by Nancy Moser
She said another quick prayer—for green lights.
* * *
When Angie knocked on the door of Sarah’s hospital room, Sarah was buttoning a plaid shirt. She still had Steri-Strips on her face, and a bandage covered a cotton ball where the IV had pierced the back of her hand. She smiled over her shoulder. “Hey, Angie. I’m going home as soon as Mom and Dad get here from Mom’s dialysis session.”
“Dialysis?”
Sarah told her an amazing story about her mother’s secret illness. As if the girl didn’t have enough to deal with.
“I’m glad you’re going home.” Angie handed her a pair of socks.
“Mom isn’t too keen on me going back to the shelter to help again, but I’m raring to go. I won’t leave you and Margery in the lurch.”
Angie perched herself on the edge of a nearby chair. There was no way to make this sound less than it was. “Margery’s been hurt.”
Sarah dropped a sock. “Did her husband beat her up too? I thought he was in jail.”
“It wasn’t her husband. He is in jail. You’re safe from him. She was in a car accident. She’s here.”
Sarah stood. “Here? She’s here at this hospital?”
“She is. Gladys is in the waiting room. I’m going to join her and—”
Sarah started putting her shoes on. “I have to see her.”
Angie realized she’d started something she had no right to finish. “You can’t just yet, hon. You have to wait for your mom and dad to get here and check you out.”
Sarah looked at the clock. “But they won’t be here for forty-five minutes. I can’t wait that long. I—” she picked up the phone—“I can’t wait.”
* * *
Gennifer looked up from her dialysis chair. Douglas smiled at her, then went back to his Sports Illustrated. She’d told him he didn’t have to come with her to the Monday morning dialysis, but he’d insisted. He wanted to see what she had to go through three times a week. It was sweet—if not a bit unnerving.
After overhearing him break off his relationship with his girlfriend last night, this morning’s special attention was further proof he was really going to try to make this marriage work. She had no more excuses. He was willing to commit, to do whatever it took.
Was she?
“I’m sorry this is so boring,” she said. “Just a little longer.”
He closed the magazine. “What do you do while you’re here?”
“I read a lot. Talk with the other people.” She’d introduced him to the regulars around the room. When she looked up, Marianne Bradley winked. Gennifer had never told them much about her family, so she knew they’d pummel her with questions next Wednesday. At least she’d have something good to say.
Her cell phone rang and she reached to answer it. At least she didn’t have to worry about it being the office. She was now a free agent. “Hel—”
Her daughter’s words came in a rush. “Margery has been in an accident. She’s here at the hospital in intensive care.”
“Margery? The woman whose husband hurt you?”
“Margery, my friend. I want to go see her but I can’t until you check me out. When will you be here?”
Gennifer checked the time. “I have ten more minutes.”
“Can’t you go faster, Mom?”
“No, I can’t go faster. But we’ll be there as soon as we can.”
She heard Sarah sigh. “Soon, Mom. Soon.”
Gennifer hung up and answered Douglas’s questions.
“Sarah doesn’t need this stress when she’s recovering herself,” he said.
“But she’s adamant. We need to get over there as soon as we can.”
“Poor Margery,” Douglas said. “To have a loser husband and then get in an accident?”
Another crisis. Just when things were looking up.
* * *
The TV in the waiting room intruded with an ad for shampoo. Gladys hadn’t minded its company before, but now she found it to be like fingernails on the chalkboard of her nerves. She shut it off. The woman reading a magazine in the corner didn’t seem to mind.
At that moment Talia Soza came in. “Gladys, how is she?”
“I’m waiting to hear.”
Talia fell into a chair next to Gladys. “She has to be okay. I didn’t mean any of the things . . .” She kept shaking her head.
Gladys had no idea what Talia was talking about. She pulled the young woman’s hand into her lap.
* * *
They all looked up when the doctor came into the waiting room: Besides Gladys and Talia, the group had grown to include Angie; King; Gennifer; her husband, Douglas; and their daughter, Sarah. The doctor’s eyes scanned the faces until he found Gladys. He came toward her.
Gladys stood. Her heart was in her throat.
“May I speak to you a minute, please?”
With a plaintive look to King, she followed the doctor into the hallway.
His face was grim. “On the admitting form you were listed as next of kin.”
“Oh.”
“Are you her mother?”
“No. I’m just a friend. But—”
His eyes closed and he rubbed them with a weary hand. “We need the next of kin.”
“Her husband’s in jail for assault. He’s abusive. He doesn’t care about her. I do. She works for me and lives in my house. If you want me to sign some papers that say I adopt her as a daughter, I’ll do it. But the fact is I’m as close to kin as you’re going to get.” Gladys realized she’d said the whole thing in one breath and it had winded her.
The doctor smiled. “I believe you. And she’s lucky to have someone who cares as much as you.” His face turned serious again. “Unfortunately . . . things aren’t going very well and some decisions need to be made.”
She put a hand to her chest against the sudden expulsion of air. “She’s dying?”
“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
* * *
Just as Margery’s friends had looked up when the doctor had entered the waiting room, so they did again when Gladys returned.
King came to her. “What did he say?”
“You’ll never believe it.” She let her eyes scan each and every face. “You’ll never—ever—believe it.”
23
Even before he made the world, God loved us
and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes.
God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family
by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ.
This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.
EPHESIANS 1:4-5
I opened my eyes and found myself on a path. Flowers blanketed the ground on either side, nodding in a gentle breeze. Taller shrubs guarded the trunks of a multitude of trees that reached toward a vivid blue sky. The scent of honeysuckle, plumeria, and roses surrounded me. Birds sang amid the greenery and a yellow butterfly teased the air in front of me.
I laughed.
But then I realized I didn’t know where to go. I looked behind me, yet didn’t remember coming this far. How had I gotten here? And what was ahead?
Though I wasn’t sure which way to walk, I didn’t want to go back. Forward. Forward. Step forward.
I looked at my feet and found them bare. And my clothes . . . I wore an ivory dress made of voile. I extended my arms and watched as the breeze made the sleeves dance. I felt pretty. Even beautiful.
I heard a rustling in front of me and lowered my arms, waiting. I was not afraid. Somehow I knew that what lay ahead was a good thing.
I heard the voice of a woman singing: “‘Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes; Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies. . . .’”
Grammy? I wanted to run ahead, yet I didn’t. I sensed I had all the time in the world and could—and should—savor everything. I would wait for the song to be finished; I would wait for Grammy to come into—
And there she was! Smil
ing and waving.
“‘Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee; In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.’”
I pressed my hands to my lips, unable to fathom what was happening. To have Grammy—the most important person in my life—right in front of me.
Grammy put her hands on her hips. “Well? You going to hug me or not?”
I flung myself into her arms. I had never felt so safe. I could have stayed there forever.
It was Grammy who gently pushed me away. “Welcome, child. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“We?”
Grammy turned in the direction from where she’d come. “You can come out now.”
I watched as my best friend came toward me. “Susie!”
She smiled, but shushed me with a finger. She was carrying a bundle.
“Hey-de-ho, Gigi!” Susie whispered. “We heard you were coming.”
When I went to hug her I saw that the bundle was a baby. A tiny newborn.
And then I knew. “Is this my daughter?”
“The very one.”
My hands hovered above the pink bundle, aching to touch her, yet hesitant. “May I?” I asked Grammy.
“She’s yours, child. She’s your child. We’ve just been taking care of her until you could come.”
I took my daughter in my arms for the very first time. The baby wiggled, adjusting herself to the new warmth. She opened her eyes and I ran a finger along her cheek. “Hello, sweet one. I’m your mommy.” I raised her up to give her a kiss. “She’s perfect.”
“Of course she is,” Grammy said. She winked at Susie. “But you ain’t seen nothing yet.” She extended an arm toward the path.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“The Father is waiting for you. Nearby.”
“Father?”
Grammy slipped her hand through mine, touching the baby on her nose. “He has a lot to tell you, child.”
“About what?”
“About everything. About your life. About the ninety-six.”
“He’ll explain—?”
“Everything.” We began to walk. “And let me say, it’s guaranteed to be quite a story. Guaranteed good in every way.”
I had no words. It was more than good. And it was so very close.
It was the good nearby.
24
When you put a seed into the ground,
it doesn’t grow into a plant unless it dies first.
A different plant grows from each kind of seed.
1 CORINTHIANS 15:36, 38
Gladys checked the computer itinerary on the sixteen-day Best of Europe excursion: London, Paris, Lucerne, Venice, Florence, Rome . . . she wanted to get Vienna or Salzburg in there, but knew it might not be possible. Although she’d been to most of these cities with her mother and Aunt June—Rome was her all-time favorite—King had never been to Europe at all. That’s why she didn’t mind repeating herself. To be able to show him, to see it fresh and new with his eyes.
Ha. Fresh and new with her eyes. Her new eyes. Thanks to Margery.
She scrolled down the screen to see what sights were planned in Rome, thinking of her first meeting with Margery in the drugstore’s office—the office that was plastered with posters of faraway places. Margery had mentioned that she hadn’t even been on a plane.
Never would.
Gladys often felt guilty about that, about moving forward with her life when Margery had no life. About seeing things so clearly when the world had once been so indistinct. And it was more than just seeing clearly with her eyes. The past two months had been chock-full of new ways of looking at things.
“Boo!” King had come up from behind and dug into her rib cage.
“You startled me!”
“As intended.” He leaned low and kissed her cheek before turning his attention to the screen. “What are you looking at, Red?”
“Sixteen days, six cities.” She scrolled to the top and let him see the intro. “There are lots of options. Just tell me which cities are on your wish list.”
He wrapped his arms around her, his cheek to hers. “I only want to be with you. Where is secondary.”
“You are far too mushy.”
“Get used to it.” He let her go and leaned against the desk, facing her. “Actually, I have a proposition for you.”
“I think you already did that by proposing.”
He winked and crossed his arms. “What would you think about inviting two extra people along?”
“On our honeymoon?”
“On part of our honeymoon. If we’re gone over two weeks, maybe they could join us for one of them.”
He certainly had her curious. “Who did you have in mind?”
“June and Jason.”
Her aunt and King’s son. “Now there’s an interesting pair.”
“Actually, I think they’d enjoy each other immensely.”
He was right about that. Between June’s sarcasm and Jason’s wit, the conversation would never be dull.
“Jason will be through with classes for the summer. He’ll have a summer job, but if he can tell them up front he’s going to be gone . . .”
“What about June’s health?” Gladys asked.
“She’s been doing okay. In spite of her initial bellyaching, that retirement home has given her a new lease on life. Now that the essentials like room and board are taken care of, she’s getting to be quite the social butterfly. Don’t you remember her last e-mail? She’s signed up for a class on Shakespeare’s sonnets and is taking samba lessons.”
Shakespeare and samba. Yes, June was certainly behaving like her normal self. Gladys imagined the sound of her aunt’s squeal when they told her she would be coming with them. “Can we call her now?”
King handed her the phone.
* * *
Talia’s heart swelled with pride. To see her husband standing so proudly next to the other new citizens as they took the oath.
Twenty-two people repeated together: “I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty, of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same . . .”
Arcelia Margery Soza made soft baby noises in Talia’s arms. Tomás stood between Angie and Stanford, looking handsome in his tiny red bow tie and big-boy suit. He held his grandparents’ hands but his eyes were on his new shoes. Why were children so fascinated with new shoes?
“ . . . I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, so help me God.”
The room burst into applause and the new citizens beamed. Although Talia couldn’t clap without rousting Arcelia, she clapped a hand against her side. Bravo! Bravo!
The new citizens dispersed to their families and there were hugs all around. Especially meaningful was seeing her father shake Nesto’s hand and tell him congratulations. Ever since the heart transplant—where Nesto received Margery’s heart—her father had been especially kind. Maybe her mother leaving him—even for that short time—shook him up. Sometimes that’s what it took.
That’s what it had taken for Talia. If only she could learn lessons without having to suffer embarrassment and pain. Her old penchant for playing the complaining martyr for attention’s sake was pitiful when held against the true sacrifice of Margery Lamborn. Everything had been taken away from Margery, yet through that tragedy she’d been able to give so much to so many. Talia was making a concerted effort to be a better person, to show her gratitude for the miracle of Nesto’s recovery, for having him present and healthy at the birth of their daughter.
She kissed the baby’s forehead. Family was her focus. And doing what had to be done without complaint—or with as little complaint as possible. Yes, she was still working at the hotel, but
as soon as Nesto got back to work full-time she hoped to stay home with the kids. Maybe someday she’d work outside the home again.
Nesto put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She kissed his cheek. “Are you happy?” she asked.
He lifted Tomás into his arms before answering her. The little boy waved a small American flag. “I am better than that,” Nesto said. “I am blessed.”
Amen to that.
* * *
Stanford opened the car door for his wife. “Thanks, hon,” Angie said.
“No problem.”
After getting inside, Angie watched him walk around the car toward the driver’s side. It’s not that her husband hadn’t always opened doors for her. He’d always gone through the public motions of being a gentleman. But now . . . it was different. The niceties of their marriage carried extra layers, as if previously, Stanford had only been playing a part.
If he’d been guilty, so had she. How many times had she done things for him out of duty rather than love? The scales were heavily weighed on the duty side. It was one way to live a life, but not the best way.
They were living the best way now. Who would have thought after thirty-two years of marriage, things could change so drastically? Who would have thought—after his initial vehement reaction—that Stanford would respect Angie’s getting a backbone? And who would have thought Angie could receive a portion of unconditional love from her husband by giving him some of her own?
Stanford got in the car. “Home?”
“Actually, I have to go to the grocery store and get supplies for the meals at the shelter tomorrow. But we can go home first. Then I’ll take my car and—”
“Nonsense. I’ll come help. Do you have your list?”
Good point. Angie looked in her purse. “Got it.”
“Then let’s go. And how ’bout stopping at the bakery and picking up some of that cherry strudel you love?”
Would wonders never cease?
* * *
Gennifer slipped a letter into a see-through page protector and patted it flat. She handed it to Sarah, who put it in the three-ring binder with the others. “There,” she said to her daughter. “I think we’re done.”
