A State of Grace

by Traci DePree

  Kate glanced at Marissa, wondering at the request. It wasn’t as if sticking a suction cup to a window was a difficult task. But when Kate studied her more closely, she could see how very weak the girl was. What little color she had had drained from her face in the short time they’d been in the house.

  Marissa raised herself to stand, but then her legs seemed to give out from under her. Kate caught her and was amazed at how light she was. Under her bulky sweats, she was skin and bones.

  Patricia had come alongside her as well. Her eyes met Kate’s, and she could see that they were filled with worry.

  “Do you want to put it up in here?” Patricia asked her daughter.

  Marissa shook her head. “No. Let’s go in my room. I’ll be okay.”

  “Are you feeling nauseated?” Patricia asked.

  Kate realized then that they must have just come from a chemotherapy treatment, and she remembered Patricia’s words about the rough day Marissa had had. Her heart ached at the thought, yet Marissa was undaunted.

  “I’m okay, really,” the girl insisted. She smiled as if to reassure her mother, then said, “Come on, let’s put the coquí up on my bedroom window. I’ll be able to see it from my bed when I wake up.”

  Gingerly they helped Marissa walk, though it seemed the fainting spell had passed. She quickened her pace, so Kate let go of her, though Patricia still kept a grip on her arm.

  Marissa’s room, off the short kitchen hallway, was a cheery place. High shelves that ran the length of the room held Elvis Presley memorabilia in all shapes and sizes—Elvis paper dolls, greeting cards bearing the singer’s image, dolls, buttons, you name it. And on the walls, aged posters from many of Elvis’s movies shone with Technicolor brightness, including the singer’s famed Blue Hawaii pose in red shirt with white flowers and a yellow lei around his neck.

  “It looks like you’re an Elvis Presley fan,” Kate said.

  “Can you tell?” Marissa let out a chuckle, then lowered herself onto the bed, which was covered with a pretty aqua blue silk comforter, matching pillows, and embroidered white-on-white accent pillows.

  Her mother helped her move up further onto the full-size bed, then covered her legs with a crocheted coverlet that had been draped over a nearby rocking chair.

  “Yes, I’ve always been a big Elvis fan,” Marissa went on, “though not as big as Mom used to be. Being born on the anniversary of Elvis’s death—that pretty much sealed that I was destined to be an Elvis fan for life. But Mom used to date Elvis.” She pointed her chin toward her mother in a teasing gesture.

  “I did not!” Patricia protested. “The man was way too old for me.”

  “But you had a crush on him in grade school,” Marissa persisted, which made her mother blush.

  “You don’t have to confess anything you don’t want to confess,” Kate said, smiling. She took a seat in a padded chair near the window. Bright sunlight diffused by sheer white curtains warmed the spot.

  “I don’t mind saying, I did have a crush on Elvis,” Patricia finally admitted, “and I did own every one of his singles. I still have them on the Jukebox downstairs. And”—she lowered her head—“I actually had my picture taken with him once.”

  Marissa clapped her hands in glee. “See? She still has that picture too if you’d like to see it.”

  Patricia shook her finger at her daughter. “I doubt I could find it if I wanted to.”

  “So, are you going to put my sun catcher up?” Marissa asked. She sat back on her bed as she held the glass ornament out to her mother. Patricia took it from her outstretched hand and pulled the curtain back.

  “A little to the left,” Marissa said, sounding slightly out of breath. “It’ll catch the morning sun there.” She closed her eyes slightly, and a moan escaped her thin lips.

  Kate glanced at her, her heart aching at the sight of the girl in obvious discomfort, while Patricia adjusted the sun catcher and pressed the suction cup against the window to hold the ornament in place. Then she stepped back and moved to her daughter’s side.

  “I’m okay,” Marissa insisted, her eyes on the sun catcher. “I like that, don’t you?”

  Kate felt humbled as she watched Patricia stare lovingly at her ill daughter, who was trying to be so brave despite her circumstances. And yet she felt powerless too.

  Chapter Five

  The next day, Kate returned to the Harris home at noon, this time with a batch of her homemade chicken-noodle soup. She knew that with the previous day’s chemotherapy treatment, Patricia and Marissa would need support and a little comfort food.

  When Patricia came to the door, she looked exhausted. Her hair, which was usually neatly styled, was a rumpled mess, with tufts standing out at odd angles from her head, and her eyes were clouded from lack of sleep.

  “Did she have a rough night?” Kate asked.

  Patricia nodded, and tears filled her eyes. “She was up all night throwing up.” She began to cry. “She has to get better. She just has to.”

  Kate reached out to give her a hug, but realizing the pot of soup was in her way, she set it on the entry-hall table and then held the distraught woman until the sobbing lessened.

  “I’m so tired of crying,” Patricia said as she took a step back, wiping her cheeks.

  “I know,” Kate said. She waited for Patricia to calm herself, then retrieved the soup and lifted it to eye level. “Can I set this on the stove? It’s hot if you’re hungry now. Or you can eat it later.”

  Patricia shook her head. “I’m not hungry, and I doubt Marissa could keep anything down anyway. She’s sleeping right now.”

  “Then we’ll let it simmer until you’re ready. Why don’t you go lay down too?” Kate suggested.

  “I have laundry that needs folding, and if Marissa needs anything...” She shrugged.

  “I can do those things for you,” Kate assured.

  “No,” Patricia said. “Really. I’m the one who should be—”

  “That’s silly,” Kate said. “You’re no good to her exhausted. I’ll sit with her if she wakes up, and I’m as good as the next girl at folding laundry.”

  That brought out a weak smile.

  “I don’t understand why you’re doing this for us.”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do,” Kate said. “Come on.” Kate led the way into the kitchen and placed the pot of delicious-smelling soup on a burner, turning it on a low simmer. “You go on,” she insisted. “I’ll listen for Marissa.”

  “You’ll get me up if she needs me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Patricia smiled gratefully at her and obeyed, padding up the stairs to her bedroom.

  Kate made her way into the tidy laundry room, which was just off the garage. Kate thought of her own washer and dryer in the garage, which were usually piled high with unwashed loads of clothes. Looking around, she saw that there was a basket of what looked like clean sheets on the folding table opposite the washer and dryer, and another load of darks in the dryer. She made quick work of folding both loads and leaving them in neat piles on the table for Patricia to put away later.

  Then she made her way down the hall to Marissa’s room. She opened the door a crack to check on the girl and saw that Marissa was sitting in her rocking chair. “Hey,” Marissa said, lifting her head. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  Kate opened the door wider. “I thought I’d give your mom a break...and I brought some homemade soup for lunch.”

  “That’s so kind of you.” She motioned Kate into her room.

  Kate took a seat on the edge of the unmade bed. “How are you feeling today?”

  “A little better.” Marissa smiled, and the dimples in her cheeks deepened. “I was just enjoying my coquí.” She motioned toward the window. She was wearing a blue chenille bathrobe and leopard-print slippers. When she shifted in her seat, Kate caught sight of the catheter in her chest that peeked from underneath her pj’s.

  “Are you hungry?” Kate asked.

  Mariss
a shook her head. “I will be in a bit, maybe, but right now I’m just glad to be sitting up and welcoming the day. When did you find time to make soup?”

  “Ever since the kids left home, I’ve been amazed at the free time I suddenly have.” Kate smiled into the young woman’s eyes.

  “How many kids do you have?” Marissa asked.

  “Three—a son and two daughters. They all live too far away.”

  “That must be hard.” She tugged the blanket on her legs up higher.

  “I miss them,” Kate said, “but we talk on the phone often and try to get together once or twice a year.”

  “I can’t imagine living far from my mom. She needs me too much.” Her eyes lit up. “And I need her.”

  As they talked, Kate wondered what Marissa’s life had been like before the loss of her father. Their family seemed close-knit and loving, held tight by the trials of life.

  AN HOUR LATER, Marissa sat back in the dining-room chair after she had finished the last of her chicken-noodle soup. The color had returned to her cheeks, along with the vibrancy Kate had noticed the first time she’d visited.

  “That was delicious,” Marissa said.

  “Old family recipe,” Kate said as she gathered the bowl and spoon, took them to the kitchen, and placed them in the sink.

  “So is it top secret?” Marissa asked when Kate returned, teapot and cups in hand.

  “I’ll let you in on the secret cheap, Vinnie,” Kate said in her best mafioso accent.

  Marissa laughed. It was a rich sound to Kate’s ears.

  “So, tell me about yourself,” Kate said as she poured herself and Marissa cups of steaming black tea then took the seat adjacent to Marissa’s.

  “Hmm,” Marissa said. She wrapped her narrow fingers around the cup as if to warm them and gazed up toward the ceiling in thought. “Well, I’m an only child, as you know. Twenty-two years old. I got my BS from college last May. I want to be a physical therapist. Oh, I was engaged for a little while too.”

  “You were?” Kate said. “I didn’t know. What happened?”

  “Oh,” Marissa said. “It just didn’t work out. He was...immature.” She scrunched up her nose, then continued. “When he found out I was sick, he came to see me less and less. It was shortly after Dad died. Then he finally broke it off last month.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s for the best.”

  Kate studied her, wondering if she really believed it was for the best.

  “Who wants a husband who can’t handle the ‘in sickness’ part of their vows?” Marissa added.

  Kate reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

  Marissa took a long sip of her tea. “Besides,” she said. “Once I’m feeling better, I’ll meet the right guy. Hey, maybe I’ll meet him because of my illness. You never know, right?”

  “That’s true,” Kate agreed. How she wished she could will wellness into that thin frame and make Marissa whole without all the heartache and struggle she had ahead of her.

  “Makes me miss my dad, though. He knew what commitment was all about.”

  “He was a sailor, right?” Kate asked.

  Marissa nodded.

  “Are there a lot of places to sail nearby?” Kate continued.

  “Not really, but he’d trailer his boat and head up to Lake Michigan or rent a larger boat at the coast. He loved it so much, he didn’t care that Tennessee wasn’t the sailing capital of the country. He was good too—won several races. I’ll have to show you his trophies sometime. He was very proud of them. He grew up outside Philadelphia, so it was something he took up as a kid.”

  “You and your mom have a lot of good memories,” Kate said.

  Marissa’s eyes clouded. “She hasn’t been the same lately...” Her words trailed off. “At first I thought she was just missing him, you know? He was her backbone in many ways. Not that she didn’t have her own opinions and manage everything around here perfectly, but he knew how to encourage her. I’m not so good at it. Maybe it’s because I’m too much like her.” She chuckled. “But she’s withdrawn into herself. It scares me. And sometimes I catch her looking at me...I don’t know. I think she’s really scared.”

  “Any mother would be,” Kate assured.

  “I worry about her. She needs someone to encourage her...like Dad did.”

  “So who encourages you?” Kate asked.

  Marissa thought for a moment before answering. “People like you, I guess. Sometimes I really wish I’d had a sibling, you know? It’s not always comfortable talking to your mom about some subjects, and a sibling, especially a sister I could confide in...” Her sentence trailed away, and she took another drink.

  “My daughters talk to each other about things they’d never share with me,” Kate admitted. “And I’m pretty sure most of their conversations are about me!”

  Marissa grinned at her. “You can’t assume that’s all bad, though.”

  “I suppose not. Why didn’t your parents have more kids?”

  “They tried for a long time. Finally Mom was so heartbroken that we stopped talking about it. I could tell Dad felt awful. He really wanted a son.”

  “So that’s why you seemed so hesitant when I asked you if you had any siblings before?”

  Marissa nodded. “I know how hard that all was for her.”

  “Did they look into adoption?”

  Marissa finished the last of her tea and set the cup on the table. “The topic of adoption was always so...I don’t know...taboo. I never knew why. I remember a couple of Mom’s friends bringing the topic up, one even brought her a brochure from some agency out of Chattanooga. Mom got totally freaked out by it. She got really mad and told her friend that she was being meddlesome. She was moody for days afterward. I’d never seen her like that. Dad never brought it up, and I sure didn’t either. I thought adoption sounded like a great idea. At least I’d have my baby sister or brother, right?” She shook her head. “So that was that. I was destined to be an only child.” A smile touched her face, and she said, “Do we still have some of those chocolate-chip cookies from yesterday?”

  “I was wondering when you’d ask,” Kate said. She rose and retrieved the plate, still wrapped in its cellophane, and set it on the table. Once she’d untied and peeled back the noisy wrapping, she handed a cookie to Marissa and kept one for herself. They each took a bite. Marissa closed her eyes in enjoyment.

  “It’s so good to be able to keep food down,” she said. “Especially this kind of food. Chocolate is my all-time favorite. Last night I thought I’d never eat again, the way I was feeling.”

  “So, what’s your next course of treatment?” Kate took a bite of her cookie.

  “I have a couple more weeks of chemo, and I’m on several drugs. If there was a marrow donor that matched, I’d need to go through a couple days of heavy-duty chemo that basically kills not only the cancer but the marrow as well. Then I’d get the transplant. But the doctor said the odds of finding a match are fifty-fifty. If I go into remission after this round of chemo, I could have them set aside marrow for myself for later, providing there aren’t any cancer cells left...”

  “And the prognosis?”

  “There’s a sixty to seventy percent chance of remission. That’s without the marrow transplant. With it, my odds would be much higher.” She’d said it so matter-of-factly that Kate found it hard to believe that Marissa was talking about herself.

  “This may seem forward,” Marissa interrupted Kate’s thoughts. “But I know you’re a pastor’s wife. We used to go to church before Dad died, and I still believe...even though Mom’s become so...well...” She raised her eyes. “Would you pray for me?”

  Kate placed a hand on Marissa’s and said, “I’d be honored.”

  Then she offered up a simple prayer of gratitude for this girl and her life. “Lord,” she went on, “Marissa has so much yet to do on this earth. She has a mother who’s already suffered more than her share. She has friends who care about her. Please bring healing to her body through
the treatments she’s getting now. And if that is not to be, bring a donor. And most of all, bring your comfort to her troubled heart, and your presence to this home.”

  When she opened her eyes and gazed into Marissa’s, the hope she saw there revealed her utter trust. God, Kate added silently, don’t let that trust be broken.

  AFTER THEY RETURNED to her bedroom and Marissa had finally dozed off again, Kate tiptoed to the bedroom door and closed it silently behind her. Marissa had looked peaceful, sleeping in the sunlight as its rays kissed her pale face.

  So much about their talk made Kate wonder, most notably why Patricia couldn’t talk to her own daughter about her devastation at not being able to have more kids. True, there were many who kept such hurts bridled, yet to not talk with those closest to her, Kate couldn’t imagine that. She knew she had only to pick up the phone to talk to Rebecca or Andrew or Melissa about anything that was on her mind, even the most intimate of details. What else was family for if not to be a support in difficult times? She’d been at the Harrises’ for well over three and a half hours. Wondering if Patricia was still asleep, she decided to check on her. Making her way up the stairs, she noticed that Patricia’s door was ajar, and through the opening she could see Patricia sitting in a rocking chair, her back to Kate and her head tilted down.

  Kate quietly knocked on the jamb. “I hope I’m not interrupting—” she began.

  Patricia jumped to her feet, and a photo album tumbled to the floor. She quickly swooped down to gather it up, clutching it to her breast. Her vivid blue eyes were wide, darting.

  “I-I didn’t hear you...You startled me,” Patricia said.

  “I’m sorry,” Kate soothed. “I didn’t mean to...” She could see that Patricia’s cheeks were wet with tears.

  The woman moved to the open closet and shoved the album into its depths before turning back to Kate. She swiped at her tears and tugged her shirt down, but the guilty expression on her face was unmistakable. “I didn’t know you were there,” Patricia said. “Does Marissa need me?” She began to move toward the door.