The Singing Trees by Boo Walker

Chapter 42

PEOPLE LOVING PEOPLE

May 1979

Davenport, Maine

Annalisa and Thomas had visited his mother in Davenport at least three times a year since they were married, but pulling up to the big white house on the water was different this time, as Thomas wasn’t in the car with her. Emma was back from the West Coast after being gone for years. Not having spoken to his sister since confronting her about the lies, Thomas had decided to stay home.

Annalisa didn’t blame him. Though she’d mostly forgiven Emma and had exchanged letters over the years, it had taken her almost six years to find the strength to actually face her in person. It was one thing to forgive and love from afar, but to actually set eyes on the person who took so much from them had required even stronger intervention.

In the end, it had taken the insistence of her now seven-year-old daughter to make her come around. Celia was desperate to meet her only aunt and kept prying. Each request pushed Annalisa further toward finding the strength in her heart to let a woman who’d done so much damage back into her life.

Then one day it happened. Annalisa woke with a clear vision, knowing that, for her sake—and her daughter’s—it was time to take the final step toward repairing her relationship with Emma. If she couldn’t teach her daughter about complete forgiveness and compassion, then what was she teaching her at all?

Emma had written dozens of letters from different places out west, begging for forgiveness, and though Thomas had refused to answer, Annalisa had always taken the time. Remembering that she’d once been in a similar plight, she knew that Emma needed to know that she was still loved. In fact, it was love that had turned the light on Annalisa’s darkness, sparing her from Emma’s fate.

When Annalisa looked at her happy and healthy daughter, so incredibly loved by Annalisa and Thomas and Nonna, and a host of family and friends, she was reminded that Emma had never been given such a chance. So maybe Annalisa wasn’t ready to face Emma or spend time with her or introduce her to Celia, but she’d decided responding to the letters—keeping Emma up to speed with Celia’s life, if nothing else—was a gift that she was happy to give.

In the past weeks, though, after Emma wrote to say she was coming home for a few weeks before moving to Morocco with the Peace Corps, Annalisa knew she had to do more. Especially considering her creative voice—her entire artistic raison d’être—was based on love and the idea of people loving people. That notion could not and would not exist only on the canvas.

As she’d come to this revelation, she’d tried to convince Thomas to come with her, telling him that they had to move on, for Celia’s sake, if no one else’s. But Thomas had no intentions of overcoming his anger with his sister, and he had no intentions of ever speaking with her again.

Even after all that time, Thomas could still get swept away by anger when Emma’s name came up. Maybe he could have forgiven her for the letter she’d forged and sent along with the photograph, but when Emma had admitted to knowing about the baby, seeing the stroller and counting the months since Annalisa’s visit to Hawaii, and knowing it had to be Thomas’s, he’d drawn a line impossible to cross.

His choice did not affect her love for him, though, because he’d found the courage to face so many of his war demons, and he’d loved Annalisa and Celia with all that he was, and he’d certainly shown his ability to forgive when she had confessed to hiding Celia from him. It was just that he saw a very clear line between Annalisa’s and Emma’s crimes, and in his eyes, his sister deserved no absolution.

She and Thomas shared their journey, but when he’d rejected the idea, she’d decided it was a personal path and that she had to go at it alone.

Annalisa looked at the huge wooden door. Emma was on the other side. Her throat went dry thinking about it. With a burst of love surging through her, she stepped out of her truck and removed a gift-wrapped box from the back seat. Praying for courage, she made the long walk across the gravel drive to the front of the house.

As she ascended the stairs, the front door cracked open, and Annalisa thought she might have a heart attack. Was it too late to change her mind?

Mrs. Barnes appeared and came out onto the porch. With sincere appreciation, she said, “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m really happy to be here and to have a chance to catch her before she leaves.”

She touched the bottoms of her shoulder-length gray hair. “How is my granddaughter?”

Annalisa came to a stop a few feet from the woman and sighed. “Celia’s very mad at her mommy for not letting her come.”

A loving smile stretched across her face. “I bet she is.”

“I told her we’d come back this weekend. I just . . .” Wings flapped in her stomach. “I thought I should come by myself first.”

Mrs. Barnes smiled understandingly.

The two women looked at each other, knowing today was a very important day—for both of them. Emma’s lie had hurt Mrs. Barnes, too, who was kept away from Celia for the first part of her life. Perhaps even more painful to Mrs. Barnes was the fact that her only two children hadn’t spoken to each other in so long.

Mrs. Barnes touched her heart and said with incredible sincerity, “The fact that you’re here . . . it means more than you’ll ever know.” With that, she invited Annalisa inside and led her to the living room.

Annalisa answered her mother-in-law’s casual questions while wrestling with her anxious emotions. No matter how many letters they’d exchanged, seeing Emma in person could dredge up all sorts of emotions that she’d thought had been dealt with, the remnants of sadness, anger, or even worse.

When she finally crossed through the open doorframe that led into the living room, Annalisa could feel her pulse throbbing in her wrists, so much so her arms felt heavy. There, on the couch, underneath the painting Annalisa had never liked, Emma waited for her. As the young woman stood, Annalisa’s eyes widened. She’d half expected the little girl she knew from years ago. Though she’d seen a more blossomed Emma in Payton Mills that time, Emma was still a child to Annalisa.

Not now.

Emma’s straight brown hair was even longer now, almost to her waist. She was barefoot and wore a long sundress and looked very pretty, the years having done her well. But her nerves showed on her face and in the way she stood almost defensively. It was in this timidity that Annalisa realized how much love she herself had in her heart, because she felt none of the feelings that she’d feared might be excavated during their reunion. No, instead, an overwhelming rush of compassion rose within her, and she smiled with everything she had, hoping her love would show and could wash all over Emma and let her know that everything was okay—even if Thomas wasn’t there.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Annalisa said warmly, meaning it deeply. She was also glad to see Emma had put on some weight and looked much happier. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but wow. You’re a woman now, a beautiful woman. Twenty-four now, right?”

Emma blossomed with relief before Annalisa’s eyes. “And still kicking . . .”

Annalisa chuckled as she set the gift down on a nearby chair and then went to her, wrapping her arms around her, showering her as best she could with all that love she had in her heart. Emma felt much warmer, her skin and the way she hugged, and Annalisa could sense that this hug was the remedy Emma had still needed, the letters only the first part of the prescription.

Letting go, the women faced each other, and much of the awkwardness had been snuffed out by their embrace.

“Celia’s been asking about you,” Annalisa said, excited for her daughter to finally meet her aunt.

A light shined from Emma’s face. “Yeah? She’s growing up so fast. If you only knew how happy it makes me when you send me pictures and share stories. I feel like I really know her.”

“And I think it’s time you do.” Now that this was out of the way—and actually much less of a thing that Annalisa had made up in her head—she couldn’t wait to bring Celia down. “I thought we’d come back this weekend for a couple of nights.” Thomas hadn’t balked when Annalisa had suggested that if things went well with this reunion, that she bring their daughter down to Davenport. As long as he didn’t have to deal with his sister, he was fine.

Emma pressed her eyes closed for a moment. “I would love that more than anything in the world.” She looked like she might start bawling.

To save her, Annalisa said, “So the Peace Corps. You’re such an inspiration. I can’t imagine doing what you’re doing.”

Emma perked up even more, the layers falling off. “Yeah, I’d toyed with the idea during school, but then . . . you know, things changed.”

“Did you find out what you’d be doing yet?”

“They just informed me yesterday. I’ll be helping out at a boys’ home in Marrakech, at least at first. I’ll be over there two years, so it might change.”

“How incredible,” Annalisa said. “To be honest, I’m kind of jealous, you going out and helping in such a way.”

Emma almost laughed at the statement. “You’re doing your part; trust me. There’s something I didn’t tell you in the letters. You’re the reason I’m going.” She looked away, grabbing a quick breath. “Your letters over the years are what helped me find my way.”

Annalisa beamed, so happy in her heart to hear that, and so glad that she was here now.

“Seriously,” Emma said. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hated me—still hated me—and I know writing me back wasn’t easy. But you did it anyway, and I’d say those letters were the second time you saved my life.”

As Annalisa listened to Emma and was reminded of how much they were alike, she knew that love had won out in every way, and not in any piece of her, not even in the far-off galaxies of her soul, did she hold any resentment for Emma, and she couldn’t wait to see Celia rush into Emma’s arms, giving her aunt a dose of love of which only a child was capable.

“That means a lot,” she told Emma. “And I’m sorry it’s taken us this long to see each other, but I’m glad it’s happening.” Annalisa remembered the gift on the chair. “Oh, I brought you something.” She picked up the box, wrapped with cream-colored paper and purple silk ribbon, and handed it to Emma.

“As if you haven’t done enough,” Emma said.

“It’s just a little thing.” But it wasn’t. It was a big thing, one of Annalisa’s most prized possessions. “Please open it.”

Emma set the box on the long chestnut coffee table and started unwrapping. When she pulled open the box, pulled off the tissue paper, and reached inside, Annalisa hoped this gift would mean a lot to her. It hadn’t been easy for Annalisa to let it go, but she knew they had magic in them, and that was what Emma needed.

Emma’s gasp as she lifted the wind chimes out of the box answered Annalisa’s question. The keys and cylinders pinged against the gold pendulum bob, at once evoking memories of her mother and of life in Payton Mills and then in Portland—those dense years of growing up.

“I don’t know if you remember when we were painting on my porch. You said one day you wanted a forest of singing trees, and—”

“Of course I remember,” Emma said, glancing over at Annalisa with wet eyes. “They’re beautiful.”

“I thought maybe they could start your collection,” Annalisa said. “I made them the summer I moved to Portland, when I lived above the clock shop.” She’d written Emma about her life over the years.

“Yes. The owner’s name was Walt, right?”

“That’s right,” Annalisa said. “Most of these pieces are from old clocks that I found in his shop, and I . . .” Annalisa choked up, remembering the day Walt had given her his pocket watch, telling her she had the ability to turn back time. That watch rested in Thomas’s plaid blazer, the one he wore almost every day to the high school where he’d been teaching, but these chimes belonged with Emma.

She found her words and continued, “It might sound kind of silly, but Walt told me that I had the ability to turn back time. If that’s true, then this is me winding back the clock.”

“You can’t give me these,” Emma insisted, a tear rushing from her eye.

“They’re mine,” Annalisa said. “And I want you to have them.”

Emma held them up high to appreciate them. “But . . .”

“This is my way of saying I love you, Emma. They’ve brought me so much peace and creative energy over the years, and I want to extend that peace to you. When you hear them ring, I want you to remember that we all make mistakes and that it’s never too late.”

Emma began to cry as she lowered the chimes into the box. When she let go of the wire, she found Annalisa’s eyes. “I’m . . . I . . . I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s been all this time, and I’m still thinking about it.”

“Let it go, Emma,” Annalisa said, not wanting her to relive it any longer.

Emma pressed her lips together as her eyes glistened with tears. “It’s unforgivable what I did, and I hate myself for it. For what I did to you and to Thomas. To Celia.”

Annalisa felt so much pity toward her. “It’s not unforgivable, Emma. You were young. We all do stupid things when we’re young.”

Emma put her hands on her own cheeks and stared down at the floor, as if she was revisiting the moment that she’d made the decision to tell her lies. “It was more than a stupid thing.”

Annalisa wasn’t going to disagree on that point. “What happened can’t . . . it can’t define the rest of our lives. You’ve suffered enough.” She stepped forward and embraced her sister-in-law, squeezing her hard, showing her how much she loved her. As Emma cried into her shoulder, Annalisa felt true peace wash over her. It was one thing to respond to letters, but making this effort had been what they both needed.

As the seconds passed, Emma’s crying came harder, and Annalisa could feel all her years of pain. She wanted to tell Emma that Thomas had forgiven her, too, but the truth was that the war had changed him, and he’d come home a different man. Yes, he was a great father and husband and person, but he couldn’t get past the eighteen months that Emma had stolen from him.

When the two finally broke away from each other, Annalisa wiped Emma’s cheeks, wishing she could drag Thomas in here and wipe away the rest of Emma’s pain. Life wasn’t always that easy to put a bow around, though, and that was okay.

All Annalisa could do was offer her own love, and she brought Emma in for another hug and said, “We are sisters, okay? Always and forever, I am here for you.”

As Emma wept harder, both of their joyful tears washing over each other, Annalisa thought that this was exactly what life was about: people loving people.