by Lyn Cote
He wanted to shake her then. Tish—who was blessed with a warm and unique family—wanted to run away from it. “I’d give anything to be an Everett.”
Tish shook her head at him, opened the door and waved him out. He left, unable to think of what to say to convince her that she was a princess of a royal family, not an unwilling visitor at the state mental institution.
At the end of the hall Henry grabbed him and made him the next blind man. In moments Cash stood with his arms extended for balance, disoriented, reeling from his three turns. He heard muffled footsteps and laughter. He waited till the sensation of being lost left him. Then he caught a whiff of Jane’s unmistakable cinnamon fragrance.
No one moved. They waited for him to begin blundering around to mask their movements. He stood still, letting Jane’s scent come to him till he felt he knew exactly where she was. Angie giggled.
Cash swung around to his left. His outflung hand caught an arm. “Gotcha!” He tugged off his blindfold. Jane, Angie in her arms, was flushed and glaring at him.
“He got the birthday girl,” Lucy sang out. “He wins the medal for this game.”
Phil pinned a large paper star on Cash’s shirt and stole Angie from Jane’s arms, leaving the two of them staring at each other.
“You can let go of me now,” she ordered.
Cash dropped her arm as though it were electrified.
The two of them were swept into a rousing game of Musical Chairs. Angie clapped and squealed her pleasure. Tish’s absence was obvious, and Cash caught the glances that passed between Henry and Claire. He could read their indecision over what to do about their daughter’s mutiny, but in the end they remained silent.
When the last game, Pin the Tail on the Donkey, was done, they all sat in a loose circle in the living room to watch Angie open her gifts.
“Jane, here, you hold Angie and, Cash, you sit next to her and help,” Marge suggested, pointing to the love seat.
“Why don’t you hold Angie, Mother?” Jane countered. “I want to take some pictures.” Giving the child to her mother, Jane went to the corner and lifted her camera from her purse.
Cash understood picture taking wasn’t keeping Jane from sitting next to him. Did she have to be so obvious about keeping her distance from him? He cleared his throat. “That’s a great idea. I’d rather watch, anyway.” He hoped he had said it with just the right agreeable, unruffled tone.
So Angie sat on Marge’s lap while Phil “helped” his granddaughter open her gifts: a rag baby doll from Lucy, a musical teddy bear from the proud grandparents, a pale lavender porcelain angel with a gilded number “1” on her skirt from Uncle Henry and Aunt Claire, a bright red ball from Tish, who had reappeared, and a tiger hand puppet from Jane. Everything was opened, even some uninteresting clothes which Angie pitched out of the boxes in her search for more toys.
While Angie listened to the musical bear, Cash disappeared and returned. Jane saw him first, coming down the hall. Bent over, he pushed a red tricycle ahead of him.
“Angie,” Marge cooed, “look what Uncle Cash has for you.”
The little girl pushed herself off her grandmother’s lap. Momentarily she stood, steadying herself by touching Marge’s knees.
“Angie,” Cash coaxed, pushing the shiny trike forward.
She chortled and launched herself toward Cash and the trike.
“She’s walking!” Tish exclaimed.
“Jane, get her picture!” Lucy shouted as she leaped up from the sofa.
Jane in throes of several conflicting emotions: joy, resentment, awe and guilt, rapidly snapped the camera’s button.
Cash lurched forward, catching Angie just as her uneven steps faltered. He spun her around, laughing. “She walked! She walked! To me!”
Jane continued snapping pictures to mask her tangled emotions. Was she really so petty she would resent Angie taking her first steps toward Cash? No, that wasn’t it. But why couldn’t she stop feeling like an overwound clock, so tight and tense? Jane continued shooting pictures till the film in the camera ran out. Then she went to the table at the end of the room to her camera bag there. She turned and smiled falsely. “I’ll have to reload for some more priceless photos.”
Phil stood up. “I’m in the mood for cake.” He extended his arms to Angie. “Ice cream, Angie?” he invited. She laughed and smiled in agreement, but remained in her uncle’s arms.
The party moved to the festively decorated table. The ritual of lighting and blowing out the birthday candles—one for Angie’s first year and one for luck—was observed in the traditional way. Jane kept herself busy, taking pictures, serving cake and scooping ice cream. Finally they were all seated around the table, even Jane.
“Marge, that was the best coconut layer cake you have ever made.” Phil patted his stomach contentedly.
“Thank you, darling.” Marge leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“Angie certainly seems to have enjoyed herself,” Claire pointed out. Everyone looked at the little girl and chuckled. In Everett family tradition, the one-year-old had been allowed to eat her cake and ice cream all by herself. Consequently white frosting, ice cream and flakes of coconut liberally decorated Angie’s face, hands and hair.
Lucy stood up and folded her hands in front of her. All eyes turned to her…“This has been a special day. And there is one more presentation.”
She cleared her throat. “Cash, today is a day of joy, the celebration of the first year of life for our dear Angie. I wanted to give you something to treasure as a remembrance of this day.”
Lucy bent down, opened the doors of the pecan sideboard behind her and drew out the small oval miniature of Angie that she had painted. She gave it to Cash. “Jane helped me with the posing, otherwise I couldn’t have done it.”
Cash could not take his eyes off the small portrait of Angie’s bright eyes and chubby smile. Tears knotted in his throat. He couldn’t speak, so he took Lucy’s hand and squeezed it.
Marge stood up. “We also have something for you, Cash. And you, too, Jane. We know that it will cause you both some pain, but Phil and I decided that we should make some gesture that showed our love for Dena even though she has been taken from us.”
Phil rose and returned carrying two antique brass picture frames. “Marge and I were reminiscing over old photographs this summer and we came across this picture which we thought captured Dena and Jane in their childhood exactly as we remember them, so we had two enlargements made and enhanced for you.” He handed one frame to Cash and one to Jane.
Jane took hers. She trembled when she saw it. The scene was one which brought back a deluge of memories. They were about eleven years old. She and Dena were fishing on Lucy’s pier. They had their heads together over a fish on the end of a fishing line. The undersized fish must have swallowed the hook because the two of them were concentrating on unhooking the stubborn fish to throw it back in.
Dena’s dark head and Jane’s own carrot top were so close they were nearly touching. The sunny lake behind them appeared as mere flares of light, which focused all attention on the faces of the two girls. From her memory, she could hear Dena’s childish voice and the loudly lapping waves behind them caused by boat wakes. Jane began to cry. Her mother pressed a hand on Jane’s shoulder in sympathy. “Thank you, Mother, Father. I’ll treasure it always.”
“Same here.” Cash’s voice was thick with emotion. “Thank you. Thank you all.”
Jane saw his tears and regretted her previous anger toward him. She had a loving family. He had only Angie. She had begrudged sharing Angie with him. God, forgive me.
She took a deep breath. Help me, Lord. Regardless of her own broken heart and foolish dreams about Cash, tomorrow morning when he came to take Angie for the day, she would let the baby go with him with good grace.
Chapter Fourteen
Hot wind swirled around Cash as he stepped from his Jeep the next morning. Overhead, dark clouds in shades of gray from dove to slate tumbled over and around ea
ch other as they rolled on in a swiftly changing skyline. Cash had hoped for sunshine today, his first solo visit with Angie. He had planned to spend the day playing with Angie in the sand and shallows of the lake beyond his parents’ cottage. But the high wind and racing, rippling clouds above were clear harbingers of uncertain weather.
Today he would finally achieve his goal of having Angie to himself—if just for a while. But within the past weeks, his ultimate aim had altered completely. Now what he truly desired was several hours alone with Jane, so he could persuade her—somehow—that he loved her. Then he would marry her and have both Jane and Angie with him for the rest of his life.
But today would not be the day. The way to persuade Jane that he loved her still eluded him. He ached to declare the sincerity of his love for her. But as matters stood, it would only push her farther from him. Last night, after a call to Lucy for help, Cash had spent most of the evening reading a new Bible and praying for insight.
He had made a mess of everything. Building high-rise condominiums and subdivisions of beautiful homes wasn’t a challenge to him. But why had he never learned how to build a relationship with a woman? Would he ever find the way to win Jane’s heart? Saying one more silent prayer, he ran a hand through his hair.
As his foot touched the bottom of her front steps, Jane popped out her door with Angie holding her hand. “Good morning, Cash. Angie’s all ready.”
Stunned by her cheery tone, he froze, one foot on the walk, one foot on the step. He stared up at her.
Jane smiled brightly. Today she would set the tone for these weekly visitations. She would make Dena proud of her and do unto Cash as she would have him do unto her. Hand in hand, Jane and Angie walked down the steps.
Angie squealed when she reached her uncle. Jane released the little hand—such a small parting, such a wrenching at her heart. Cash lifted Angie into his arms.
“Here’s her bag.” Jane held out the large denim bag. “It has everything you need. When should I expect you two back?”
“Ah…is six or seven all right?” he stammered.
“That’s fine. If I’m not home, just let yourself in.”
“Okay. Uh, fine.”
“See you later.” Jane waved cheerily, turned and walked around the side of her house to where her Blazer was parked.
Her legs trembled as she heard the distinctive sound of Cash’s Jeep driving away. By the time she got behind the steering wheel, gloom descended on her, a tremendous weight bearing down on her breast She forced herself to inhale deeply.
“I am not losing Angie,” she told herself sternly. “I have lost Dena, but Angie will be home tonight in her crib.” Saying the words out loud helped, even though the oppressive feeling of loss hung around her neck like a thick-linked steel chain.
She started her Blazer and headed off to a nearby lake cottage where her seamstress lived. She needed to drop off some skirts and jackets for alteration. It was the first errand of the day she had planned, a day full of work, a busy day, too hectic to allow herself time to think. By the time she closed up shop at six tonight, she would only have enough energy to stagger home and put both Angie and herself to bed.
After a half hour of conversation with her seamstress, Jane rose from the table and started distancing herself from the talkative woman. Jane finally made it out onto the back step.
Outside, the wind snatched and tossed their voices away from them. Startled, both women looked skyward. Overhead, charcoal clouds blanketed the sky. Below the women, at the lakeshore, waves surged against the sandy bank and over the end of the pier.
“This really looks bad,” the seamstress shouted, folding her arms over her breasts.
“Mel is all alone at the store. Got to go!” Jane hurried to her vehicle. Rain burst over her. Raindrops hit the nearby lake with such force they splashed up huge plops. She leaped into her Blazer. Taking a deep breath, she swept her dripping hair back from her face and started the ignition.
Down the highway she sped, with great waves of water shooting up from behind her wheels. Sheets of rain rolled down her windshield; the wipers batting at them furiously. Storm darkness smothered the daylight. Her impatience to reach Mel and her anxiety over not knowing where Angie and Cash were swelled inside her with each mile.
Though praying silently, she fought her panic by shouting at the elements. “There’ll be another outage. And my roof will be leaking gallons! Enough is enough!” Hail pounded the Blazer roof, blotting out her voice. Marble-sized ice balls beat against her hood and window.
As the wind’s velocity grew alarmingly, she fought the steering wheel to stay on the rain-slick road. At last, town loomed ahead. The dangerous sky around her lifted from black to a strange, murky yellow-green. The hail stopped. The wind slowed. She sped up, heading straight for her alley entrance. She swung her car into place behind her shop and parked.
Suddenly in the unnatural midmorning stillness, the town siren blared. She shivered at its shrill sound. The wind swooped back. It hit her Blazer from both sides. It felt like a losing boxer in his last round, punched right and left.
When she opened her door, the wind tore it from her hands. It slammed flat against the side of her vehicle. She screamed. But she couldn’t hear her voice above the churning sound. The savage wind slashed her hair and clothing. She felt it sucking her out of the car. She grabbed the door handle and clung to it.
For an unreal second the image of Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz fighting the Kansas wind and stomping on the door of the storm cellar paralyzed Jane. In a terror beyond words, her spirit screamed for God’s help.
Mighty strength surged through her. She ripped her hand away from the car and fought the few feet to the shop’s rear door. Surprisingly it opened with ease. But as the top hinge let go, she screeched in horror and threw herself inside.
There Mel stood, frozen in the center of the shop. As in a surreal dream, Jane watched through the window behind Mel as the parking meter snapped off its base. Like a javelin, it pierced Jane’s plate-glass window. Shards of glass, dust and debris sailed everywhere. Jane felt herself screaming, screaming.
Fighting the pull of the howling wind, she launched herself at Mel. She dragged the girl to the basement stairwell, then pushed Mel down the first step. She fought the door shut. At last she tugged the heavy, old bolt into place. The cheated wind shrieked its anger.
Feeling around in the awful blackness, Jane found Mel at her feet, sitting hunched over on the step. Slipping down weakly, Jane wrapped her arms around the girl. With wordless prayers pouring from her trembling lips, Jane clung to Mel, who sobbed and rocked with terror. The roar above them filled their ears. The door vibrated. The screeching wind struggled to break the bolt.
Suddenly Jane heard her own sobbing clearly, then Mel’s. She realized the door above her had ceased straining against the lock. Light glowed around the doorjamb. She swallowed deeply and shivered. “Mel, it’s over. It’s over. Thank God, it’s passed us by.”
Mel’s grip on her didn’t loosen. Jane stood up shakily, urging Mel up with her. She drew back the latch and pushed against the door. It opened a few inches, then bumped against something and stuck. She heaved against it and, with much scraping, it opened. A twisted rack of sodden clothing lay propped against the door.
For seconds, minutes, she stared, befuddled, at the crazy disarray around them. Then Mel leaned her face into Jane’s shoulder and mumbled something unintelligible. Jane looked down and saw blood. Mel’s head oozed crimson blood onto Jane’s white blouse. Her hands where she had touched Mel felt wet and sticky, too. With a gasp, she lifted Mel’s face in both her hands. She felt nauseated at the sight of blood spattered over Mel’s head and shoulders.
She took a deep breath. “I’ve got to get you to the medical center. It must have been the glass.” Even though she said the words aloud, she felt no impetus to move. A sustained moan from Mel finally cracked the ice jam of Jane’s shock.
She stumbled around as though drunk,
but she managed to get the two of them outside. Her Blazer waited in the back just as she had left it—except that the driver’s side door had been blown off. Farther down the alley a delivery van lay on its side. At the sight of this her mind shrieked, Angie! Cash! Terror sliced her heart. Where had Cash taken their baby? Had the two of them been in the path of the storm? Panic clutched her breast. She fought for breath. God, I can’t think. Help me. I can’t think!
“Oh,” Mel whimpered.
Pushing down her own terror, Jane half lifted, half pushed Mel into her car through the gap where her door had been. Jane climbed in after her. She fumbled around, then realized that she was instinctively searching for her purse on the seat, but it, too, had been carried away on the wind. Then she saw that her keys still dangled from the ignition. She sighed with relief and started the vehicle. Because the van blocked her usual exit, she backed down the length of the alley till she could swing around and head out onto Main Street.
She stopped at the first intersection, not because the traffic signal was red, but because the traffic light itself lay across the road. Making a wide U-turn, she backtracked to take another route to the hospital. The short trip was torture. Downed branches and crackling power lines terrified her. She had to force herself to press on toward her goal. At every corner she wanted to turn her car toward Lucy’s cottage. Was Lucy safe? Her parents? Angie? Cash?
When the medical center came into view, Jane felt like bursting into tears of relief. She swung into the lot, parked near the emergency entrance and helped Mel out, then through the automatic emergency room doors. The normally tranquil and efficient small-town hospital buzzed with urgent voices and the sound of crying. The fearful sounds hit Jane, draining her of initiative.
Fortunately a nurse saw them and stepped around the counter quickly. “Come with me.” She led them into a curtained area and helped Mel up onto an examining table. Soon she was carefully bathing Mel’s face and head. She occasionally contacted a sliver of glass and gently tweezed it out. Jane leaned against the inside wall. The desire to bolt taunted her. She had to find Angie and Cash. But she couldn’t leave till Mel had been treated and she took her home.
