by Leslie Gould
Heal her. I know you can. I have faith. I have love—except for Joya. But I could learn to love her. I promise not to hate her.
She wrestled with God. He had her in a horrible hold.
She dashed along the steppingstones to the top of the Japanese garden and sat on the bench.
Heal her.
No response. No peace.
She slapped her hands against her thighs. She thought of the mourners in the Bible who beat themselves, beat their breasts. She understood. She ran her hands through her hair, clasping them together at the back of her head, and pulled her chin toward her chest. She felt such grief.
She wanted to curl up on the bench.
Instead, she stood and headed across the lawn to the Sycamore Grove.
How many times had she and Jill played hide-and-seek with the kids in the rows of perfectly aligned trees? She loved the grove. Such order. Such predictability. She stopped for a moment and leaned against a tree in the heart of the grove.
I will take care of Jill. The words came to her clearly from inside. Not I will heal Jill. Not I will give her back, but I will take care of Jill. And I will take care of Rob and the boys. And you. And Nathan. And Andrew and Audrey.
She slid down the trunk of the sycamore tree, her back bumping along the puzzle-shaped bark, until she sat on the patchy grass around the roots.
And the Fellowship. And Joya.
She nodded her head.
She felt a measure of peace. She sat for a few minutes. And the baby? Will you take care of my baby? And the baby, answered the voice.
She rose to her feet, left the grove, and headed to the marble Perozzi Fountain.
She climbed the stairs above the fountain, out of the park, up the hill toward Jill’s house.
Joya went to Jill’s, Caye thought with alarm. She went after I left her in the park. Caye started to run and then stopped. It was too hot. She was too out of shape. Her head hurt.
I will take care of Jill. And Joya.
She walked slowly the rest of the way.
Joya and Thomas sat on Jill’s porch. Thomas stood as Caye approached the steps.
“Did you talk to Jill?” Caye asked. She was surprised at how calm her voice sounded.
“She’s asleep,” Joya said. “We’ve only been here a few minutes.”
“We wanted to talk with you,” Thomas said as he sat back down on the wicker settee.
Joya looked quickly from Thomas to Caye and then back to Thomas.
Caye heard Louise’s voice from the side yard and then heard Audrey shout, “Don’t hide where I can’t find you”
“Joya told me what she said to you in the park.” Thomas clasped his hands over one knee. “This is difficult, but it’s time that I speak up. Joya is entitled to believe what she perceives as truth. I want you to know that I don’t believe that Jill has cancer because of any sin that she, Rob, or you committed. Nor do I believe that Jill hasn’t been healed because of a lack of faith.”
Joya walked to the end of the porch.
“I’m afraid that I haven’t made this clear to the rest of the group—but I will. I talked to Rob just now. I’ll call the others.”
Caye nodded.
“And I’ll talk with Jill when I can.” He stood.
“I feel,” he said, “that my leadership has let the group down. That I should have addressed this long ago.”
Joya walked down the side steps of the porch. “Come on, Louise,” she called.
“Thanks,” Caye said.
Thomas smiled. “Congratulations on your baby.” Caye nodded.
He lumbered slowly down the stairs and headed to the car behind Joya and Louise.
Rob sat beside the bed with a cup of broth. “I’ll feed you,” he said. Jill shook her head. “You have to eat.” She shook her head again.
Hudson ran through the room, his feet pounding on the hardwood floor. The room shook.
“Hudson! Stop running.” Rob shot his son an angry look. Hudson turned and scowled.
“Mommy,” he said, turning away from Rob, “my birthday is tomorrow. Have you planned my party?”
“What do you want, sweetie?” Jill’s voice was soft and watery.
“A party. I want you to throw me a party. A pirate party.”
Caye walked into the room carrying Simon. “What did I hear about a party?”
“Hudson wants a pirate party,” Jill said.
“Ooh. Good choice, big guy” Caye said. “Do you want a pirate ship for your cake?”
Hudson nodded and skipped out of the room smiling.
“Caye, tell her she has to eat,” Rob said. He had stayed home from work to take Jill to chemo.
“It’s up to her.”
“We have the appointment today. She should go to her appointment. She needs to eat first.” “I can’t,” Jill said. “I can’t go.” “You’re giving up?” “Rob,” Caye said. Rob shot her a stay-out-of-it look.
“Go call Dr. Scott,” Jill whispered. “Ask him what we should do. Tell him I can’t eat. Tell him I can’t go over to Medford. It’s too hard. Tell him my stools are light-colored. Tell him my skin looks like I used fake tan lotion. Tell him my pain is really bad.”
Rob stood abruptly. The broth sloshed out of the mug onto his hand. He turned and hurried into the kitchen.
“Every couple of minutes he’s in here with food or water,” Jill said.
“He’s scared,” Caye said.
“I know. And exhausted. He was out here on the couch all night. I kept him up.”
“You two need some time. I’ll take all the kids to the park. And the grandmas. You can have the house to yourselves.”
“What did Dr. Scott say?” Jill asked.
Rob had been in his office for more than half an hour. Caye, the kids, and grandmas had been gone fifteen minutes. Hank had stayed at Caye’s, and Nathan had gone over for some peace and quiet.
“He said to call hospice,” Rob said. Jill noticed the roughness in his voice. “We need more help.”
Jill heard his words. She felt relieved.
“You’ve begun the process.” Rob sat in the chair beside the bed. “Process?”
“Of dying.” Rob took a deep breath. “The white stools. The jaundice. Both show that your liver has shut down. Not eating or drinking. All of those are signs.”
Jill was silent.
Rob continued. “I asked if I should bring you back to the hospital. Dr. Scott said only if you wanted to.” She shook her head.
“That’s what I told him.” Rob started to stand up. “He’s prescribing a morphine pump.”
Jill nodded. “Stay,” she said. He sat back down. She reached for his hand. “I haven’t given up.” “I know.”
“Joya thinks that I have.”
“Don’t worry about Joya.”
“I was afraid you thought I had too.”
Rob let go of her hand and rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t think you’ve given up. I just can’t understand it.”
“God could still heal me. I could still be one of the few who are healed.”
“I know,” Rob said. “I believe it.”
“Pray for me? And the boys?”
Rob squeezed her hand.
“And you. Pray for us now?”
Rob prayed a simple prayer—for healing, for their children, for himself. He prayed that they wouldn’t grow bitter, that they would look to God. After he said, “Amen,” he turned toward Jill and stroked her protruding cheekbone. “He’ll heal us all,” he said, “in one way or another.”
Jill’s heart ached for Rob. Her arms ached for her babies. “You should go call hospice,” she said.
“I already did,” he answered. “A nurse can come out today. This afternoon.”
“I wish we hadn’t canceled Fellowship yesterday,” Jill said. “Why?”
<
br /> “Because I want to see them. And they’re not coming around.” “They went ahead and met at Gwen and John’s yesterday,” Rob said.
“Really? Why?”
To pray for you.
“How do you know?”
“I called Thomas after I talked with Dr. Scott.”
“She’s right here.” It was Caye’s voice. Jill turned her head.
“This is the hospice nurse,” Caye said. “Helen.”
Jill smiled. “Caye, could you go get Rob?”
The nurse asked about Jill’s fluid intake, urinating, and bowel movements. She jotted down that Jill hadn’t had anything to eat since Thursday night—only broth and juice to drink. She asked about pain. She asked about family, about the kids, about Jill’s parents. She put down her pen when Jill said her father had died twenty-nine years ago of pancreatic cancer.
“Really?”
“And my mother had breast cancer five years ago. She survived.” The nurse picked her pen back up and jotted down more notes. “Have you left messages for your boys?”
“Paintings. I did a watercolor for each of them.” She thought of the paintings down in the basement. She had asked Caye to have them framed. She hadn’t finished Caye’s yet. She hadn’t painted in all the forget-me-nots.
“Have you considered writing them messages?”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Jill said.
“You could dictate them,” Helen said. “Have your husband or friend write it out if that’s easier.” Jill nodded.
“Some mothers choose to create a mommy basket,” Helen continued. “They put in scarves, sweatshirts, favorite books, costume jewelry. Items their children can pick up and hold and play with. Items that will bring comfort.”
Jill nodded again. She was thankful Caye was listening too. She looked at Rob.
“This is so hard,” he said.
Helen walked around the bed to set up the morphine pump. Jill dozed again.
Caye and Rob stood with Helen on the porch.
“What happens when she gets better?” Rob asked.
“Then I’ll stop coming,” Helen said.
“Do you think she’ll get better?” Rob asked, his voice lower.
Helen shook her head. “Her hands are cold. Her body is shutting down. Pancreatic cancer can be fast and furious.”
“How much longer?” Rob’s voice cracked as he asked it. Caye put her arm around him.
“Not long. A week, maybe. A couple of weeks at the very most.”
Rob nodded. He sat down in the wicker chair on the porch. Caye walked with Helen to the car and thought of Joya’s prediction of a couple of days. “I’ll come by tomorrow,” Helen said. “Call the office if you need me sooner, and they’ll page me. Keep the morphine going. I know Jill doesn’t like it, but it’s the best thing.”
Helen added that the hospice social worker would come in the morning. “She’ll have some good ideas about the kids.”
Caye nodded and thanked Helen. It was a relief to know that they had help.
Rob sat with his head in his hands. Caye sat down in the chair beside him. She could feel the heat rise from the gray paint on the porch. The house was warm, but Jill wanted to be covered with the afghan.
Rob lifted his head.
“You know that story Jill tells? The one about her plan. How she saw me for the first time, and she knew I was the husband she’d planned for.”
Caye nodded.
“I saw her during the sermon that day too. I knew she was looking at me. David was sitting on my lap, and I was aware of what a great guy I appeared to be, holding such a cute little boy. For the first time I wanted to be married.
“You know how I was in college. I’d see people like you and Nathan settling down, and I thought you were crazy.”
Caye nodded. Back then she couldn’t imagine his getting married either.
“I was a long way from settling down until that Sunday when I felt Jill watching me.”
He pulled the back of his hand over his eyes.
“What am I going to do?” he asked Caye, as if she might have an answer, might offer some pearl that he hadn’t thought of yet. “It’s all happened so fast. One day we had hope. The next day we had to fight for hope. The day after there seems to be no hope. Do I just give in to it?
“She’s what makes everything worthwhile. Why did it take me so long to realize that? I knew it—but then I forgot. I didn’t hold on to it.”
Caye reached over and patted Rob’s back. She wanted to pull him to her, to hold him, to lie and say that it would be all right, that he would be all right. None of them would ever be all right.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” he said. “The two of us, you and I, love her more than anyone else in the world.”
More than the boys love her? Who could measure a child’s love?
But Caye understood what he meant. They were the two who were the most committed to her.
“This stuff with Marion just adds insult to injury. All of Jill’s life she felt like things were weird, shameful with her family. Marion’s stupid secrets. Why didn’t she tell Jill years ago? All she did was teach Jill to keep secrets too.”
“Are you bitter?” Caye asked.
“Bitter toward Marion? No, I feel too sorry for her.”
“How about toward God?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to be.”
“Caye.” It was Jill’s voice through the open door.
Caye stood. Had Jill heard them?
“Can I tell you what I want the boys to know? Would you write it down for me?”
“Will you marry again?” Jill asked. She’d opened her eyes to find Rob sitting by her bed staring at her. The house was quiet. “Don’t talk that way,” Rob said.
“Do. Please do. Find someone who will love the boys. And you.”
Rob shook his head. “I’ll never love anyone the way I love you. You’ve given me so much.”
“Marry again,” Jill said. “It will be a compliment—to me.”
When she opened her eyes again, Rob was gone. Caye was on the couch, her head tilted back.
The pain was intense. She moved her legs to try to relieve the burning in her back.
“You’re awake,” Caye said.
Jill looked at her friend with wide eyes.
“Is the pain bad?”
Jill nodded.
“I’ll check the pump.”
“I keep thinking about Mom,” Jill said. “All these years she kept talking around her secret. She talked obsessively about my dad’s pancreatic cancer but never about why she was doubly concerned I might get it.” Jill listened as she spoke, surprised that her words made sense. “Why?”
“I think she was riddled with guilt,” Caye answered as she walked toward the bed.
“But why did she hook up with Dad in the first place? I understand that she’d already fallen for him, but why did she pursue it once she knew he was her half-brother?”
“Maybe because he reminded her of her father, of all that she had lost. Maybe revenge was part of her motivation too. She was never accepted into the family by her grandmother.” Caye continued, “I’ve read about siblings who didn’t grow up in the same home coming together later in life. Of course it’s not the norm, but sometimes there’s an intense attraction based on familiarity. If they act on their passion—on what’s forbidden—they usually end up feeling intense guilt.”
Jill took a ragged breath.
Caye looked into her friend’s eyes. “Your mom was needy. She felt abandoned. And she probably felt that she wasn’t accountable to anyone. Your dad must have felt that way too.”
“What about Joya? Why do you think she talks so much about faith but never about David?” Jill’s voice fell to a whisper.
Caye shook her head and then direc
ted her attention to the pump. “There. You’re ready for the new dose. Go ahead and punch the button.”
Jill frowned. She had nothing more to say. She began to drift. She saw her father holding David.
When she woke again, Rob was on one end of the couch, and Hudson was on the other. Both were asleep.
“Rob,” she whispered, “it hurts.”
He moved his head away from her.
“Rob.”
He opened his eyes and then stood.
“Caye thinks the meds need to be increased. That we should call Dr. Scott this morning,” he said.
“But it makes me so groggy. I don’t want to sleep all the time.”
Rob climbed up on the bed beside her. “Roll onto your side. I’ll rub your back.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s 4:30.”
She could tell the day was ready to break. “What day is it?”
“June 20.”
“Hudson’s birthday?”
“Yes.”
“And tomorrow is the longest day of the year?” “Yes. I talked to the boys last night,” Rob said. “At bedtime. I told them that you are really, really sick. That it looks like you might die.” “What did they say?”
“Hudson wanted to know if you would die before his party.” Jill exhaled.
“He said he really didn’t want you to die on his birthday.” I won’t.
Rob kept rubbing her back. She visualized a garden. An overgrown jungle of wisteria and clematis, trillium and columbine, native plants and English garden plants, redwood trees and Japanese maple trees, all growing together.
She should ask Rob to take her to the bathroom, she thought. She didn’t really need to go, but it had been so long since she had tried.
When she woke again, Marion was sitting beside her. Liam was pulling on her hand. “Get up, Mommy,” he said. “Get up.”
“Leave your mommy alone,” Marion said.
“It’s okay,” Jill answered.
Marion turned into Joya. “Rob said you wanted us to come,” Thomas said. Jill reached out her hand to Joya. “Sorry to disappoint you,” Jill said. Joya shook her head. “Don’t give up.”
“Deal with the stuff with David, okay, Joya? He was such a great little kid. He deserves to be talked about.” Jill let go of Joya and reached for Thomas’s large hand. Joya began to cry.
