Saturday Morning

by Lauraine Snelling

  If only Bria had been able to stay longer, but I know she had to get back to her job. That’s one thing this family does, always gets back to the job. She turned away from the window and chastised herself for acting like such a baby.

  Okay, so she was trapped here for the time being, but it wouldn’t be forever. Only until Martin recuperated. Then she could resume her life.

  She got the milk out of the fridge, poured a mug full, and stuck it into the microwave to warm. She saw Fluffy coming up the stairs from the bedroom. Fluffy hadn’t left Martin’s side except to eat and use his cat box since Martin had come home. She’d heard of dogs acting this way, but never cats. Cats were said to be too independent. Obviously, Fluffy was an exception.

  She sat down at the kitchen table and gave in to her frustration by slamming her fist on the table. The doctor had warned both her and Martin that some depression was frequently a side effect of open-heart surgery. But Martin didn’t seem to be making any effort to pull himself out of it. And why did he have to drag her down too? While she was grateful, grateful beyond measure, that Martin was still alive, he didn’t seem to care one way or another. If she’d heard it one time, she’d heard it a dozen: “You’d be better off without me. An invalid. Struck down in my prime.” The doctor had given him a regimen of exercise, which Martin had promised to do, but whenever she reminded him of it, he said he was too tired or in too much pain.

  Maybe she was expecting too much. She couldn’t imagine herself acting that way, but then she wasn’t the one who’d nearly died.

  Tomorrow he had a doctor’s appointment, and maybe the doctor would have some encouraging words. She glanced over at the hospital bed that she’d rolled into the corner. She needed to have it picked up. Martin had walked from the parking space, down the stairs, and into their house, then to their bedroom, where he collapsed and said that was where he would stay.

  She’d been up and down the stairs a million times since then, getting him this or getting him that. Sometimes she wished she’d never thought of the baby monitor she’d hooked up so she could hear him if he called out. He didn’t seem to care one whit that he was making her life ten times harder. Was lack of common courtesy also part of depression?

  The microwave beeped. She retrieved the mug from the microwave and her bottle of Tylenol PM from the counter, then she headed for the couch. If Martin needed her, he would call. He didn’t have any trouble calling for her on the monitor, no matter where she was or what she was doing. As far as she could tell, only his mouth was getting any exercise.

  Her last thought before drifting off to sleep was that Thanksgiving was only two days away, and she’d not even bought the turkey.

  “Your incisions look fine. How are you doing with the exercises and walking?” The doctor paused in his examination when Martin didn’t answer.

  It was all Andy could do to keep her mouth shut. He’s not doing anything. He’s not even making an effort. When the doctor glanced her way, she shook her head.

  “Having a bit of a problem with pain?”

  Martin nodded, a scant nod that would have been easily missed but for the doctors focused attention. “I have a hard time getting enough oxygen when I move around a lot.”

  “Your heart sounds fine.” The doctor took out his stethoscope and checked again. He pressed gently on Martin’s calves and ankles. “You’ve got to get moving. I’m going to send a therapist over, say two or three times a week. I know I told you not to go running any marathons, but walking is really important.”

  “When can I go back to work?”

  “That all depends.”

  “On what?” Martin asked.

  “On whether or not you obey your doctor’s orders.”

  Andy rolled her lips together to stifle a grin. Way to go, Doc. That’s putting it on the line. Now, the question was, would the promise of working again get him up off his duff and exercising?

  “All right, I’ll exercise.”

  “Good, but that’s not all you’re going to have to do. You need to make some lifestyle changes. Your wife told me that you’ve been on the road four to five days a week, every week, for a number of years. That kind of life takes a toll. My guess is that you work long hours, eat lots of fatty fast food, and don’t get any exercise at all.”

  “Yes, but that’s changed. I have an office job now.”

  “Nine to five?”

  When Martin didn’t answer, the doctor turned to the counter to write out a prescription, then ripped it off and handed it to Andy. “Here’s for the physical therapist. I’ve written the name of the group associated with us. Insurance will cover it.”

  “Thank you.” Andy sucked on her bottom lip.

  “I gave that prescription to your wife, because I understand she didn’t know about your heart condition. You were fortunate that she found your medication. She probably saved your life.”

  Andy hadn’t dreamed that the EMTs would pass that information along. Now that the proverbial cat was out of the bag, she wanted to know why he hadn’t told her. On second thought, she knew the answer. He believed he could take care of everything on his own, that it wasn’t important enough to mention.

  “Is it okay for him to be left alone now?” Andy asked.

  “You have a job to get back to?”

  Yes, but it looks like it will be a long time before I can. “No, I mean for grocery shopping, that kind of thing. Our kids are coming for Thanksgiving and … ”

  “For short periods, yes.” The doctor extended his hand to shake Martin’s first, then Andy’s. “I hope you folks have an extra special Thanksgiving this year. I’ll see you in two weeks, Martin. I’d better not hear that you aren’t doing your exercises or that you’re keeping any more secrets from your wife. I want to hear that you’re planning to change your work habits.”

  After the doctor had left the examining room, Andy helped Martin with his shirt, then stuck the Sunset magazine back in the rack. By the time they got home, Martin was gray with fatigue.

  “I never realized a doctor’s appointment could be so tiring.” Once in the house, he sat down on the edge of the bed, closer to collapsing than sitting.

  “Can I get you something to drink—orange juice, hot tea, iced tea, coffee, Diet Coke, water?”

  “Is the water bottled?”

  “Yes, of course.” She hated to drink the city water and knew that he did too. Ah, for the sweet well water of home. “You want ice with it?”

  “No thanks, just the bottle will be fine.” When she brought it, he asked, “Would you please turn on the TV?”

  “You’re staying down here?”

  “I’m too weak to go up the stairs right now.”

  Andy put the back of her hand against his forehead and cheek. No temp, but gray still bracketed his mouth and eyes. She stacked extra pillows against the headboard. “There you go.” It would be so easy to remind him that if he’d been doing his exercises, he wouldn’t be in the state he was in now.

  How could I know how he feels? I’ve never had major surgery of any kind. She trapped a sigh and went back upstairs to the kitchen to set the teapot on. Hot tea sounded not only good but necessary, especially her own blend. Right now she needed the comfort of lavender.

  If only she could spend another hour or so with the Girl Squad. Their prayers at the hospital meant more than she could find words for. Why couldn’t she? She picked up the phone and dialed J House. Clarice answered. “I know this is asking a lot,” she said, trying to hold herself together. “But will all of you come here this afternoon for the weekly prayer session? The doctor said I could leave Martin for short periods of time now, but he’s in such a depressed state that … ”

  “Let me check with everyone,” Clarice said. “I don’t think it will be a problem. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.” Good to her word, Clarice called right back and told her they’d be there at four.

  Andy was beside herself with excitement. She bustled around the kitchen making scones and lav
ender tea. Just before four, she checked on Martin to see if he needed anything.

  “The Girl Squad is coming over,” she said. “They won’t be here long.”

  He held out the remote and turned down the volume on the TV. “What are they coming for?”

  “For a prayer session,” she said, cleaning up the mess on the nightstand. “We all get together and pray for J House, for each other, and for ourselves.”

  “Why do you need to pray for J House?”

  “The city has ordered that the building be retrofitted by the end of the year, and there’s no money to pay for it. We pray that some big corporation will come forward and donate the money.” A thought came to her. “What about AES? Could they use a big tax write-off?”

  Martin rolled his eyes and snorted. “Why don’t they just sell? That’s prime real estate there. They could get a bundle for it, probably enough to buy a bigger place in a lower rent district that doesn’t need retrofitting.”

  “Roger and Hope—they don’t want to sell. They love J House. It’s their home, and it’s been the home to many a girl in need. They’ve saved lives there, built dreams there.”

  “It’s just a building, Andy.”

  All she could do was stare at him. “It’s not just a building. It’s a dream. You don’t understand what it means to them, just like you don’t understand what Lavender Meadows means to me.”

  “Don’t look at me like I’m some freak from outer space. I’m sorry I don’t understand why people get so attached to houses or land. They don’t mean anything to me, never did and never will.”

  Andy’s anger died an instant death. An overwhelming feeling of sadness assailed her. He had no frame of reference. He’d grown up moving from place to place. He’d grown up without a place to call home. She had accused him of not being able to understand, but it was she who had not understood.

  The Girl Squad arrived promptly at four. They spent a good fifteen minutes sipping tea and eating scones. Hope mentioned that several boxes had arrived from the church in Medford. They planned to open them after Julia’s next class.

  Clarice briefed Andy on recent events: Blakely Associates’ demise, Gregor’s being found, and phone calls from a girl they thought to be Cyndy.

  When they gathered in a circle to pray, a sense of peace floated among them. They fell silent, exhaling any sense of hurry. After thanking Big Dad for the prayers He had already answered, Hope prayed first for J House and then for her unborn child. No longer hesitant, Clarice thanked God and praised Him for Julia and her success-fill efforts in finding Gregor.

  “And please, Lord, give that man his just deserts, which You can do so much better than we can.” That gave them all the giggles as they let their imaginations speculate on just what that would be. Julia prayed to be reunited with Cyndy. For the first time, she added a second prayer, for her daughter, Donna.

  I don’t want to burden them all, Lord, Andy prayed silently. Such a long and convoluted tale. But once she began, it was like God opened the floodgates and her story poured forth. “Amen’s” and “Please, Lord’s” punctuated her silences when the tears became too much.

  “I blamed Martin for everything, and Father, You showed me that I needed to practice love, real love, the kind You talk about in Your Word.” She took the tissue someone handed her. “I resented him for wanting to move, for being so unsympathetic to my business, my parents’ needs, for all the times he went ahead and made decisions without considering me or the kids.” Between sobs she added anything else she could think of. “Lord, I don’t ever want to have to go through this again. I’m a mess.” She blew her nose and cleared her throat. “But God, You are so good; You really let me see that love works.” She blew out a sigh. “Thank You, Father, for these women. I know that if I hadn’t come here in spite of myself, I’d never have met them.” She gave them each a wavering smile.

  “Amen to that.” Julia echoed. “I’d never make it without all of you.”

  “Amen,” they all said together.

  Later that evening, after dinner, Andy sat down at the table to write a grocery list. She’d go shopping after picking up Morgan from the airport tomorrow.

  The phone rang. Andy answered it on the first ring and heard Bria’s perky voice.

  “How did Dad’s appointment go?”

  “Very well. Doctor said his heart sounds great, and the incisions are looking good.” She recalled her last trip downstairs, seeing that Martin had rolled onto his side and seemed to be sleeping peacefully. She’d gotten used to seeing the furrows on his forehead that indicated discomfort.

  “I’ll either rent a car or come into the city via BART, so don’t worry about me, okay?”

  “When are you arriving?”

  “I’m taking the early flight, so I should be ahead of the masses on Wednesday morning. What time is Camden coming in?”

  “If the flights are all on time, he and Morgan are within an hour of each other, about four tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll come straight to your house. We can go grocery shopping, and then I’ll head out and pick up the others. I’ll e-mail them where to meet me, and they can call me if there is a problem.”

  “Thanks, honey.”

  “Are you all right, Mom?”

  “As good as can be expected, I guess. Just please remind them both that this will not be a normal Thanksgiving.”

  “All that counts is that we’ll all be together. Oh, I forgot to ask, are Grandma and Grandpa coming?

  “They’re driving, in spite of Dad dreading the trip.”

  “Wonderful. I’ve been thinking, we could order one of those cooked turkey dinners from a restaurant or grocery store.”

  “I think you have to do that before the last minute.”

  “Hey, we’re two days out, what’s this last-minute garbage? Give Daddy a hug from me, and I’ll talk with him later. I love you, Mom.”

  “And I, you.” Andy blinked back the tears that hovered so close to the surface.

  She finished her grocery list, including a reminder to buy pies. She’d never bought pies for Thanksgiving in her whole life. They always had pumpkin pie, made from their own pumpkins left from Halloween, apple pie, and lemon cheese pie, her specialty. Homemade rolls, perhaps she could still make them.

  “Andy, could you help me please? I’d like to come upstairs.” Martin’s voice came through the baby monitor.

  “I’ll be right down.” Had she heard him right?

  Coming up, he took the steps slowly, with her one step behind him. If he would only try harder. But then, she didn’t always do what was best for herself either, she reminded herself. It had only been two weeks since the surgery. A little patience wouldn’t hurt, Andy.

  She almost snorted at that. Since when had patience ever been one of her stronger attributes?

  Martin settled on the sofa and used his TV remote to turn on a music station. “Soft rock okay?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She sat down beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder.

  He reached up and cupped her cheek. “Thank you for being such a good nurse.”

  “You scared me half to death.”

  “I scared myself.”

  They sat just so until he shifted and flinched.

  “I’d better get dinner going,” she said, giving him a quick kiss before getting up.

  Fifteen minutes later she had a chicken casserole in the oven and a salad chilling in the fridge.

  She looked over at Martin and saw him staring out the windows.

  Was the stress of his new job the cause of Martin’s heart attack? Or had he been leading up to this for years? The doctor had told him point-blank he would have to make some lifestyle changes. What would Martin do to comply? Would he ignore that suggestion the way he’d ignored the doctor’s order to exercise?

  The problem was that this house was surrounded by steps, which would make taking a walk difficult. If only they were home in Medford. He could walk forever
among the lavender plants and never encounter a single stair.

  Fluffy jumped up on the table in front of the living room window and meowed.

  “Hey, boy, what do you want?” Martin asked, moving his head this way and that, trying to see what Fluffy was seeing.

  Fluffy sank down on his belly, the tip of his tail twitching back and forth.

  Martin got up and went to the window. “Are there birds out there?”

  “Maybe its the parrot’s,” Andy said. “I’ve heard them several times, but I haven’t actually seen them.” They were a pair, man and cat, looking out the window.

  “I guess it was a false alarm.” Martin returned to the sofa and changed the station to one that played worship songs and hymns. The familiar music lifted Andy’s heart. Maybe that was why the Bible said to sing songs of praise, no matter what. The thought made her smile. Maybe so.

  The ringing phone snagged her attention, and she could feel the smile clear to her toes when she recognized Camden’s “Hello.”

  “Hey, Son, see you soon.”

  “I hope so. I thought I’d better warn you, though, that we have a Northerner coming in, high winds and heavy snow predicted.”

  “Oh no. We’ll all be so terribly disappointed if you can’t make it.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow when I know what’s happening.”

  Fog blanketed the entire West Coast for forty-eight hours, stopped all incoming and outgoing flights, and closed Interstate 5 in both directions. After the last phone call from SeaTac, Bria had taken Morgan home to her apartment so at least two members of the Taylor family were together. Camden had given up on Wednesday morning and went to stay with a friend.

  Andy locked her arms around her middle, hands clutching her elbows. The only reason she and Martin were having any kind of Thanksgiving dinner today was because she had walked up to Speedy’s and bought the last frozen turkey breast they had, along with stuffing mix. Never before had she made Stove Top Stuffing Mix.