23. Sylvia
SYLVIA
I rresistible. The man is irresistible. My defenses are washing away like beaches before hurricanes – but what happens after that? Is this about winning? Am I a conquest? Does he move on after I surrender?
I don’t know, but Mike’s getting me on his side with record speed.
What if we could make it work?
It’s a seductive idea, and one that’s hard to dismiss.
I get home to find a light on. A shadow moves inside as I’m headed to the door and I realize that Una has waited up for me.
I open the door to find her sitting below that painting, the one I did of her and her sister, Eileen. She glances toward me and touches a finger to her lips, then studies the painting again. Her expression is more awed than it deserves.
I get a cup of herbal tea from the pot – chamomile tonight – and join her.
“It’s not that good,” I say softly, seeing all the flaws in the work.
“It was the best you could do at the time,” she replies mildly. “I think it’s beautiful.”
“I’ll paint you another one. A better one.” I can see how I would improve this line or that shadow, and I stare at the painting myself, making a list of its shortcomings.
Then I realize Una is watching me. “Is it the work or the subject?”
“Well, both. It’s sad that Eileen’s gone. I miss her. And I’d like any tribute to be better than this.”
Una shakes her head. “It can’t be. You painted this with your heart and you captured something of how we were together.” We’re both looking at the painting until she abruptly looks at me. “You see it as a reminder of a loss, don’t you?”
“Don’t you?”
“No, no, no. I see it as a reminder of a recovery.”
“But Aunt Eileen died.”
“Not a recovery from cancer. A recovery of something precious that had been lost. Maybe a rediscovery.” She nods at the painting. “That love between us was missing in action for a long time.”
“But you were always like that together.”
“No, we were not.” Una drains her mug and I take it, refilling it and bringing it back to her so she doesn’t go to bed and leave the story untold.
She gives me a look, seeing all my dastardly plans, then smiles a little and wraps her hands around the mug, settling back.
“When we were girls, we were best friends as well as sisters. We had some arguments, but mostly we confided in each other, sharing secrets and treasures.” She’s smiling now and I study her, wanting to paint her just like this, lit by golden light and reminiscing. “We even married the same year.”
“I don’t remember Uncle Randall.”
“No, you wouldn’t. He was a difficult man, although I’m sure Eileen would say it was my Jacob who was the difficult one.
Either way, those two men didn’t get along.
It was nothing outright and there wasn’t a single thing you could put your finger on.
They just rubbed each other the wrong way.
Of course, in our day, a woman’s place was beside her husband, so we each took our partner’s side, for better or for worse.
That meant that she and I lost that closeness.
” She shrugs. “We probably both would have said it was worth it.”
“Stand by your man,” I tease, just to make her smile and she does, a little.
“I missed her sometimes, but there was always a barrier there, and it got bigger as the years went by. By the time our parents died, we only saw each other at holidays, when we gathered with them. Once they passed and there was no more encouragement from Mom, it was easy to just let it all go. We had kids of our own by then, houses and jobs and obligations. No one was in a hurry to pick up the phone and possibly have an argument. And so, we didn’t.
” Una sips her tea, her gaze fixed on the distance.
“A Christmas card once a year with a line or two. A birthday card with the same. A sympathy card when I read in the paper that Randall had passed. A lot of silence.”
She stops and looks into her mug.
I just wait.
Her voice is soft when she continues. “I don’t even know how many years passed that way, then she called me.
It was a Tuesday afternoon in October and she was crying.
I didn’t recognize her voice, if you can believe it.
It took forever to find out what was the matter, because, as I realized later, she was afraid to ask me for help.
” Una turns to look at me, her gaze steady.
“My only sister was afraid to ask me for help. That was how far apart we had become.”
“That’s awful.”
“It was. She had cancer the first time then, had just been diagnosed and didn’t know who to call. If Randall had still been alive, she wouldn’t have called me and that hurt – although I understood.” She sips her tea.
“You didn’t ask me for help,” I feel obliged to note.
Una smiles and puts her hand over mine. “I didn’t want to be a burden.
You’re young and you have so much on your plate.
I knew you would come, but you’d be leaving your job and there’s no work here.
I couldn’t let cancer ruin your life, too.
” Her eyes twinkle. “Don’t be imagining that Luke Jones charmed me into confiding in him.
I liked his plan and decided to contribute. ”
“Una.” I give her a hug and she hugs me back. I stay where I am, my arms wrapped around her, and appreciate how precious this is. “Tell me about Eileen.”
I feel her sigh. “I went to her then, I insisted on it. Liam had grown and left. Jacob was gone, too. I stayed with her for her entire treatment. I cooked for her and I picked her up from the floor and I held her hand. I went to every appointment with her, and I shared her triumphs and her tears.” She sighs as I think of Muriel doing this for her.
“And even though cancer is a terrible disease, it brought us a gift, by uniting us again. After that, we were as close as ever we had been.”
She nods at the painting and I look at it too, seeing it in a more generous light than just a few minutes before.
“And that’s what you remember. That’s what you painted.
You weren’t here for Eileen’s cancer and treatment.
You were here for the love. The back and forth, the hugs and the laughter, the precious second chance we were offered and grabbed with both hands, holding it tight to the end.
So, yes, she’s gone, and I miss her terribly, but that painting reminds me every day to hang on to whatever matters in your life. ”
I know this is a lesson, but it’s a good one. I sip my tea and wait for Una to continue .
“There are always people who don’t deserve to be in our lives, Sylvia.
People who break promises or hurt us, either deliberately or not, people who don’t provide love or anything good to us.
It’s fair to send those people away. It’s healthy, like pruning out the old wood from a tree.
There are reasons for evicting those people from your life, but when the only reason is pride—” Una shakes her head.
“Well, that’s not a reason at all. Pride is an excuse.
Pride keeps you from looking foolish, at least that’s what we tell ourselves, but when we are fools, there should be no shame in admitting it.
The only way to fix the damage is to admit it, to apologize, and start again.
So anytime that pride is your ‘reason,’ stop and think about that a bit.
Is it really a justification, or is it a barrier, keeping you from something better? ”
It’s not hard to guess that she’s talking about Mike.
“You like him.”
“I always did.”
“But he said he asked you about me.”
“He did. Twice.” She salutes me with her mug. “Part of why I like him. He’s not so easily put off. I cannot respect cowardly men.”
“But you didn’t tell him where I was, or tell me he’d asked.”
“True enough.” Una nods. “The first time was just after you’d gone to Toronto. You always were an independent girl who preferred to solve things yourself. I figured I’d best not get involved and you’d work it out, one way or the other.”
I was trying to do that. “And the second?”
She purses her lips. “It was a few years later. He was back in town because he’d finished his degree.
Everyone was talking about his engagement and upcoming wedding.
You could have heard Candace crow all the way to Havelock about her first son to get married.
” Una gives me a look. “He’s Dianne’s son, thank you very much. ”
“Why didn’t you tell him then?”
“Well, he was getting married.” Una frowns.
“What could he want with you that was any good for anybody? I was afraid he’d learned a little too much from his father.
” She shakes her head. “Maybe I was wrong, but what’s done is done.
The important thing is that you like him.
What if you did let bygones be bygones?”
“But Sierra…”
“What if you gave that man another chance instead of assuming he has some dark plan to cheat you? Is pride keeping you from happiness? Maybe, maybe not.”
I can’t admit even to my grandmother that the culprit is probably fear.
She continues. “It’s been a while and people change, but I have to think, Sylvia, that it’s worth taking a chance to find out.
” She drains her mug again and rises to her feet with a wince.
“And that’s enough of such serious matters for tonight.
” She passes me on her way to putting the mug in the kitchen.
“What happened tonight to put that sparkle in your eye?”
“Mike offered to pay for the trailer.”
“Did he, then?”
“He says it’s his turn to contribute.”
She nods approval. “And will you let him?”
I nod.
“Good.”
“He wondered if you and Sierra would like to go with him tomorrow to Port Cavendish.”
“While you go to your studio. I think that’s a lovely idea.” Una smiles wisely, then heads to her bedroom. She’s humming a little beneath her breath, the way she does, and her suggestion is hard to dismiss.
What if I took a chance?