Mother of Prevention

by Lori Copeland

  Having Madge and Harry in the house ratcheted up the tension several notches. I almost hated to go home. I’d arranged to take a few hours off each day, but spending too much time in my mother-in-law’s vicinity was about to be harmful to her health. So I’d decided to go back to my normal schedule.

  The girls missed Mazi, who discreetly stayed clear of the house and my company. I didn’t know if she was being polite or if she was just plain scared of Madge. I was starting to realize how much I depended on her to lift me out of my emotional slumps. I missed our talks.

  Friday night I took the long way home from work and found myself parked in the church lot. The building was dimly lit with the wall sconces. I wondered if they left them on all night. The soft golden light spilled out as if welcoming the weary wanderer. The church itself resembled a Thomas Kinkade painting.

  The haven beckoned me in a way I didn’t understand.

  I sat there looking at the white floodlit steeple reaching up to the star-spangled velvet of the sky. Finally I got out of my car and approached the front door, expecting it to be locked. To my surprise, the door swung open on silent hinges. I stopped inside the warm foyer, listening. A murmur of voices rose and fell from the lower level, so I knew I wasn’t alone.

  I sat down in a back pew and let the calming silence embrace me. The wooden cross over the baptistery, the electric candles in the wall sconces, even the five-foot palm tree by the side window all contributed to the feeling of a place set aside. I sat with my head bowed and my hands clasped. Hot tears rained down my cheeks.

  I didn’t speak the words out loud, afraid of being overheard, but I needed answers. My life had spun out of control and I needed to know why.

  What did I ever do, God, to make You so angry? Why did You tear up my life this way?

  I waited, but no answer came. Silently I raged, Listen to me. Don’t turn away—not now. I want to understand. I need to know.

  Maybe I was approaching this in the wrong manner. I remembered Job demanding answers and God replying, “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?”

  Good question.

  Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s start over. I’m not demanding answers, but I would like to know.

  Nothing.

  I knew my Bible. There had been a time when I read it every night. So I knew that God hadn’t abandoned me. He’d promised to be there always, and deep down, past the hurt, I knew He kept His promises. I had walked away. Still, a deep gulch separated us from the intimate relationship I’d once known, and I didn’t know where to find the bridge. I was wandering in the darkness, too lost to see the light.

  I knew my excess baggage. I was angry at God, angry over Neil’s death. But closer to home, I was angry at Madge. How dare she criticize Mazi, calling her a drunk? Mazi had been the one person to see me through endless dark days. How could I take Madge’s false accusations seriously?

  When I finally left the pew, I felt no better than when I’d arrived, but I figured it wouldn’t be long until the group in the basement broke up and left. Having distanced myself from the church lately, I didn’t want to be discovered sitting in the back of the building crying.

  My life was a mess and I couldn’t see any way to fix it. My problems had turned into a bottomless pit with no way out. I had just been fooling myself when I thought I was learning to cope. Madge had seen through my feeble facade and zeroed in on the real problem. I was not capable of making the right decisions for my daughters’ welfare. What I saw as progress she made me see was just treading water. Maybe I should move the girls to Vermont, but what had been something to look forward to with Neil now sounded like a prison sentence. I started the car and drove home, dreading having to face Madge in this mood.

  Saturday we took Madge and Harry to Chinatown. They were fascinated, of course. Who wouldn’t be? They bought gifts for the girls and Kris talked them into buying kites, wildly colored, fanciful shapes that would look great soaring against a blue sky.

  Harry bought them each a doll—round-faced cherubs with straight black hair and elaborate silk costumes. Harry loved the streetlights, but Madge thought they would be hard to clean.

  As if she might be called on to bring the Windex and paper towels the next time she visited.

  Why is it that some people always look for the fly in the custard, and if it’s not there, they’ll catch one and install it. Madge always managed to find something to fuss over even if she had to create it. The trait made me mad. There was enough turmoil in the world to go around; nobody had to look for it.

  Kelli told her about the Chinese New Year parade. She made it sound like something extremely exotic, which it probably was, but Madge wasn’t buying it.

  “Firecrackers? Wasn’t that dangerous?”

  Since her remark was addressed to me, I immediately turned defensive. Never mind I had felt the same way—she was questioning my care of the girls.

  “We didn’t go. Maybe next year.”

  “Just the same, what if someone throws one into the crowd?”

  “We’ll worry about that when it happens.” I was ashamed of the shortness of my answer, but she was even more prone to worry than I was. The girls had begun outgrowing the fears I had instilled in them and I was trying hard not to inflict them with my new worries, but Madge was turning them into a quivering mass of nerves.

  Kelli looked anxious. “Is Chinatown dangerous?”

  I resisted the impulse to tell her any place was dangerous given the proper circumstances. She needed reassuring. I shook my head. “Chinatown’s all right. We don’t have to worry.”

  She relaxed. “Okay.” I noticed she held tightly to Harry’s hand the rest of the way.

  Kris was quiet, clutching the bag that held the kites. I smiled at her and she gave me a half smile. I sighed. Think Tuesday, Kate. The day the in-laws were slated to go home.

  Madge bought souvenirs for her friends, and Harry found a wooden back-scratcher he had to have. I tried it and liked it so much I bought one for myself and a second for Mazi.

  Harry nodded. “I like Chinatown. Something different. I get tired of maple syrup all the time.”

  Madge rolled her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. I was on his side.

  “I know what you mean, Harry. We all need a new experience once in a while.”

  “Keeps a body from becoming bilious,” he agreed.

  Well, I might not have put it exactly that way, but I knew what he meant. We stopped for pizza on the way home, and for once Madge didn’t find anything to complain about. Taking the good with the bad; it had been a passable day.

  Monday noon a thick, gray, soupy fog rolled in, turning San Francisco into a twilight zone. Familiar landmarks and street signs vanished. I got lost twice trying to get home. Streetlights barely penetrated the gloom.

  The airport was socked in.

  No flights out, no idea when the fog would clear. I kept the girls home from school Tuesday. Since I had already decided to take Tuesday off so I could deliver Madge and Harry to the airport, and since all of our clients canceled because of the weather, I stayed home.

  Actually it would have been better if I’d gone to work, even if there was a fairly good chance I might have driven off a pier into the ocean. Madge, for some unfathomable reason, decided to clean out the freezer.

  If she had asked, I would have admitted things probably needed rearranging, but not today. We were all on edge from the fog and the canceled departure date.

  Mounds of frozen peas and corn littered the kitchen floor. The sink overflowed with cartons of melting ice cream and popsicles. One good thing—she had unearthed a forgotten container of lasagna, which I slid into the oven for lunch.

  “Madge, I appreciate all the work you’re doing,” I said. “But really, it’s so unnecessary.”

  “Don’t say another word, Kate. I’d never forgive myself if I hadn’t done what I could to help you get this disaster straightened out.”

  Disaster?

  She pla
ced her hand on my arm, staring deep into my eyes. “Trust me, Kate. I only want to help.”

  “How come you never clean our freezer?” Harry asked.

  Madge sent him a steely look. “I do clean our freezer.”

  He turned surly. I figured the fog was getting to him, too. “We’ve had that freezer since Neil was little, and it has so much ice inside you could hold the Iditarod dogsled race in there if you had room.”

  The doorbell rang and I gratefully left to answer it. This day was rapidly going downhill, dragging me with it. I opened the door to find an enormous bouquet of flowers. All I could see of the deliveryman was a pair of legs extending below the mass of blossoms.

  “Kate Madison?” a disembodied voice asked.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “Flowers for you.”

  I helped him place the arrangement on a table and he left, looking relieved to be rid of the enormous weight. I stepped back to examine the bouquet, the heavenly scent penetrating the room. Who on earth would send me flowers? A card peeked from between delicate yellow roses and bird-of-paradise blooms. I carefully opened the envelope and read the message.

  “The flowers are for your friend. I hope you enjoy your home here in our lovely city. Thank you again for your act of kindness.”

  Attached to the note was a simple letter from my mortgage company. It said “The outstanding loan on your home has been reduced by $110,000.00. Official notice of this arrangement has been sent to you via the U.S. Postal Service. Congratulations.”

  It was signed by the president of the company.

  My heart stopped. I actually felt it. It stopped. Although fog still blanketed my windows, sunshine burst out in my heart. I read the message again, hardly daring to believe.

  That amounted to half the mortgage.

  No name on the note, but I knew who the flowers were from. The stranger in the long black limousine.

  My life had been turned upside down for the second time in five months.

  Chapter 18

  Odd how priorities change.

  Once I would have immediately run to Mom to share my still-unbelievable good fortune. Now all I could think about was Mazi; I wanted to tell Mazi about the incredible news.

  Slipping into a light jacket, I paused at the back door and listened. The television was blaring. That meant Harry had persuaded the girls to switch to Judge Judy. Ordinarily I would storm the compound and demand more suitable children’s programming, but not this afternoon. This afternoon I was so full of sheer joy that nothing could spoil my mood. Not even Judge Judy.

  Hefting the tall bouquet, I left the house, pulling the back door closed behind me with my right foot. Hundreds of thoughts sifted through my mind as I carried the monstrous floral offering down the walk and stepped over the low box elder hedge. For so long I had been blind to everything God had been doing in my life. When I couldn’t fly, He had provided a different venue. True, California had yet to feel like home, but He’d given me a house that I adored though I couldn’t afford. It was my lack of faith that kept me in a perpetual financial mess. So far I’d met my mortgage payments and utility bills and still fed my children.

  And now this had happened. I’d performed a simple act of kindness and in return God had sent a Good Samaritan to pay down my mortgage. This happened only in books and movies. Not real life.

  I stopped long enough to pinch myself.

  Ouch!

  I wasn’t dreaming. Elation bubbled over. I was wide-awake!

  “Mazi!” I balanced the vase on my knee, turned the back doorknob and let myself into the house. Weeks ago we’d dispensed with formality. Now we both came and went in each other’s homes when we liked. It wasn’t unusual for me to come home from work and find a complete meal in my refrigerator, compliments of “Chef Mazi.”

  “Mazi!” I called. “You’ll never guess what just happened!” I rid myself of the bouquet, setting the heavy vase on the kitchen table before I walked through the silent house, flipping on lights. Gray light filtered through the slanted blinds.

  “Hey, Maz!”

  Don’t tell me she’s off on a shopping trip, I thought. Not now—not today when I needed so desperately to sort through my revelations and share my incredible news.

  I cleared the formal dining area, where a long walnut table and six sage-green upholstered chairs sat. The window treatments were of the same sage hue, elegantly framed by white crown molding. A large cabinet holding Mazi’s china collection sat against the north wall.

  I switched on a living-room lamp and paused, allowing time for my eyes to adjust. Where— My breath caught when I saw my friend lying on the sofa, wrapped in a brown throw. I immediately lowered my voice. “Hey, Maz, are you sick?”

  Mazi wasn’t one to nap, especially this hour of the day. In the time that I’d known her, I’d never seen her take an afternoon nap. She slept late, mostly because she didn’t shut down until the wee hours of the morning.

  When the figure on the sofa didn’t stir, I thought about quietly backing out of the room and phoning later. It was the only courteous thing to do.

  But my news was too good to keep.

  I crept closer. “Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up. Have I got news for you. Smell that heavenly aroma? There’s a bouquet of flowers on the kitchen table from an admirer—”

  The form on the sofa never moved.

  Puzzled, I knelt beside the sofa and gently shook her. Maybe she’d been out shopping and worn herself out. When I couldn’t get a response, my heart began to bump.

  “Mazi?” I stood up, my eyes scanning the prostrate form. She was unconscious. I could detect shallow breathing, but I knew this was no ordinary sleep.

  I shook her, hard this time, so hard her straight brown bob fell across her pale features. Still no response. By now my heart was beating like a hummingbird’s.

  Dear God, no—please. I felt sick to my stomach.

  I bolted out of the room, raced to the kitchen phone and dialed 911. My fingers shook so badly I could barely hit the keypad. A thin sheen of perspiration dotted my forehead.

  I managed to give the address before I dropped the receiver and raced back to Mazi. I could hear the faint thump as the phone swung back and forth, hitting the wall.

  She was lying deathly still, the throw still cast aside from my efforts to revive her.

  In the short time it took for an ambulance and paramedics to arrive, I called Madge and Harry and told them I was riding to the hospital with Mazi.

  “It’s alcohol, isn’t it, dear?”

  I wanted to smack Madge Madison.

  “It isn’t alcohol. I don’t know what it is.”

  “Well, don’t worry. Harry and I will look after the children. You help your friend.”

  I hung up and returned to Mazi’s side. There were no signs of alcohol—no telltale bottle present, no half-filled glass. Since I didn’t drink I didn’t know if all alcohols were detectable—but Mazi wasn’t a silent drinker. I’d bet my life on that. Yet I couldn’t help but recall her odder moments. Generally she was sunny and happy-go-lucky, but other times she had a detectable irritability. Sometimes she had complained of depression, but I’d figured who wouldn’t be depressed with a husband like Warren?

  One day she’d nearly fainted. I’d helped her out of the stuffy dressing room and we’d laughed, saying it had finally happened: she’d overdosed on shopping.

  I thought about how she’d clean the house while the neighborhood slept. At times her energy seemed limitless, but did that mean she was a drunk?

  My heart resisted the thought. I would have known; we were best friends, together more than not. I would have noticed signs. Mazi would have shared that part of her life with me.

  In the distance a low wail signaled the ambulance’s approach. I hurriedly wrapped the throw around Mazi and straightened her appearance. I didn’t want anyone to see her in this condition—inert, mouth slightly open.

  When the knock sounded at the door I was there to admit the
paramedics. “She’s in here.”

  The three men bore a variety of medical paraphernalia, which they carried to the living room and put on the floor. Then they immediately set to work.

  “When did you find her?”

  “Maybe fifteen minutes ago.” I stood back, eyes glued to their actions. If anything happened to Mazi… I couldn’t finish the unthinkable.

  Dear God, please don’t let me lose her, too. Surround her with Your grace.

  The men talked back and forth as they attempted to stabilize my friend. When I caught the phrase “stabilize and transport” I knew she was still alive.

  Or so I desperately prayed.

  “May I ride with her?” I asked when the attendants lifted Mazi off the sofa and onto a stretcher.

  “Are you family?”

  “No. Close friend. Her husband’s out of state.”

  The men nodded and proceeded to wheel the gurney through the dining room.

  I hurriedly pulled the front door closed behind us and trotted after the men to the waiting ambulance. Seconds later they’d loaded Mazi. I scrambled in behind.

  When the emergency vehicle pulled away from the curb, lights flashing and siren blaring, I caught a brief glimpse of Madge, Harry and the girls peering out the front-room window. Throughout the neighborhood, drapes were pulled back and people watched the spectacle.

  The attendant continued to work on Mazi. I reached over and took her free hand and held it tightly. I was so scared my breath came in irregular puffs. If anything happened to her I couldn’t bear it. She was closer than a sister now.

  The attendant hooked an IV into his patient’s arm and set the drip. So far nobody had speculated about what might be wrong. I caught words like blood pressure 170 over 93. Heart arrhythmia. Shallow breathing.

  “Is it her heart?” I ventured.

  The young paramedic remained detached. “We won’t know anything until the doctor sees her, ma’am.” He gave me a warm smile. “She’s stable for the moment.”

  Stable for the moment; I didn’t like the sound of that. I tightened my grip on her hand and leaned closer to whisper to a lifeless Mazi, “You’re causing quite a stir, you know.”