The news came as a text. "G'ma failing, get to Salt Lake ASAP".
I stared at the phone for a long moment. It was from my uncle Endeavor, the self-appointed patriarch of the clan since Grampa had died eight years ago. I should call him later. Or now. Or never. It was always difficult talking to Uncle E.
My mom had gotten the heck outa Dodge (or in our case, Salt Lake) as soon as she was old enough to drive a car. I had been born in Maine, where mom and my dad made a living as organic farmers.
My parents never married, but the love and respect they showed each other was as powerful as any legal bond could ever be. Mom is Rumor Woods. Dad is Tom Waters. They would joke about their names, Woods and Waters, in the kitchen as dad grabbed mom and pulled her onto his lap. "Do ya float? Will ya float?? Let's see if you'll float!" and hold her up and squeeze her tight, while she'd laugh and pretend to try to wriggle away as he smothered her in kisses. My sister and I loved to be there, two planets around this warm sun of love.
I started as the phone dinged again. I hadn't acknowledged the text. No time like the present, I sighed. I flipped over to my contacts list and scrolled down. Endeaver, Cantor, Rumor, Torpor...they were all there. Grampa's name was still there too, Wellington Woods. I'd never been quite ready to delete it. Besides, it was the land line number for the house in Salt Lake. I dialed Uncle E. Strangely, it went to voicemail. "This is the answering device for Edward Woods, president and CEO of Woods Enterprises in Salt Lake City, Utah. I'm very sorry I didn't answer right away. We value your business. Please let me know when is a good time to call you back."
Uncle E., this is Ryan. I just got your text. Can you call me, please?" Immediately the phone rang. "Ryan, your grandmother is not well. It's important that the entire family be present for the reading of the will. How soon can you get here?" "Uncle E, have you talked to my mom yet? This seems more relevant to her, I think."
"PLEASE don't call me that. I am Uncle Edward to you, or if you prefer, Uncle Woods. I just spoke to Rumor. She says she's too busy. Something about the harvest, and canning." The disgust in his voice was palpable. "Perhaps you can talk some sense into her. At least try. I have to call the others." He hung up.
I had only met Mom's siblings a few times. It was always a strange scene when we'd travel back to Utah. She had talked a little about Gramma Woods, though. She had been born in Bountiful, Utah, to a devout Mormon family. When she was old enough to marry, her parents introduced her to Grandpa, and they courted with strict supervision for just over a year. When Wellington had asked for her hand, her father accepted. No one asked her, but she was content with the arrangement. That's just how things happened in her world.
Later that evening, I drove over to the homestead. I was raised on one hundred acres of heaven, in the center of Maine. My parents had bought it sight unseen when they saw a picture of Moosehead Lake in a real estate brochure over 30 years ago. They laugh when they talk about how rough it was at first, before the house was built. But it's comfortable now, and together with five employees they run a nice little operation, truck farm they call it. Dad has a busy time taking produce down to the farmers' market in Bangor, and supplying a few restaurants in the area.
After a few supper and hugs, I asked mom if Endeavor had called her. "Oh, yes. Can you believe that silly man? Asking if I could be there for the reading of the will before she's even in the ground! Poor mom, how DID she put up with him and his brother all these years?" "Well, are you thinking of going? He told me you'd said no." "Hmph. Just like him, of course I'm going! But the FIRST thing I did after he called, was called the housekeeper, and get the real story. Mother is NOT dying. She has taken a turn, but it's just like Endeavor to start writing the postscript before the play's even finished!"
I sighed with relief. " Thank goodness! So we can make a plan calmly....why does he get so huffy when I call him Uncle Endeavor?"
Mama laughed. "Well, now that he's a big important CEO, I guess he thinks he's outgrown his nickname." As we finished the last of the peach pie, she reminded me of a little family history.
"The first Woods child was born within a year of their marriage. Wellington was working for the railroad, a booming business in Utah back then. Bountiful is outside Salt Lake. They've kinda grown together now, you know,but back then it was a big deal when the company wanted Wellington and his new bride to move to the big city. The first was a boy, born in a hospital, not at home like both grandparents were. I guess they thought they were being modern. A robust boy, active and opinionated, he was named Edward Taylor. Within another year, along came Carl William. According to Mama, those two were like two peas in a pod. They both had barrel chests and square jaws, like their dad, and strong opinions on everything going on around them. Soon she was calling Edward "Endeavor", as he would not give up on anything he tried. He was just a bulldog! And Carl sang. Everywhere. They joined the Cathedral, of course, and heard that amazing choir every Sunday, and Carl just soaked it up. So obviously, he became Cantor.
It was a couple years before I came along. Clearly Mama had her hands full with those two boys. And when I made my appearance, the birth certificate said Rachel Woods. Latter Day Saints don't give their girls middle names, you know. They're expected to marry and take a third name that way. And I was VERY different. I was tall, thin. And graceful, completely different from either of my parents. Little round-faced Mama didn't know what to DO with me! Of course, Mama had never looked TWICE at another man, but that didn't stop the neighbors from putting their heads together. It wasn't long before some KIND church member (she held up her fingers in air quotes) told Mama what everyone was saying. Well, to hear Mama tell it, she nearly fell outa her chair laughing. And so I became Rumor. For years to come, when we were out in public, she'd call me Rumor this, and Rumor that, and some of those old biddies would look as if they'd been hit with a wet noodle! Of course, I was much older before she finally told me what all the fuss was about."
"And Torpor?"
Mom sighed, and put down her fork. "Ah, Torpor. Dear Torpor. She came along rather soon after I did, and they say the birth did not go well. Mama had to stay in the hospital for over a week, as it was a cesarean section. The baby was named Tiffany, which to this day, I don't know how that name was picked. Maybe Mama was still feeling the gas..."
She drifted off, looking away. "Of course, Torpor is still there with Mama, and I'm sure that's a comfort. She never really took to school, at least not as much as she took to food. And after that birth, the doctor convinced Papa to allow him to tie Mama's tubes. Told her another birth would kill her. He bought it.
Anyway, after that Mama was just not so robust anymore, and Papa was doing well enough that he could hire some help in the house.
So there you have it. Endeavor charging around like Teddy Roosevelt, Cantor singing at full voice every time he spoke, me turning pirouettes in every room of the house, and Torpor, sitting. Eating. And the staff trying to get their work done without getting fired, as we tended to tell tales on them when Papa came home. Mama loved us dearly, but she never really regained her strength, so in a sense she was like a fifth child."
"So, when do you plan to go to Utah?" I asked.
"As I TRIED to tell your uncle, we can come in a couple of weeks. The harvest is in now, the market is winding down, and Tom and I know Billy and the others can handle it all just fine. I'll make a point of calling Mama's house every day, and likely I'll get a chance to speak to her in person if she's awake, and tell her the plan. Tom can make us some plane reservations tomorrow, after I've had a chance to talk to your sister. What's your work schedule like now?"
For the rest of the evening we worked out plans to go to Salt Lake. I am so grateful to have Rumor and Tom for parents.
I wonder sometimes how such wonderful people can have such crazy childhoods. But, perhaps later, I'll get Mom to tell me what it was like to raise me! THAT might be quite a story.