The Scarlet Thread Page 2

  All that changed when she went into labor. Everyone was at Kaiser Hospital the night she gave birth. Alex had kissed her and said maybe they should name their son Makepeace. They had settled on Clanton Luís Madrid, forging both families together. By the time Carolyn María arrived a year later, the Clantons and the Madrids had had plenty of opportunities to get to know one another and find out they had a lot more in common than they ever thought possible.

  “Mom?” Sierra called again, not finding her in the kitchen. She looked out the window into the backyard garden, where her mother often worked. She wasn’t there either. The Buick Regal was in the driveway, so she knew her mother wasn’t off on one of her many charity projects or at the church.

  Sierra went back along the corridor and up the stairs. “Mom?” Maybe she was taking a nap. She peered into the master bedroom. A bright granny-square afghan was folded neatly on the end of the bed. “Mom?”

  “I’m in the attic, honey. Come on up.”

  Surprised, Sierra went down the hallway and climbed the narrow stairway. “What are you doing up here?” she said, entering the cluttered attic. The small dormer windows were open, allowing a faint sun-warmed breeze into the dusty, dimly lit room. Dust particles danced on the beam of sunlight. The place smelled musty with age and disuse.

  The attic had always fascinated Sierra, and she momentarily put aside her worries as she looked around. Lawn chairs were stacked at the back. Just inside the door was a big milk can filled with old umbrellas, two canes, and a crooked walking stick. Wicker baskets in a dozen shapes and sizes sat on a high shelf. Boxes were stacked in odd piles, in no particular order, their contents a mystery.

  How many times had she and her brother gone through their rooms, sorting and boxing and shoving discards into the attic? When Grandma and Grandpa Clanton had died, boxes from their estate had taken up residence in the quiet dimness. Old books, trunks, and boxes of dishes and silverware were scattered about. A hat tree stood in a back corner on an old braided rag rug that had been made by Sierra’s great-grandmother. The box of old dress-up clothes she had donned as a child was still there. As was the large oval mirror where she had admired herself with each change.

  Nearby, stacked in her brother’s red Radio Flyer wagon, were a dozen or more framed pictures leaning one upon another against the wall. Some were original oils done by her grandfather during his retirement years. Others were family pictures that dated back several generations. Paint cans left over from restoration on the house were stacked on a shelf in case touch-ups were needed to the colorful trim. One bookshelf was filled with shoe boxes, each labeled in her father’s neat printing and holding tax returns and business records going back twenty years.

  A tattered, paint-chipped rocking horse stood in lonely exile in the far back corner.

  Her mother had moved some of the old furniture around so that Grandpa Edgeworth’s old couch with the lion-claw legs was sitting in the center of the attic. Opposite it was Daddy’s old worn recliner. Two ratty needlepoint footstools served as stands for the things her mother had removed from an old trunk that stood open before her.

  Marianna Clanton had a tea towel wrapped around her hair. “I thought I should go through some of these things and make some decisions.”

  “Decisions about what?” Sierra said, distracted.

  “What to throw away, what to keep.”

  “Why now?”

  “I should’ve started years ago,” her mother said with a rueful smile. “I just kept putting it off.” She looked around at the cluttered room. “It’s a little overwhelming. Bits and pieces from so many lives.”

  Sierra ran her hand over an old stool that had been in the kitchenette before it was remodeled. She remembered coming home from kindergarten and climbing up on it at the breakfast bar so she could watch her mother make Toll House cookies. “Alex called me a little while ago and told me he’s accepted a job in Los Angeles.”

  Her mother glanced up at her, a pained expression flickering across her face. “It was to be expected, I suppose.”

  “Expected? How?”

  “Alex has always been ambitious.”

  “He has a good job. He got that big promotion last year, and he’s making good money. They gave him a comprehensive health package and retirement plan. We have a wonderful new house. We like our neighbors. Clanton and Carolyn are happy in school. We’re close to family. I didn’t even know Alex had put out word he was looking for another position until he called me today—” Her voice broke. “He was so excited, Mom. You should’ve heard him. He said this new company made him a fantastic offer, and he accepted it without even talking to me about it.”

  “What sort of company?”

  “Computers. Games. The sort of stuff Alex likes to play around with at home. He met these guys at a sales conference last spring in Las Vegas. He never even told me about them. He says he did, but I don’t remember. Alex has been working on an idea he has for a role-playing game. Players could link up with others online and create armies and battle scenarios. He said it’s right up their alley. And it doesn’t even bother him that they haven’t been in business four years yet or that they started business in a garage.”

  “So did Apple.”

  “That’s different. These guys haven’t been around long enough to prove they can stay in business. I don’t see how Alex can throw away ten years’ seniority at Hewlett-Packard when people are being laid off of other jobs left and right! I don’t want to go to Los Angeles, Mom. Everything I love is here.”

  “You love Alex, honey.”

  “I’d like to shoot Alex! Where does he get off making a decision like this without even discussing it with me?”

  “Would you have listened if he had?”

  She couldn’t believe her mother would ask such a thing. “Of course I’d listen! Doesn’t he think it has anything to do with me?” She wiped angry tears from her cheeks. “You know what he said to me, Mom? He told me he’d already called a Realtor, and the woman’s coming by tonight to list the house. Can you believe it? I just planted daffodils all along the back fence. If he has his way, I won’t even be here to see them bloom!”

  Her mother said nothing for a long moment. She folded her hands in her lap while Sierra rummaged through her shoulder bag for a Kleenex.

  Sierra sniffled into the tissue. “It’s not fair. He never even took my feelings into consideration, Mom. He just made the decision and told me it’s a done deal. Just like that. Whether I like it or not, we’re moving to Los Angeles. He doesn’t even care how I feel about it because it’s what he wants.”

  “I’m sure Alex didn’t make the decision arbitrarily. He’s always looked at everything from all sides.”

  “Not from my side.” Restless and upset, she walked across the room and picked up an old stuffed bear her brother had cuddled when he was a boy. She hugged it against her. “Alex grew up here just like I did, Mom. I don’t understand how he can turn his back on everything and be so happy about it.”

  “Maybe Alex wasn’t treated as kindly as you were, Sierra.”

  Sierra glanced back at her mother in surprise. “His parents never abused him.”

  “I wasn’t referring to Luís or María; they’re wonderful people. I mean the assumptions too many people make about Hispanics.”

  “Well, he can add all that to the other things Los Angeles will have to offer. Smog. Traffic. Riots. Earthquakes.”

  Her mother smiled. “Disneyland. Movie stars. Beaches,” she recited, clearly seeing a much more positive side to things. Daddy used to call it her Pollyanna attitude, especially when he was irritated and in no mood to see the good side of a situation. The way Sierra was feeling now.

  “Everyone we love is here, Mom. Family, friends.”

  “You’re not moving to Maine, honey. It’s only a day’s drive between Healdsburg and Los Angeles. And you can always call us.”

  “You talk as though it doesn’t matter to you that we’re leaving.” Sierra bit her lip
and looked away. “I thought you’d understand.”

  “If I could make the choice, of course, I’d rather you were here. And I do understand. Your grandparents were far from overjoyed when I moved from Fresno to San Francisco.” She smiled. “It was a ten-hour drive in those days, but you’d have thought I’d moved to the far side of the moon.”

  Sierra smiled wanly. “It’s hard for me to see you as some sort of beatnik living in San Francisco, Mom.”

  She laughed. “No less hard than it is for me to see you as a young woman with a wonderful husband and two children in school.”

  Sierra blew her nose. “Wonderful husband,” she muttered. “He’s a male chauvinist pig. Alex probably hasn’t even bothered to mention this to his parents.”

  “Luís will understand. Just as your father would have. I think Alex has stayed here for ten years because of you. It’s time you allow him to do what he needs to do to make full use of the talents he has.”

  It was the last thing Sierra wanted to hear. She didn’t reply as she ran her hand along the books in an old shelf. She knew what her mother said had merit, but that didn’t mean she wanted to listen. Alex had received other offers and turned each down after discussing them with her. She had thought the decisions mutual, but now she wondered. He had sounded so excited and happy when he talked to her about this job. . . .

  She plucked Winnie the Pooh out and blew dust off the top. Stroking the front of the book, she remembered sitting in her mother’s lap as the story was read to her. How many times had she heard it? The cover was worn from handling.

  Just thinking about leaving and not being able to see her mother or talk with her every few days left Sierra feeling bereft. Tears blurred her vision.

  “Alex gave notice this morning.” She pushed the book back into its space. “It was the first thing he did after he got the call from Los Angeles. Then he called me with the great news.” Covering her face, she wept.

  Sierra felt some comfort when her mother’s arms came around her.

  “It’ll be all right, honey. You’ll see.” Her mother stroked her back as though she were a child. “Things have a way of working out for the best. The Lord has plans for you and for Alex, plans for your good, not your destruction. Trust Him.”

  The Lord! Why did her mother always have to bring up the Lord? What sort of plan was it to tear people’s lives apart?

  She withdrew from her mother’s arms. “All our friends are here. You’re here. I don’t want to move. It makes no sense. What does Alex think he’ll find in Los Angeles that he doesn’t already have here?”

  “Maybe he wants the chance to prove himself.”

  “He has proven himself. He’s succeeded at everything he’s ever done.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t feel he’s done enough.”

  “He doesn’t have to prove anything to me,” Sierra said, her voice choked.

  “Sometimes men have to prove things to themselves, Sierra.” She took her daughter’s hand. “Sit, honey.” She drew her down onto the old faded couch. Patting her hand, she smiled wistfully. “I remember Alex talking with your father about all the frustrations he felt in his job.”

  “Daddy was the one who told Alex to settle in and stay put so he’d have all the benefits.”

  “Your father was worried Alex would do the same thing he did.”

  She blew her nose and glanced at her mother. “What do you mean?”

  “Your father changed jobs half a dozen times before he settled into real estate.”

  “He did? I don’t remember that.”

  “You were too young to notice.” Her mother smiled wistfully. “Your father intended to be a high school biology teacher.”

  “Daddy? A teacher?” She couldn’t imagine it. He wouldn’t have put up with anything. The first student to shoot a spit wad would have found himself upside down in a garbage can outside the classroom door.

  Her mother laughed. “Yes, Daddy. He spent five years in college preparing to do just that and after one year in a classroom decided he hated it. He said the girls were all airheads and the boys were running on testosterone.”

  Sierra smiled, amazed and amused. “I can’t even imagine.”

  “Your dad went to work in a lab then. He hated that, too. He said staring into microscopes all day bored him senseless. So he went to work for a men’s clothing store.”

  “Daddy?” Sierra said again, astounded.

  “Yes, Daddy. You and Mike were both in school when he quit. After that, he trained to become a police officer. I was as strongly against that as you are against moving to Los Angeles.” She patted Sierra’s hand again. “But good came out of it. I used to lie awake at night, worrying myself sick over him. I was so sure something would happen to him. Those years were the worst of my life, and our marriage suffered because of it. And yet the greatest blessing came from it, too. I became a Christian while your father was working the eleven-to-seven shift as a highway patrolman.”

  “I didn’t know all this, Mom.”

  “Why would you? A mother hardly shares these kinds of struggles with her young children. You were four and Mike was seven. Neither of you were happy. You sensed the tension between us and didn’t understand. You didn’t see that much of your father when he was home because he had to sleep during the day. I spent most of my time telling you two to be quiet and trying to keep you busy with games and puzzles and long walks. The hours and stress were bad enough for Daddy, but I think it was missing you and Mike that finally made him quit. Before he did, he studied for his real estate license. He gave it a try and loved it. As God would have it, he started at the time when real estate was booming. It was a seller’s market. Within two years of getting his license, your dad was one of the top Realtors in Sonoma County. He became so busy, he dropped residential and specialized in commercial properties.”

  She squeezed Sierra’s hand. “The point I’m trying to make is this, honey: it took your father sixteen years to settle into a career he enjoyed.” She smiled. “Alex knew what he wanted to do when he went to college. The trouble is, he’s never had the opportunity to accomplish it. The greatest gift you can give him is the freedom to spread his wings.”

  Again, this wasn’t what Sierra wanted to hear. “You talk as though I’ve put a ball and chain around his neck.” She stood and began pacing again. “I’d like to have been consulted, Mom. Is that so hard to understand? Alex didn’t even discuss the offer with me. He accepted it and then informed me of his decision. It’s not fair.”

  “Who ever said life was fair?” her mother responded, hands folded.

  Sierra felt defensive and angry. “Daddy didn’t make you move.”

  “No, he didn’t. I would have been delighted if he had.”

  Sierra turned and stared at her. “I thought you loved Healdsburg.”

  “Now I do. When I was younger, all I could think about was getting away from here. I thought how wonderful it would be to live in a big city like San Francisco where lots of things were going on. You know I grew up on Grandma’s farm in Central Valley, and believe me, it was anything but exciting, honey. I wanted to go to the theater and attend concerts. I wanted to immerse myself in museums and culture. I wanted to walk through Golden Gate Park. And, despite warnings and pleadings from my parents, I did just that.”

  “And met Daddy.”

  “Yes. He rescued me from a mugging on the Pan Handle.”

  Sierra thought of the wedding photo on the mantel downstairs. Her father’s hair had been long then, and his “tuxedo” consisted of worn Levi’s and heavy boots; her mother, dressed in a black turtleneck and capri pants, had woven flowers in her waist-length auburn hair. The photo had always jarred with the image she had of her parents. They had been young once—and rebellious, too.

  Her mother smiled, remembering. “If I’d had my way, we would have settled in San Francisco.”

  “You never told me that before.”

  “By the time you and your brother came along, my ideas ab
out what I wanted had changed drastically. Just as your ideas will change. Life isn’t static, Sierra. Thank God. It’s constantly in motion. Sometimes we find ourselves caught up in currents and carried along where we don’t want to go. Then we find out later that God’s hand was in it all along.”

  “God didn’t make the decision to move to Los Angeles. Alex made it. But then, I suppose he thinks he’s God.” Sierra could hear the resentment in her voice, but she hardened herself against any regret or guilt. Emotions raged and warred within her: resentment that Alex had made such a decision without talking to her beforehand; fear that if she fought him, she’d lose anyway; terror of leaving a life she loved and found so comfortable.

  “What am I going to do, Mom?”

  “That’s up to you, honey,” her mother said gently, tears of compassion in her eyes.

  “I need your advice.”

  “The second greatest commandment is that we love one another as we love ourselves, Sierra. Forget yourself and think about what Alex needs. Love him accordingly.”

  “If I do that, he’ll walk all over me. Next time, he’ll jump at a job in New York City!” She knew she was being unfair even as she said it. Alex had given her two beautiful children, a nice three-bedroom home in Windsor, and a secure, happy life. Life had been so smooth, in fact, she had never once suspected the turmoil within him. Realizing that frightened her. It made her feel she didn’t know Alex’s heart or mind as well as she thought she did.

  She couldn’t see a way out. Part of her wanted to pick up the children from school and come back here to the Mathesen Street home and let Alex face the real estate woman alone; he couldn’t sell the house if she didn’t sign. But she knew if she did that, he’d be furious. The few times she had unintentionally hurt him, he had retreated into anger, putting up a cold front and withdrawing into silence. He didn’t come from a family of yellers. She didn’t even want to think about how he would respond if she hurt and angered him deliberately.