Chapter 46
His mother looked better than John expected. She seemed more like her usual self as well. John wasn't sure how much was an act. He had decided against checking in with Mrs. McGuinness, and his plan to have a girl stay with his mother had never materialized. It wouldn't have gone well. Since January, John had been relying on his mother's own reports on how she was doing, and he didn't trust her.
He looked around her sitting room. He did trust her. He trusted her to do exactly as she wanted. She and Anna were having, as his grandmother would have said, a wee blether across the tea table. John wasn't really listening, just observing how even though they had only met a few times, they seemed like old friends. The sun was hitting the side of Anna's face. Like family. He could leave and they wouldn't notice.
His mother smiled at him and patted his hand. Her Johnny. He reached for the teapot. She wanted to pour. She could barely life the teapot her hand was shaking so. John wasn't sure how she'd managed to prepare the scones and fruitcake with only one good hand. Anna smiled, and took the teapot and John's cup. John was surprised by how easily his mother surrendered. She sat back in her chair while Anna poured. Anna lips twitched at John across the table. He closed his eyes briefly before he was lost in Anna's.
John had to rewrite that letter tonight. It was so much more than marrying Anna now; it was leaving that old life that included Vera behind and starting fresh. John wasn't sure how long ago he had ceased to be complacently frustrated by his marital status, but now he felt a sense of urgency to rid himself of Vera at whatever price. He'd live in a cave, he'd beg, so long as he was free of Vera.
Anna would disagree. She would tell him that they had so much, that they were so very lucky, and that he'd be cold in a cave and hungry as a beggar. He smiled out the window. She was right. He'd never beg.
John looked out the window. It was as if it had never snowed. He had managed to doze a little when he returned to his room after rinsing his robe, and by the time he was up it was simply a bright, cool, wet day. He had smelled spring, finally, when walking to his mother's. He shifted. His leg was throbbing. The different bed, the different routine and house, the weather were all taking their toll. At one time, John would have felt old, but as he looked at Anna and his mother, he felt his life was beginning again.
He noticed a lull in the conversation. Would Anna be a dear and fetch something for her? John started to stand. He would…No, Johnnie would stay there and rest his bad leg. He was mortified. Anna stood. Of course, she would be happy to. She tilted her head and smiled at John. He mother didn't see. Anna knew his mother liked her. It was in the attic, in a trunk. John squinted at his plate. He wasn't sure what his mother wanted. Anna was repeating the directions. Of course there was an ulterior motive. It was a parcel of old white cotton, tied with a ribbon, in the bottom of a trunk. His mother would never say anything like that about his leg otherwise. Anna was sure she could find it. Her skirt flounced as she left.
John watched his mother watching Anna. Her smile, bright as ever, followed her out the door. John started to ask. She wouldn't let him. She poured more tea, one-handed. John hadn't thought she could do it. Now Johnny. Here it came. Her time wasn't long. No. She knew. She had known. Now, Johnny, he was never too old for a mother's advice. Clearly he and Anna were meant for each other. John looked down and squirmed. No need to look that way. It was clear to anyone. And not to worry. She remembered now that that parcel wasn't exactly where she thought. May take Anna a bit to locate it. Her mind wasn't what it once was. John's eyes narrowed. He had never before appreciated how devious his mother could be. Again he realized how thoroughly he had underestimated her.
Now, Johnny. She was all business. He would inherit everything, and there was more than he knew. John opened his mouth to say something, what he didn't know. No, Johnny, he didn't know everything about her finances, and she had been able to put some by over the years. Would have been for the girls' marriages, and the grandchildren. Use it. John started to say something. No, Johnny, use it to find Vera and divorce her. Hire a detective. Find her. Find something to use against her. He deserved Anna. He needed Anna. Life wasn't as long as it seemed. She looked at her wedding ring. John thought she would have twisted it had the flesh of the finger not swollen around it, making it immovable. Find something that couldn't be disproven.
John tried to tell her he'd been looking. She wouldn't let him. She knew she'd been visiting next door. She'd seen her. John was falling behind the conversation. Divorce. His mother. She was Catholic. Finally he got it out. He'd been looking but Vera was…well…she was being Vera. His mother's lips tensed. And he was letting her. She was leading him along and he was letting her. What was he supposed to do? Divorce. He hadn't wanted to tell his mother until it was a certainty. There was nothing so cruel as false hope. John and the tea set jumped as her good hand slammed the table. Dammit Johnny. Fight her.
Spittle was gathering at the corner of his mother's mouth. John didn't like it. She looked so old, so sick. He looked away. The sun was beating in the window. She had put a few daffodils in a vase on the table. He looked back, and handed her his handkerchief. Her breathing was settling. Johnny. Why did everything have to be so hard. They smiled. She said it as a statement. She didn't know the procedure really, but she knew money would make it possible. It always did. Promise he'd use it. Promise Johnny. He did. And if he couldn't find Vera, take Anna and get out of England. America. Everyone was going to America. He'd done so well making himself over. John looked towards the stairs. He thought he heard Anna. But he wasn't finished yet.
John felt sad. Life was so short. Now his mother was looking out the window. But so long as well. And happiness. Well. She looked at him again. When the time came he'd find everything he needed in the top drawer of the bureau in her bedroom. She caught John's eye. For all the white hair, the wrinkles, the stout and dumpy body under the print dress, John could see the light of the young woman she had been. Yes, she was certain it was there. The corner of her mouth twitched. Her eyes were young. The floor creaked. Anna was coming. She knew he'd do the right thing.
Anna was pensive. John hoped she hadn't heard. She had had some trouble finding it, and hoped that this was the right parcel….His mother just smiled. Oh dear, yes, that was it. Her mind…well. John couldn't look at her. That wasn't what it was. Not that it mattered if Anna had heard, but John….Where had she found it? John felt that he shouldn't say too much about things with Vera or Anna, until there was some hope of resolution. Of course that's where it was. He needed air. She remembered now. He felt it had been talked to death with Anna. It was the family christening gown. John felt dizzy. Anna looked at John. His mother kept talking. For safekeeping. John looked at Anna. She knew how men were. Anna was smiling, and nodding. Men never knew what was important. Her grandmother had made it, and all the babies had worn it. She wished they'd had photographers when Johnny was small. He was such a dear baby. Her eyes were clouding. John stood. Anna assured her she'd take care of it. They'd clear the table while Mrs. Bates rested.
John picked up the teapot and held the kitchen door open for Anna. His mother was stroking the edge of the gown. Anna shouldn't have to work when she was a guest, but…Nonsense. Just rest. John saw her head begin to nod, whether in sleep or in grief for her dead children, for the grandchildren who would never wear the gown, he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. He knew he didn't want to see her cry. She wouldn't want him to see her cry. He closed the door quietly behind him.
"John…." Anna was pale. He took her in his arms. She smelled of lemon and sweat and must and just a hint of lavender. She felt small and warm.
"I don't know." How could he say it? Mother wants us to run away together? Live in sin? "Mother is fond of you." Loves you. "And she's right, I won't know what's important to keep. There's no family, and…" Why was he becoming English now, when it mattered? Why couldn't he just tell her? It was his mother's wish. "…she so wants….she hopes…she believes we'll be able to be together." But his mother was clearly failing. He knew how much money there was. Anna was smiling. He had checked on her finances just last week. There was enough, but not enough to tempt to Vera. Not enough to help him get rid of Vera.
"Come on, these dishes won't wash themselves." Anna was still smiling. She moved to the sink, pushing up the sleeves of her dress. "I appreciate what your mother gave me." She started on the cups. "It…well, it says so much about how she regards me." She was starring out the window. "I love your mother." John wasn't helping. "And I know she needs to think we'll be able to marry." John handed her the spoons. "But…we're happy." Was there a hesitation?
John looked out the window. Someone's cat was in the garden. They were happy. He wouldn't tell Anna about what his mother had said. It wouldn't help. Waiting to see was best. His mother didn't care for cats.
"No." Anna put down the dish cloth. "I am happy, but I want more. I need more than this." John didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what he could say. "Your mother has shown me what it can be to be part of a family. I've never had that. To have a mother who loves me, a family that has heirlooms and traditions worth keeping…" She turned to him. "I want more than this. When your mother dies…." She shook her head. "Once you told Gwen that she could change her life, and that you knew." She starred at him. "I don't ask much of you, and I fancy this is for your own happiness as much as mine. It's time for another change." Anna turned, and proceeded to dry the dishes.