On A Cold Winter's Night

by Leanne Burroughs

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  Chapter Four

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  "Sometimes I wish I could forget everything and just go auto touring.” Maddy sat at Susie's kitchen table and pulled the needle through the lace she was sewing to the white curtains for her kitchen.

  Susie placed the last of the canned jars of cabbage and green beans in the pantry. She'd left out enough to be used fresh for Thanksgiving dinner.

  Caroline chuckled. “I'm guessing the children have been acting up in school this week for you to say you need a vacation."

  Maddy nodded. Susie sat at the kitchen table and began peeling potatoes for dinner. “You're supposed to be a stabilizing influence on Mark. He's not supposed to make you feel wanderlust."

  "Jeepers, he isn't. Honest. It's just that . . . oh, I don't know how to explain it. When we went into the city last weekend to see the replay of The Virginian, with Gary Cooper, we had a wonderful time. It was like we had no responsibilities. Could just do anything we wanted. But who can go to the city all the time when there are so many things to be done at home? And who can afford the ten cents a gallon for gasoline. Goodness, when I asked Johnny to teach me to drive, I never dreamed the price of gasoline would escalate so high."

  "What else did you do besides go to the movies?” Mama Caroline asked.

  "We went into a small ice cream shop and had a chocolate sundae—in the middle of the afternoon. And we weren't celebrating anything."

  "The two of you alone together is reason enough to celebrate.” Caroline's eyes gleamed with teasing.

  "Well, yes, there's that.” Heat rose up Maddy's face. She really did hate blushing all the time. “You should have seen the shop. And Mark was so relaxed. And silly. He and the young man behind the counter joked constantly. A regular wise-cracking young man. Mark called him a soda jerk. I told him to hush, that it was rude to belittle the boy, but he laughed and told me that's what young people who scoop ice cream are really called.” She raised her hands, covering her face, and shook her head before facing Caroline and Susie again. “Can you imagine being called that? I couldn't even look at the boy anymore without laughing. I finally had to look away to keep from embarrassing myself."

  "You had a good time, and that's all that matters. Did you enjoy the movie?” Susie asked. “Gary Cooper is such a handsome man."

  "Oh, he is. And when he said, ‘When you call me that, smile,’ I thought I was going to swoon. It's a good thing Mark had his arms around my shoulders by then."

  Oh! Did I just admit that? I never meant to mention anything about that—and certainly not to his mother! She remembered going over to the Donovan house while they were growing up. All the kids loved going there and most rode their bicycles from town after school in the afternoon. But as they'd grown older, Mr. and Mrs. Donovan had made it quite plain they were no-nonsense folks who'd allow no hanky-panky.

  "I'm glad you had a good time in town. But as long as Mark keeps running from God, he's not going to find peace.” A shadow crossed over Caroline's eyes.

  "What makes you say that, Ma? He's gone to church with us every Sunday since he's been home,” Susie said.

  "Quite honestly, I think that's more so he can sit next to Maddy than to hear about God. I think when he was earning all that money in Chicago, he started leaning on himself and forgot he still needed God. Now it's hard for him to come back.” She chopped a few more pieces of squash. “But he'll find his way back in time, just like the prodigal son of old. His coming here was a good start. Like the man in the parable who'd squandered his money and then came back home asking his father to forgive him. I don't think Mark realizes how alike he and the prodigal son are."

  * * * *

  The knife Caroline had been using to chop the last batch of squash clattered to the table. Her face turned white as she clutched her chest.

  Susie jumped up and rushed over to her mother. “Mama, what's wrong?"

  Caroline didn't say anything. Her eyes glazed over.

  Panic stricken, Susie ran into the living room to get an afghan from the top edge of the couch, ran back into the kitchen and wrapped it around her mother. “Maddy, run outside and get Johnny and Mark. Please, God, get them here in time."

  As Maddy headed out the kitchen door, Susie called after her, “Don't let the children come inside right now. They don't need to see this."

  Maddy had never seen either of them run as fast as they had to the house. Out of breath, John and Mark ran into the kitchen, one right behind the other.

  "Mama!” they cried simultaneously.

  Then, “Ma, what's wrong?” Mark implored.

  "Chest hurts,” she finally whispered.

  Mark hesitated for but a split second. “John, can you get Ma into bed by yourself if I go into town to fetch the doctor?"

  John nodded, his eyes perilously close to tears. “Yes. Drive safe, Mark.” He paused, then urged, “But go as fast as you can."

  "I will. I'll be back soon."

  Maddy stood at the kitchen door and held it open for him. “May I come with you?” She didn't think he needed to be alone.

  He stayed his stride and turned back to look at his mother. John was already lifting her into his strong arms. “Do you need Maddy for anything?"

  Susie tore her eyes away from her mother, but continued to hold her hand. “Go with him, Maddy. He needs someone right now. Maybe he won't drive as recklessly with you in the truck. I don't think I could handle anything else today."

  They jumped into the car and Mark pulled out of the yard, dirt flying beneath the wheels of the truck as he careened onto the road to town.

  Maddy sat as close to him as the stick shift would allow and placed her hand gently on his arm. Tears welled in his eyes as they had John's. Why did men think it showed weakness to cry?

  * * * *

  "I'm sorry.” Doctor Brown snapped shut his black medical bag. “There's not much else I can do for her.” He handed Susie a bottle of laudanum. “If the pain gets too bad, give her this. I'll come out as often as I can to check on her."

  Susie sat in a chair on the other side of the bed holding their mother's hand. Maddy stood against the wall, tears streaming down her face. John looked as though he'd been sucker punched. Mark didn't give a tinker's damn how he himself looked.

  He strode outside and followed the doctor to his old jalopy. “So, you're telling us our mother is going to die?"

  "I don't know, son."

  "That's it? That's all you're going to do? Give Ma a bottle of laudanum? You're going to let Ma die?” Mark growled.

  "Your mother is in God's hands now. That's the best place she can be.” He opened the car door and threw his medical bag across the seat.” Mark doubted the bucket of bolts would make it back to town. Then again, he didn't care. All he cared about right now was his mother.

  She would not die. Not if he had anything to do about it.

  "I'll stop in at Maggie Burstead's and ask her to bring some of Stuart's chicken soup. It's known to help what ails some people."

  "But not Ma I'll bet.” Mark kicked the front tire of the old jalopy.

  Before the physician closed the door, he said, “Some people do recover from heart attacks."

  "Some?"

  "Yes, regrettably not everyone makes it. But your mother is a strong person."

  Doc closed the door, pulled the car out of the drive, and headed out toward the road.

  "You make my ma better, Doc. You do whatever you have to do to keep my mama alive."

  He shook his fist at the doctor as the car disappeared from sight. The dam to his tears finally broke. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground, still shaking his fist—unsure now if he shook it at the old doctor or at God.

  * * * *

  A hand on his shoulder made him start. Maddy. He hadn't heard her come out of the house.

  "Your mother's sleeping right now. It's what her body needs to heal."

  "What if she doesn't?” Th
e pain that tore from his throat sounded like a lone wolf howling in the wilderness.

  She sank to her knees beside him and held him as he wept. Some man he was. Crying in front of a woman. Right now he didn't care. Didn't care about anything except the fact Mama needed to live.

  "Why, Maddy?” he finally ground out. “Why is God letting Ma die? Why doesn't He take me? I'm the one who trashed my life. Ma's never done anything wrong. All she's ever done is love us.” Shudders racked his shoulders. “I tried to tell them when I left. Tried to tell them they'd all die if they stayed here. That working all those hours on the farm would kill them.” He picked up a small rock from the yard and threw it at a tree. “But would they listen to me? No! They all wanted to stay here. Wanted to keep working the farm. ‘This is our home, son. This is where we belong,’ Dad said. Well look where it got them. Dad's dead and Ma's in the house dying. If God let's her—"

  Sobs still racked his shoulders as pain poured out of him. “I can't do it, Maddy. I can't go on living if Ma dies. Why doesn't God take me? It's my fault if she dies. I didn't do enough for her when I could. When I had the money. I should have made sure she was seeing the best doctors. Instead she's worried about money and wonders if she has enough chickens to barter.” He gulped in air. “Look where all the help I didn't give Dad got him. Dead. Look where it got Ma. She's lying up in her bed when she should still be young and carefree. How can God—"

  Maddy put her hands over his mouth. “Don't say it, Mark. Don't even think it. Never threaten God.” She rubbed the backs of her fingers lightly over his cheek. “Your mother's sleeping. It's what her body needs to heal."

  "B-but what if she doesn't wake up?” The tortured sound of his voice tore at her heart. If only she could help him. But what could she do when she was just as upset?

  This was his mother. She remembered well how she felt when her mama had died. As if a part of her heart had been ripped out of her chest. “Mark, Mama Caroline is—"

  He pulled away from her and headed out toward the fields. “I don't want to hear it.” Maddy started to follow, but he put his hand out to stop her. “No, Maddy. I need to be alone."

  * * * *

  Life continued as usual the next weeks, the same routine every day. He and John worked the fields every day, then rushed to the house to see how Mama was doing. Susie rarely left her side. The children wanted to sleep in her bed. Didn't want to go to school. But John insisted.

  Thanksgiving would be here soon. Would they have anything to be thankful for? Mama had survived the heart attack, but at what cost to her body? She rarely had the strength to rise from her bed.

  The doctor came every day. Could offer no hope.

  "She's not getting any better, Doc.” Mark glared at the elderly man. “You said—"

  "I said she's in God's hands. Some people recover from a heart attack, and some . . . don't."

  "Don't give me that jive. Is she going to get better or not?"

  The white haired physician lifted and dropped a shoulder. “I won't lie to you. I honestly don't know."

  People from town visited, bringing food and praying with their dear friend. She'd been there for all of them in their times of need.

  Mark never spoke to them. Why should he? Knew they all blamed him. If he'd made things easier for Mama while he'd had his money, surely his mother wouldn't be lying almost lifeless in her bed. Oh, no one said anything, of course. But he knew they were thinking it. Because he thought it every minute of every day.

  He stopped working on Maddy's house. Why bother? Did he really want to fix it for some other man to live there with her? How foolish he'd been to dream. To hope. Now there was no chance in Hades she'd ever want to be with him.

  He tried to avoid her when she visited, which was every day, wanting to be near his family. It had nothing to do with him. On each occasion, she insisted on trying to talk to him.

  How foolish. Why waste her time on a loser like him?

  When he continually rebuffed her, she spent time with the children. In an attempt to divert their attention, she helped them decorate the house for Thanksgiving. What good were colorful gourds, dried leaves, and a small pumpkin, though, when Ma's health was failing?

  Oh, God. Please help Ma. It's all my fault she's sick. Don't blame her for my actions.

  Please . .

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  Chapter Five

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  A week before Thanksgiving, his beloved mother Caroline Donovan crossed into the gates of Heaven.

  Mark wandered the property, not talking to anyone. He worked in the fields even though John said it wasn't necessary. He came inside with everyone at meals, but ate little. For the most part, he just moved food around on his plate. He stayed out in the barn rather than being with the family in the house.

  Everyone tried to console him at the funeral, but he shrugged off their well-meaning hands, and didn't say a word.

  What they couldn't understand was that the day before she'd died, Mama had seemed to be improving. She'd sat up in bed and everyone had spent most of the day with her in her room. She'd even eaten some of Stuart's chicken soup. The children sat on the bed with her and she'd hugged them close.

  "I love you all,” she said. “I hope you know that, since I'll never be able to show you how much. “ She hugged both Kathie and Tommy to her side. “But I'm not afraid to die. I'll be with your daddy if I leave this earth. I miss him, you know. I've missed him every day since he left us. He's been gone many a year now, and I long to see him. Jesus promised we'd be together in Heaven, and I believe that. I'm not quite sure how relationships will actually work in Heaven, but it will be a pleasure for God to explain everything. I'm sure I'll be just like Kathie and Tommy and be asking constant questions. There are so many I don't have answers to.” She slumped back against the bolster pillow. “I think I'm getting tired now. Need to rest for a while. Come here, all of you and give an old woman a kiss. Remember what I said—I love you!"

  Her eyes locked with Mark's. “If it's my time, son, it's because Jesus is waiting for me. I've had a good life and I love you all more than I can ever tell you.” She hugged the grandkids to her. “I'm blessed that I've seen these two children grow up. It's like watching you and Susie all over again.” Her eyes misted. “I will regret not getting to meet your children, but other than that, what more could I ask for?"

  To live, he shouted to himself. He didn't want to hear about God. Didn't want to think about both of his parents living in Heaven. He wanted his mother alive—with them in this house. He'd felt like a little boy. Wanted to curl up on the bed with her just like Tommy and Kathie were doing and tell her how much he loved her.

  See his children? What a laugh. As if anyone would ever love him enough to marry him. How could anyone love him when he hated himself? He wouldn't blame Susie and John if they asked him to leave after the funeral.

  She told all of us how much she loved us. Had she known? Was that her goodbye? But if so, why had she been better? They'd all had hope when they sat down to dinner that night. Without her, of course. She'd been too weak to come down to the table. Hadn't eaten with them since her heart attack.

  The doctor came and told them, “She no doubt had another heart attack. That's not uncommon.” He put his arms around Susie and pulled her into a hug. “She had a good life, you know. And she lived a long time.” Releasing Susie, he squeezed her shoulder compassionately. “Just not as long as we all would have hoped."

  Mark's aloofness did nothing to allay the children's fears. “Did I hurt Grandma when I bounced on the bed? She said we could come up there with her. Is that why Uncle Mark is so angry with us?” Kathie asked. Although Tommy always shadowed Mark's footsteps, it was Kathie who had grown the closest to him.

  His avoidance of her must have hurt John and Susie, but he deserved for them to hate him . . . all of them . . . just as he hated himself.

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  The funeral and burial le
ft Mark bereft. He pulled away from everyone.

  Maddy continued to visit every day. He couldn't imagine why she made so much work for herself coming all the way out here instead of staying in town with the preacher, but after school let out, it wasn't long before her Tin Lizzie came driving into the yard.

  Sometimes she brought lessons with her.

  Always she tried to get him to talk. Always she gave up in frustration and went inside with the rest of the family.

  Family.

  For a time he'd thought Maddy would be his family. He'd wanted that so much. Hadn't ever told her of course. But oh, he wanted her all right. Wanted her with him forever. Wanted her sharing his life. Sharing his bed.

  Having his children.

  What a joke God had played on him to let him hope. Mark could almost picture Him up there in Heaven, laughing on His throne.

  Maybe He expected Mark to beg now, like he had when Ma was sick. But he had no intention of doing that. Had no intention of talking to God ever again.

  * * * *

  The day before Thanksgiving, Maddy stood at the kitchen sink helping Susie prepare the next day's dinner. “How are we going to help Mark through Thanksgiving? He's like a lost soul."

  "I agree.” Susie sat at the table and peeled sweet potatoes, tears welling in her eyes. “But I don't know how we're going to get through to him when we're all reeling with the same pain. He's like a shell of himself right now, not wholly with us. We not only lost Mama when she died. We lost Mark, too. I don't know how to help him. Until he exorcizes his own demons, I'm not sure anything we do will help.

  "There seems to be no reaching him. He's living in the same house with us, but it's as if he were as far as when he lived in Chicago. He won't talk to us. Doesn't talk to the kids. They keep asking if they did something wrong. They're too young to understand it has nothing to do with them. As Mama said, he's running from God."