Wildflowers in Winter

Prologue

Wildflowers in Winter is a work of fiction. Edna Pearson represents many aging individuals who live to a ripe old age, but are cursed by failing bodies and minds. Edna, like others, has outlived her spouse and her children. Suffering from progressive Alzheimer’s, she fears spending the last years of her life alone and isolated. Although Edna’s story is fiction, the Alzheimer’s flashbacks portrayed in this novel are inspired by excerpts from diaries left behind upon the death of one much-loved old woman.

Acknowledgements

The process of writing is solitary, but the inspiration for this book came from many individuals. Wildflowers in Winter, my debut novel, would not be possible without the journals left behind by a beloved family member whose early life inspired the flashbacks for this story. I owe my success in bringing my dream of honoring a woman who wanted her story told, to the Skagit Valley Writer’s League and especially, my critique group, the Sno-Isle Writers, who inspired me with their talent, encouraged me honest critique, and continually helped me improve my craft. Thanks to my daughters, Rebecca and Erica who proofread the manuscript along with numerous others, and my biggest thanks to my husband, Dale, for supporting a project that spanned many years and throughout that time always believed in me.

Chapter 1

The telephone’s shrill ring jolted Edna awake. Fighting drowsiness, she blinked a few times, before she fixed her focus on the red, lighted display of the alarm clock. Five-thirty. Her heartbeat quickened. Early morning calls always mean bad news. Restrained by the nightgown twisted around her legs and hips, she trembled and groped for the dial phone on the nightstand. She paused, closed her eyes, and took in a few breaths before lifting the receiver, stretching out the tightly coiled black plastic cord and bringing the phone to her ear.

Choked back sobs from across the line made it difficult for Edna to recognize Alicia’s voice. Grandma, Daddy’s dead.

Edna paused as she struggled to absorb the news. Without her hearing aids, the words came muffled, garbled, barely audible above her pounding heartbeat.

Alicia, speak up, you’re not making sense.

Daddy’s dead.

This time, Alicia’s words landed like a blow. Edna’s mind reeled as she fought to comprehend. She must have misunderstood. Her son couldn’t be dead. She’d seen him only yesterday. He was fine. Larry? Larry’s dead? I don’t understand.

Yes, he’s gone.

Pain gripped her chest, now damp with perspiration. She flung back the bed covers that ensnared her and pulled herself to a seated position. She flipped on the small brass reading lamp on the nightstand. What happened?

He suffered a stroke last night and never regained consciousness.

A dam of emotion released in a torrent of sobs. Edna had worried about his health and nagged him to quit smoking, but he wasn’t supposed to die. Not like this, so suddenly, so young, only sixty-four. What am I going to do without him?

I don’t know. It’s going to be difficult for all of us, especially, Mom. Dad took care of everything. I’ll call you later to let you know the details when we’ve made the arrangements.

Edna straightened on the bed, shivering from the cold. When can I see him?

I’ll let you know when he’s been taken to the funeral home. It’s going to take a while to harvest his organs.

What are you talking about? What do you mean, harvest his organs? Resentment rose, like the taste of bitter coffee in her throat.

Dad was an organ donor. We’ve been told his kidneys, eyes, and tissue are still viable for donation.

Edna shook her head. There must be some mistake. He would have told me he was an organ donor.

Well, I guess he didn’t tell you everything.

Dazed, Edna returned the phone to its cradle. It didn’t sound like Larry to want to be dissected upon his death. Surely Kora-Lee, or more likely, her daughters, had put him up to it. It’s not right. She pounded her fist into the pillow.

Too early to call anyone, Edna motioned for her only consolation. Missy, her black terrier, pounced on the bed and nestled into the crook of her arm. Salty droplets fell on the dog’s long, matted fur. She cried out her frustration, burying her head into Missy’s fur. Why, God? Why didn’t you take me instead? It wasn’t fair. Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children. For a few moments, she let her shock dissipate through her tears. A surge of loneliness gripped her like a rogue wave at the thought of losing her last child.

Though forty years had passed since her daughter, Bernice was killed, memories raced through her mind like a flash flood. Then she had Jacob and Larry for emotional support. Now, with her husband and son both gone, the hollowness in her heart echoed her grief. Drawing on all her physical and emotional strength, Edna climbed from her bed and plodded downstairs to the living room. She pulled the drapes open, hoping the sunlight would overcome the darkness filling her. Instead, the opened curtains revealed a still darkened, gray sky, skirted with low ragged edges, suiting the somber mood. Edna shuffled to the sofa and gathered her favorite cover around her. She buried her nose in the quilt which had warmed her babies and herself throughout the passing years. With closed eyes, she inhaled the mix of sweet and bittersweet memories. Each memory unique, like the multi-colored, tulip shapes she had carefully crafted and sewn into the quilt. Fingering one corner of the worn cotton spread she spied the small rips where Larry had used the quilt for teething. Remembering the warm memories of the past helped keep the early morning chill at bay. Numb, she sobbed in the silent empty house until, drained of tears and emotion, she drifted off to sleep.

***

The brazen rays streaming through the exposed living room window reawakened Edna. For a single heartbeat, she welcomed the new day, but a dull pain pulsed in her clouded head. She closed her eyes to quell the pain. Blurry memories of anger and tears swirled in her mind. Maybe it had been a bad dream. As her eyes focused on her surroundings, she realized she wasn’t in her bedroom. Wads of tissue littered the gold shag carpet. Reality resurfaced, reviving her grief. She trudged to the kitchen, poured water into a cup, and turned on the microwave. Opening her small metal canister, she pulled out a tea bag, inhaling the spicy blend which she favored and Larry always bought for her for special occasions. Its smell alone always helped awaken her. Normally favoring a breakfast of bacon, mush, and maybe toast with homemade jam, her stomach rebelled at the thought of food. Instead, she stirred a single teaspoon of sugar into her tea and sipped. Clutching the cup, her hands warmed, and the scent of the sweet apple and spicy cinnamon blend soothed her aching heart.

Missy barked at the ringing phone and she scurried to answer it. Without sobs, Alicia’s voice came clear and harsh. The arrangements are set, Grandma. There will be a viewing on Thursday evening. The cremation will take place early Friday before the funeral service later in the afternoon.

Cremation? Edna stiffened, her heart beat with increasing speed to keep pace with her swelling anger. Larry didn’t want to be cremated. We talked about funeral plots next to Bernice and Jacob. He wanted to be buried next to his sister and his father. How can I visit him and leave flowers? Not wishing to start a fight, Edna held the phone receiver at arm’s length, too stunned to face any more shocking news. She stewed unable to move for a few beats before she pulled the receiver back in time to hear Alicia.

Mom prefers to have him cremated. It’s less expensive than a standard burial.

Edna snapped, How can you talk about money? Doesn’t anyone care what Larry wanted, or what I want? I have money if you need money.

Daddy would have wanted to go along with Mom’s wishes. They’ll eventually be placed side by side in a wall at the cemetery for cremated remains. You’ll still be able to visit and place flowers.

Edna fumed but fought back her anger. After all her son had done for that woman, marrying her when she was with child, and accepting her five-year-old daughter as his own. How could Kora-Lee have such disregard for what Larry wanted?

I’ll let you know the time. We’re still waiting for the final details from the funeral home.

Without saying goodbye, Edna disconnected the call. She sank into the overstuffed brown recliner she no longer had the strength to tilt back. Though she expected Alicia to side with her mother, as always, she resented her for defending Kora-Lee’s decision. It was hard enough to accept Larry was gone, now hearing he would be cremated and permanently resting alongside Kora-Lee, instead of Jacob and Bernice was more than she could take. She never felt so alone, so irrelevant in her entire life.

With Larry gone, Edna no longer had anyone who loved her and would look after her in her remaining years. She didn’t think of Kora-Lee and her girls as family. They weren’t blood. Kora-Lee’s daughters called her Grandma, but Edna knew it was only to pacify their father. Besides, they didn’t treat her like family. They often spoke in hushed whispers about her when she visited. Edna wondered what would happen now to the already strained relationship with her daughter-in-law and granddaughters. Would she continue to see Kora-Lee or her daughters? She fumbled in her handbag for her handkerchief and dried her eyes and wiped her nose. Her gloom overshadowed the bright sun poking through the window announcing a new day, a day Edna wasn’t sure she could face. Her body and mind were numb and her will to go on was as dead as the body of her last child now lying in a morgue.

She reached for the phone and dialed her dearest friend, Barbara, her only friendly contact for caring, comfort, and consolation.

Chapter 2

David frowned at the intrusion of the persistent phone as the family sat gathered for their dinner on Wednesday evening. He set rules for phone use and refused to let a phone call disrupt the family meal. He glared across the table with raised eyebrows at fifteen-year-old Rachel and twelve-year-old Emily, guessing either was the recipient of the call.

David’s wife, Jean, got up and glanced at the phone number displayed. It’s from a 509-area code. Do you know anyone in eastern Washington?

David shrugged. No one I’ve spoken to in years. Maybe an old high school or college buddy.

You might want to get it. Jean grabbed the receiver and hit the speaker button on the phone, against her husband’s protest.

Hello.

Hi, I’m trying to get ahold of David Bryant. My name is Alicia.

From the dining table, David shook his head, unable to recall the name. The unfamiliar voice continued, relaying a clue. I’m Larry Pearson’s daughter.

Stunned, David’s mind wandered back to the father he had seen only twice since he was five and his brother three, and their parents divorced. He grimaced as he remembered the lanky soldier who smoked constantly and was barely home for his sons. A vague memory of his stepsister, Alicia, whom he met only once when he was eleven, popped into his mind. It was the last time he’d seen his father.

Hold on a moment please. Jean put the call on hold and held the phone out to her spouse. You should take it.

Why? We haven’t spoken in thirty years.

It must be important for her to call you.

David’s stomach tightened, in spite of his lack of concern over the stranger who was his birth father. All eyes were on him as he pushed his chair back and grabbed the phone from Jean. Alicia? This is David. What’s up?

I’m so glad I located you. It took some work finding you in Washington. Last I knew you were in California, but I guess it’s been a while.

David held his tongue and resisted stating the obvious. Her sniffles through her breaking voice across the line stifled his wisecracks. A lot of time had passed since they were children.

I’ve been trying all day to track you down. I thought you and Nathan should know your father’s dead.

Larry’s dead? David swallowed. He didn’t know what to say to her. He barely knew her. Hell, he barely knew his father. I’m sorry. I hope he didn’t suffer much.

No. He suffered a stroke Monday night, and he passed away early this morning while in a coma. He never knew what happened.

How are you and your family doing? The words spilled out like a well-rehearsed routine, formal and out of proper etiquette. What else was there to say? He wasn’t sure why he should be concerned. David paced back and forth in the kitchen, uncomfortably aware his family was watching and listening between bites of potato salad and baby back ribs. To avoid their looks, he walked into the living room and plopped onto the sofa with his back to the dining room.

Alicia struggled between sobs. We’re all in shock. Mom isn’t sure how she’ll handle things alone. Dad always handled the bills and all the house repairs, as well as being the income earner.

David shifted on the sofa, struggling to hang on to each word while he tried to push aside the thought his dinner was getting cold. He remembered Larry’s oldest daughter, Lorraine, about five years older than he whom he’d met while she was in high school.

On top of that, Grandma’s driving Mom and me crazy with her constant sobbing and complaining over the arrangements.

David straightened; his interest heightened at the reference to his paternal grandmother. Grandma Edna’s still around? How’s she doing? I haven’t heard from her since high school. She got mad when Nathan and I moved to California. She accused Mom of doing it out of spite.

That sounds like her. She’s having a tough time right now. Dad’s always been there to help her. I don’t know how she’ll get by.

It’s good she has you and Lorraine, and your mom.

Lorraine’s in Minnesota now, so she’s not around to help out with Grandma and Mom and Grandma have never gotten along. I guess that leaves me, and frankly, the old woman isn’t getting any younger. She’s getting senile and she’s a little difficult to deal with. We haven’t exactly been close lately.

Alicia’s comment sounded cold, under the circumstances. Well, I guess being difficult is to be expected at her age. How old is she now?

Ninety-two.

David grinned. If there was one positive thing he could say about his family, it was a tendency toward longevity. Both his maternal grandparents, mid-way into their eighties, were still alive, also.

Alicia continued. The funeral will be Friday, with a viewing Thursday evening. We’re still working out the exact times. I’ll call you with the final times and addresses tomorrow. I assume you and your brother will want to come.

David mulled over all he had heard in the past few minutes. His mind reeled with fragmented thoughts. It didn’t make sense to disrupt his whole life to rush off to a funeral for a man with whom he had no relationship, even though it was his father. He didn’t need another interruption in his already hectic schedule of overtime, putting in a yard, and coaching Emily’s soccer team. David stifled a groan and glanced toward the dining room, his family still watching him. He didn’t know how he should respond to the recent news but tried to control the situation. Nathan’s in the army. He’s stationed at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, but last time I spoke with him he was leaving for the mid-east, something fairly top-secret. I doubt he’ll be able to get away. For a moment, David wished he had such a simple, guaranteed excuse.

No wonder I couldn’t track him down. Is he married?

Nah, he’s single. Career military. Wanting to stay focused on the reason for the phone call, David changed the subject. So, the service is on Friday, the day after tomorrow? He paused and decided to give himself an excuse for not attending. I’m scheduled for a flight on Friday. Let me call you after I’ve seen what I can do about work.

A business trip?

No. I work for Boeing, testing their new airplanes. Most flights are there and back the same day, but they’re unpredictable.

That’s fine. I’ll give you my number so you can call if you have any other questions. Otherwise, I’ll phone when I know anything for certain. Will you let Nathan know?

Sure. David returned to the kitchen and grabbed a pen. Though he had no intention of returning her call, he jotted down the phone number. Got it.

You know, it’s too bad. Alicia paused before she continued. He used to talk about you and Nathan a lot. I think he would have liked to see you both again before he died. We were planning a sixty-fifth birthday party for Dad and talked about having you and your brother come. Her voice trailed off. I guess you never know when it’s your time. We should all have tried harder to get together.

David noticed the sun beginning to set through his large living room windows. He shook his head. He didn’t buy the line that Larry had ever talked about him or Nathan. Besides, why should he be concerned with any guilt Larry might have had, which he doubted anyway. God knows David wasn’t about to feel guilty for not keeping in touch with a man who hadn’t been a father figure in his life for nearly forty years. With a sigh, he released his bitterness. There was no point in taking it out on Alicia. She had nothing to do with Larry’s decision to ignore his sons, though he suspected Alicia’s mother, Kora-Lee, had plenty to do with it.

With the aroma of mesquite still in the air, Dale glanced toward the dining room. Whatever. Keep me posted. My dinner’s getting cold. He flinched and immediately regretted his last remark. Thanks for calling. David hung up the phone and blew out a deep breath. He collapsed onto his chair at the table. His family all turned their attention to him. He didn’t know what to say first. Well, I guess my birth father passed away this morning.

Are you sad? Rachel exchanged glances with her sister. You never talk about your dad. What was he like?

David looked down at his cold ribs. He hesitated, knowing he should have shared more about his father and his stepsisters with his children long before it came to this. No. I’ve never had much of a relationship with Larry, so I don’t feel any loss. He was gone a lot. I was young and he was in the army the whole time Mom and he were married. I haven’t considered him my dad for a long time. David thought about his relationship with his step-dad, who raised him. You know I’m not particularly close to Ray, either. He could be mean, but I consider him my dad, not Larry.

David tried to remember what he could about his father. There wasn’t a lot. He remembered the constant fighting and long absences. How could he respect a man who left his wife with two small sons and married another woman and her ready-made family? No. There was no way David was going to drop everything to go to the funeral for some stranger, father or not. He had no desire to take part in a memorial for a man for whom he had no respect. How could he make small talk with two sisters he didn’t know, or his father’s wife who he later learned was the primary reason for his parents’ divorce?

How come you never saw your dad or your sisters? Rachel twirled her curly hair around her finger avoiding her mother’s disapproving look.

When Mom and Larry split, she brought us back to the states from Korea where Larry was stationed. Mom married Ray, and we moved closer to her folks in California. Larry married a Chinese woman, Kora-Lee, who already had a daughter, Lorraine, and was pregnant with my other stepsister, Alicia. After that, Larry pretty much ignored Nathan and me. He was never a part of our lives. He had a new family, and from what I gathered early on, Kora-Lee would just as soon Nathan and I never existed. It’s been easier to let it be at that. The way I always looked at it, if he didn’t care to see me, why put myself out to see him?

You have two stepsisters, cool. Emily looked at her mother and motioned to be excused.

Can I please finish my dinner, since everyone else seems to be done? David shook his head and went to the microwave to zap his plate with a few rays.

Carrying her plate to the sink, Jean stopped to rub David’s shoulders. How’s your grandmother doing? I heard you say she’s still around. This must be very hard on her. Larry was her only child, wasn’t he?

Emily wiped the counter then hung the dishtowel on the hook and joined the conversation. She’s got to be getting old, huh, Dad?

It wasn’t fair to his family to take his jumbled emotions out on them. He smiled in answer to Emily’s broad grin clad with recently acquired braces. Grandma’s ninety-two. I guess she’s doing fine. Alicia says she’s crying a lot. I guess that’s to be expected, under the circumstances. Her only other child, Bernice, died before I was born. My granddad died close to twenty years ago.

Rachel, who took after her mother with her persistence, excused herself from the table and went to the sink. I’d like to meet her. I think it would be cool to have another grandmother. Don’t you, Emily?

Half-heartedly, David responded. Maybe someday. He opened the microwave, carried his plate back to the table, and sat down. He gnawed at a rib, taking a few bites before he spoke. I never told you girls, but I lived with my grandma and granddad for several months when Nathan and I were five, shortly after Mom divorced Larry. I guess having two energetic troublemakers was more than Mom could handle alone. David smiled. Nathan and I had a great time with them. She was big on vegetables and made us clean our plates before we were excused from the table. But after dinner, she always had homemade desserts. She loved baking. David took a few more bites before he sensed Jean watching him. Seeing her smile, he knew the look and realized his mistake. He had subconsciously given her a reason to encourage him to go to the funeral.

She kissed him. If you don’t care about saying goodbye to your dad, at least think about going to the funeral for your grandmother’s sake. The girls are right. It would be good for them to know their great-grandma. After all, who knows how she’s really doing and how much longer you’ll have the opportunity to get reacquainted with her.

David cringed. He hated falling into the guilt trap, unconvinced he owed anyone anything. His appetite diminished after his conversation, David excused himself and dumped his plate in the sink. He snatched the phone before one of his daughters could dash off with it for their nightly phone marathon. I’m going to call Nathan. Once again, he retreated to the sofa and dialed his brother to share the news.

Nathan answered after the third ring. Hey, brother, what’s up? It’s got to be important for you to be calling.

Funny. You know I’m not much for talking on the phone. Besides, when was the last time you called me? Anyway, I got a call from Larry’s youngest daughter, Alicia. Larry apparently died from a stroke this morning.

A stroke, huh? I had him pegged as a sure-fire cancer or emphysema victim. He smoked like an eighteen-wheeler burning oil the last time I saw him.

David shifted in his chair. I remember. You saw him a while ago, didn’t you? When was that? Early eighties?

Yeah. Right after I graduated from West Point. I guess it’s still been twenty years though. I had this crazy idea I should visit him again since I was heading out to active duty and likely to see some heavy action. You never know, especially with all the stuff that’s going on over there in the desert. It was a stupid idea though, seeing him again.

David couldn’t remember the specifics about the visit. Why? What happened?

Nothing, really, I got the feeling it didn’t matter to him if he saw me or not. I’m not sure if he just didn’t give a damn or if he was uncomfortable seeing me again after so long. His wife, I can’t remember her name, anyway she made it very clear she wasn’t pleased to see me. Nathan paused for an instant. So, are you going to the funeral?

I don’t know. You know Jean. She thinks it’s the right thing to do, especially for Grandma’s sake.

Grandma Edith’s still around? How’s she doing?

"Fine, I guess so. She’s ninety-two. Alicia says she’s