by Beth Wiseman
Linda threw her head back on the couch and couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard or had so much fun.
“That is a funny story. What did your mother do?” Linda tucked her white nightgown underneath her legs on the couch and twisted to face Josie. “I bet you got punished, no?”
“Oh, yeah.” Josie smoothed wrinkles from her peach-colored robe with her left hand. Linda could still see Josie’s right hand and arm twitching, but she tried not to stare. “I was grounded for a month after that.”
“Grounded? Like being punished?”
“Yep. I was punished. I couldn’t go anywhere with any of my friends.” Josie shook her head, but she was grinning.
“Was it worth it, though? I mean, do you wish you hadn’t done it?” Linda tried to picture Josie and her friends filling up a fountain in a nearby town with bubbles, so much so that the bubbles spilled across two blocks into the streets.
“It didn’t seem like it at the time because we were in so much trouble.” Josie rolled her eyes. “It ended up on television because the bubbles were slowing traffic, then one of the girls bragged to someone, and we all eventually got caught.” She giggled, and for a moment, she seemed like she was Linda’s age. “But no. No regrets. It’s just one of those things we did as kids. No one got hurt, and . . .” She smiled. “And now I can share it with you, something to remember someday when . . .” Josie drew in a long breath, shook her head a bit. “Anyway, it’s just a fun story to remember.”
Linda had done her share of talking throughout the night too. She’d told Josie all about Stephen, including how she’d forgotten to check for a note by the bridge. “That’s so romantic,” Josie had said. And she’d shared about her own school years. Josie had already known that Amish children only went to school through the eighth grade, and Linda certainly didn’t have any fun stories to share like the ones Josie had. But Josie hung on Linda’s every word, in a way that no one had done in a long time. Like she was someone truly special.
“I bet you are not used to staying up this late.” Josie glanced at the clock on her mantel. “It’s almost midnight.”
“It’s all right.” Linda couldn’t take her eyes from the clock. “That’s so pretty.”
“That clock? Yes, it is. I brought that back from Germany about six years ago when I went with Robert. That mahogany finish is gorgeous.”
“I love the way it chimes too. Little chimes every fifteen minutes, longer on the half hour, and then even longer on the hour. I just love that.”
They sat quietly for a moment. “You can have it,” Josie said sheepishly after a while. “I’d be glad for you to have it.”
Linda’s eyes widened. “No, I could never.” She shook her head, but still couldn’t take her eyes off the clock. Sitting about a foot high on the mantel, the timepiece wasn’t really fancy, just beautiful. Simple and lovely.
“Linda, I’d really like for you to have it. I don’t want to do anything to upset your parents, but I know clocks are allowed. Please take it as a gift from me.”
Josie’s voice was begging her to reconsider, and Linda could picture how beautiful the clock would look on the mantel at home. In Mamm’s home. “No, I really can’t.” She turned to Josie. “But it’s nice of you to offer.” She tucked her chin.
“You know, Robert says I do that a lot too.”
Linda looked up. “What’s that?”
“We both lower our heads and look down when we feel uncomfortable and shy about something.”
Linda made a conscious effort not to do it again, even though she wanted to do it at this uncomfortable moment.
“When you were born, you had a birthmark above your right knee. Do you still have it?”
Linda untucked her legs from beneath her on the couch and stretched her right leg. She raised her nightgown to reveal the mark. “Ya, I still have it all right. It’s big too.” She shrugged and put her gown down. “But it’s all right. It’s always covered by my dress.”
They were quiet for a few moments again.
“Linda. It’s a dream come true for me, you being here. I’ve dreamed about this since you were born. Thank you for staying with me.” Josie’s eyes filled with water as she reached over and clasped Linda’s hand, and Linda wished she could feel what Josie was feeling, but it was all just too new. She was still getting used to the idea that Josie was her birth mother, but she didn’t remember Josie giving her to her parents, or understand how hard that must have been. She wanted to return the affection Josie had been showing her all evening, but she wasn’t sure how. She eased her hand free.
“It is late, no? Maybe we should go to bed.” She stood up and cupped a hand over her hair, which she’d pulled into a bun on top of her head.
“Sure. I know it’s late.” Josie stood up too, but her expression reflected her disappointment. Josie’s hand and arm were still shaking.
“Can I come with you to your doctor’s appointment in the morning?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Don’t you want to sleep in, and when I get back we can go do something? You don’t want to hang out with me at the hospital. Sometimes, you have to wait, and—”
“I don’t mind. I’m sure I’ll get up in plenty of time to go.”
“Okay.” Josie frowned a bit. “If you want to.”
“Oh, and Josie?”
“Yes?” Josie blew out a candle on the coffee table.
“Stephen asked me to go swimming at the creek on Thursday. Is that all right with you?”
Josie touched Linda’s arm with her left hand. Linda could see her right arm twitching out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her eyes on Josie’s.
“I want you to do anything you want to do while you’re here. Anything. And by all means, I refuse to interfere with your love life. Definitely go swimming with Stephen.”
Linda smiled. “Danki, Josie. For everything.”
Josie wrapped her arms around Linda and held on for what seemed like forever, and Linda returned the hug. It had been such a wonderful night, hearing about Josie’s life, sharing her own life with—with her friend. In Linda’s mind, she knew that’s all Josie would ever be, and she hoped that Josie would be all right with that too.
Once upstairs, Josie threw herself on the bed. No headache, and she was eternally grateful for that, but the sporadic jerking of her right hand and arm both bothered her and worried her. But tonight, she just wanted to bask in the feel of having Linda under her roof for the first time in twelve years. No, fourteen—fourteen years. No, she’s . . .
How old is—is?
Linda. That’s her name. Linda. Linda is . . .
Josie grabbed her head with her only good hand. No headache, but something wasn’t right. She bolted straight up on the bed, as if sitting up would send a rush of blood to her head and clear the fog that seemed to be wrapping around her brain like a cocoon.
What’s happening? Why can’t I remember how old she is? I should know this . . .
13
GROGGY FROM SLEEP, JOSIE SAT UP IN BED AND LOOKED down at her hand and arm. She brushed her hand, then her arm, against her leg and smiled at the returned sensation. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “Linda is seventeen years old. Her birthday is the seventeenth of August,” she said in a whisper. Everything was back to normal.
She glanced at the clock on her nightstand about the time the phone started ringing, and she answered it on the first ring. A fuzzy voice spoke on the other end of the line.
“Robert, is that you? I can barely hear you.”
“Josie, are you okay? Is everything all right?”
“Everything is great. Fabulous. I’m having the best time with Linda.” No way she was going to mention the numbness in her hand and arm last night, or the slight loss of memory. This trip was important to Robert. “As a matter of fact, I smell bacon. Linda must have gotten up early and made breakfast.” Wow. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand through tousled hair. “How was your trip? Are y
ou at your hotel yet?”
“Josie, can you hear me?”
“Yes, honey. I’m here. Where are you?”
“I’m still on the plane. I’ve been sitting on the plane for two hours. Something’s going on, and they won’t let us get off the plane.”
Josie’s heart thudded hard in her chest. “What do you mean something is going on?”
“I don’t know, hon. I can’t understand the people speaking in Chinese around me. I’m sure everything is fine, but we aren’t being allowed to get off the plane. That’s all I know. But . . .”
“Robert, you’re breaking up.”
“Josie, it looks like they’re letting us off. I’ll call you tonight, okay? I can barely hear you.”
“I love you. Can you hear me?”
“Yes, babe. I love you too. Call you tonight.”
Josie sighed a breath of relief as she hung up the phone, though a thread of worry still lingered. She’d feel better when Robert called tonight.
She heard a noise from downstairs and quickly pulled on her robe and headed down the steps.
“Smells like coffee in here.” She shuffled across the tile floor in her socks.
“I wasn’t sure how to make the cappa cappa—”
“Cappuccino.” Josie reached for two cups in the cabinet. “I think regular coffee sounds great this morning. And I smell bacon.”
“I already made breakfast, I hope that’s okay. It’s keeping warm in the oven.”
Josie’s eyes widened. “Linda, you’re my guest. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Ach, I know. But I wanted to. I didn’t know if your hand and arm would be . . .”
Josie held up her arm, then wiggled her hand. “Look. Good as new. And no, I don’t mind that you made breakfast. What a treat!”
“I made bacon and eggs with onion, bell pepper, tomatoes, and some bacon bits I found in your refrigerator.” She pointed to the other side of the counter. “And some toast.” Linda smiled as she stared at the toaster. “Much better than broiling it in the oven.”
“Thank you. You must have gotten up early. I’m sorry I didn’t get up in time to help you.”
“No. I like to cook. Mamm says it’s important to be able to cook gut for a husband.”
“She’s right. Although . . . I’m afraid that if I had counted on that for Robert to marry me, I’d still be waiting.” She tipped her head to one side and twisted her mouth. “I’m not a great cook. If the truth be told, I was worried about the meatloaf.”
“No, it was gut.”
“Are you s-u-r-e?”
Linda giggled. “Ya, I reckon I’m sure.” She pulled a skillet of eggs from the oven and placed it on the kitchen counter. Then retrieved a plate of bacon.
“Do you want to eat on the patio?” Josie pointed to the large window in the kitchen. “It’s lovely out there this time of day. The birds are just starting to wake up, and it’s not too hot.”
“Sure.”
“We probably need to leave for Lancaster about nine fifteen.” She paused. “Are you sure you want to go?”
“Ya. I’ll just wait for you. It’s no problem.”
Josie wanted Linda by her side constantly; she just didn’t want to take a chance that Linda would find out about her illness. Not yet. “Okay. We’ll do something fun afterward.”
They filled their plates and moved to the patio where a glass table and four chairs were surrounded by flowering potted plants, and you could see Robert’s garden.
“What do you have planted?” Linda pointed to the garden as she took a seat in one of the chairs.
“Oh, that’s Robert’s garden. I think he has tomatoes, cucumbers, and some peppers. I’m not sure exactly.”
“We musn’t forget to water it while he’s gone.” Linda smiled, then bowed her head.
Josie lowered her chin. I’m dying. If you’re there, stop me from dying. Her silent plea was laced with bitterness, and an instant pang of guilt stabbed at her heart, which caused uncertainty. If I don’t believe, why do I feel guilty? She didn’t need this type of confusion this morning. She raised her head and waited for Linda to do the same, then they both began to eat.
Josie and her daughter. On her patio. She was determined to live in each special moment without dreading the future.
Josie sat in an oak chair with a worn leather seat, facing a desk covered with papers and file folders, and she wondered how Dr. Phillips kept anything straight in this mess.
“Mrs. Dronberger.” Dr. Phillips walked in and extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Josie stood up to shake his hand, then sat back down when Dr. Phillips took a seat behind the desk.
“I’ve reviewed all your files and test results. Has anything changed since Dr. Stoltzfus had your records forwarded to me? Any new symptoms or problems?”
Josie knew if she told Dr. Phillips about the numbness in her hand and arm, he most likely would subject her to further testing, or worse—admit her to the hospital. She’d waited too long to spend time with Linda. “No. Still just a lot of headaches.”
“Well, I’m going to recommend that you stay on your current meds for now, and I really don’t see the need for another MRI just yet, since you just had one a couple of weeks ago. But I would like to schedule you for one thirty days from now, so we can see what that tumor is doing.” He pulled off a pair of dark-rimmed reading glasses and placed them on the desk. Dr. Phillips was a well-built man of around fifty, Josie assumed, with a full head of gray hair and eyes that seemed careful not to reveal too much information. Josie assumed they trained for that in medical school.
Josie nodded, and waited for the doctor to go on. He rubbed his eyes, then replaced his glasses with a sigh. Josie knew what was coming.
Dr. Phillips opened a file and read for a moment. “I see where you had radiation therapy two years ago.” He glanced up at Josie.
“Yes. I did. And I was hopeful for a while. The tumor regressed, and my symptoms subsided. For a while.” She paused, crossed her legs. “But then I had a seizure.”
He read some more, then removed his glasses again. “Mrs. Dronberger, I see where you’ve also had chemo, and that failed as well. The only option left would be for me to try to remove that tumor, and . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t think I could give you more than a five percent chance of surviving the surgery.” He paused, as if waiting for a reaction that wasn’t coming. “Is this even an option for you?”
“No. I want to live out however long I have, not die on an operating table.” She folded her hands in her lap. “This is what I’ve been told repeatedly. Five percent.”
“That lesion is located in an . . .” He stopped and pulled a large envelope from underneath the file. “Here, let me show you.” Dr. Phillips pulled her MRI out and faced it toward her. “Do you see this?” He pointed to the lesion that Josie had seen a hundred times before.
She smiled politely. “Yes.”
“Where it’s located in the brain stem makes it almost impossible to get to. I imagine most doctors wouldn’t even consider it. And I’ll be honest with you, I’ve never successfully taken out a lesion of this size in this location, but there is a small window of hope should you ever feel that you want me to try.”
“Five percent isn’t much of a window, Dr. Phillips.” She folded her arms across her chest. She knew this would be a waste of time, but she’d endure for Robert, who couldn’t pass up any opportunity to get another opinion, even though they were all the same.
“No. It’s not.” He gazed at her, in the familiar, sympathetic way she’d gotten used to. “But, Mrs. Dron—”
“Just Josie.”
“All right. Josie, if your quality of life should come to a point where you are willing to take the risk, you should have that documented.” He paused. “For example. If you should lose the ability to remember, to think clearly, and it’s evident to your husband that your quality of life is suffering greatly, you might want
to make sure that he has power of attorney to make decisions for you. It might be that at that point, the surgery would be an option. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand. My husband already has my power of attorney for such things.” She glanced out the window and wished she’d never come here, never allowed herself to have the tiniest glimmer of hope. She just wanted to pretend for two weeks that everything was normal.
They sat quietly for a few moments.
“Josie, have you had any type of counseling? Perhaps a support group of others who are going through what you are?”
“I’ve been in counseling, Dr. Phillips. I understand what’s happening.”
“Understanding it and dealing with it are two separate things.”
Josie stared out the window of the eight-story building. “I’m dealing with it the best anyone can, I suppose.”
They were quiet again.
“Do you have any questions?”
“Nope.” She turned toward Dr. Phillips. “I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice, but honestly, Dr. Phillips, you aren’t telling me anything that I haven’t already heard.”
“Then you do realize how your body will begin to shut down? Numbness, particularly on the right side. Motor functions will be affected, and even memory disturbances.” He wiped his forehead with his hand, then continued. “There will be increased brain pressure as the lesion expands, Josie. The headaches will become debilitating, and could even cause some changes to your personality. I’m assuming all of this has been covered by your doctors before me?”
“Yes. It has.” She forced a smile. “I understand.”
Dr. Phillips tilted his brow and looked at her uncertainly, waiting for more. Finally, he said, “Well, all right. Then I suppose we’ll have another look in a month.”
Josie nodded, stood up, and extended her hand. “Again, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
What Dr. Phillips didn’t understand was her ability to program herself for the situation. She’d learned that a long time ago. When she didn’t want Robert to worry, there was a program for that. When she didn’t want a doctor to see her cry, there was a program for that. When she needed to pretend that this was all a false reality, a program for that. She’d been doing it for so long, sometimes she actually believed she’d never have to face the grim reality before her.
