Precedent: Book Three: Covenant of Trust Series

by Paula Wiseman

  “Very straightforward, matter-of-fact. Said her mind was made up.”

  “She’s relieved.”

  “In a way, I guess. What am I going to do with her? She told me she had a right to refuse treatment. I said she wasn’t in any condition to make that decision, and she said, ‘take me to court.’”

  “Draw up the papers. I’ll sign ’em.”

  “Joel!”

  “Okay, maybe not. You haven’t called Jack yet, have you?”

  “No. I thought I’d make her tell him to his face. Let her see what it does to him.”

  “Oh, that’s good. What about Aunt Rita?”

  “I’m at their house. Gavin says to put her on a suicide watch and keep someone with her at all times.”

  “She’ll go ballistic.”

  “Good! I’d like to see some life out of her.” Chuck took a deep breath and sighed. “How do I get her back? She’s lost her will to fight this. She’s given up on Shannon ever coming home. This suicide watch thing, that’s a band-aid.” He held the phone against his chest. “You guys, too,” he said to Rita and Gavin. “How do we get her back?”

  “She has to do it,” Joel said. “It has to be her own revelation. Do you think she’d read anything?”

  “I doubt it. She told Rita reading her Bible makes it worse.”

  “She knows she’s wrong,” Joel said. “She’s knows she shouldn’t be shutting God out.”

  “So what do you suggest?”

  “Surround her. Watch the preacher channels on television. Do your Bible study in the kitchen where she can see you, and make sure the car radio is on Christian stations.”

  “And hope something clicks?”

  “Exactly. God’s Word never returns void, and it always accomplishes His purposes.”

  “Joel, you just might be brilliant,” Chuck said.

  “It’s not me. I’ll swing by and see Mom on my way home.”

  “Tomorrow would be better. She hates hovering, and I’m already gonna be in trouble for telling you.”

  “Hang in there, Dad. Everybody’s praying. Something’s got to give.”

  “I know,” Chuck sighed. “I love you, Joel.” He snapped the phone closed and pushed it back in his pocket. “He says surround her with God. Preachers on TV and radio. Read and study in front of her.”

  “I like it,” Gavin said.

  Rita nodded. “Then I’ll be there at nine tomorrow, but Chuck . . .” She glanced at Gavin, then crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “I mean, far be it from me to argue with you and Gavin, and now Joel, but I think it all hinges on Shannon. Bobbi was just beginning to heal after Brad’s death, then Shannon left. You said she’s given up hope that Shannon’s coming home. That’s what brought her to despair. Shannon may be the only one who can draw her back.”

  “Then I have to find Shannon,” Chuck said.

  Chapter 15

  Candor

  Chuck pulled into his driveway as the last light of day faded behind him. His house was dark except for a soft glow from the study. Bobbi. He hadn’t felt so much riding on a conversation with his wife since she discovered his affair. And he blew that one.

  He opened the front door as quietly as he could and locked it back carefully. Bobbi sat in her corner of the love seat, sipping a cup of coffee, exactly where he’d left her.

  Not wanting to startle her, he spoke quietly. “Bobbi? Can we talk?”

  She never turned around, but she set her cup on the desk beside her. “Do you think we can be civil?”

  “Can you forgive me for raising my voice?” He shuffled across the room, silently coaching himself to keep his voice low and controlled. If he came across frantic or desperate, she’d tune him out.

  “I asked for it.” She drew her legs closer to make room for him on the love seat, but he pulled the desk chair around instead. She frowned at him. “So who did you rat me out to?”

  “Rita and Gavin and Joel.” Chuck leaned forward in his chair and looked into those beautiful brown eyes, now drained of all their energy. He had to make this about her. “Bobbi, you’ve thrown up a wall between us. I can’t take what you say at face value anymore.”

  “You think I’m lying to you?”

  “You’re keeping things from me, and yes, I believe you’ve been misleading me.” He took a deep breath. “Right now, I don’t trust you to be by yourself.”

  “And you just left me for three hours?” she huffed. “Do you know how ridiculous—”

  “This is not negotiable. Somebody’s going to be here with you around the clock. Unless you decide to go to church with me in the morning, Rita will be here at nine o’clock.”

  “You’re treating me like a nutcase!”

  “No, I love you and I have an obligation to protect you. If that means protecting you from yourself, so be it.”

  Her eyes darkened with tight fury. “I don’t need protection.” She swung her feet down off the love seat and stood up. “I want to be left alone.”

  She tried to sidestep his chair, but he caught her by the arm and spun her around to face him. “Oh no. You’re not walking out on me.” The genuine shock, or maybe fear, in her eyes burned through him and he dropped his hand. Anger was the last thing he wanted her to see. He’d lost it with Shannon and she left. He stepped back and wiped a hand across his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Bobbi, I would give my own life, right now, if I could take your anguish away, but I can’t.”

  Fear and failure threatened to choke off the words before he could get them out. “I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and I love you more every single day. I can’t sit by and watch you die a thousand deaths when it doesn’t have to be this way.”

  He reached for her hand, but she held it close, glaring at him. “I’m gonna fight this, and if it means I have to fight you, I will.”

  * * *

  Sunday, September 21

  Rita rang the doorbell at Chuck and Bobbi’s and paced. Be calm and detached, Gavin said. Bobbi doesn’t need you to solve this today. Just be there for her. Right. It would take every ounce of restraint she’d ever mustered to keep from going in there, shaking Bobbi, and screaming, “Have you lost your mind?”

  She knew when Bobbi was diagnosed that something was . . . off, but she reasoned it away. What right did she have to dictate how Bobbi should respond to the waves of heartache? If she and Gavin had to face what God asked of Bobbi and Chuck . . . she would have collapsed long ago. Not Bobbi. Bobbi was like tempered steel. She would find her anchor. Some way, somehow. Because if she didn’t . . .

  The front door swung open. “Rita, thanks,” Chuck said. “Bobbi’s back in the kitchen.”

  “How is she?”

  “Barely speaking to me for having you come over.”

  “Did you sleep?”

  He shook his head. “Sleep? What’s that?”

  “I’ll get lunch together for you.”

  “Thanks. For everything.” He picked up his Bible from the table and headed out. “I hope you can get through to her.”

  Rita watched Chuck drive away, and apprehension seized her. What if she said the wrong thing? What if she made things worse? Everyone knew how often her mouth got her in trouble. Calm and detached, she coached. She sighed and walked back toward the kitchen. She couldn’t do calm and detached.

  Bobbi sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. The morning paper, still in its plastic bag, lay within easy reach. “I hope he’s paying you the standard rate for sitters.”

  In spite of the bitter edge in Bobbi’s voice, Rita joined her at the table. “Have you had breakfast?”

  “Yes, and I took a shower, too. I’m not quite as pathetic as you guys think.”

  “I don’t think you’re pathetic. You’re heartbroken. I don’t know how you’ve kept going this long.” Bobbi dropped her head but didn’t respond. “And you’re not the only one. Chuck’s wearing himself out trying to keep up appearances.”

  “Chuck . . . He wants to
fix everything.” She absently straightened the fringe on the placemat. “Things are so hard for him.”

  “Then how can you even think of not treating your cancer?” She said it. Now she had to keep pressing. “This will kill him.”

  “No.” She jerked her head up and made eye contact with Rita for the first time. “No, Chuck is very strong, and God will be there for him.”

  “But He’s not there for you? You know that’s not true.”

  Bobbi folded her hands and pressed her lips into a tight, thin line. Nobody was going to change her mind on this one. Rita pushed away from the table and got a cup from the cabinet, buying herself some time to think.

  The conversation couldn’t be about Bobbi. She was far too prepared to fight that battle. Rita had to shift the focus to get Bobbi to soften up, to drop her guard, to listen to reason. Shift to what, though?

  On the windowsill by the sink sat a salt and pepper shaker set, a little black kitten for the pepper and a white kitten for the salt. The shakers belonged to their mother and sat on their kitchen table when they were growing up. Of course. Mama.

  “Do you remember what it was like with Mama? When she got sick?”

  Bobbi relaxed and let a deep breath go. “I can remember looking up the word ‘cancer’ in the dictionary. The big dictionary by the telephone table. And I remember ‘canary’ was on the same page.” She dropped her eyes and picked at the placemat again. “One of the definitions said something about evil that spreads. I couldn’t understand how Mama could have evil inside her.”

  “She was livid that she had been diagnosed with cancer.” Rita emptied the pot of coffee into her cup. “She had things to do and girls to raise.” She rinsed out the coffee pot and turned it upside down in the dish drainer. “She said God might have given her cancer, but she didn’t have to take it. She fought it with everything she had.”

  “Didn’t she go to Chicago a couple of times?”

  Rita nodded and took her seat again. “She heard about a doctor up there who had tried something new, and had some success. She lived at the library. She read everything, every bit of research. She changed her diet, took vitamins. Anything that held the slightest promise, she was all over it.” Rita shook her head. “She and Daddy went to Mass every morning, and oh, how they prayed. Mrs. Robbins, who lived across the street—”

  “With that hateful little dog.”

  Rita smiled not just from the memory of the yapping dog. Bobbi was engaged. “Mrs. Robbins brought over some oil and anointed Mama, and then prayed over her, in tongues. Without a doubt the weirdest thing I ever saw, but Mama wasn’t gonna discount anything. Everything was worth a shot.”

  “See, I never knew all that was going on. By the time they told me . . . she . . . the fight was over.” Bobbi stared past Rita, maybe at the little kittens on the windowsill. “She threw up a lot, didn’t she?”

  “All the time. She was so weak, and then she was in so much pain. At the end, it had spread to her liver. She barely knew where she was the day we got married, she was on so much morphine.” Rita took a long drink from her coffee, struggling with her own memories. “She begged Gavin to marry me before she died. Honestly, I don’t think he was quite ready yet, but how could he deny a dying woman’s last wish?”

  “Always a gentleman.” Bobbi’s shoulders relaxed, and her voice had softened. Maybe she was listening.

  “Baby, please, I’m begging you . . . You can treat this now, and next year, it’ll be a distant memory. This is a terrible way to die. I’ve seen it. Don’t make me go through it again. This is my worst nightmare.”

  “You’d be surprised how much worse your worst nightmare can get.”

  “Is that what you think God is doing? Showing you what a nightmare really is?”

  “I don’t know what God is doing.”

  “Waiting.”

  “Waiting? For what?”

  “For you to give up.”

  “I’m already there,” Bobbi said.

  “No, I think you’re in a battle for control. You think not treating your cancer puts you back in the driver’s seat. You had no say with Brad or with Shannon, and you’ve finally found something you think you can control.”

  “This doesn’t feel like control, I promise. It feels like insanity.”

  “God’s not the author of that.” Rita leaned back in her chair. It was time to leave Bobbi alone and let her digest the conversation, let her remember. “I could quote a lot of Bible verses to you, but you know them. You know what you should do, and you know what’s waiting on the other side of this dark time. If I could bring you out of this I would, but only you can do that.” She stood and pushed in her chair, waiting for a response that never came. “I’m going to throw in some laundry.”

  * * *

  Chuck pulled out of the church parking lot and headed for home. He couldn’t remember any of the songs or the announcements and the sermon was a blur. At least he hadn’t fallen asleep in the service. Glen pulled him aside afterwards to ask about Bobbi, and Chuck told him about the visit to the lake.

  “Stop trying to fix this on your own,” Glen said. “Shannon told you this was all your fault, and you haven’t gotten over it. Bobbi’s not getting better, you think it’s your fault and it’s killing you. I can see it on your face.”

  He couldn’t argue with Glen. He felt guilty leaving Bobbi just for the morning. The verses Glen scribbled on the business card he carried in his shirt pocket would likely add to that guilt. Maybe he’d wait until tomorrow to look them up.

  He pushed open the front door and took a quick glance at the empty study. He strode back to the kitchen where Rita stood over a large pot on the stove. “Where’s Bobbi? What happened?”

  “She said she was going to take a nap.” She put a lid on the pot and turned the heat down.

  “You check on her?”

  “Not in the last three minutes. I think we can trust her.”

  He sighed. “I’m overreacting, I know.”

  “No, you’re not.” She pulled the coffee pot off the warmer. “I made her some fresh coffee. You want a cup?”

  “No thanks. Is that chili?”

  “That’s what you had to work with.”

  “It’s better than my skills could produce, I’m sure.” Chuck collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. Rita poured a cup of coffee and joined him at the table. “Did she talk to you any?” he asked.

  “I did most of the talking, but she seemed to listen. Especially when we talked about Mama.”

  “That’s good. Listening is a major step.”

  Rita sipped the coffee, hedging.

  “What? Is it about me?”

  “She feels abandoned . . .”

  “How . . . ?”

  Rita raised a hand. “By God, not you.” Her eyes began to tear up. “If it weren’t for you, she’d already be dead.” She wiped her eyes and stared into her cup. “I told her that her decision was an attempt to regain control. She had no power to stop Brad’s death or to stop Shannon from leaving, so at least she’s going to have a say about her own life and death. She didn’t answer me, so maybe I hit on something.”

  Chuck nodded. Could there be some hope?

  “You know, talking about Mama . . . The thoughts of Bobbi going through that . . .” She shook her head slowly.

  “She’ll go for treatment. She has to.”

  “I promised my mother that I would take care of her, and the last time I saw Daddy, that’s all he wanted to talk about.”

  “She’s an adult now. You’re not responsible for her anymore.”

  She smiled slightly. “I guess you expect me to believe you don’t feel responsible for her, either.”

  “I’m her husband,” Chuck said, returning the smile. “That’s different.”

  “Of course it is.” She glanced up at the clock. “I’d better go. Gavin needs to eat.”

  “Take him some of the chili.”

  She shook her head. “You may need it this week.” She
rinsed out her coffee cup and put it in the dishwasher, then Chuck followed her to the front door. Before she opened the door, she stopped and faced him. “I want you to know . . . I don’t believe there’s anyone on earth who loves Bobbi like you do.” She hugged him gently and turned the door handle. “We pray for you as much as for Bobbi. Call me if you need me tomorrow.”

  Chuck watched her drive away, then closed the front door. Rita understood. He did love Bobbi more than anyone ever had. She earned permission to discuss cancer treatment with Bobbi by connecting with her, not dictating to her. He’d do it Rita’s way.

  He heard a rustle behind him and turned to find Bobbi coming down the stairs. “Hey,” he said, reaching for Bobbi’s hand. “Were you able to rest?”

  She hesitated, frowned, then took his hand. “I slept a little.”

  “Rita made some chili for lunch.”

  “Maybe later.”

  Chuck frowned and nodded. The wall between them remained just as high and just as impenetrable.

  She shifted and blinked, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll, uh, I’ll sit with you while you eat.”

  “That would be great,” Chuck said, and he led her back to the kitchen. She let him take her hand, and she was going to sit with him. Rita worked a miracle. Did he dare hope for more from her? “You want tea?”

  “Just a glass of water.”

  Chuck quickly got everything together and sat at the kitchen table with her. “Would you bless the food?” She couldn’t refuse to say table grace. That would make her look like a hardened, hopeless case.

  “I’m not eating.”

  “I know. But would you? Please?”

  Bobbi shifted in her chair, and without ever looking up at him, she mumbled, “Sure, okay.” She bowed her head and closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, thank You for this food. Thank You for Rita and for her care of us, and thank You for Chuck. In Jesus’ name, amen.” Chuck smiled at her as he started to eat. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. A good start. And he made the short list.