Where My Heart Belongs

by Tracie Peterson

  Turning back to the house, Sunshine made her way to the kitchen table. Twelve years ago this had been the scene of her departure. She remembered her arrogance . . . her lack of love . . . her bitter hatred.

  My dreams had seemed so important then. I thought I knew best—thought I knew it all. But I hurt so many people with my selfishness.

  She sighed and rubbed her hand atop the smooth, but dulled, wood. Sunshine sat back and looked around the room. Kathy had changed very little. Of course, Sunshine had no way of knowing when their mother had passed away, but she was glad Kathy had left things much as they had been. There was a palpable sense of her mother in the room, in the furnishings she had chosen, in the colors she’d painted the walls.

  Mom, if I’d only known . . . She forced the thought away. I cannot do this. Lana said it would serve no purpose. I cannot make up for my deeds or change the choices I made in the past. I can only work on the present.

  Kathy stood in silence outside her father’s room. She knew she needed to go find her sister and prepare the sofa bed, but in her heart she wrestled with the need to be kind for her father’s sake and the need to guard her heart—for her own sake.

  Her chest still ached from the emotion of seeing her sister standing there when she opened the door. The first year after Sunshine had gone, Kathy fully expected to open the door to just such an event. Then another year passed and then three and five and ten. Kathy had stopped believing Sunshine would ever return when the tenth year passed. That was the year she’d started using Sunshine’s bedroom for storage.

  It had started out innocently enough. Her father had wanted Kathy to locate some old photographs in the attic, and the heat of summer had made it impossible to work in the cramped, sweltering place. Her father had suggested they bring down everything in the attic and put it in Sunshine’s room to make it easier and cooler for Kathy to process. The boxes of memories and old tidbits from the past were still taking up space in her sister’s room. Kathy had meant to deal with them—especially since the farm was to be sold. Of course, so far, there’d been no buyers. At least none who were willing to take the farm as a complete package. Kathy pushed aside her concerns. She couldn’t fret about the sale of the farm and deal with Sunshine at the same time.

  “I suppose now I have to deal with her room,” she murmured. After all, if Sunshine planned to stay very long, she’d need a proper bed and privacy.

  Pushing off from the wall, Kathy decided it was time to deal with the situation at hand. She went upstairs to the linen closet and pulled down fresh bedding. As an afterthought, Kathy also grabbed an extra fan, remembering how Amy . . . Sunshine . . . had liked to have a fan running while she slept. The house had never been equipped with air-conditioning, and the nights were very warm during the long humid summers.

  She thought of having to face her sister and momentarily panicked. A kind of war raged inside with a bitter, angry woman who seemed years beyond her age on one side, and a frightened—no, terrified—girl who had been forced to assume too much responsibility, too soon, on the other. Neither one offered Kathy much hope or comfort.

  Her arms began to ache from holding all the stuff. There was no sense putting off the inevitable.

  THREE

  “SUNSHINE?” KATHY PEERED IN from the kitchen door.

  “Call me Sunny. Everybody does these days.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” Kathy muttered. “I have the sofa made up for you.”

  “Can you sit with me for a minute, Kathy?”

  Kathy looked at her sister and thought to reject the idea, but knowing how much it meant to their father, she nodded. “I guess so.” Taking a seat opposite Sunny at the table, Kathy met her sister’s gaze. It all seemed innocent enough, but something in Kathy screamed for protection. Guard your heart. Guard your heart. The words pulsated through her head.

  Sunny folded her hands and leaned back against the wooden chair. “Look, I know this isn’t comfortable for you, but I think we should talk. I mean I really want to talk. I want you to understand.”

  Kathy thought of a lot of flippant things she wanted to say, but she held her tongue. She kept thinking that she ought to pray about the matter—pray for peace of mind and ask God to give her a love for her sister. But the prayers went unsaid.

  “So what’s on your mind?”

  Sunny shook her head. “Everything’s on my mind. Twelve years of life here at the farm. Worry about Dad. Desperation to know the truth about Mom. I need to know, Kathy. I’m begging you to tell me so I don’t have to question Dad. Obviously he isn’t feeling well.”

  “He has cancer,” Kathy said without warning. “I don’t want you upsetting him with a lot of questions. He deserves to spend his final days in peace.”

  Sunny leaned forward. She was surprisingly calm. “How long does he have?”

  Kathy shrugged. “Days . . . perhaps weeks. The doctor told me it wouldn’t be long. He eats and drinks less and less each day, and once he stops all together, it’ll just be a matter of time.”

  “Shouldn’t he be in a hospital?”

  “He wanted to die at home. Hospice comes and checks up on him. He’s surprised them all with his strength and endurance. The doctor said a weaker man would never have gotten this far.”

  “Dad always was a powerhouse,” Sunny said, staring at her hands. “What kind of cancer is it?”

  “The original culprit was bladder cancer. Dad waited too long to get help. He’d had blood in his urine for a long time and just didn’t tell me. He thought it was an infection and tried to cure himself with lots of water and cranberry juice.”

  “Mom’s remedy for bladder infections.”

  “Right. He started having other problems and finally told me about it. That was about seven years ago. The doctor told him he had a tumor in his bladder. They did an MRI and didn’t see any other cancer, so they started radiation treatments. A year later the doctor gave him a clean bill of health, but it came back. In fact we’ve fought it off and on for the last few years. We thought for a while that he was getting better, then things just seemed to go downhill. In late April they did another MRI and found the cancer had spread to the liver, lungs, and bones. We knew then it would just be a matter of time.”

  “I’m sorry, Kathy.”

  “For what?” Kathy looked at her sister in confusion.

  “For everything. I know it sounds lame, but I am. I hope as time goes by, you’ll believe me.”

  Kathy looked away and said nothing. She wanted to just get up and walk away—forget that Sunny had ever come back into their lives.

  “Please tell me what happened to Mom.”

  Kathy’s focus snapped back to Sunny. “Why? What purpose would it serve?”

  “I need to know. I need to know what happened.”

  “I needed a lot of things that I never got.” Kathy clenched and unclenched her fists. “Mom needed things she never got. Why should you be the only one to get what you need?”

  “Look, I know you hate me. I know you wish I’d never come back. I don’t know what to say to you,” Sunny admitted. “I would like to know what’s happened in my absence.”

  “For what purpose?” Kathy refused to look away, despite the fact that she could see her close scrutiny made Sunny uncomfortable.

  “I’ve changed, Kathy. I know I did wrong. I know I hurt you and Mom and Dad. I should have come back before now or at least let you know I was alive. I know I don’t deserve answers, but I’m begging you to tell me what happened after I left. What happened to our mother?”

  Kathy let her memory drift back across the years. “Fine, but don’t expect me to sugarcoat it.”

  Kathy stood outside her sister’s bedroom and heard her mother crying. She had cried nearly nonstop every day since Amy had gone. That had been three weeks ago.

  “Mom?” Kathy knocked on the door. She balanced a tray in one hand while opening the door with the other.

  “What?” Mom sniffed back tears. “Have you heard som
ething?”

  “No,” Kathy replied quickly. “Dad wanted me to bring you some lunch. You need to eat. It’s been too long since you’ve had something substantial. Do you want to eat in here or in your room?”

  “I’m not hungry.” Her mother got up from the rocking chair and went to the window.

  “I know, but you’ll make yourself sick if you don’t eat.”

  “Do you suppose we could get the police to look for her?” Mom turned from the window, a look of hope flittering across her face.

  “Mom,” Kathy began as she put the tray atop the bed, “Amy—”

  “She wants to be called Sunshine,” Mom interrupted.

  Kathy blew out an exasperated breath. “Sunshine is eighteen. She’s an adult. She left of her own free will. The police already told Dad there isn’t anything anyone can do.”

  “I just wish I knew if she were all right.” She turned back to the window. “I just wish she’d call.”

  Kathy gazed at her mom, astonished by the recent physical changes in her. The one-time vivacious woman seemed completely altered: she’d visibly aged; her complexion was sallow and her eyes dull—almost lifeless. And she’d lost weight. Marg Halbert had never been a large woman by any means, but over the last few weeks she’d hardly eaten any- thing. Kathy guessed she’d probably lost at least twenty pounds, and that couldn’t be healthy in such a short time.

  “Mom, please try to eat something. I made a tuna salad sandwich. I know how much you like them.”

  Mom looked at her as though the words made no sense. “Do you think she’ll come home—when the money’s gone?”

  “Probably. She has no job skills—not really. She can wait tables, but that isn’t going to make her enough money to live comfortably. Not if I know Amy.”

  “Sunshine,” her mother repeated.

  “Sunshine,” Kathy conceded. “Now please sit down and eat something.”

  Mom shook her head. She stepped back toward the rocking chair, then put her hand to her chest. “Oh,” she gasped. Her face contorted as she gripped the back of the chair.

  “What’s wrong?” Kathy asked, coming beside her.

  “My chest. It hurts so bad. Oh, Kathy, get Dad. I think . . . I think something’s wrong. I feel so weak.”

  Kathy helped her mother to the bed. “Wait here. I’ll go see if I can find him.” She knew he’d been in the kitchen only minutes earlier. It was lunchtime and he’d come in from the fields to eat.

  “Dad! Dad, come quick!”

  There was no reply, and Kathy felt an overwhelming dread. If he’d gone back to the fields, there was no telling where he might be.

  “Dad!” Kathy flew through the house and out the back door. “Dad, where are you?”

  “I’m right here, Kathy. What’s the problem?” Dad asked as he emerged from the barn.

  “It’s Mom. Something’s wrong.”

  A month later Kathy sat with her mother and father as the doctor explained the state of Marg Halbert’s health. Kathy had to bite her lower lip to keep from crying.

  “Mrs. Halbert, the heart attack damaged seventy percent of your heart. You’ve probably always had a weak heart since your childhood bout with rheumatic fever. Still, you’re a young and otherwise healthy woman, so I’m going to suggest a heart transplant.”

  “But why? If the attack is over and I’m on the road to recovery . . .” Mom seemed quite perplexed by the doctor’s suggestion.

  “Mrs. Halbert, you can’t recover the damage. Your heart is barely functioning at a thirty percent capacity,” he explained. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s less than that. Your body will begin to deteriorate, and without a transplant you’ll be dead in just a few years.”

  Kathy’s parents gasped in unison. Kathy was too shocked herself to say a word, but Dad had no trouble. “What do you mean? Are you saying this is going to kill my wife?”

  The doctor nodded. “I’m sorry. Without the transplant, she cannot hope to live for long. You have to understand. The body is dependent on the heart for everything—oxygen, nutrients, cooling and heating. Your wife’s heart is not able to pump at the rate or strength that it once did. Fluids will build up and drown the heart and lungs. We can give her medication to help eliminate the water, but eventually the heart’s inability to work as well as it once did will lead to the body’s demise.”

  Kathy finally found her voice. “How long will it be before she can have the transplant operation?”

  The doctor seemed relieved that at least one of them was ready to press on with the matter. “We’ll have to put her name on a list. She’ll have priority status because the damage is so severe. Then we’ll wait for a donor.”

  “Someone else will have to die first—right?” her mother spoke in a whisper.

  “That’s right. We can’t just take a portion of heart—it takes the entire organ,” he replied. “We have paper work for you to fill out, and I have a list of medications I want you to start taking immediately.” He picked up a piece of paper. “It’s important also that you follow a strict low-sodium diet. I’ll have my nurse go over all the details with you.”

  “What else will she need?” Dad asked. Kathy could see that all of this had taken its toll on him.

  “She needs a great deal of rest.” The doctor looked at Mom, and Kathy could see he knew it would be a struggle to convince her. “You cannot go about your usual duties. You’ll need to turn the running of the house over to your daughter.” He turned to Kathy. “You do still live at home, correct?”

  She nodded. “I’ll help her in any way I can.” In the back of her mind Kathy realized it was already the first of August. She was supposed to be heading back to college in two weeks. The realization of what was happening hit her at that moment. There’s no way I can return to school. I can’t leave her alone during the day, and Dad can’t stay with her. He’ll need to work.

  “You’ll need to allow your daughter to help you,” the doctor said, turning to Marg. “I want you to rest and only get up to take yourself to the bathroom or to wash up. In fact, I’d like your daughter to be there to watch over you even when you do that. You may find a recliner comfortable.”

  “But I feel so much better,” Mom began. “I’m still a little weak, but it’s nothing like it has been.”

  “I’m glad you feel better,” the doctor replied. “I’m glad you feel stronger. But honestly, Mrs. Halbert, you aren’t better. You’re merely stable at this point. You have to follow my instructions or you won’t even make it to the point of getting a new heart.”

  Kathy hated him for his harsh reminder of death. She wanted to say something, but he obviously knew what she was thinking. “Look,” he began, “I know I sound very caustic and unfeeling. Believe me, that isn’t my intention. But I do need you to take this seriously. So many times patients won’t listen. They have another attack and their bodies can’t recover. I don’t want you to compromise your health before you have a chance to have the transplant. Do you understand, Mrs. Halbert?”

  Mom nodded. “I just don’t want to put that kind of burden on my family.”

  “Nonsense, Mom. I can put off finishing college, but you can’t put off taking care of your health.” Kathy knew in that moment the decision had been made. She wouldn’t go back to school. In fact, she would have to somehow find the courage to tell Kyle that she couldn’t marry him. At least not yet.

  Two days later, Kathy stood on the porch, telling Kyle the news. “I can’t marry you.” She handed him his engagement ring. “Mom needs me to take over the house while we wait for a heart. Even then, she’ll be a long time recovering from the transplant.”

  Kathy didn’t cry. The truth was, she was cried out. She had spent so many nights in tears, sobbing into her pillow so that no one could hear.

  “But, Kath, I love you. You love me. This doesn’t matter. We can work it out,” Kyle said, reaching for her.

  Kathy pulled back. If he touched her, she honestly didn’t know what she’d do. �
�I can’t be what Mom needs me to be if I don’t focus all of my attention on her and the things I have to do. She’s going to need me twenty-four hours a day—there’s no one else. Dad needs to work and then rest. He won’t be able to keep the farm going and pay the bills if he can’t keep to his routine.”

  “So you’re putting your mom and dad ahead of me?”

  Kathy frowned. “What a selfish thing to say.”

  “Me? You’re the one who sounds selfish.” Kyle looked at her as if she’d just plunged a knife into his gut. “You’re not giving me any say in this.”

  “No one gave me any say in it either.”

  “That’s not true,” he said, his voice rising. “You’ve made all these decisions and never once thought to consult me on how I felt—what I needed.”

  “You aren’t sick. You aren’t watching your mom die unless she gets a new heart.”

  “I am watching my dreams of the future die. I’m watching you turn your back on our love.”

  “That’s not fair. I don’t feel that way at all.”

  Kyle stormed off the porch. “I’m not sure you feel at all. I thought people who loved each other were supposed to help each other bear their problems.”

  Kathy felt her mind whirl. Everything she’d thought and planned had seemed so well organized when it was just in her head. She hadn’t expected Kyle to respond this way, but now he was acting as if she’d just told him there was someone else in her life. The thought of that hit her hard. She supposed there was someone else.

  “Well, fine. If that’s the way you want it—if that’s all the more our love meant to you, then forget about it.” Kyle stormed off to his car. Without another word he started the car and floored it.

  Kathy ran from the porch and circled the house. Forgetting about everything else, she ran long and hard into the empty fields where once her father’s finest wheat crop had grown. Tripping on the stubbled ground, Kathy continued to run until her sides ached and she could scarcely draw a breath. When she finally stopped, she raised her tearstained face to the sky.