by Leslie Gould
One of the pieces looked like Rob. A little tiny Rob zapped by a lightning bolt, floating away. Another piece, a larger chunk, looked like Marion.
The skin on her abdomen burned from the radiation.
They were in the Jeep. Caye had the Suburban.
Jill looked at Rob, just a few inches from her.
“What?” he asked.
“Are you going to have an affair?”
He looked hurt.
“Are you going to go back to Raleigh and have an affair? Or find someone here?” She thought of her swollen abdomen. Of her three needy boys. Of their finances.
“Jill,” he said, drawing her name out.
“I want to know.”
“No, I’m not going to have an affair. I told you that.”
“Because if you feel like you can’t cope with all of this—”
“Who said I couldn’t cope? I’m coping. I want you. I want you to get better. To get well.”
“What if I don’t get well? What if I go on like this for months, for years?
“Then I’ll have you with me.”
“With a bloated stomach? In pain? Irritable? Downright mean?” I don’t care. She didn’t believe him.
“Have you talked to your parents lately?” she asked.
“I had an e-mail from them last night. They’ll be in Houston next week. They’ll call from there to let us know when they’re coming.”
“What do they say about all of this?”
“That they’re praying for you.”
“Would they come and help with the boys?”
“I don’t know. Do you want me to ask them to come?”
She didn’t know them well enough to really want them to come, but she wanted them to be willing. She was afraid that Caye was going to burn out. A few years ago she might have asked Rob’s grandparents, but his grandfather had had a stroke the year before. They were out of the question.
She wanted Bev to come help. She’d feel most comfortable with Bev taking care of her, to help Caye, because Bev was so much like Caye.
Bev, like Caye, wouldn’t feel sorry for her. Wouldn’t talk down to her. Wouldn’t expect her to be ticked at God. Wouldn’t treat her as if she were ready to break.
Jill didn’t feel angry with God. It was life, not God. For some reason he had not prevented this from happening. She couldn’t guess at his reasons.
“Do you want to get away? Go on a little trip?” Rob asked. Jill looked at him. What did she want?
She wanted Rob. If she were healed tomorrow, or not for two years, she wanted him back. She wanted to feel the way she felt about him when they were in Argentina, when they first moved to Ashland, when they first got the house.
A trip, a little trip. Hawaii? New York? Victoria? Paris?
“I want to go to Caye’s parents’ with you,” she said, “and Caye and Nathan and all the kids. All these years I’ve thought it would be fun for you to go too.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“What else do you want?”
“For us to be okay.”
He reached over and held her hand.
“I think,” she said, “that we need to spend time together. Listen to each other.” And she wanted them to pray together, but she didn’t want to say it; she wanted Rob to know, to take the lead.
“What else do you want to do?”
“Paint. It might be easier now than gardening.”
“What about Marion? What do you want to do about Marion?”
“What do you think I should do?”
“Try to work things out.”
Jill looked out the window. They were passing the Bear Creek rest area. How many times had she stopped there on trips back from Medford when Hudson was potty training? He loved to stop there, insisted on stopping there even though they were only a few minutes from home.
“I don’t know what to do about Marion,” Jill said.
“We could pray about it,” Rob suggested, turning to look at his wife.
Jill exhaled into a tiny smile. “What?” Rob asked.
Jill shook her head and chuckled. “Nothing,” she answered. “God’s just messing with me, that’s all.”
That night before Jill drifted off to sleep, they prayed together—or Rob prayed. He started by asking God to heal Jill and Marion’s relationship. Then he asked God to strengthen their marriage and to protect the boys. And finally he asked God to bring circumstances, medicine, and miracles to heal Jill. He prayed that the CAT scan would show that healing had begun.
“Amen,” Jill said as she fell into sleep, lulled by the pain medication into a garden of gigantic leafy pumpkin plants, green beans, and sunflowers. It wasn’t her garden she dreamed of—it was Hank and Beverly’s late summer half-acre of vegetables and flowers. She’d forgotten to ask Caye about a trip to Burns.
“You want to go to Burns?” Caye asked incredulously. Jill sat in a chair in the kitchen and spooned oatmeal into Simon’s mouth.
Is this like some last trip? Caye wondered. And she wants to go to Burns? To Mom and Dad’s place? All of us crammed into their tiny house? Caye could think of a dozen, three dozen, a hundred other trips she would have assumed Jill wanted to take.
“Yes,” Jill said. “Doesn’t it sound like fun?” She swiped the spoon across Simon’s chin just as he rubbed his mouth with his hand. “Simon, baby, don’t do that,” she cooed.
Simon wiped the textured mess across his eyebrow.
A trip to Burns didn’t sound like fun to Caye. The summer trips with the moms and kids each summer were hard enough. It sounded like an ordeal to include the dads.
But Caye smiled. If Jill wanted to go, they’d make it happen. “It only sounds like fun if you’re absolutely sure you want to go,” she answered.
“The tumor’s shrinking,” Jill yelled from the bedroom.
Caye ran down the hall from the kitchen. Jill stood in the doorway wearing a black camisole and a pair of Rob’s blue and green plaid boxers. She waved the cordless phone in her hand.
“It’s shrinking,” she yelled again.
Jill flung her arms around Caye.
Audrey and Hudson stood at the end of the hallway watching their mothers.
“Hudson, Mommy’s getting better!” Jill said over Caye’s shoulder. Audrey grabbed Hudson’s hand and started jumping up and down. Audrey’s pigtails flew around her face. Hudson’s pirate hat flew off his head. They collided in midair and collapsed on the floor.
Jill watched them. That’s what I want to do. Collapse on the floor hugging Caye. It was a Splendor in the Grass moment, like the scene when Natalie Wood’s character returns home and her two best friends jump up and down with their arms around her.
She let go of Caye.
“I’d better call Rob!” she said, looking down at the phone to punch in the number as she thought of his prayer from the night before.
On Sunday, during Fellowship, everyone was upbeat. Joya prayed. Thomas laughed. Summer spoke of her lack of faith and the lesson she was learning from Jill’s cancer.
Gwen asked Jill if she was making progress in dealing with the issues in her life. Jill sat on the sofa like a queen on her throne and shot a terse smile across the room to Caye. Caye scowled. We are not amused.
Rob beamed; he, too, ignored Gwen’s question. He sat through the meeting with his arm around Jill.
On Monday, Memorial Day, they celebrated Liam’s third birthday in Railroad Park. While the kids played tag on the equipment, Caye, Jill, Nathan, and Rob talked about the trip to Burns. Nathan had just finished baseball. Andrew would miss his last game, but no one except Nathan minded.
Caye had called her parents to tell them the good news about Jill’s CAT scan and to ask if they could all head over to Burns the next weekend.
“Of course,” Bev said. She decided that Jill and Rob would hav
e the guest room, Caye and Nathan would bring an air mattress to sleep in the extra bedroom that Bev used as a sewing room, and the kids would sleep in the living room.
Liam’s cast came off on Thursday, and on Friday afternoon, as soon as Nathan was home from work, they headed to Burns. All nine of them and Scout rode in the Suburban. Caye wedged herself between Liam and Simon in the middle seat. She wasn’t looking forward to the ride home.
On Saturday afternoon, Caye sat on the grassy slope by the irrigation pond in a lawn chair. Jill and Simon were in the house napping. Rob, Nathan, and her dad had taken the all-terrain vehicles across the road to the south pasture. Her mom was making apple pies for dessert. The kids chased butterflies along the edge of the pond. Scout chased the children.
The last week had been a whirlwind. Finally they had something to celebrate. Caye looked at the garden just up from the pond. It was surrounded by a fence to keep the deer out. The seedlings were just coming through the ground.
None of the kids had asked to swim in the pond. Last year, Caye and Jill had taken the children, except for Simon, into the murky water. Audrey, Hudson, and Liam liked it. Andrew said the bottom was too muddy. He was right. As a child Caye swam in it every summer, but she didn’t plan to ever go in it again. If the kids wanted to, Nathan and Rob could take them later.
The children had wandered over by the corral. Hudson and Liam wore matching red T-shirts. Liam and Audrey both wore their rubber boots. Billy, the two-year-old gelding, kicked up his heels and pranced toward the kids. “Stay away from the fence,” Caye called out.
The afternoon sun beat down on her. She stretched out her legs and pushed her hair away from her eyes. A dragonfly flew around her head. She wiggled her shoulders against the sticky woven plastic of the chair.
For all the work of making the trip, Caye was flattered that her parents’ place was where Jill had wanted to go. She knew Jill felt loved by Bev and Hank, and cared for. And that she’d wanted Rob to see the ranch since the first time she’d visited.
Caye closed her eyes and felt the heat of the sun on her face. She felt relaxed for the first time in nearly six weeks.
She heard Audrey say, “Let’s look at the baby chicks.”
She heard Andrew say, “Just look, Liam. Don’t try to pick them up. You’ll hurt them. We don’t want to do that.”
Scout barked, a soft agreeing bark. He’d been good with the livestock, even the chickens. Much better than Caye had expected. She honestly hadn’t wanted to bring him.
Scout barked again, this rime an urgent, serious bark.
Caye opened her eyes. Had she dozed? She looked around for the kids.
Scout was running back and forth along the shore of the pond. None of the kids were by the water.
She turned her head. Andrew, Hudson, and Audrey walked toward her, away from the chicken coop. The gate was closed.
“Where’s Liam?” she yelled, rising from her chair. Andrew looked puzzled. Hudson looked scared.
Scout leaped into the pond.
Caye started running toward the water.
Scout had something red in his mouth. It was Liam’s shirt.
Caye splashed into the water as he surfaced. She grabbed him from the dog.
“Go get Grandma!” she yelled at Andrew. “Tell her to call 911.” How long would it take for the ambulance to arrive? They were thirty minutes from town. Maybe they could make it in twenty. Would that be soon enough?
How long had Liam been in the water? She squeezed him to her. Water flowed from his mouth. He began to sputter.
She took three big steps out of the pond and sloshed onto the shore. She laid Liam on the pasture grass and tilted his face to the side.
Scout shook his coat in a furious motion and splattered Caye’s face with pond water.
“Is Liam dead?” Hudson asked. Andrew and Audrey stood side by side, their eyes wide.
Liam opened his eyes as Caye lowered her head to check for his heartbeat.
He began to cough.
“Liam?” she called out. “Liam, can you hear me?” He began to cry.
She scooped him up and held him, falling back on her bottom, rocking him from side to side.
She began to cry.
Bev came running, carrying the phone with her. “What happened?” she yelled.
“I think he’s okay,” Caye answered. She couldn’t stop crying. Bev sunk to her knees beside Caye and tugged at Liam’s arm. He let out a shaky yell, holding the sound until it wavered.
“He’s screaming,” Bev said. “That means he’s breathing.”
“Do you think he has brain damage?” Caye asked.
“No, I don’t think he’d be screaming if he did.” Caye pulled Liam from her chest and looked in his eyes. He dropped his head against her neck and collarbone. “What happened?”
Bev asked again.
“I think I dozed,” Caye said. “And then the dog started barking. He jumped in the pond, and I realized that Liam was in there.”
Bev put her arm around Caye.
“I’m such a horrible friend,” she sobbed.
“No, no,” Bev said. “Things happen. He’s okay—that’s what counts.”
“What if Liam had drowned?”
“God took care of him,” Bev said in her husky, soothing voice.
“And he used a dog I don’t even like to save him.” Caye started to look around for Scout.
“He’s behind you,” Bev said, “standing guard.”
Caye turned her head. Scout started to shake, again flinging a sheet of water into Caye’s face.
“Andrew,” Caye said, “why didn’t you keep Liam with you?”
“I thought he was with us,” Andrew said.
His face looked tense. Caye bit her lip. She didn’t want to do the blame thing. It wasn’t Andrew’s fault. It was her fault.
“He lost a boot.” Audrey pointed to Liam’s bare foot. One of his yellow boots was missing. “He has one boot on and one boot off.”
“Where’s my boot?” Liam asked, lifting up his foot.
“I’ll call 911 and tell them not to come,” Bev said.
“Won’t they come anyway?” Caye asked.
“Not out here, honey. They’ll believe me.”
Caye heard the all-terrain vehicles crossing the road.
Nathan put his hands on Audrey’s shoulders as Bev explained what had happened. The bill of his baseball cap was pulled down on his forehead, shadowing his brown eyes.
“Caye?” he said, in a questioning, drawn-out tone. “It’s so unlike you to let down your guard.”
Rob took Liam in his arms. “It’s okay,” he said. “Liam’s all right. I wouldn’t have watched them any closer.”
“Rob!” It was Jill’s voice coming from the patio. “What happened?”
Rob started up the road to the house, carrying Liam. Hudson, Audrey, and Andrew followed. Caye felt devastated.
“I didn’t realize how tired I was,” she said. “I dozed.”
“You shouldn’t volunteer to watch all the kids if you don’t feel up to it,” Nathan said.
“It’s over,” Bev interjected. “Rob is right. Everything’s okay. Come up to the house.”
“I’m going to get Liam’s other boot first,” Caye said and turned her back on Nathan. She was annoyed with him for being so critical; she was annoyed with Rob for being so gracious. Would he be acting the same way if Liam were dead right now?
Caye thrashed around in the pond waist-deep, reaching in with her arms and kicking the bottom with her foot. Her saltwater sandals slurped through the mud. She felt the bottom give. She reached down and grabbed the yellow boot.
She walked slowly up the road. Scout followed at her heels.
Nathan and Bev waited halfway to the house for her.
It was her pride that hurt, she decided.
“Caye, are you ok
ay?” Jill’s sweet voice floated down toward her. Caye was silent until she reached Jill, and then she began to cry. Jill hugged her.
“I’m all wet,” Caye said. “You’ll get all dirty.”
“It’s okay. He’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Caye said.
“No,” Jill said. “It’s okay.”
“What if Scout hadn’t pulled him out?”
“But he did.”
Caye kept crying. Jill patted her back.
Bev said, “Now, now.”
“I’m going to go get a shower,” Caye said, pulling away from Jill.
Jill sat at the kitchen table and peeled apples while Bev rolled out the dough.
“Has your mom been up to Ashland?” Bev asked.
“She came while I was in the hospital.”
“She must be awfully concerned about you.”
Jill sliced the apple and put it in the bowl.
“She is. But she doesn’t know how to show it.”
“Has she acted this way before?”
“There’s always been a colossal chasm between us. And she’s secretive. I just found out she had cancer five years ago. Why didn’t she tell me?”
Bev washed and dried her hands.
“She’s always been secretive. She’d buy a new property for us and not tell me until the day before we moved. ‘Pack your bedroom,’ she’d say. ‘We’re moving tomorrow.’ The only thing she did talk about when I was growing up was my dad’s cancer.
“She really wasn’t a very good mother,” Jill concluded.
“How did you learn to be such a good mom?” Bev asked, pulling up a chair beside Jill and taking the second paring knife.
Jill laughed and started to peel another apple. “Well, I’m not. Not really. I let them get away with way too much. Ask Caye.”
Bev shook her head. “You’re a great mom.”
“I emulate other moms. My friend Amy’s mom was wonderful. I watched what she did with her five kids, husband, big house, and garden. The diplomat’s wife in Argentina taught me all sorts of things—and the cook and the gardener. And Caye’s taught me how to be a good mom—and you.”
