by Peggy Webb
I heard her telling her dad all about it when I came in this afternoon. He was always so proud of his children. All of them. I still can’t believe he’s not going to wake up in time to give Emily away.
Of course, he didn’t come back to us for Daniel’s wedding, and I know he would never have missed that if he’d had a choice. Sometimes I think of this coma as an unknown power holding Michael hostage, a monster you’d shoot if you could see the whites of its eyes. If it’s merely a medical phenomenon why can’t the doctors bring him back?
Why can’t I? The strongest force in the world is true love. I believe that. I always have. Then what am I doing wrong? What am I missing? I have to believe that Michael will return to me because of the power of his love, because he can’t bear to live without me.
Because I can’t bear to live without him…
Well…I’m crying again. I put my writing aside for a while and lay down beside Michael and told him I was leaving, then I kissed him long and hard, hoping for a response. Always hoping. Nada.
“Darling,” I told him, “your children need you. Soon they’ll all be married except Hannah. You’re missing one of the most joyful times of your life.”
Then I showed him the pictures we took of Daniel’s wedding. I put them in his hand so he could feel the slick surface, then I held them in front of his face hoping he’d sense them there and open his eyes. “Look, Michael,” I said, “please open your eyes and look.”
I searched and searched for some sign that he was trying to come back, and when I didn’t see anything I got so mad at him I had to go into the bathroom and hold a washcloth over my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me scream.
Now I’m ashamed of myself. I’m going to sit on the side of his bed and put the pictures in his hand and describe them one by one. I’m not going to leave out a single detail. I want Daniel’s wedding to be so real to Michael that he feels as if he didn’t miss a thing.
Then I’m going to take off my clothes and lie beside him all night long hugging him. I’m not going to sleep a wink. I want to keep a vigil. In case I’ve been missing something in the dark.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I feel you lying beside me, Anne. I feel how tense you are. I wish I could soothe you. I’m trying so hard to get my hands to move. I want to massage your neck. You always collect tension at the back of your neck.
It’s October, you told me. Unbelievable. More than four months of my life vanished without a trace.
That’s not exactly true. So much has happened while I’ve been sleeping. I have a daughter-in-law I’ve never seen, and soon I’ll have a son-in-law.
The deep fog is lifting, Annie. I wish I could tell you that. I wish I had some way of letting you know. My mind is clearer now, not wrapped in cotton batting. I still can’t keep up with the days and weeks and months slipping by, but I’m vaguely aware of the passage of time.
I know it’s morning by the sounds coming from the hallway. Breakfast trays rattling. Rubber-wheeled carts squeaking. I know nighttime because you’re always here. When the sun shines I know midmorning because of the warmth on my face. Halfway between the breakfast trays and the lunch trays.
I wish I could say all this to you. I don’t want you to lose hope. I don’t want you to give up on me.
But you won’t. I know that. You’re made of stronger stuff. You have more courage than anyone I know, including seasoned climbers who have tackled the world’s most intimidating peaks.
Besides that, we are bound forever by true love. And true love is worth any price, you once told me. I agree. And yet I never had to pay a price. You did. You could have been famous. You were that good. Still could be with some practice. I hope you’re not neglecting your music while I’m here, Anne. I hope you’re not letting the baby grand collect dust.
I used to wonder if you ever regretted giving up your career. Lately I’ve been thinking about that, about how you sacrificed everything for me, and now you’re left behind with nothing but a shell. Of course you have the children, but they’re grown. Lord, I remember what a handful they were when they were young. You used to say they spent the first two years of their lives trying to commit suicide, and the next six trying to commit murder. Remember that time Hannah climbed into Daniel’s bed while he was napping and you found her holding a teddy bear over his face? All she’d wanted to do, she said, was have a teddy bear picnic with her little brother like the story you’d read. She was three, he was two.
I was in Alaska when that happened. When I returned to Belle Rose I found you sitting in the laundry room on top of the washing machine sipping your tea like a queen. You said, “It’s the only place safe from our hellions, Michael. You know they hate the washer and dryer.” Then you gave me that beautiful smile I fell in love with the day I met you and said, “Besides, I like the vibration, reminds me of you.”
I took your teacup out of your hand and said, “Let me give you the real thing.”
And I did. Right there on top of the washing machine. I think that was when you got pregnant with Emily.
God, how I loved you then. How I love you now.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Standing beside the old rosewood upright piano in the parsonage singing while Daniel’s mother played a jazzy version of “Come Rain or Come Shine,” Skylar knew the meaning of family for the first time in her life. Daniel was sitting on the sofa beside Emily beaming as if he’d invented music, and Jake flanked her on the other side. They were sitting close together holding hands and occasionally bending toward each other for a kiss.
Out of the blue a panicked feeling came over Skylar as if this were her one last chance at a happy life and somehow she was blowing it. She faltered on the words, and Daniel’s mother looked up from the keyboard at her.
Skylar cleared her throat and said, “Frog…will you excuse me a moment?” Then she hurried to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. She was leaning against the sink drinking the whole thing in one big gulp when Daniel came in.
He put his arms around her and said, “Everything all right?”
“Yes.” She smiled at him but her face felt tight and unnatural. Then she looked at her husband and knew he knew she’d just lied and so she said, “I don’t know what happened, Daniel. All of sudden I got scared.”
“I shouldn’t have asked my family here tonight. It’s too much for you, too soon.”
“No, no. It’s not that. I love having them here. Really, I do, Daniel. Your mother is wonderful, and Emily and Jake are lots of fun.”
Daniel was rubbing her back and looking at her with such a look of love that she felt foolish. What was the matter with her?
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” With Daniel nearby touching her she felt safe. More than safe, really. She felt practically invincible. Somehow she’d stumbled into a remarkable new life where nobody was ever going to tell her she was wasn’t worth a hill of beans. “You go back in there with your family and I’ll fix some lemonade. How does that sound?”
“Perfect.” He kissed her, long and hard. She wanted to grab hold of him and not let go just in case…. In case she’d wake up tomorrow and find out she’d dreamed the whole thing and she was smack-dab back in the middle of her earlier life. “You’re perfect,” he added, and she ran her hands inside his shirt and made little humming sounds of satisfaction because she was too full to speak and that was the only way she knew to say, “You’re perfect, too.”
Later that night after Emily and Jake had gone back to his apartment and Anne was asleep in the guest room, Skylar made love with her husband until she was both reenergized and exhausted. Then she lay in his arms listening to the even sounds of his breathing as he slept, lay with her eyes wide open so she could see what was coming around the corner.
Daniel’s ploy had worked. That’s what he was thinking while the choir sang “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” It was a rousing number that should have held his complete attention. Instead he was focused on his wife s
itting in the front pew flanked by his mother and his sister. She was wearing blue and she looked beautiful. More than that, she looked happy.
Anne Beaufort Westmoreland was beloved by Daniel’s congregation, and when she’d walked in with her daughter-in-law the whole atmosphere changed. People who had stood at a distance and judged the previous Sunday had come over to meet Skylar. If their friendliness was a little guarded, that was okay. All they needed was time. Time, plus a good nudge from their pastor.
With the last notes of the song fading, Daniel strode to the pulpit.
Chapter Thirty-Five
From the diary of Anne Beaufort Westmoreland:
October 8, 200l
How Michael would have loved Daniel’s sermon. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Hannah nearly died laughing when I told her about it.
“He gave ’em hell,” she said, and I said, “Yes, but in a loving and gentle way.”
Oh, I wish Michael could have been there to hear it. Naturally I knew what it was all about. The minute Daniel started talking about tolerance I knew he was slapping their hands for judging his wife. I ordered a tape, which should be here in the middle of the week so Michael can hear it. Basically, though, my son talked about how we should all be the kind of people who are known for our kindness and tolerance, for the things we love and accept rather than the things we criticize and ostracize. Oh, it was beautiful, beautiful.
Clarice wants a tape, too. She adores Daniel. I didn’t know until last night the part she’d played in his match with Skylar. She came over for dinner. Usually I’m at the nursing home by then, but both Hannah and Clarice insisted.
“You’ve got to start living your life again, Anne,” Clarice told me, and I said, “I thought that’s what I’ve been doing,” but she shot me right out of the saddle. I started to tell her, “You mind your little red wagon and I’ll mind mine.” But she’s been too good to me. I couldn’t say such a smart-mouthed thing and face myself in the mirror.
Of course, she’s right about starting to live again. I feel as if I’m stuck in an airplane in a holding pattern.
Well, I guess all that’s fixing to change. And very soon. You could have knocked me over with a feather when Emily and Jake sprang their surprise on us. Daniel didn’t blink an eye, of course. He’s so steady. Fortunately Hannah is all for the idea, otherwise she’d have had plenty to say.
Clarice approves, too. She volunteered to stay with Michael, and I said to her, “Don’t you dare flirt with my husband while I’m gone,” and she twitched her nose at me just like Elizabeth Montgomery on that old TV show “Bewitched” and said, “Well I just might.”
She was kidding of course. We both were. And it felt good.
That brief outing to Atlanta was good for me. Made me feel almost like my old self. Lord, I’m getting older every day. I hate the way my upper arms are starting to sag. (Clarice said she’d buy me some six-pound weights, that they worked wonders. I guess they do. She’s always strutting around in strapless tops.) I told Michael this morning that if he didn’t return to me soon he wouldn’t even recognize me.
Now that the wedding plans have changed I’ll have to get a different outfit. Silk dresses and high heels are out.
I haven’t told Michael about the change in plans. Emily and Jake are coming tomorrow to tell him. They didn’t say so, but I think they’re both counting on this drastic measure to bring Michael out of his coma.
I hope so. Oh, I really hope so.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Skylar was so proud of her husband that she wanted to stand on the rooftops and shout her pride to the world. Instead she decided to surprise him with a little exotic lingerie from Victoria’s Secret. He’d wanted to come with her to the mall, saying she didn’t know Atlanta that well yet. She’d had to say, “Daniel, I’ve been finding my way around since I was sixteen,” and then because he’d looked both chagrined and disappointed she added, “Why don’t you meet me for dinner?”
She was standing in front of Ruby Tuesday’s holding a bag with her fancy new black lace nightgown when somebody recognized her. A teenager still in braces.
“Hey, it’s Skylar Tate,” he called, and suddenly she was surrounded by young people seeking autographs. It wasn’t the sort of mob Elvis would attract, still it was gratifying. All her years of hard work were finally paying off.
The only downside of this impromptu autograph session was that she had absolutely no protection, no band behind her back, no security guard to control the crowd if they became rowdy.
“Do you mind signing this?” Somebody thrust his tennis shoe at her, and she began to glance over their heads for Daniel. Not that she needed help. She’d been taking care of herself for as long as she could remember. Still, the crowd was mostly male. She’d forgotten how large teenaged boys could be, man-sized and full of hormones.
She signed the tennis shoe then decided to call it quits before things got out of hand. Who knew what they would thrust her way next? Besides, it was beginning to get dark.
“That’s all for today. Thanks for buying my albums.” She recapped her pen and put it in her purse. The crowd began to drift away.
“It’s not the music we love. It’s the bod.”
Skylar flinched. The voice had come from a strapping young man with a green Mohawk. She scanned the parking lot. Where was Daniel?
She decided to ignore the remark, and turned to go into the restaurant. Suddenly she found herself backed against the wall by three behemoths. Twice her weight and nearly a foot taller.
“Where you goin’?” This was from the one with the Mohawk, apparently the leader. The others leered at her.
“I’m meeting my husband.”
“He won’t mind waiting. Not for something as hot as you.” They pressed closer. “Come on, Foxy, show us your stuff.”
Skylar tried to see around them. Where was everybody? Didn’t people eat on Mondays? Why didn’t somebody passing through the parking lot see what was going on?
It wouldn’t do to show fear. The meek don’t inherit the earth: they get mugged. That’s what Skylar had learned the hard way when she was eighteen and backpacking through the Smokies.
“Back off,” she yelled.
They laughed. “You a reg’lar little wildcat, ain’t you?” They began to circle her, meowing.
This was getting serious. And dangerous. Physically she was no match for them. Her only alternative was to scream.
She opened her mouth, and Mohawk clamped a big hand over it. He ripped her blouse while another grabbed her bag and held up the sexy nightie.
“Woowee, looka what we got here.”
“Gimme that, Snake.” Mohawk snagged the gown with one hand and kept her pinned to the wall with the other. “Let’s see her in this.”
“Not here, you fool. Cop’s liable to come along.” They were going to kidnap her and do things she couldn’t bear to think about. But not without a fight.
She started kicking for all she was worth. Judging by the yowl of pain, she’d put one foot right where it hurt the most.
“Grab her legs, Jute!”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Skylar was released so fast she slid down the wall into a heap. All she saw was the blue uniform before she fainted.
Daniel hadn’t stopped shaking inside since he’d found Skylar lying in a heap at the mall. She wouldn’t let him call a doctor. She wouldn’t even take a sedative. She’d said she was all right. He’d held her all night long, soothing her as if she were a baby. Sometime early this morning she’d finally fallen into an exhausted sleep.
He hadn’t left her side except to get the paper and a cup of coffee. Sitting beside the window Daniel kept watch over his wife. He hadn’t let himself think about what might have happened if the mall’s security guard hadn’t come along. All three young men had been arrested. Skylar hadn’t backed down about pressing assault charges.
A city that spawned that kind of violence wasn’t a place Daniel wanted to liv
e. He’d worked hard to get where he was, one of the youngest ministers ever to be appointed to such a large church. There was talk that within the next five years he’d probably be appointed District Superintendent of the North Georgia Methodist Conference. Some insiders said he was being groomed for bishop.
Daniel had thought that was what he wanted…until now. His wife twisted restlessly on the bed, and he walked over to smooth the covers and caress her face. Such a dear face. He would die if he lost her.
She twisted away from him. “No no no…”
“Sky…” He cradled her in his arms and pressed her head against his chest. “Darling, it’s all right. I’m here.”
“Daniel…” She pushed back and smiled at him, but he wasn’t fooled. It didn’t touch her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be at your office?”
“No. This is where I should be.”
“But what about your job?”
“Don’t worry. My secretary will call me if something comes up.” He rocked her in slow tender motion until he could feel her relax. “Are you hungry? I’ve made sandwiches.”
“You did?” This time her smile was genuine. “That sounds delicious.” She started to swing her feet over the bed and he pressed her back to the covers. “Stay right here, young lady. You’re getting breakfast in bed.”
“That sounds wonderful, but I’m not an invalid, you know.”
He leaned down to cup her face and kiss her. “Let me take care of you, Sky.” She nodded, and he could see how close she was to tears. “I’ll be right back.”
He heated her sandwich, then added plenty of chips and a glass of orange juice and started toward the stairs. At the last minute he detoured by the garden and plucked a spectacular pink rose.
Skylar was sitting in bed reading the morning paper, her face blanched, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Daniel could have kicked himself.
