirely true, although the journey would have been arduous for Kate. The whole truth was, he needed to come alone. He needed to face this place and his family on his own.

  “I’m
sorry to hear that. I’d hoped to meet your young lady. She must be very special to have captured your heart.” She grasped Paul’s hand.

  “There’s no one like Kate. She’s a pilot and flies all over the Alaskan territory.”

  “Yes. I recall hearing that. And Robert said you’re working as a bush doctor now.” His mother smiled gently. “I’m so proud of you.” She took a quaking breath, which set off a spasm of coughing. She pointed at a glass of water on the bedstead.

  Paul handed it to her, and with trembling hands, she sipped. “That’s better.” She returned the glass to Paul. “Maybe we can talk more later. I’m a bit worn out.”

  “Okay. I’ll get settled and see you for dinner?”

  “That would be splendid.”

  “I’ll bring our meals up.” Paul bent over her and kissed her forehead, struggling to hold back his tears. “I’ll see you later.” When he stepped into the hallway, Robert and Audrey were waiting for him.

  “How does she seem to you?” Audrey asked. “I mean from a doctor’s perspective.”

  “Understandably weak and fatigued, but her mind is just as sharp as ever. And she seems in good spirits.”

  “She’s sleeping more and more,” Robert said.

  “With a condition like this, that is to be expected. Her heart is failing and is unable to pump an adequate supply of blood to keep her strong.”

  “So, you agree with the doctors?” Audrey’s eyes teared.

  “Robert said she has the best in the city. And from what I’ve seen, she appears to be failing.” He rested a hand on the closed door. “If you don’t mind, we’ve planned to share our evening meal together in her room.”

  “No. Of course we don’t mind. However, Sean and Carolyn will be here. Carolyn’s bringing her children.” Robert glanced down the hallway. “I know she’s hoping to spend time with both you and Mother.”

  “I’ll see to it that she has plenty of time for both. I’m looking forward to seeing her and her family,” Paul said, although he wasn’t, not completely. He knew there would be questions, and although Carolyn was not as confrontational as Audrey, she had a way of letting her feelings be known. “If you’ll excuse me, I could do with a nap before dinner.”

  “Certainly,” Robert said. “I’ve got work at the office. And before returning, I’ll swing by and pick up Mary and the children. Ever since hearing you’d be coming, Rebecca and John have talked of nothing else.” He smiled.

  “I’ve missed them. They’re nearly grown, what are they—eleven now?”

  “In February.”

  “Did you hear, Mother’s decided to come down and share Thanksgiving dinner with us?” Audrey asked. She glanced at Paul. “I’m afraid it’ll be too much for her.”

  “If she wants to have dinner with us, then so be it,” Robert said.

  “She’s a determined woman,” Paul said, then shoved his hands into his pockets and walked down the hallway toward his room, convinced that this would be the last holiday he’d share with his mother.

  Paul spent the next few days becoming reacquainted with family, getting to know his four nieces and one nephew, and catching up on all that had taken place since he’d escaped to Alaska. Young John was the most inquisitive of them all and the two hit it off immediately.

  Audrey had no serious beau and stated quite openly that she wasn’t at all certain she would ever marry. She was dead set against placing herself under any man’s authority. Paul thought she and Kate would get along well together. Sean made very few appearances. From what Paul could gather, he had a busy social life and with the holidays approaching intended to make an appearance at as many gatherings as possible. He’d been friendly with Paul, but had more on his mind than family. Carolyn had taken on the task of making sure all the details for the holiday were attended to, and she and Audrey spent countless hours in the kitchen baking.

  Mary, Robert’s wife, was friendly and outgoing, but she had much more in common with Audrey. The two never seemed to tire of discussing the latest in local art and theater.

  Carolyn said very little to Paul about his absence, and it had taken her time to warm up to him, although her husband, Charles, was friendly and seemed to genuinely enjoy Paul’s company. It wasn’t until a late-night chat in the kitchen that Carolyn finally talked freely and with genuine enthusiasm laughed over fun recollections.

  Paul spent a great deal of his time with his mother, but managed to see a few friends about town. His closest friend and former colleague, Walter Henley, was unavailable due to an influenza outbreak. They made plans for after the Thanksgiving holiday.

  Used to the seclusion and solitude of the homestead, Paul sought time alone at the beach as often as possible. He’d find a log, sit and watch fishing vessels and sailboats. He longed to sail again. It had been one of his and Susan’s favorite activities. Watching a sleek vessel dance across the waves, pushed along by a brisk wind, brought back memories of outings they’d taken. She felt close.

  The sailboat disappeared into a mist and Paul’s mind wandered to Kate. He envisioned her amber eyes and her hearty laughter. He longed to be with her. But he couldn’t leave, not now. He’d tried to contact her by telephone, but she hadn’t been home. Out on a run, no doubt. He’d write her when he got back to the house.

  Thanksgiving arrived with a flood of activity. The house was filled with the delectable smells of roasting meat, sweet rolls, and pies. It resounded with laughter and family conversation. How strange it seemed that as his mother lay dying, the family celebrated. It didn’t seem right. But even now his mother’s spirit filled the house. She’d always overflowed with cheer and even in these last days she possessed an essence of incomprehensible joy.

  Finally it was time. The table was set and the food prepared and set out. Paul and Robert hurried up the stairway to their mother’s room.

  Paul knocked. “Dinner’s ready.”

  Carolyn opened the door. “Mother’s ready. But she’ll need help getting downstairs.”

  The head of the Anderson household sat in a cushioned high-back chair, her gnarled hands clasped in her lap. Her silver hair was coiffed and Paul guessed that she’d taken time for a bit of rouge and lipstick. She wore one of her favorite dresses, a lavender gown with butterfly sleeves.

  “Mother, you look beautiful,” Robert said.

  “Of course I don’t, but I thought it fitting I wear my best.” She smiled. “And it smells as if my two daughters have outdone themselves.” She lifted a hand. “I could do with a little help.”

  Paul and Robert moved to either side of the chair. Each held her arms and lifted her to her feet. She tottered slightly and Paul grasped her more tightly. He could smell the delicate fragrance of roses. She was wearing her favorite perfume.

  His mother straightened. “I’m ready.” Taking a step and leaning heavily upon her sons, she made her way down the stairs, making an entrance into the dining room.

  “Oh Mother, you look stunning,” Audrey said.

  Sean hurried around to the end of the table and pulled out a chair for his mother. She sat carefully and Sean pushed the chair up to the table. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply, then she gazed at her family. “How wonderful to be here with all of you.” She settled her eyes on Paul. “Would you mind giving thanks?”

  “Certainly,” Paul said, stumbling over the word. He was the last one who should pray. And everyone at the table knew that, but as he looked at his family, they wore expectant expressions, not critical ones. Audrey and Carolyn both seemed close to tears. Paul bowed his head, his mind blank. What should he say? He’d been angry with God for so long.

  And then seemingly from nowhere a flood of thankfulness washed through him. “Our heavenly Father,” he began. “I cannot begin to express how lucky I am to be a part of this family. Thank you for their love and acceptance, their forgiveness. They have welcomed me back into the fold and have blessed my life. My sisters have labored over this meal. I ask that you bless the work of the
ir hands. And strengthen our mother who is at the heart of this family. Amen.”

  He looked up to find Carolyn dabbing at her eyes and his mother smiling broadly, her eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you, Paul. Now Robert, would you carve the turkey for us?”

  The meal was perfection—family recipes handed down through the years—sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, gravy, cornbread stuffing, and corn casserole along with cranberry gelatin and the lightest of sweet rolls. Paul was glad he was there, but wondered about Kate. What was she doing on this day? She’d said something about spending it with the Warrens.

  He noticed his mother ate very little, but her eyes were alight with pleasure as she listened to her children and grandchildren reminisce with story after story. It was a day to treasure. She went up to bed early, and Paul sat at her bedside, wondering how much longer she would remain with them. She wore a smile in her sleep, but her color was off, her lips tinged blue. The celebration had taken a toll. Paul decided to remain at her side through the night, just in case she might need him.

  She blinked open her eyes and looked at him. “I’m so thankful you’re here. I prayed and God brought you home.”

  Alaska had been home for so long, but at this moment the house where he’d been loved and nurtured felt like home. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.”

  She raised her hand to quiet him. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you’re unhappy. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Her voice was so quiet, Paul could barely hear. He leaned closer. “I’m fine, Mother. I have a good life, good friends, and a wife I cherish. I want you to meet Kate. You’ll love her.”

  “I see the love you feel each time you speak of her. I’m sorry I won’t have the opportunity to meet her.”

  “Don’t talk like that. You may have many more years.”

  His mother was silent for a moment, then she said, “We have no time for pretending. I’m dying . . . soon.” Paul started to speak, but she shushed him. “Listen to me. You must find a way to forgive yourself. If you don’t, your self-loathing will destroy you. I wish you could see what I see—a fine, honorable man. God has given you so many gifts, and he didn’t intend for you to hide yourself away where your gifts are hidden, they’re meant to be shared.”