From the Relief Society Magazine, April 1966 –

Thomena’s Break-Through

By Dorothy Clapp Robinson

“Mumm-mm.” Thomena Laudwehr scrutinized herself in her bedroom mirror. “Mum — mm.” Not beautiful, but not lacking in beauty, either. The thing was, she knew what she wanted to see, so it should have been easy to find what she was looking for; but, search as she might, the image in the mirror did not reflect strength, nor the power to make decisions. With a deep sigh, Thomena reached for her purse and counted the few dollars it contained. She had really struggled to save them. She wanted to buy Ursula Laudwehr, her mother-in-law, a birthday present. Thomena had discovered the date when searching Derek’s family group sheet.

The problem now was, did she dare offer Ursula Laudwehr a present she would buy with so little?

Mrs. Laudwehr had everything, it seemed, including a daughter-in-law she highly resented.

“Derek,” she had asked at the breakfast table a few months after their marriage, “Why do you love me?”

Derek had dropped the toast he was about to sample. “Because you ask such unexpected questions.”

“Be serious. Why do you love me?”

Derek’s eyes had scrutinized her, his mouth puckered. “Why do I love thee? Let me count the reasons. You are adorable, you are beautiful, you are cuddly.”

“Derek:

“You did not let me finish. You are intelligent, and you are in every detail the girl I wanted for my wife.”

“Oh, you. … I have no strength of character; no power to make decisions. I don’t know how to treat your mother.”

Derek choked on the milk he was drinking. After a show of coughing, he said, “Now she tells me, after making me wait for two years before she would give me the glad word. That was because she could not make up her mind!”

“No. I knew I was going to marry you long before you asked me.”

“Is that right?”

“I mean — well, your mother doesn’t approve of me.”

“What has that to do with your power to make decisions?”

“She disapproves of me. She disapproves of my — our religion. She doesn’t answer my letters; when she does write, her letters are addressed to you. I can’t make up my mind what to do.”

“The trouble with my mother is, she makes too many decisions for other people; and I insist on making my ov/n. Perhaps you have noticed. Our children will be so decisive they will make up your mind for you — whether or no.” He rose from the table, then stooped to kiss her. “Don’t you worry, Tom-Baby. When you are in doubt always follow your heart.”

They had been almost deliriously happy that first year. Mrs. Laudwehr had refused to give Derek support unless he would come to his senses and enter the University where he belonged. He must follow the traditional family pattern. Luckily, he had had a small income from an uncle’s estate. He did tutoring, and Thomena worked part time so they had managed without debt. But now there was a baby coming, and the unpleasant facts Thomena had forced to the back of her mind appeared and demanded to be recognized. No home could be complete without a parent or a grandparent. Thomena had adored the grandmother who had reared her; and the aunts and uncles and cousins — why, life would be unbearable without them. Derek found in Uncle Jim the father he had never known, and Thomena must find in Mrs. Laudwehr the mother she had never known. So, clearly, it was up to her to find some way to resolve the situation. And she could not even decide on a birthday present.

Last fall Mrs. Laudwehr had appeared on the faculty of their university as an exchange professor. She rented an expensive apartment. It should have been a time of rejoicing, but it was not. Thomena’s disk of happiness would not play on her emotional machine. No friendship developed, and without friendship how could anyone find love?

Thomena turned from the mirror. Taking her sweater and purse, she went into the living room just as Derek and his friend, Phil Harris, came bounding up the stairs.

“Hi, Tom-Baby. I was afraid you might be gone. Come in, Phil, arid don’t mind my hugging my adorable wife. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Thomena’s face colored with embarrassment. “But, why are you home this time of the day?” she asked when she could.

“Phil and I have to go to Lowell Peak dam to watch the installation of some electronic machinery. We must write papers on it. We may be gone a week, and I do not want to leave you that long without the car. Will you drive us up?”

“Surely, I would love to.” But after they were away from town and speeding toward the high hills, she thought of Mrs. Laudwehr’s birthday. “Today is your mother’s birthday,” she told Derek, “and I should get back before the stores close.”

“I’m sorry, but it is too late now for me to see her. She will not mind. She quit having birthdays before I was old enough to buy her a present. Give her a kiss fo’r me, but do not mention her birthday. She will not like it.”

“The stores are open until eight tonight,” Phil said, “and it won’t take longer than half an hour to buy a present, so you should be able to make it.”

The three were sitting in the front seat, Derek driving effortlessly as he did most things. At Phil’s suggestion, Thomena turned her head to hide a smile. How little he knew about buying a present, and she had been looking for the past month.

The drive could have been so wonderful if Thomena had not been so conscious of time. Over and over, she listed in her mind possible purchases that would be suitable and acceptable — but she would never get back in time to shop. Occasionally, a small town would offer something more valuable than could be found in the city. She remembered once in a small-town bookstore she had found a first edition of Huckleberry Finn. On the flyleaf it said, “Christmas, 1894. To my beloved nephew.” She had paid ten cents for the book. Perhaps she could give that to Mrs. Laudwehr — but, no, her mother-in-law undoubtedly appreciated first editions, but not of a juvenile book.

“This is the sixteenth time you have looked at your watch in the last fifteen minutes,” Derek broke her reverie. “Are you that anxious to say goodbye?”

Thomena smiled. “Frankly, yes. I want to get into a store.”

“Bake her a cake.”

“You know she doesn’t eat pastries. Too fattening.”

“Well, I like cake. Suppose you have one baked for me when I get back, and forget a present.” Derek was always positive when speaking of his mother. “She doesn’t like to be reminded of her age.”

Thomena’s hopes sank. Perhaps Mrs. Laudwehr would resent being a grandmother. I can’t buy her love with a present, she told herself, but the ice must be broken someway and it would be terrible not to be remembered on one’s birthday. Christmas is for everybody, but a birthday is one’s very own.

“Well, here we are.” Derek had driven across the causeway and stopped before an office building. He reached for his typewriter and briefcase. “You get with the baggage, Phil. I am driving back to where the steep climb begins. Can’t trust Tom-Baby to drive that alone. I will walk back.”

“But that is too far,” Thomena protested.

“Not nearly as far as from there to the bottom of the canyon.”

“I just remembered,” Phil told Thomena, “after you leave this first canyon there is a turn to the right. It will take you through a small resort. You might find something there.”

‘Thank you, Phil. I will take the turn.”

Derek maneuvered the car about and again crossed the causeway. Water was almost to the top of the dam. On the lower side there was nothing but a downward plunge with a great roaring spray issuing from three outlets. At the point in the road where the angle of descent leveled, Derek set the brakes. He got out and Thomena slipped behind the wheel.

“You will be careful, won’t you, darling? I never knew there could be anyone as precious as you.”

She leaned forward to receive his parting kiss. “You forget I have driven over mountain roads since I was old enough to have a license.”

“That is the only reason I am trusting you to make it back. Please, be careful.”

“I can’t go without the keys.”

Derek’s face went blank, then he laughed. “I was not conscious of having put them in my pocket. Here you are. …” He stopped again and felt in all his pockets. “Thomena, I have come away without my wallet. Must have left it in the slacks. What shall I do?”

“Shall I bring it up to you?”

“No. I don’t need anything but a little cash — have to pay for my board. Phil might have enough to lend me some, but I doubt it. He gets by on so little.” Without hesitation, Thomena handed him her purse. He took the money from it and handed it back. “I dislike doing this. I know you were on your way downtown when we picked you up.”

There was another leavetaking, then Thomena realized she was going down the mountain at a fast pace. She felt a little light-headed. The decision had been taken from her; it was no longer her responsibility to buy a birthday present; but she had done her best. She took the road Phil had suggested, but as she had no money she drove through the resort without stopping.

But her mother-in-law’s birthday still kept intruding on her thoughts. Derek had been offered a teaching fellowship, so they were sure to be here two more years. Would Ursula Laudwehr move when they did? What difference would it make? The next two years, she reasoned, would be as important as any two years of their lives; perhaps more so, for the wider the gap the harder it would be to bridge. The day would not be over until twelve o’clock and — here I go again, she thought. Why can’t I just forget? The decision was taken out of my hands.

In the canyon, dusk was settling heavily over trees and road. She made a turn that brought her to an opening between the hills. Here the sun was still shining. For a moment it almost blinded her. She drew to the side of the road and stopped the car. Sunshine lay like a dappled but physical blanket over a small clearing. “A crowd, a host of golden daffodils,” she quoted, only the flowers were not daffodils, but common everyday buttercups, the kind she had picked as a child.

Suddenly Thomena’s hopes flared — it might be possible yet. She was out of the car and picking buttercups before her thoughts had quite jelled.

She began picking, choosing only the largest long-stemmed ones. When she had all she could hold in her two hands, she returned to the car and laid them on the back seat. Now — if she hurried she could arrange the blossoms in a vase; at least, it would be a birthday remembrance, if not a present.

When nearly to the county road, she stopped the car so suddenly she was thrown against the steering wheel. Before her was another expanse of flowers, sego lilies, this time. Buttercups did not mean anything in particular; sego lilies did. They were sort of a s3nitibol. She started picking. The plants were not thickly grouped as were the buttercups, but they were larger and more colorful than any she had ever seen. The lilac and gold in the centers were more vivid and the petals creamier than usual. She moved about choosing, discarding. She laid the lilies beside the buttercups, then hurried to get home before they wilted.

Thomena put both bouquets on the kitchen table while she hunted for a vase. She found one of olive-green porcelain. It was fashioned with a square foot and a stem that flared into a shallow bowl.

Thomena chose her blossoms carefully and arranged them as tastefully as she could. But she could not trust the car seat to hold the vase so the water would not spill, and she could not trust the blossoms out of water for another half hour; besides, she wanted to enter Ursula’s presence with the arrangement intact. It would make a better impression. She would have to walk and carry the offering.

At the Centralia, where Mrs. Laudwehr lived, Thomena took the elevator to the twelfth floor. She walked carefully down the hall and knocked at number 983. What if Mrs. Laudwehr laughed at her present, or, worse still, pretended to like it? Thomena could not help that happening, much as she would regret it; it was her privilege to give and Mrs. Laudwehr’s to receive in any manner she saw fit.

Ursula Laudwehr opened the door, and for a moment stood blinking at the tired looking, disheveled girl. “Come in.”

“Happy, birthday,” Thomena said, and took two steps into the living room.” Then she stumbled and water sloshed from the shallow vase onto the rose carpet. She sat down, abruptly, set the vase away from her, and began to cry. She was tired, she was hungry, and she had ruined everything.

Ursula frowned. She studied the girl intently, then a faint smile softened her features. She brought a towel and wiped the water from the rug. She took the vase away and returned with the arrangement intact. She placed it on the table before the couch on which she had been sitting.

“You have made your point,” she said suddenly. “Come sit by me.”

The sobs stopped more abruptly than they had begun. After a sniffle or two, Thomena wiped her eyes and her dress. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

“Why did you come here?”

“Why to— to—”

“Exactly. Incidentally, this is the first birthday present I have been given since I was twelve years old. Thank you. I honor the thought that prompted the giving.”

“Why — why, Derek told me you didn’t like birthday presents.”

“An unhappy experience at that age soured me, and I retaliated in the only way I knew. When I matured a little, I could not find the softness to say I had changed.”

A little reluctantly, Thomena sat on the couch; she was not prepared for a quick surrender. She looked at her mother-in-law and saw understanding in her eyes. “You are a sweetie-pie,” she cried impulsively. Then her face flushed. “I didn’t mean to be flippant. I know you dislike slang. Derek calls me ‘Tom-Baby,’ and I wish he wouldn’t. It sounds so — so juvenile and like a cat.”

Mrs. Laudwehr actually smiled. “Let Derek be juvenile. It is a delayed reaction. He will recover. How would you like Ursula Mowbray DeLilue Laudwehr for a name?”

“Horrible.” Thomena leaned and kissed the owner of those names. “I know a much prettier one.”

“Tell me.”

“Grandmother.”

Mrs. Laudwehr ‘s eyes hardened briefly. She drew a deep breath. “So be it.” Then she succumbed. “After all, no matter how much she may resent it every oldish woman needs a grandchild.”

“Every child needs a grandmother.” Thomena kissed her again, then said belatedly, “Happy birthday, Mother.”