Until Then Read online

  “Me? Well what did I do?” Much to Peter’s surprise, Marjorie was blushing.

  “You know good and well what you did,” Eli reached for Sophia’s hand across the table. “Try as we might, we may never be able to thank you for all that you have done for us.”

  Peter glanced sideways at Marjorie and shrugged.

  “Don’t be modest.” Eli tapped his cigar into the metal tray at the edge of the table and leaned forward with genuine humility.

  Marjorie shifted in her seat under his gaze, pulling her dress down over her rapidly growing belly.

  “You have been true friends and we are thankful. From the very first day we met you…Peter.” Eli rested a hand on Peter’s arm. “Marjorie.” He nodded once more in her direction. “You have made us feel like family, like we were surrounded by people from home and we are eternally thankful for your hospitality and friendship. You have even helped us dissipate our heavy accents.”

  Marjorie let out a loud laugh that broke through the night’s air. “Is that all? You silly thing. You are thanking us for being your friends? My Lord, the way you got all serious on me, well I thought you were going to tell us that you were moving away or something! Don’t you ever be so serious about such things again, Mr. Weinbaum!” Marjorie tilted her head back and roared with laughter. Peter merely shrugged and took a big gulp of his gin.

  Eli laughed quietly at Marjorie’s reaction and when she had settled down, he simply said, “Friendship like ours cannot be purchased or sought after or begged upon. It is much like true love, as I have found in my dear Sophia.” Eli lifted his chair and inched over toward his wife. “It is a love like ours that shifts the earth. It tears away the impossible and brings forth God’s true plan. You see, my dear Marjorie, such things are serious. They are the fiber of our being and I am privileged to know you.” Eli lifted his glass toward Peter and the light clinking of their glass secured their mutual admiration and kinship. Marjorie dabbed at her eyes, swearing out loud that the pregnancy was getting the best of her hormones. Everyone chuckled at her and the evening resumed to the light-hearted banter it once was.

  * * * *

  Marjorie pulled an embroidered kerchief from her pants pocket and dabbed at her eyes as she did so many years ago. While her eyes had aged considerably now, her heart was just as sweet.

  “Well there you have it, my dear. Your parents were our dearest friends.”

  Ruby watched her with wonder, waiting for her to continue, but Marjorie only leaned her head back a bit and took a deep breath, letting it roll through her lungs like the long forgotten memories in her mind.

  “So how did you lose touch?” Anna piped in.

  “Oh, it’s terrible really.” Marjorie tucked her handkerchief back in her pocket. “Peter was transferred back to St. Louis with his printing company. We had no choice. It broke my heart to say goodbye to them. I only moved back here a few months ago, when Peter passed away, to be closer to my daughter. This place is so filled with memories and your parents live in almost every one of them. In so many ways it was hard to return. I still think I should see my Peter walking down the shoreline.”

  “And did you indeed have a son? It is remarkable that you knew Mom was going to have a girl. Lucky guess, I suppose,” Ruby mused.

  “Oh no lucky guesses on my behalf. I have always been gifted in that department. I can tell you within just a tick of a clock what you’ll be having if you come around me. I still got it, too. But for me, well I didn’t end up having my boy. That is for certain.” Marjorie stared out upon the fountains.

  “No? You had a girl then?” Anna leaned forward.

  “It was a boy. Harold was certainly predicted, but I ended up miscarrying about three weeks after that night on the patio with Eli and Sophia. It was the worst time of my life.” Marjorie turned toward Ruby. “Your mother was with me every step of the way. She was wonderful like that. She always knew exactly what to say to take away your pain. I can only imagine how wonderful of a mother she must have been to you, dear Ruby.” Marjorie patted Ruby’s hand and shook her head at that memory. “If it’s alright with you ladies, I think I might have had enough for today. This has been a tremendous amount to think about.”

  Ruby nodded, her eyes overflowing with tears.

  “You have her eyes though.” Marjorie reached her fragile hand to stroke Ruby’s cheek. She stood and grabbed her cane, ready to head back into her Red Hat Society.

  “Wait!” Anna stood suddenly, making Marjorie flinch.

  “What is it dear?”

  “They never spoke of the Holocaust?”

  Ruby put her arm on her daughter’s shoulder, insinuating it was enough for now.

  “We always wondered about that accent, but by the time we moved away, they had pretty much talked themselves right out of it. Figured if he wanted us to know, he would have told us. Some things are better left a secret, I suppose.”

  Ruby must have looked confused and disappointed because Marjorie continued, “It all makes a bit of sense to me though. They never really told us anything about their past, where they were from, family or anything. They dressed so nice and always seemed like they came from money, so no one ever knew any different. Hard to say what the real story was, but all I knew was that they were the finest friends I have ever come to know. That probably doesn’t help you very much in your quest though, does it dear?”

  Anna shook her head.

  “It is more than helpful, Mrs. Parsons. We are just so thankful for you telling us all of this. Truly, very thankful,” Ruby said.

  Marjorie smiled and all of a sudden, her eyes lit with excitement. “I just remembered!” She lifted a finger up toward the sky. “They mentioned someone by the name of James in New York. Gosh, I don’t know what made me think of him. Funny how your mind fades in and out that way. James Schulz, yep that’s the name. The only name of anyone I ever remember them saying. I wonder if he might still be around to help you fill in the pieces?”

  Anna pulled Marjorie into a tight hug, almost tilting her sideways from her cane.

  Ruby looked hopeful once more and broke into a gracious smile, although her mind was racing. She was impossibly far from hopeful. “One can only pray.”

  * * * *

  “I can’t believe it!” Anna was practically jumping up and down in the parking lot.

  Ruby strolled alongside her, deep in thought.

  “We have to go to New York. Immediately!” Anna looped her arm through her mother’s. “Thank God I am off this summer! It’s just perfect.”

  “Do you really think?” mumbled Ruby.

  “Think what, that James is in New York? He has to be. I can feel it. He is there and when we find him, he’ll tell us everything we have ever wanted to know.”

  “How are you so confident?” Ruby looked at her daughter quizzically.

  “Because Grandpa Eli would never send us on a wild goose hunt. Even if he didn’t give us the clues, there has to be some remaining pieces out there for us to pick up and put together.”

  “Hmm.” Ruby opened her car door absently.

  “And, Marjorie obviously remembered that name for a reason. It is a sign, a gift from the Heavens. It is just too cool!” Anna snapped her seatbelt sharply.

  “But what about the wedding plans? We can’t just pick up and go to New York right now. We have a million things to do.”

  “Mom.” Anna rested her hand on her arm. “Don’t worry about that stuff. The wedding is still months away, and we have plenty of time. Besides, what is one little weekend in New York really going to take away from? Maybe we could even schedule in a little gown shopping at one of those elegant New York boutiques? The ones on that show?”

  Ruby’s eyes widened a bit at the thought. How she would love to see her little girl in an overpriced designer gown. “Okay,” she said quietly before turning the key in the ignition.

  “What was that? Did you say okay?” Anna ripped her seatbelt off and lunged to hug her mother. Ruby smiled and ran
her hands through her daughter’s hair. “After all, I think it could do us some good to get out of town for a bit.”

  * * * *

  They drove along the coastline back toward home in the early afternoon light. It was shaping up to be a perfect day. Maybe even a stroll along the water’s edge could be in order. Maybe she would ask Anna to come back over for dinner and the two of them could go together. Or maybe she should ask Robert. He had been so attentive and kind lately, but she hated to admit seeing through his good deeds. He was trying too hard. Trying to pull her back into the old life they once had, or maybe even a life they never had. Somewhere along the lines, the romance had faded. They had become roommates, no real intimacy at all. Robert had never seemed to mind. It just didn’t even affect his daily life. But it bothered Ruby.

  “What are you thinking about?” Anna asked. “You look so deep in thought.”

  “Just thinking about taking a walk later. I could use some fresh air. Care to join me?”

  “Uh huh, sure.” Anna yawned and leaned her head back against the headrest.

  * * * *

  Grant pressed the garage door button and in one loud, sweeping motion, the door flung its way down to the ground. He needed to take a look at that stupid door again. It either stuck in one particular phase of closing or rocketed to the floor. God forbid a mouse try to sneak out under it or for that matter, even a child. It had little regard to motion sensing.

  “Stupid door,” he muttered.

  He dropped his keys in the clay bowl in the entry way and slipped his work boots from his moist socks before making his way down the hall.

  “Liz, you home?” he called out into the large vacant foyer. He glanced around her study before deciding that she wasn’t there. Her study, as always, was a disaster, covered in stacks of unkempt, pallets of paint and clumps of unmolded clay. One inanimate figurine of a young girl stood erect in the center of dried out and discarded pieces. Grant took a step forward to look at it closer, noting the lack of expression, the hollowness of the young girl’s eyes. This had been a reoccurring theme lately. Liz would put hours of effort into the detail of the figure’s clothing or the intricate jewels around their neck, but for some reason always overlooked their faces. It bothered him, but he wasn’t sure why. He let out a long sigh and then made his way over to the window to slam it shut. She always left the window open, letting all of the cool air conditioning out into the hot, sticky air outside.

  As far as he could piece it together, she had been gone for hours. The lemonade glass on the nightstand of their bedroom had been long forgotten, the ice melted into a water rim around the edges and thick ring of moisture at the base of the glass. Her makeup was scattered all over her dark red hutch from India. Another pet peeve of his. How could she disrespect such an important piece? An important piece to her—not him. She had begged him to take her to India. It was all she talked about for over three years before he finally broke down and gave in.

  “India,” he’d scoffed on the plane ride. “Why India?”

  “Because…” she groaned impatiently in her Australian accent. “It’s a must see for me. Do I really need to explain the deep rooted extension of artistic approach to you again? It’s rich with luxury and poverty all at once. Not to mention the religious appeal of ancient endeavors.”

  He often wondered if she intentionally spoke that way to talk him into a circle. He could never argue with nonsense. The natural rhythm of her world always failed to match up to his. Instead of a nostalgic reply to her anxiously perched eyebrows, he merely shrugged, leaving her to her internal angst. They didn’t speak for the rest of the flight, her adolescent way of proving her sense of righteousness. He didn’t care. He had bigger fish to fry, like the fact that he was headed to India. Miserable, third-world, poverty-stricken, foreign India. He groaned at the thought, silently begging for a cold can of Bud-Light, a baseball game, and a bowl of pretzels.

  His feelings were confirmed as they sped along in an obnoxious and wild cab ride to their compound, or rather hotel. For some reason, he’d allowed the idea of a Taj Mahal type resort, but instead, he was confronted with a dark, musky compound. There were two single beds with no padding at all, rather a stiff board with a dingy blanket. The streets of India were alive constantly and loud music, shouting and taxi cabs honking loudly kept him from any sort of a relaxing night’s sleep. This was the only vacation they had taken in over ten years and more than likely for the next ten years. It had almost depleted their savings.

  Liz didn’t seem to notice the lack of comfort in the room, for she was humming an acquired tune from the cab driver’s blasting radio as she hung her array of colorful dresses in the tiny closet.

  Grant had opened his mouth to protest, but it was the first time in over a year that he saw true joy in his wife. So instead, he brushed his teeth with a bottle of water from the airport and forced himself to sleep with his iPod purchased just for this trip. He was still drastically unaware of how to change the song or adjust the volume, even though Anna had showed him at least three times so he drifted away to the sounds of Free Bird blaring at an unreal volume.

  * * * *

  The following day was relatively better, as they made their way into town to visit the open air markets. His eyes squinting in the bright sun, while he watched Liz pick and prod over various collectables before her gaze fell upon the red hutch. Her mouth hung open as she ran her hands along the engraved elephants with tusks the length of the base.

  “Look.” She beamed. “The elephants look like they’re smiling at us.”

  He almost piped in that she had to have smoked something secretly in the market to imagine they were smiling at her, but instead he nodded and forced a smile of his own.

  “Oh Grant, can we get it? I must have it.”

  His eyes almost bulged out of his head as he quickly did an estimate of the weight of such a handmade piece. Shipping alone would be the cost of their flight.

  But there was something about the sparkle in her eyes, the vibrant youth that reminded him of the day they met. So instead, as he often did, he said, “If you really want it.”

  * * * *

  He wanted to kick the red hutch, smeared now in numerous shades of eye shadows and glitter, as he made his way to the bathroom to take a shower.

  After a brief rinse under piping hot water, he threw on a pair of faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt. He seriously contemplated plopping down in his favorite armchair in the basement, but decided instead to trim the overflowing rosebushes and run an edger around the yard. Liz never did understand how he could stand working in such heat all day, only to return to it in the evenings. He didn’t expect her to understand what his life was like. She barely made her way through her own. She often looked frazzled, confused, and out of sorts. It was what he’d fallen in love with—that wild look in her eye, her sweet accent. But now, it pained him to see her so off course. She hadn’t sold a sculpture in over five years and he didn’t see one coming any time soon. In fact, she was always rushing off to meet clients, but he didn’t understand the purpose. She begrudgingly explained time after time about her “process, darling,” dragging out the “o” like she was dignified. And he wouldn’t understand her process until she brought in a paycheck.

  In many ways, Eli’s death had destroyed him. He sure missed that old man, time and time again in the last week. But, he knew with a little distance between him and the past, the memories would fade to pure gratitude of the large sum of money left behind. It was the saving grace he needed. While Liz had little regard of their financial situation, it was all Grant could think about these days.

  Sure, their lights were on, food in the refrigerator and gas in his truck. It wasn’t like they weren’t making due, but they certainly didn’t have any extra. Forget frivolous purchases or trips purely for “inspiration” as Liz often pouted about. The evening news sure liked to promise a break in the recession, but Grant had yet to feel it. His construction company was still fighting li
ke mad for bids and if it hadn’t been for a few personal favors from various contacts in the business, he may have folded a long while ago. Thankful—that was an understatement. Eli had once again saved his son without even realizing how detrimental the situation was.

  Grant snatched the pruning shears from the top hook on his peg board and popped them open a few times to make sure they were good and sharp. He glanced briefly at his gardening gloves, before making his way to the overgrown rose bushes. They were beautiful, he mused, scanning the thick mounds of bright, cherry red roses. They had grown so tall and thick over the past month that they now covered most of the front porch and had sprawled across part of the walkway. He started hashing away at the bush, ignoring the thorns jabbing into his fingers.

  Grant only intended to rid the robust bush of the excess. His intention was to trim away the diseased and deadened part of the leaves and branches. He wanted to keep the porch view clear and the sideway passable. But when the pruning began, leaves flying and soft red petals crumbling to the ground, his mind drifted to the day he planted this bush. It was Mother’s Day, 2009.

  Mark had recently graduated high school and was accepted into Berkley. He wanted a jump start on his experience in California, so he’d headed up there for the weekend to stay with Anna, who had been living out there for the past year. She promised to show him around, help him pick out an apartment, and during a quiet conversation on the phone with Liz, “yes, watch out for him.” Mark didn’t want Grant or Liz to join him, promising instead that he was ready to do this on his own. Off he went, into the big city to plot his destiny, leaving a weeping Liz locked away in her studio.

  Grant didn’t have a remotely romantic bone in his body, but that Mother’s Day his heart broke a little for Liz. She went from the belle of the ball at the Friday night football games, surrounded by fellow parents, to sulky and alone. The rose bush seemed like the perfect solution, something for her to focus on. What was more beautiful than flowers that came back every year? He must have pricked his fingers over twenty times trying to plant that beast of a bush into the ground. He tapped lightly on her study door, four fingers wrapped messily in gauze. He was surprised when she flung the door open to see her tear-stricken face and puffy eyes.