Second Nature

Chapter 41

41 

Lana sat by stacks of books on the floor of the mansion's library, sorting keepers from those to donate to the county library. Cade sat nearby, carefully wrapping a stained-glass Tiffany lamp in strips of newspaper. Across the room, Haven taped a padding of thick cardboard over the glass of a framed photo of her maternal grandparents.  

"You said Grandma Elaine was really nice," Haven said. 

"She was. She was sweet, like you." 

"I don't believe it." 

"Why do you say that?" 

"Because. How does a person who is so nice come from such a cruel family?" 

"Good question," Cade said. He carefully packed the chrysanthemum-shaped lamp shade in a cardboard box filled with plastic peanuts. "How did Mom come from out of that clan? Or should I say, 'Klan,' with a capital K?" 

"I don't know," Lana said. "To be honest, I've been wondering the very same thing these past few weeks. It's so admirable. I'd like to think it had to do with Dad. True love. She was a modern Juliet." 

"Boy, that would make a romance novel, huh?" 

She gave a wistful smile. "I won't be an innkeeper anymore. Maybe I'll try my hand at writing it." 

"I hate Weston," Haven said. "I hate his guts. I really do." 

Lana looked over at her niece. "How do you feel when you hate someone?" 

"Like I want to wring his old neck." 

"No, I mean, how do you feel, your body feel? Right now." 

Haven sighed and thought a moment. "All hot inside. Like, kind of sick to my stomach. It makes me feel rotten." 

"Exactly," Lana said. "See, when we hate people, even people who seem to deserve it, it makes us suffer. You're not hurting Weston right now by hating him. Not one bit. He's probably out playing golf with his buddies. While you feel rotten." 

Haven's eyes brimmed with tears. "That's not fair. He's having fun, and he's hurting me." 

"No, baby, you're the one who's hurting you. Your hate for Weston, it's disturbing your body. Can you feel what I mean?" 

Haven nodded slowly. 

"So you have to make a choice. We can feel angry at people who've wronged us. We should stand up for our rights. Always. But to hate...that does something ugly in our souls. It poisons our happiness." Lana smiled. "Let it go." 

"Aunt Lana, I don't know how." 

"Sure you do. Come over here and give me a hug. Love sweeps out hate every time." Lana rose to her knees and met Haven face to face as they embraced. "I've got you, and you've got me. Let's forget about Old Man Weston and do what we have to do." 

"Yeah. Let's not bother ourselves over him," Haven smiled and wiped at a tear. 

"Over who?" Lana said.  

Haven laughed. "I can't remember."  

"Deal," Lana said, and they shook on it. "Why don't you take a break from packing? Jimi's down at the boat. He told me you're a great helper. I'll bet he'll let you go out with him again to record dolphin talk." Haven was dashing out of the room before she finished the suggestion. "Get Jimi to call us from the cell phone," Lana yelled, "so we know what's up."  

Cade stared at his sister. "Lana, you're amazing. You just explained to Haven what took me, oh, a dozen years to figure out on my own." 

"Ha. I'm no sage." She smiled crookedly. "Reminds me of a story I read about Gandhi." She rubbed a kink in her neck. "A woman came to Gandhi with her son and asked the mahatma to tell the little boy to stop eating sugar. Gandhi told her to come back in a week. She did, and he told the boy to stop eating sugar. The mother asked Gandhi why he'd made her come back later. He said, 'Because a week ago, I was eating sugar.'"