Trouble Don’t Last Always

by Francis Ray

  “You have pancakes at twelve. Would you like light, medium, or heavy syrup on them?”

  “I can manage.”

  “Pan sausage at six, sectioned grapefruit in a separate dish at nine. I’ll pick up the tray later.” This time when she passed, she didn’t look back. Downstairs she strolled into the kitchen, proud of herself that she hadn’t cowered; then she saw the worry in Odette’s heavily lined face.

  “What is it?”

  “Mrs. Wakefield called while you were upstairs. She wants you to come to the cottage immediately.”

  She was going to be fired.

  There was no other reason Lilly could think of for Mrs. Wakefield wanting to see her. For some reason she must have changed her mind. Hadn’t they decided yesterday they’d keep in touch by phone unless something very important came up? She’d classify getting fired as important.

  Fighting the stinging moisture in her eyes, Lilly took the paved winding brick walkway through the gardens to the cottage. Scarlet impatiens and pan-sies led the way. Farther back, clumps of yellow jasmine and honeysuckle scented the air. Warm pinks, hot yellows, mellow blues, brilliant reds stood out in the lush green foliage.

  The house came into view when the path straightened. Deep purple tulips lined the walkway to the house. Lilly felt like Little Red Riding Hood going to Grandmother’s where the Big Bad Wolf waited. But Little Red Riding Hood had a home to run to. Lilly had nothing and no one.

  Pausing, she heard the soft purr of an engine, then saw a black limousine come up the paved drive and stop in front of the cottage. The driver got out and opened the back door. A large gray German shepherd hopped out, then paused. Next came a slender white woman neatly dressed in a tailored navy blue suit and white blouse. Leaning down, she closed her hand over the harness on the animal’s back.

  The red front door opened before they were halfway up the brick walk. Eleanor came out of the house and quickly went to meet the woman, her slender hand outstretched. “Mrs. Parker, I’m Eleanor Wakefield. Thank you for coming.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Wakefield, and thank Jonathan. Good obstetricians are hard to find.”

  Eleanor barely managed to keep her face impassive at the mention of Jonathan’s name. No wonder she’d been able to set up an appointment with a representative of the Lighthouse so quickly. “You’re expecting?”

  “Yes.” The auburn-haired woman beamed. “Three months and counting.”

  “Congratulations, and it’s a good thing I planned on serving tea. This way, and please call me Eleanor.”

  “I will if you’ll call me Harriet, although I’ve abhorred my first name all of my life.”

  Eleanor smiled, liking the woman immediately. “Eleanor wouldn’t have been my choice, either. The door is directly ahead and up two steps.”

  “Got it.”

  As she turned to go up the steps, Eleanor saw Lilly on the other side of the limo, watching them. “Lilly, please come inside and meet Mrs. Parker.”

  Tension whipped though Lilly. She was about to meet her replacement.

  Inside, Lilly’s worried gaze immediately went to the visitor sitting on the sofa with a perfectly held and balanced cup of tea in her hands, then dropped to the Seeing Eye dog on the floor beside her feet, his head resting contentedly on his large paws.

  “Thank you for coming, Lilly. Harriet Parker, Lilly Crawford, the woman who is caring for my son.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Harriet said, extending her hand.

  Lilly jumped to take the offered hand. “I—yes, ma’am.”

  Harriet laughed, a bell-like sound. “You don’t sound that young and I’m not that old.”

  At any other time Lilly might have laughed with the woman, but her nerves were stretched too thin. Lilly sat on the edge of the armchair, her back straight.

  “Would you like some tea, Lilly?”

  “No, thank you.” All she wanted to know was how long she had left to work.

  Eleanor placed her delicate cup and saucer on the polished cherry table. “I’ve asked Mrs. Parker here to help us both understand what is happening to my son and to ask your forgiveness, Lilly.”

  “Me?” Lilly’s eyes rounded.

  “Yesterday after you left, I realized I put you in an impossible situation when I asked you to care for Adam,” Eleanor admitted. “But, as you pointed out, you have accomplished a great deal with him, and with the proper help you can do much more.”

  “I believe that’s where I come in.” Harriet set her cup on the polished table.

  Both women watched her smooth movements, and although neither voiced it aloud, they compared them to Adam’s awkwardness. “Harriet is a social worker with the Shreveport Lighthouse for the Blind.” Picking up a pillow, Eleanor hugged it to her. “I have to believe Adam is going to regain his sight, but he needs help in the meantime.”

  “He hates being blind,” Lilly said softly.

  “Would either of you feel differently in his place?” Harriet sat forward, her face serious.

  “No.” Their answers came in unison.

  “Honesty without explanations. We’re off to a good start. Let’s get something out of the way. I lost my sight seven years ago after an auto accident. I wasn’t happy about it. The doctors were stupid and incompetent. I was sure if I could find the right one, he’d fix my eyes. It took long, torturous weeks before I got mad enough to stop feeling sorry for myself and come out fighting.

  “What I’m about to say may not be easy to hear, but it’s necessary if you’re to help Dr. Wakefield. The best scenario is that he regains his sight. The worst is that he doesn’t. In the interim, each time he is forced to confront his blindness he’s going to strike out until he comes to terms with it and realizes his loss of sight doesn’t make him less of a man.”

  “He studied so long and hard to be a neurosurgeon.” Eleanor’s voice quivered with strain. “How can you or anyone expect him to give that up without being angry?”

  Harriet shook her head of short auburn curls. “I didn’t say that. Anger is good. Directed in the right way, it can accomplish a great deal. From what Jonathan and you have told me, your son’s anger is directed at himself and occasionally at those around him. Is that right?”

  Eleanor shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together.

  “Yes.” The answer came from Lilly.

  Harriet turned toward her. “Your job will be the toughest, because you’ll butt heads with him at every turn. From what I’ve heard from Jonathan, Dr. Wakefield is a strong, determined man. He’s had to be to get to the top of his profession at his age. Now, he’ll use those same traits to thwart anyone who might oppose him. It won’t be easy. I don’t know how tough you are, but to help you will have to be.”

  Lilly swallowed her fear. “Dr. Wakefield can be intimidating, but I can manage.”

  Laughter bubbled from Harriet. “Good for you. I don’t envy you your job. You’ll have to push him and he’ll push back. I’m married to a doctor, and they can be as arrogant as they come.”

  Lilly caught a flash of light as Harriet picked up her cup and took a sip of tea. A huge diamond ring glinted on her ring finger. Lilly had a band Myron later told her he’d gotten from the pawnshop for fifteen dollars. He’d said more than once that he’d paid too much. She’d left it on his kitchen table.

  “Your wedding ring is beautiful.”

  “And ostentatious. Did I mention doctors are territorial?” Harriet’s smile blossomed. “Men are strange creatures, doctors even stranger. The men who attacked Dr. Wakefield not only stole his eyesight, but his identity.”

  She looked toward both women before continuing. “I don’t have to tell you that a neurosurgeon is one of the most esteemed of doctors. In their profession, they operate on the very essence of man. Now Dr. Wakefield finds it difficult, if not impossible, to do simple tasks a four-year-old would run through.

  “Being blind isn’t easy. Your senses are constantly on alert, your brain working to identify your surroundings. Ini
tially, you may sleep a great deal to rest your brain from all the overload of activity.” Placing the cup on the table, she lifted both hands palms out. Her nails were neatly polished a delicate pink.

  “The pads of your fingertips become your eyes. You can see the window behind me. I feel the warmth of sunshine on my neck, but if it were dark I wouldn’t be able to do that. With the aid of my cane and the sound wave bouncing back from tapping the area around me, I’d know there was a solid object ahead of me, approximately how far away it was. But not until I touched it could I identify it.”

  “How long did it take you to learn that?” Eleanor asked, her tea forgotten.

  “Six long, arduous months. But it depends how much time and effort you’re willing to put into the process.”

  “Adam will be seeing by then,” Mrs. Wakefield said, but her voice lacked conviction.

  “In the meantime, how much quality of life is he having now?” Harriet asked.

  “He’s miserable,” Lilly found herself answering once again. “He wants to be independent so badly and can’t.”

  “He can’t because he refuses to learn or because no one has shown him how?” Harriet asked, her question hanging in the air.

  “That’s probably my fault, because I didn’t want to push the issue. I didn’t want him to think I had lost hope,” Eleanor confessed.

  “That’s understandable, but what about now? Shouldn’t the idea at least be presented to him?”

  “Lilly and Jonathan think so,” Eleanor said slowly. “I just don’t know. He’s so angry and defiant. He doesn’t want any of his family near him.”

  “Then you’ll have to either defy him or get someone else to broach the subject with him or teach him without him knowing he’s being taught. But I warn you, trying to teach a person who doesn’t want to learn anything is next to impossible. I know; I’ve tried.”

  Eleanor glanced at Lilly. Although the older woman didn’t say anything, the speculation was clear on her face.

  “But if you get past the denial and the anger, you can open up a whole new world for him. There are optical scanners that can read print, all sorts of devices that will allow him to gain independence. Orientation and Mobility classes can teach him how to get around independently.” Reaching into the bag, she pulled out a bright orange pocket folder and held it toward Eleanor. “Here’s some information you both might find handy on devices and programs.”

  “Thank you.” Eleanor briefly opened the folder, then passed it to Lilly, who hesitated only for a moment before taking it.

  “I’ve probably given you more questions than answers, but each case is different. Just like some people prefer a cane and others a guide dog.”

  “He’s beautiful,” Lilly said, her slim arms wrapped around the folder.

  Harriet patted the dog’s head affectionately. “Thanks, and I heartily agree. He’s quite undeserving of the name my husband insisted we call him.”

  “What name?” Eleanor asked.

  “Killer.” At the mention of his name, the dog lifted his head and stared at his mistress. “Lloyd wanted any would-be attacker to know beforehand what he might be getting tangled up with.”

  “That sounds sensible,” Eleanor said.

  “In case either of you are wondering, I met Lloyd two years after I lost my sight. He says he never worked so hard in his life to get a date.” She laughed again, free and guileless.

  Lilly listened to the sound and again wondered why she, with sight, hadn’t chosen as well.

  Lifting her fingertips to the face of her watch, Harriet stood. Killer rose with her. “I’m sorry to rush off, but I have another appointment at ten.”

  “Thank you for coming.” Eleanor came to her feet.

  “My pleasure. I haven’t ridden in a limousine since my wedding. Don’t hesitate to call if you’d like to talk. It’s going to take tough love for Dr. Wakefield’s wake-up call. He may curse you now, but he’ll sing your praises later. Good-bye.”

  Both women walked Harriet to the waiting limousine, then watched it drive away.

  “What do you think?” Eleanor asked.

  Lilly answered honestly. “He’d be happier if he were more independent, but he’s going to fight me.”

  Eleanor’s gaze was probing and direct. “Underneath all that rage and self-pity is the proud, determined man I raised. Help me; help him.”

  “Does that mean you aren’t going to fire me even if he or Dr. Delacroix asks you to?”

  “Do you think I’d have asked you to meet Harriet if I was considering that alternative?”

  Lilly felt fear and relief at the same time. “No.”

  Eleanor extended her hand. “Good. Then we’re in this together for the long haul, no matter what.”

  Lilly stared at the brilliant colors surrounding her, the cloudless blue sky, and the colorful flowers and immediately thought of the black abyss Adam lived in. She lifted her hand. “No matter what.”

  Chapter Eight

  She was a fraud. Dr. Wakefield knew it; she knew it.

  The folder in her lap, Lilly sat on the stone bench beneath the lacy canopy of a lantern tree. Dumb luck had allowed her to make some inroads with Dr. Wakefield, but if Harriet Parker was right, and Lilly had every reason to believe she was, a good amount of cunning and skill would be needed to effect a change in Dr. Wakefield. Two things Lilly didn’t have.

  She was setting herself up for failure if she tried to do more than care for Dr. Wakefield’s basic needs. Why had she told Mrs. Wakefield she’d try?

  Because you’re crazy, she thought, then closed her eyes and leaned her head against the coarse bark of the tree trunk. If only it were that simple. She couldn’t forget the first time she saw Dr. Wakefield. Lost and lonely, defeated and defiant, and so very frightened.

  She knew what it was to be lost and lonely, defeated and frightened. She was learning defiance. In some ways, Dr. Wakefield was her counterpart. Perhaps in helping him face his demons, she could learn to face hers.

  Clutching the folder to her chest, she rose and went inside the house. There was a phone call she had to make.

  Upstairs in her bedroom, Lilly stared at the white telephone on her night-stand. Fear almost consumed her. Just make the call, she ordered herself, but she made no move to do so. It wasn’t as if Myron could trace the call. She was in control of her life now, and it was time she started acting like it.

  Without further hesitation, she snatched up the phone and dialed. The drawling voice on the other end answered on the third ring, “Good morning. The law office of Kenneth Powell. Can I help you?”

  Lilly licked her dry lips. “This is Lilly Crawford. Mr. Powell asked me to call him this morning.”

  “May I ask what this is in regard to, Mrs. Crawford?”

  “To find out if my—my husband was served with divorce papers yet.”

  “Please hold. I’ll see if Mr. Powell is available.”

  Lilly mumbled, “Yes.” Eyes closed, she silently prayed, Please let it be all right. Please le—

  “Mrs. Crawford.”

  Her eyelids flew upward. “Yes.”

  “Your husband was served the papers this morning.”

  “Thank God.” Her trembling legs were unable to support her any longer. She sagged down on the bed.

  “He also almost got himself arrested.”

  “What?”

  “According to the officer who served the papers, Mr. Crawford became confrontational toward him after reading you had cited mental cruelty in your petition,” Mr. Powell explained. “The only reason he wasn’t taken in was because he appeared so distraught to the officer. Your husband kept saying how he’d lost his mother and now the woman he loved.”

  “He never loved me,” Lilly hissed, coming to her feet.

  “He filed a missing persons report on you when you didn’t come home Thursday evening. Friday night, your church held an all-night prayer vigil for your safe return.”

  Lilly was stunned, then realized she s
houldn’t have been. Myron always seemed to beat her. No matter what she did, it was never good enough. “He won again.”

  “This isn’t a popularity contest, Mrs. Crawford.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said quietly. She didn’t try to explain to her lawyer that she’d been trying to get the people of Little Elm to respect her for as long as she could remember. For a while she had succeeded, but now ...

  “He seems to think you ran off with a man.”

  Lilly couldn’t think of an answer to that outrageous lie, so she said nothing. Myron was playing his role of the forsaken husband for all it was worth. She’d probably be stoned if she went back to Little Elm.

  “Where are you calling from?” Mr. Powell asked in the lengthening silence.

  She frowned. Was there a hint of distrust in his voice? “You believe him, don’t you?”

  “You’re my client,” he answered.

  “That’s not what I asked you.”

  “According to the officer I spoke with a short while ago, there were tears in Mr. Crawford’s eyes when he came to the police station Thursday night. The officer understood how hard it was on him to be hit with the divorce papers while at work.”

  Lilly sat on the bed again. The worst possible way for Myron to find out was on his job. It would be all over the plant in a matter of hours that she’d filed for divorce, but Myron would keep the reason to himself. To save face, he’d do everything in his power to tarnish her reputation. It wouldn’t matter that for the past six years there had not been one whisper of gossip about her, that she’d been a faithful member of the church, a faithful wife, a caring daughter-in-law.

  Instead they’d remember who her mother was and, with Myron there to play the deserted, wronged husband, Lilly’s reputation would be irrevocably ruined.

  She’d lost again. She’d never felt so alone in her entire life.

  “I remember the bruise on your face the day you came to make an appointment.”

  The statement caught her off guard and had her palming her left cheek. “You do?”

  “Your husband has a volatile temper. It’s a matter of record after his near-confrontation with the officer who served the papers.”