Two days later she drove on to Chatham, not bothering with lunch and buying herself a soda and a bread roll to eat on the beach. Resisting the temptation to linger in the myriad tourist gift shops and traditional inns, she parked and walked up along the Shore Road glad of her fleece-lined jacket and knitted hat as the sea breeze caught her. The old lighthouse looked out over the water and deserted golden sand. She sat in the rough grasses of the dunes and ate, watching the waves and listening to the roar of the ocean.
There, wrapped in the solitude, she asked herself how she had come to be in this place where so many people expected so much from her. She had tried to help one solitary child and now found herself deluged with those searching for hope, praying for cures and miracles and expecting her to intercede for them, lay her hands on them and cure their diseases, mend their broken limbs and heal their wounds, chase away the shadows that stalked them and soothe their damaged spirits. They expected too much of her, far too much. The healing power was deep within themselves, but many – no, most – of them had chosen to ignore it.
Cass was beyond healing, she’d known that the minute she’d set eyes on her, and yet she had been drawn to help the young girl accept the frailty of her human body and the strength of her spirit. Could she have changed anything to do with Cass? She thought long and hard about it, realizing that approached by Beth Armstrong again, she would do the exact same thing, and become involved with the child. The parents were in a turmoil now, and she wished that she could help them assuage their grief as she knew it was one of the things that Cass had worried about: what would happen when she was gone. Sitting on the sand Martha had much to consider; the healing had propelled her to a prominence she was not sure she wanted, or enjoyed. Mike and the kids were her priority and yet as more and more people sought her help there was less time for her husband and children, something she had never intended to happen. How could she be all things to everyone? There was just one of her and at the moment she felt like a piece of elastic being pulled in all directions. But her energy levels were high and in the winter sunshine surrounded by sea, sky and earth she felt strangely renewed, the constant ebb and flow of the water giving her strength, the maze of puzzles in her brain unravelling and becoming clear strong lines which she knew she must follow. On the beach Martha truly felt at one with nature, and the spirit that ruled every facet of her life, her doubts and concerns soothed by the vast blue of the ocean. She had been granted the gift of healing and she must use it.
She drove up along the National Seashore to the very tip of the Cape to Provincetown, the place where the pilgrims first landed. Walking through its narrow streets and arty shops, she stopped to buy Alice a simple wooden whale mobile for her bedroom which she couldn’t resist: hand carved and hand painted it balanced beautifully. She and Mike had taken the kids whale watching from here about three years ago when they had rented a beach house in Yarmouth for ten days. It was one of those rare and magical trips that each and every one of them remembered perfectly and still talked about.
It was getting dark by the time she checked into a narrow pastel-painted wooden house that bore the legend ‘The Liberty Rose – Bed and Breakfast’. Her room was covered in swathes of floral chintz and had been decorated with loving care by someone obsessed with the colours pink and green; every little detail had been contemplated and co-ordinated, right down to the peppermints on her pillow in their shiny pink wrapping and a log fire set to light in the grate. Yawning with tiredness, she was more than happy to climb into bed and phone home. Patrick filled her in on what they were all doing as Mike and the girls were out. Disappointed, she sent them all her love and promised Patrick she’d be home real soon.
She rose early the next morning, checking out after a feast of crispy bacon and pancakes, syrup and coffee with cream that would probably clog every artery in her body.
The owner stared at her as she handed in her key.
‘I know you,’ she said emphatically. ‘I definitely know you.’
Martha just smiled.
‘Oh my! You’re that woman who does that miracle healing that I read about and I saw you on TV, on WBZ4. I can’t believe I had you staying here under my very roof last night!’
Martha just nodded.
‘Are you working down here?’ the woman asked inquisitively.
‘No, I’m not, I just came down on a break.’
‘Well, you’re more than welcome and please come back and visit any time,’ she said, as she swiped Martha’s credit card details. ‘Would you like to sign my visitors’ book?’ she asked, pulling a floral-patterned book from under the desk.
Martha, trying to think of something suitable to scribble in the side margin that would please her hostess, wrote ‘A garden of delight!’ Not very original but it seemed to please Kate Anne Brewster, the owner.
‘Please come back again!’ she laughed as Martha signed the payment slip and said goodbye.
Renewed by her few days of exile, thoughts of home now filled her mind. Martha knew it was high time she got back to her family and the fulfilment of her healing work.
Chapter Thirty-six
IT FELT GOOD to be home. Martha was glad of the clutter and chaos of the house on Mill Street, as Mike and the kids welcomed her back. She still grieved for Cass but knew she had to concentrate on the living, her family and friends and those that needed her.
Mary Rose had tidied and cleaned their bedroom, vacuumed the den and scrubbed the shower tiles so clean that they looked almost brand new. Martha was gracious about her daughter’s peace offering.
‘I’m sorry, Mom. I guess I didn’t think about how you were feeling and was just being jealous and stupid and stuff.’
‘Mary Rose, you’ve absolutely nothing to be jealous about, you are my precious daughter and nothing and no-one can change that, do you hear me! You and Patrick and Alice are the closest human beings on the planet to me. I carried you under my heart, for God’s sakes, and I’m not about to forget that. Ever since Timmy I guess it’s been pretty crazy round here, and maybe I haven’t been fair on you either. I’m sorry.’
Feeling revived and re-energized, connected to the world around her, Martha spoke with Kim and Kathleen of her plans to continue her work and devote more time to those she could genuinely help. She had written a long letter to Beth and Tom about their daughter and how much she loved them both.
That weekend Martha cooked a special dinner for Mike and herself, giving them the chance to unwind and eat on their own. The kids were fed earlier with pizza, Patrick and Mary Rose disappearing to the cinema and Alice dropped to a sleepover at Katie’s house. They needed to talk, that’s what Mike had said, and here in their own home there was less chance of being interrupted. Garlic shrimp, peppered fillet steak with baby potatoes and onion, and a chocolate rum pie, all her husband’s favourites. She’d lit the fire and set the dining table, the candlelight dancing off the sparkling Waterford crystal glasses. Martha guessed, like Mary Rose, it was a form of peace offering.
Mike fetched the chilled wine from the fridge as she served the meal. The starters were good, the shrimp smothered in garlic and butter burning their mouths as they ate. They made small talk about the kids and school and work – which she guessed kept them off the thorny subject of themselves. Mike liked his meat rare and as they ate the beef fillet neither of them talked, just enjoying the cream and whiskey sauce. The dessert looked and tasted great; Martha was pleased when Mike took a second helping of the chocolate pie. The wine glasses drained, the bottle empty, Mike offered her a glass of Bailey’s, fetching a whiskey for himself.
Relaxed she sank into the couch in front of the fire, pulling her feet up under her.
‘Martha, we need to talk,’ said Mike.
She sipped on the creamy liqueur. He was going to say all the usual things she already knew, about them not spending enough time together, needing to prioritize their marriage, stuff she was already fully aware of.
He seemed on edge.
�
��Martha, I don’t know how to say it but I think we should take a break from each other.’
‘A break?’
‘Yes, I’ll move out of the house. Maybe it’ll help.’
Shocked, Martha didn’t know what to say, but she could see that her husband was deadly serious.
‘Move out!’
‘Yeah, out of this house. I’ve had enough of this circus and I just want out of it. I’m just a normal guy, who wants a normal marriage. I don’t want to be married to a saint!’
‘What do you mean? What are you talking about?’ she demanded. ‘You’re married to me.’
‘That’s what I mean. All you think of is helping others, and I’m way down the bottom of that pile somewhere. And it makes me feel like a real shit most of the time. That’s the truth of it.’
‘Jesus, Mike, don’t say that,’ she begged. ‘You know I would never, ever do anything to hurt you. I love you!’
‘Love! You love too many people, Martha, that’s your problem.’
‘I love you,’ she insisted. ‘You are the only man I love and you know that.’
‘Martha, I need to get out of this house. Out of this marriage. Away from what we’re doing to each other. Maybe a break will help – I don’t know!’
‘Help? What the hell are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about us, Mar. To see if there still is an “us” under all the bullshit that’s been going on!’
‘Is there somebody else?’ she demanded.
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘You know that!’
‘Honest to God I don’t know anything any more.’
Mike sat totally silent, letting her absorb what he was saying. He was never the one to rush into things or make rash decisions. That was more her domain. He had obviously thought long and hard about it and, Martha saw from his expression, had made up his mind.
‘Mike, please don’t do this to me and the kids. To our family.’
‘I’m sorry, Martha, I have to.’
‘Have to?’
‘Everything has changed – you know it has. I don’t think it will ever go back to the way it was before.’
‘That’s so unfair! When you got that job with Sun Systems, I stood by you! Everything changed then, but maybe you didn’t notice cos you were working eighteen hours a day and only coming home to sleep, but I just got on with it and concentrated on keeping our family together.’
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to do.’
‘But we are a family, Mike. I’ve supported what you are doing over all the years, and now all I’m asking is for you to be there for me,’ she pleaded.
‘I’m fed up with it, Martha. I want out. Our lives are not going to get better, the ripples from what you are doing are going to get wider and bigger and even more out of control.’
‘We can control it.’
‘It’s gone beyond that. It’s like a huge wave and I guess all I’m saying is I’m not willing to ride it any more. I’ve had enough.’
‘Do you still love me?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, I guess.’
That’s something at least, she consoled herself. ‘Where will you go?’ she asked.
‘I can stay in the folks’ house for a few weeks and then I’ll sort something else out.’ From the way he spoke Martha knew that his decision to move out had already been made and nothing she could say would stop it.
‘When will we tell the kids?’
‘I’ll sleep in Alice’s room tonight,’ he offered, ‘and I’ll tell them in the morning when she gets back.’
Like a zombie Martha automatically cleared away the table and tidied the kitchen, throwing the rest of the chocolate rum pie in the bin. Mike sat on the couch on his own, staring into the flames of the dying fire.
Climbing into their double bed, pulling on her short silk Victoria’s Secrets nightgown, his favourite, she waited half in hope that he would pull back the creamy white bedlinen and lie down beside her. Not used to sleeping alone at home she tossed and turned, conscious that the only man she had ever loved was sleeping two doors down the hall from her and no longer wanted to be a part of her life: a deep hurt, beyond healing.
Mike McGill packed up his suits and shirts and a few more pieces of clothing, folding everything carefully; then his shaving gear, his laptop and a few personal items, and carried them out to the car.
Martha watched, disbelieving that this was actually happening, and that Mike really was removing himself from her life.
‘You don’t need to take it all, Mike, just come and go and get what you need – this is your home,’ she pleaded.
He said nothing.
The kids had taken it badly, screaming at Mike – and at her! Demanding they make up and keep the family together. Not wanting them to break up.
‘Listen, guys, this is not an overnight decision, there is a lot going on between your mom and I at the moment and I guess we have to sort it out.’
‘Why can’t you sort it out here, Daddy?’ puzzled Alice.
Mike, stumped for an answer, eventually admitted, ‘Because I don’t want to. But I still love you all. I still love your mom! Me moving out isn’t going to change that.’ The usual platitudes! She could tell the kids didn’t know whether to believe him or not!
‘Nobody has done anything wrong, guys, nobody,’ he assured them.
‘Have you a girlfriend?’ quizzed Mary Rose.
‘There’s nobody else involved. This is just between your mom and me.’
Martha sat on the kitchen stool listening to the hall door shut, and to Alice whimpering and crying like a wounded animal. For an hour, maybe two, she sat there listening to her own breath and heartbeat. Out of instinct, she’d phoned her mother, wanting to hear her voice.
Frances Kelly was equally upset when she heard about Mike, the two of them going backwards and forwards over it again and again for more than an hour, Martha wondering what in God’s name had made her choose her mother as the first person to tell!
‘No, Mom, I promise there has been no mention of a divorce.’
‘No, I don’t believe he has a girlfriend.’
‘Of course I love him! You know that.’
Mary Rose stood watching her on the phone, passing her some Kleenex. By dinnertime each of her brothers had called, berating Mike for not sticking by her and pledging their unswerving family support.
‘What the fuck is Mike up to, Martha, putting a good marriage in jeopardy?’ demanded Jack.
Martha was at a loss to explain it herself. Tense and tired, she longed to just go to bed and pretend none of this was happening, but for the kids’ sake she couldn’t do that. They were too young to understand the complexities of her relationship with Mike and the pressure it had been put under. It was hard enough on them to hear that their father would not be living at home for the moment, without her going to pieces too.
‘Mommy, you must be really sad and lonesome too without Dad,’ said Alice.
She just nodded, not trusting herself to reply.
As she sat in the kitchen with her head in her hands not even able to think without Mike, Alice pushed in close beside her and put her arms around her. Patrick’s CD player was blasting music from upstairs.
‘I’ve a bit of a headache, pet, with the noise and everything, I just . . .’
‘Poor Mommy!’ soothed Alice, placing her hands on her head, across her temple.
‘There, there, Mom.’
‘What are you doing, Alice?’
‘I’m trying to heal you, Mom, to take the pain in your head away.’
Martha sat stunned that her child would instinctively try to lift the pain from her, use her hands to relieve distress and hurt. She was afraid for her. ‘Listen pet,’ she said gently, holding Alice’s hands in her own. ‘Me being sad and upset over your dad moving out is awful, but I need to feel bad about it. Your dad is so special and important to me, and I’m really going to miss him. Miss him being home here with us, being around the whole time,
you know that. We all will!’
Mary Rose and Patrick made dinner, all of them throwing concerned glances at each other, awkward as they ate the chicken tacos. Martha felt sick, and scared of living without Mike.
Evie came over late that night when the kids had gone to bed, hugging Martha as she bawled like a big baby. Her eyes and nose ran with snot and tears as her best friend tried to console her.
‘It was so out of the blue,’ she admitted. ‘I just wasn’t expecting it.’
Evie said nothing but only listened and commiserated and made her cups of tea and fried a whole plate of bacon and sausage and let her talk and rant and rave and fuck Mike McGill to kingdom come, till exhausted, Martha fell asleep on the couch, Evie holding her hand as she was scared of being alone.
Chapter Thirty-seven
THOSE WERE DARK days. Mike’s moving out of their home had left her devastated, in a no man’s land so far removed from what she was used to that Martha felt disconnected, wounded; filled with so much self-doubt that at times she could barely leave the house. She felt raw and exposed. Mike had always been there to protect her. Now she was alone.
Kim, Ruth and Kathleen were as supportive as they could be, rallying around and trying to cheer her up, telling her how well she was doing – when she knew she wasn’t. Kim reminded her of all the stages she herself had gone through before her divorce became final, the custody battles, the petty bickering, the hate and spite and jealousy and the nightmare of her alimony war. Martha prayed that she and Mike did not fall into that category. Kathleen fussed around her like a big mother hen, actually arriving with cakes and treats and ready-made meals as if Martha was about to stop eating and fade away, whereas Rianna, who knew about genuine loss, phoned her last thing at night and first thing in the morning, when she was lying in that big empty double bed: a comforting voice across the line talking with her and encouraging her to greet the new day. And of course there was Evie, her oldest friend, who never criticized or blamed and refused to take sides, and tried to encourage some sort of dialogue between herself and Mike.
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