Garden of Dreams

by Leslie Gould

  “Jill,” he said, rising to his feet. “How do you feel?” Seeing Thomas made Jill feel young and well again for a moment. He thought of her that way, she could tell, the way he’d first seen her in Argentina. Tall and tanned and healthy. “Okay.”

  Rita stood and pulled the rocking chair closer to the couch. “Sit here,” she said. “Hi, Jill,” Joya said.

  “I need to go get Andrew,” Caye said, looking at her watch and then straight at Jill. “Will you be all right?”

  Jill knew Caye was asking if she’d be all right with Joya and Thomas. Rob had told her, briefly, that Joya had insinuated on Sunday that sin was the cause of Jill’s cancer. “I think she thought God would heal you through the surgery. That it would all be over.”

  “So did I,” Jill answered.

  “And when it didn’t work that way, she latched on to the fact that you hadn’t told me about the cancer in your family.”

  Jill thought about that now as she looked at Joya and Thomas. It was all coming together. Caye was concerned that Joya would corner Jill. But Jill wasn’t worried. She and Joya believed the same thing—that God would heal her. She could ignore the rest.

  “I’ll be fine,” Jill said to Caye as she sat down in her rocking chair and faced Joya and Thomas.

  “I’ll take Hudson and Audrey with me,” Caye said. “Rita, the little boys might wake up before I get back.”

  Jill began to slide the platform rocker back and forth, back and forth.

  Caye slipped out the front door; Rita stood by the fireplace, her arms crossed. Jill smiled.

  “I’m concerned,” Joya said. “We’re concerned.” Jill stopped rocking.

  “Do you have any unconfessed sin? Anything that might keep God from healing you?”

  Jill shook her head. The words to Psalm 139 floated through her head: “See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

  “Have you confessed your sins?”

  Jill nodded.

  “I keep thinking about when we were all in Argentina, when David died.”

  Jill nodded again and said, “Me, too.”

  “I don’t want your family to go through what we went through. You have time to figure this out, to see what God wants to teach you. To grow in faith and experience his healing.”

  Thomas looked uncomfortable.

  Rita uncrossed her arms. Jill was aware that, in all these years, Thomas and Joya had never talked about David in front of the Fellowship.

  “Whose faith do you think will heal me?” Jill asked.

  “Yours. Rob’s. All of ours. Yours first.”

  “What if God doesn’t heal me?” She was being contrary. God was going to heal her; she was playing the devil’s advocate, talking the way Rob would talk to spice up a conversation.

  “Why wouldn’t he heal you? How could it be his will for you not to be healed?”

  “And if God doesn’t? What will that mean to you?”

  “He will, Jill,” Joya said, leaning forward with her hands on her knees. “He will. Let your faith grow.”

  “We should go,” Thomas said. “You must be tired.”

  “Jill, I really love you,” Joya continued. Joya had never told her that, never spoken of love or even friendship directly. “I consider you my closest friend.”

  Jill resumed rocking.

  “I want more than anything for you to live. For your boys to have their mom. For Rob to have his wife.”

  “I know,” Jill answered. “I do too.”

  “We need to go,” Thomas said, patting Joya’s knee. “Jill needs to rest.

  “Who was David?” Rita asked, looking out the window. Jill heard a car door slam.

  “Is that Caye?” Jill asked.

  “No. Just Joya and Thomas leaving.”

  “Simon’s crying,” Jill said, pulling herself out of the rocking chair. “And Liam’s up.” She could hear his footsteps on the landing. “Can you take care of them? I’m exhausted.”

  Jill headed down the hall before Liam got to the bottom stair. She sat on her bed and cried. She was going to have to figure this out, determine what she could do for the boys. It’s only the first day. It will get better. Don’t be so hard on yourself.

  Last evening, when Rob was still at the hospital, after Dr. Scott had left, they’d decided together to think positively. “We know the statistics are grim,” Rob said, “but people do survive this. Why not you?

  It felt comforting to hear him talk that way. The surgery results had discouraged her, but now this optimism felt like a pact between them. It felt as if he’d forgiven her for not telling him about her father, as if they could beat the cancer together.

  So why had she posed the possibility of not being healed to Joya? Why had she felt so defensive?

  “Who was David?” Rita asked, holding her purse with both hands across her chest, as if protecting herself. She stood at the door, ready to go.

  “Did Joya talk about David?” Caye said.

  “She mentioned him.”

  “What else did she say?”

  “That faith would heal Jill. Jill’s faith, Rob’s, all of ours. That it was God’s will for her to be healed. That she should confess her sins.”

  “What did Thomas say?”

  “Not much,” Rita answered.

  “David was Thomas and Joya’s little boy. He died when they were all in Argentina,” Caye said with a sigh.

  “No way.”

  Caye nodded. She felt a pained expression cross her face.

  “But they’ve never talked about him, never mentioned him,” Rita stammered.

  “I know—Jill is the one who told me.”

  Rita rolled her eyes like a teenager disgusted with her parents. Caye wanted to laugh but realized she didn’t really find any of it funny—the urge was just nervous energy.

  “Joya is so strange. I feel sorry for her. That little bit of information explains so much,” Rita said. “But at the same time I’m, you know, angry with her. There are times when I feel it should be me instead of Jill. And moments when I feel it should be Joya.”

  “Oh, Rita. Don’t,” Caye whispered.

  “I’m leaving,” Rita said, “or I’ll say worse things. Or start crying again.”

  Rob’s Cherokee turned into the driveway. Caye noticed that the magnolia tree had lost its flowers; it stood guard by the driveway completely naked of its beautiful blossoms, the large petals covering the surrounding grass. Caye remembered how Rob hated the tree. “It looks great for a week and then it’s just a mess. We should cut it down.” Of course, Jill wouldn’t let him. “It’s the prettiest tree in the garden,” she said. When it was in bloom, it looked like a field of tulips all on one tree.

  Caye quickly hugged Rita and said, “Give me a call tomorrow when you have a chance. I’ll be here.”

  20

  “Happy Mother’s Day!” Caye said. With a pat on the shoulder, she greeted Jill, who sat in her rocker, wearing her faded overalls with a gray T-shirt.

  Rob stood at the top of the basement stairs holding Simon. “Hudson,” Rob called down the stairs, “Andrews here. And Audrey.”

  It was Sunday morning. Thomas had called everyone last night and canceled Fellowship.

  Rita had hung up from talking to Thomas and immediately called Caye. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. Nathan was just going to call Rob.”

  Rob didn’t know either; he’d had a message from Thomas earlier in the day saying the meeting was canceled. Rob asked Nathan and Caye to come anyway. Nathan asked if it was okay for Rita to come too. Rob decided to call everyone, even Thomas and Joya, to see if they’d come for a potluck brunch.

  “That’s too much for Jill,” Caye said, taking the phone from Nathan and quickly dialing in Jill’s number.

  “Not if I don’t do anything,” was Jill’s answer to Caye�
��s concern. “And I know you won’t let me. I’ll be fine.”

  It was decided that those who wanted to would come from 11:00 to 12:30 and then leave promptly. “Jill tires so quickly,” Caye explained, calling each member. “She doesn’t realize how little energy she has until she’s suddenly exhausted.”

  Caye went into Jill’s kitchen to scramble the eggs and set out the muffins she’d brought. What she really wanted to do was sit down by Jill. She saw her every day but missed her. Their conversations now were about Jill’s pain level. If Simon was napping. What Jill thought she could eat. Whether she’d taken her medicine. The morning was overcast. A sweater day so far. Someone had left the back door open, and Scout whined at the screen. Caye kicked the door shut.

  Rob, carrying the baby, followed Caye into the kitchen. Rita, Lonnie, and Summer were busy mixing juice and making coffee. Rita had brought paper plates and cups.

  “Thomas called back this morning. They’re not coming over,” Rob said. He picked up a blueberry muffin as he talked, tore off a chunk, and handed it to Simon.

  “Why?” Summer asked.

  “He said he’d call me back later. Said Joya needed a rest.”

  “Is the Fellowship dissolving?” Lonnie asked. “’Cause I don’t know where else to go.”

  “What do you think Joya needs a break from?” Nathan asked Rob. He pulled a plastic container of salsa out of a paper grocery bag and peeled off the lid.

  “Real life,” Rob answered, popping a bite of muffin into his mouth.

  All her frustrations with Joya and the Fellowship aside, Caye agreed with Lonnie. Where else was there to go? What would they do if the group dissolved?

  “I feel like we have all these undiscussed issues concerning faith and healing,” Rita said. “Thomas should be teaching on faith right now. We should all be walking through this together.”

  “Faith,” Summer said. “I’m questioning mine again. I can’t feel it. How could God let this happen to Jill?”

  Caye was aware of Jill in the living room. Gwen and John had just arrived. She heard them talking to Jill.

  “I don’t know if the issue is so much how our faith feels to us,” Caye said, “but how we show it right now.”

  “What do you mean?” Lonnie asked.

  “Well.” Caye took a breath. She felt her neck grow warm. She knew red blotches were forming under her chin. Why did this make her nervous? “We can show our faith through love, like it says in Galatians, or we can be disappointed that God doesn’t reward our faith.”

  “I don’t get it,” Summer said.

  “We should focus on God and showing love to others, not on controlling God.” Caye stepped back from the stove, and Nathan emptied the container of salsa into the eggs.

  “Do you think Joya is trying to control God?” It was Gwen, standing in the kitchen doorway.

  “She seems to be looking for a formula,” Caye said and then hesitated. She wouldn’t have said anything at all if she had known Gwen was listening. Too late now. She plowed ahead. “She seems to think Jill’s cancer was caused by unconfessed sin and that she wasn’t healed through the surgery because she didn’t have enough faith.”

  “She’s praying for Jill every day.”

  “I know that,” Caye said. “But it feels like Joya’s looking to place blame.” She stirred the salsa into the eggs.

  “So you must be relieved they’re not here today?” Gwen said.

  Did Gwen think they were all turning on Joya and Thomas? “No. I wish they were.”

  “I agree,” Rob said. “I’m frustrated with Joya. And I haven’t had a chance to talk this through with Thomas. But I don’t want them not to be here. I’d like to work through this as a group, to feel some unity. I need everyone right now. Jill needs everyone.”

  “Don’t bring this up in front of Jill,” Rita ordered. “She has enough to worry about. Let’s just make this a good Mother’s Day.”

  “Did Jill get her medicine?” Caye asked, looking at Rob. “This morning?”

  “She took her pain meds. I know that,” Rob answered slowly. “What about the enzymes? So she can eat? And her diabetes medication?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Great. Jill’s spaced out on pain drugs, and Rob’s not keeping track of her other medicine. So far Jill only needed the oral diabetes meds—not insulin. But if she didn’t take it, she’d soon need the shots.

  Caye kept having a strong urge to move her family in with Rob and Jill, to totally take over. She’d even mentioned it to Nathan last night.

  “Don’t you think they need their privacy?” he’d responded. No, Caye didn’t think they needed their privacy more than they needed someone to take care of them. She knew Nathan really meant that he needed his privacy.

  Maybe what she needed to do was just move in with Andrew and Audrey, but the thought of Nathan all alone kept her from making the suggestion. He was an introvert, yes, but he needed his family. He hated it when they were gone.

  Caye grabbed Jill’s pills from the cupboard next to the sink.

  “So how is Jill doing?” Gwen asked. The tone of her voice had softened.

  “She starts chemotherapy tomorrow,” Rob said, “because she’s healing from the surgery so quickly.”

  “How is she doing emotionally?”

  “She’s hopeful. She honestly is.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “I am. I’m hopeful beyond reason.” “But.”

  “No buts.” Rob handed Simon another piece of muffin. “This is my life. And it’s a good one. Seventeen days ago I realized that I was the luckiest man in the world. I’d like to live that out now that I know it.”

  “Luckiest?” Gwen asked.

  Rob shrugged. “Blessed. Insert whatever word fits your expectations, your spiritually correct vocabulary.” He walked out of the kitchen into the living room.

  “Let’s get the kids eating in the kitchen first,” Caye said, scraping the scrambled eggs into a serving bowl. Her stomach was in knots. “Then we can fill our plates and eat in the living room.”

  Jill looked around the room. Gwen wasn’t talking. John, who had been so chatty when they first arrived, was quiet. Summer was making small talk with Rita. Lonnie and Rob were discussing the basketball playoffs.

  She could hear the kids upstairs—except for Simon. Caye sat across the room and gave him a bottle. Jill had thought it would be good to have everyone over, but just looking at all of them made her tired.

  It bothered her that Joya and Thomas canceled Fellowship. She could forgive Joya her judgmental attitude, her concern that Jill had unconfessed sin, her fear that Jill didn’t have enough faith. But it was hard to take them not showing up.

  “Do you think one has to have a certain amount of faith to be healed?” she blurted out.

  The talking stopped. Simon sat up straight on Caye’s lap.

  John spoke first. “Jesus healed people who had no faith at all.”

  “Like who?” Gwen demanded.

  “Like the man who was lowered through the roof. His friends had the faith.”

  Jill smiled. “So it’s up to all of you—”

  “But we don’t know he didn’t have faith,” Gwen interrupted. “The faith of his friends is mentioned—his isn’t specified.”

  “Paul asked to be healed, but God never did it,” John continued.

  “Have you ever noticed that he only asked three times?” Rob questioned. “Can you imagine any of us only asking God three times for anything that we really, really wanted?”

  “I don’t think we should talk about this now,” Gwen said. She stood up and walked over to John. “We should all get going. We don’t want to tire Jill.”

  Jill’s mouth twitched in an attempted smile. She felt defeated. She looked down at her plate; she’d had two bites of muffin and a strawberry. She couldn’t get over the bloated, full feelin
g that weighed her down.

  Sadness swept over her. The Fellowship suddenly felt like a burden. In these few weeks, everything had changed. Only Caye was treating her like herself. Rob was being too careful, as if she might break. Everyone else was treating her as if she’d lost her brain along with half her pancreas.

  She wanted to talk this through, she wanted to know what the others thought, she wanted to know that they were praying for her, supporting her. She felt disappointed, let down. Her back was hurting. Her incision itched.

  “You okay?” Caye asked.

  “I need a pill. Could you help me to bed?”

  Caye handed Simon to Nathan.

  “I had a vision,” Caye said, as she fluffed Jill’s pillow, “when you were in surgery. A man wearing Levi’s and a red shirt stood beside the doctor. The man had brown hair and dark eyes.”

  “Was it Jesus?” Jill asked.

  “Yeah. I think so. Do you think that’s weird?”

  “No, I like it.”

  Rob came in. Caye could hear Simon fussing in the hall. “Who has Simon?” Jill asked. “Nathan. Everyone else left.”

  “Tell Nathan to bring the baby in,” Jill said. “I want to hold him for a minute.”

  Nathan stepped in, patting Simon on the back. Jill reached for the baby and settled him beside her on the bed. She tickled his bare feet, making him giggle.

  “I need you guys to help me,” Jill said, looking up at Nathan, Caye, and Rob. “No one will talk about what I want to talk about.”

  “Which is?” Rob said.

  “Faith and healing.”

  “Everyone’s been talking about it,” Rob said. “Just not in front of you. Except for Joya.”

  “Do you think that I haven’t had enough faith?”

  “No,” Rob said.

  “What do you think, Nathan?”

  “I think,” he said slowly, “that God wants you to believe in him more than in the healing. Don’t obsess about the healing.”

  Caye cringed inside. What was Nathan saying? Had he just offended Jill and Rob? Don’t obsess about the healing? Was it possible not to? When they only had so much time? When the cancer was so aggressive?