ISLAND DREAM, Chapter 2 YOU ARE WHERE YOU ARE BECAUSE THAT'S WHERE YOU WANT TO BE, OTHERWISE YOU WOULD CHANGE

ISLAND DREAM

Chapter 2

YOU ARE WHERE YOU ARE BECAUSE THAT'S WHERE YOU WANT TO BE, OTHERWISE YOU WOULD CHANGE!

If half my life was over, then I'd better get busy.  I continued to heave giant sighs and blink back stinging tears.  My mother was gone.  I had never known such pain, but I also knew that I had to change.  There just had to be more to life than what I had realized so far.  What was I doing wrong? 

With mother's unexpected death, daddy seemed to realize that he too, might be vulnerable.  He decided to divide the property, that he and mother had accumulated over the years.  He had never been one to make plans or wills.  He had mentioned it a few times, but I always changed the subject, not wanting to think about either of them being mortal.  For years before mother had urged him to make preparations, to take that step.  But now he was, and was uneasy about taking such a big one.

He choose a new young lawyer, just starting his practice.  He was anxious to make a good impression.  Ingeniously, he found ever loose end of the law to cover the transfer.  After all of his work very little of our inheritance went toward taxes.  Plans were put into place for daddy to continue to live in his house and receive a percentage of the farm income.  My sister and her husband would continue to run things, including my portion of the land.  Daddy accepted the transition, but without mother, he seemed to go through the motions of life with very little interest.

"You are a very wealthy woman," the lawyer said on one of my visits.

"What makes you say that?" I asked.  "I certainly don't feel like it."

"But you own over three hundred acres of prime farm land."

"Yeah, but I can't farm it.  My sister and husband won't be able to pay much rent.  There's hardly a farmer, in this whole county that make enough to survive from season to season.  That is not my idea of wealthy."

"Mildred, there will never be any more land made, "he shook his head at me.  "You own three hundred acres, you're rich, take my word for it."

I didn't believe him, but tried to take what he said and use it to my advantage.  I had worked, part time, in a small florist shop for several months.  No florist school or special training, just volunteer work until I was good enough to be  paid.  With that experience and what natural talent I had inherited from mother, I started to search for a place to put my inheritance to work.

The old saying, "Those who have, get" proved to be true.  With the farms as collateral I had no trouble getting a loan for a van and the makings of a small flower shop.  Daddy came from the farm to help build shelves, counters, and worktables.  We used his pickup to bring in supplies.  My daughters joined us and we completed the project together.  It was a great time, three generations worked together toward a single goal.  

Opening day;  My daughter's birthday: the start of, what I hoped would be my new life.  CARDINAL FLOWERS; Twenty by forty feet of space that was just for me.  I was so proud and s-o-o-o scared.  Could I make it?  Did I really know what I was doing?  My worst fear was not being accepted.  The small farm town of just over three thousand  people already had a family owned florist, that had been  passed down from mother to daughter over a period of thirty years.

Determined, I worked hard, made a lot of mistakes, but persevered.   My girls worked alongside me when we did catering for every occasion.  Without them I could never have managed.  After almost three years I had gained a foothold, grew in popularity, and became successful enough that I had to hire full time help.  In place of celebrating, I became depressed.  This was not what I wanted, I wound up in the office doing paper work while the help did the fun things (designing and creating.)  Once again, mother's death began to haunt me, that number "sixty eight" seemed to loom over my head and I wasn't happy or even satisfied.

"Carol, what's wrong with me?"  I talked to my friend who had always been there with advice and help.

"Mildred, I'm going to tell you the truth.  You're wallowing in martyrdom."

"What?  What are you talking about?" I demanded!

"You're always wanting people to feel sorry for you." she looked me straight in the eye and said.  "Look at poor little me, married to an alcoholic.  But do you know that in some ways you're worse than he is."

I was hurt!  Furious!  How could she say such a thing to me?  I thought that she was my friend.  But she didn't stop there.

"Mildred, that's not the worst part, you're raising those girls to be just like you!"

A slap across the face, a two by four to the forehead, would have hurt less than those words.

"You're raising those girls to be just like you."  Then she turned, walked out and slammed the door behind her.

Carol, my neighbor, my friend, my mentor.  It took some time but I finally realized that she really WAS my friend!  She actually loved me enough to put the truth on the line.

With that "rude" awakening, I worked even harder.  But I also decided to go after my dream.  I plastered the shop bathroom with goal pictures.  Then, taking a "slam" for John who had always berated me for my love of "trashy novels," I decided to improve myself in other ways.  I listened to motivational records (before CDs) and I became addicted to Dr. Wayne Dyer's YOUR ERRONEOUS ZONES.   I read, reread, highlighted, underlined and dog-eared the pages.  The book became my "bible."

"YOU ARE WHERE YOU ARE BECAUSE THAT'S EXACTLY WHERE YOU WANT TO BE, OTHERWISE YOU WOULD CHANGE."

These words burned into my brain.  I WAS where I was because I MUST want to be there, otherwise, why didn't I change?

Change.  What change did I want?  I had two wonderful daughters, a business of my own, good health, so what else did I need or, for that matter WANT?  A D I V O R C E!  I had tried to do it three years earlier but didn't carry through.  When I thought about it I realized that John must be as unhappy as I or probably more so.  Otherwise why would he drink so much.  We would both be better off, I told myself but when I mustered enough courage to confront him, he startled me.  I had been so wrapped up in the shop, goals, and even seeing other men, that I hadn't paid any attention to him.  He now told me that he had gone to a doctor, received help and was attending AA meetings.

"Mildred, come with me." he said.  Go to Alanon, it'll be good for you and maybe we can work things out."

I tried a few times, but my heart wasn't in it.  My love and any feeling that I had for him had long ago been lost in his bottles.

When he saw that I wasn't going to change my mind he accepted the divorce and settled generously.  Without liquor to cloud our conversations, we talked more than we had in years.

John adjusted and grew, the girls seemed relieved from all the tension and I was free!

Free?  Was I really?

Don, the man I had been seeing pressured me constantly.

"Mildred, now that you are divorced, let's go ahead and get married.  There's no need to wait any longer."

While I held him at bay, we traveled, attended dances, and dreamed "his dream" together.  A log house, a few acres of land, my girls and his son, happy ever after.  We drew up plans, searched magazines and visited log house sites.  He was a strong man physically and mentally.  He made decisions, offered advice, on my business and shielded me from the world.  Someone that I had dreamed of for years.  But then I WOKE UP!  Don had taken over my life, I was NOT FREE!

"Mildred, this is okay now, but once we're married, I'll expect you to do things my way.  The girls too, they'll have to learn to accept my rules, after all Rex does."

WHOA!  A man telling me what to do?  Telling my girls what to do?  Vikki and Penny never liked him (liked being a gross understatement) or his son Rex.  It wasn't because of the divorce, they just didn't like his tactics.  They saw him for what he was, a fortune hunter.  Besides, they wanted their mom to be "independent."

But independent, I wasn't and there was no "fortune" to hunt.  During the first two years, as a "wealthy woman" I had netted a whopping three thousand dollars from the three hundred and twenty acres.  If John hadn't supported the girls so generously, I could never have made it.  Even though the business was getting better, I was not getting better AT business.  I continued to fall behind.

"Daddy, I've got to sell the Yancy place, " I finally had screwed up the courage to break the news to him.

"I figured as much," he sighed deeply.  "You'll  probably go through the rest of the places in a few years.  But I understand, if that's what you think you have to do."

"Daddy, I'm sorry," the words caught in my throat as I knew how much I had disappointed him.  "I won't sell the others, it's just that I'm really having a hard time making a go of the shop, but I just don't want to give up.  Please understand."

I knew that he didn't but the farm sold quickly.  I caught up with my bills, at the shop, and bought a new car.  With the car and the money, Don stepped up his push for marriage.  But my eyes were now closed to his "charms."  I wasn't about to give up my new found freedom or share "the wealth."  But he was fun to be with and a great lover so I clung to him, like holding onto a pair of old comfortable shoes.

While I held on, my dream became more important than ever.  SAMOA!  Carefully I unfolded my yellowed, tattered article.  Palm trees, powder white beaches, happy smiling people, it all called to me from that crumbling piece of  paper.  I searched for more information about this tiny little dot in the middle of the ocean.  One page in and encyclopedia, (no internet) and a small article in a SUNSET GUIDE TO THE SOUTH  PACIFIC was it, nothing more.

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"Carol, could you make arrangements for another trip for me?" (Of course I had forgiven her after I realized what a blessing she had given me, telling me exactly like it was.)

She had planned a trip to Cancun, Mexico for the girls and me.  It had been great, but only whetted my appetite for the "real thing."

"There's nothing on any of my computers about this strange place that you're wanting to visit," she said after several days.

"Try Pago Pago," I said.  "I think that's the capitol or something.  The book says that Samoa is called the "Pearl of the South Seas."  There's got to be some way to get there."

A few days later loud urgent knocking called me to the back door.

"I've got it!" she pushed past me clutching a computer printout.

"You've got what?'

"Samoa!" she waved the papers.  "Continental Airlines has just opened their South Pacific route to Australia.  But on the way, they stop in Pago Pago.  To introduce people to their new route they've got this fantastic fare.  The only catch, it's nonrefundable."

She explained everything.  The entire round trip, from Tulsa, to Los Angeles, to Honolulu, to Pago Pago and back was only five hundred and seventy five dollars.  It was too good to be true.

"BOOK IT!"  I shouted!  "Twenty years of dreaming and I'm about to take the first step!"

But that first step would have to wait.  Just two days later, another phone call.

"Mildred, daddy is in the hospital with  pneumonia," Frances said.  "We had to put him in last night."

"Oh my god, is he going to be all right?"

"He's resting now, but he has been asking for you."

"Penny has to have dental surgery this afternoon, do you think it would be okay for me to stay with her tonight and come, first thing, in the morning, or should I come right now?"

"I'm sure that he'd want you to take care of   Penny.  In the morning will be fine."

"Okay, but call if there's any change and I'll leave immediately."

Penny's surgery was brief and successful.  The next morning I left at five AM.  At exactly nine AM I drove into the parking lot of the hospital.  That was the same two hundred and fifty miles that had taken me so long to drive, four years earlier.

I walked into the room to find tubes and machines hooked up to daddy from every angle and there seemed to be no recognition at all.  But as I choked on the tears that closed off my throat, he finally squeezed my hand in acknowledgment.

"Daddy, I'm here," trying to hold in check the tears that threatened to spill over onto him, I leaned over and kissed his forehead.  "I brought you some honey from Cancun.  You've got to get well so you can taste it.  You know how much you love honey from all over, I hope that this is good."

His fingers tightened around my hand and I chattered on, almost afraid to stop.  If I stopped, he might stop.  Breathing.

Frances went home for some much needed rest while I stayed by his bedside.

"He seems to be resting peacefully," I spoke quietly into the room phone, answering questions from concerned relatives.  "Wait!"  I dropped the phone and ran from the room.  "Nurse!  Nurse!  Come quick! Something's happening!"

His heart monitor had suddenly gone into a straight flat line, emitting an ominous monotone!

Nurses, orderlies, and doctors seemed to stampede from all directions.  They forced me from the room and closed the door.

I paced the hall.  Should I call Frances?  No, she needed her rest.  He'd be all right, this was just a little stutter with his heart.  After all he'd come through a colostomy just after mother died and had been doing great.  Yes!  He'd be fine, no need to bother her.

"Mrs. Lunkley, the young doctor took me by the arm as he came from the room.  

He didn't have to say anything.  I could tell from his face and the nurses and orderlies filed out while he told me anyway.

I broke away and ran into the room.  All of the tubes and machines had been removed.  They were no longer needed.

"Daddy, please don't go.  Please don't go yet.  I want you to be with the girls and me.  Please don't go."

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But I knew that for the last four years he had pined for his lifelong sweetheart.  He had waited until I could get there.  But now he was where he wanted to be, with mother.

Once again, shuddering sighs, stifled sobs, and a terrible aching void was my life.  But this time I knew that they were together and I was almost happy, just thinking of their reunion and happiness at being together, where they belonged.

My dreams hadn't entered my mind since Frances' phone call.  But when I returned home, after a couple of weeks helping to make final arrangements, Carol was there.

"Mildred I'm so sorry about your dad, But I know how much you wanted this trip.  I've been told that if you can get a death certificate to prove why you were unable to use that special ticket, then I'll be able to get a refund."

I listened, without really hearing her, but then I remembered how much Mother and Daddy had loved to travel.  Never outside the mainland, but still were always excited about any trips that I took.  Daddy wouldn't want me to wear black and mourn.  He'd want me to go for it.

"Carol, do you think that you can get another ticket after the refund?"

"I don't know if there will be any fares near that price, but I can try."

"Even if it's only half as good, I still want to go.  Will you check for me?"

That was Tuesday.  Thursday, she called, "If you can leave Monday, I can get the same fare."

Without hesitating, "I'm ready now!"