Winter Garden

“Grief will do that to a person. ”

“Yeah,” Meredith said, thinking of the tears that were always on her cheeks when she woke. Yesterday she’d been so exhausted she’d added orange juice to her coffee instead of soy milk. She’d drunk half the cup before she even noticed. “It will. ”

If Meredith had been burning the candle at both ends then, by the end of January, there was nothing left but the flame. She knew Jeff had grown impatient with her, even angry. Time and again, he told her to hire someone to help take care of her mother, or to let him help her, or—worst of all—to make time for them. But how was she supposed to accomplish that amid all her other chores? She’d tried to get Mom a housekeeper, but that had been a disaster. The poor woman had worked at Belye Nochi a week and quit without giving notice, saying that she couldn’t stand the way Mom watched her all the time and told her to quit touching things.

So, with Nina gone off God knew where and Mom growing stranger and colder every day, Meredith had no choice but to pick up the slack. She’d made a promise to her father to care for Mom and she would never let him down. So she kept moving, doing everything that needed to be done. As long as she was moving, she could contain her grief.

Her routine had become her salvation.

Every morning she woke early, ran four miles, made her husband and her mother breakfast, and left for work. By eight o’clock, she was at her desk, working. At noon, she returned to Belye Nochi to check on Mom, pay a few bills, or do a little cleaning. Then it was back to work until six, grocery shopping on her way home, stop at Mom’s until seven or eight, and—if Mom wasn’t acting too weird—home by eight-thirty for whatever dinner she and Jeff could throw together. Without fail, she fell asleep on the sofa by nine and woke up at three in the morning. The only good part about this crazy routine was that she could call Maddy early because of the time-zone difference. Sometimes, just hearing her daughters’ voices could get her through the day.

Now it was barely noon and she was already exhausted as she hit the intercom button and said, “Daisy, I’m going home for lunch. I’ll be back in an hour. Can you get the shed reports to Hector and remind Ed to get me that information on grapes?”

The door to her office opened. “I’m worried about you,” Daisy said, closing the door behind her.

Meredith was touched. “Thank you, Daisy, but I’m fine. ”

“You’re working too hard. He wouldn’t like it. ”

“I know, Daisy. Thanks. ”

Meredith watched Daisy leave the office, then gathered up her purse and keys.

Outside, snow was falling again. The parking lot was a slushy, muddy mess, as were the roads.

She drove slowly out to her mom’s house, parked, and went inside. At the entryway, she took off her coat and hung it up, calling out, “Mom, I’m here. ”

There was no answer.

She dug through the refrigerator, found the pierogies she’d defrosted last night and a Tupperware container full of lentil soup. She popped the pierogies in the microwave and warmed them up. She was just about to go upstairs when she caught a glimpse of a dark shape in the winter garden.

This was getting old. . . .

She got her coat and trudged through the falling snow to the garden. “Mom,” she said, hearing the exasperation in her voice and unable to temper it. “You’ve got to quit this. Come on inside. I’ll make some pierogies and soup for you. ”

“From the belt?”

Meredith shook her head. Whatever the hell that meant. “Come on. ” She helped her mother to her feet—bare again, and blue with cold—and led her into the kitchen, where she wrapped her up in a big blanket and sat her down at the table. “Are you okay?”

“I am not the one to be worrying about, Olga,” Mom said. “Check on our lion. ”

“It’s me, Meredith. ”

“Meredith,” she said, as if trying to make sense of the name.

Meredith frowned. Her mother seemed more confused than made sense. This wasn’t just ordinary grief. Something was wrong. “Come on, Mom. I think we need to see Dr. Burns. ”

“What have we to trade?”

Meredith sighed again and took the plate of pierogies from the microwave. Placing the golden lamb-filled pastries on a cooler plate, she set them in front of her mother. “They’re hot. Be careful. I’m going to get your clothes and call the doctor. Stay here. Okay?”

She went upstairs for some clothes, and while she was there, she called Daisy and asked her to make an emergency appointment with Dr. Burns. Then she came down with the clothes and helped Mom to her feet.

“You ate all of them?” Meredith said, surprised. “Good. ” She put a sweater on Mom, then helped her into socks and snow boots. “Put on your coat. I’ll go warm up the car. ”

When she came back into the house, Mom was in the entryway, buttoning up her coat incorrectly.

“Here, Mom. ” Meredith unbuttoned the coat and rebuttoned it. She had almost finished when she realized that the coat was warm.