At the Scent of Water

by Linda Nichols

Annie had an odd moment as she thought of how with one slight shift of fate Sam would not have been born and she would not have married him. Margaret would never have been born. All because of something Elijah Walker had decided over forty-five years before. She had known they were connected, somehow, the moment she had set eyes on him.

  “Why didn’t she go with him?”

  “I’ve wondered that myself,” Carl said, “but she never told, and I never asked.”

  Annie nodded.

  “So Sam’s doing all right with my patients?”

  She felt as if his question jerked her back into the real world. “I suppose so,” she said. “He hasn’t complained.”

  “Well, I know he’ll do a fine job.”

  “General practice isn’t his specialty,” Annie pointed out.

  “People are a doctor’s specialty, no matter what else he knows,” her father shot back. “Besides, he’ll pick it up quicker than I would heart surgery. Make sure he knows Margie Sue’s coming in to do the billing tomorrow,” he said firmly. “I’ll be back myself soon,” he promised.

  Diane returned. They visited awhile longer, and Annie took her leave. “I’ll be back on Wednesday,” she promised. “Tomorrow I’m going to work on the house.”

  She knew he must have heard her, but he completely disregarded her last sentence. “I’ll look forward to seeing you,” her father said with a wink. “Bring Sam with you and stop by Bojangles’ on the way. Bring me some fried chicken and a couple of those cinnamon biscuits.”

  ****

  Sam and Elijah drove into Mary’s graveled driveway at exactly five o’clock. They had seen four patients in the office, made hospital rounds and home visits, and were home in time for supper. Sam shook his head, still not used to this slower pace of life. It felt good in one way to sleep at night, to wake in the morning refreshed, but he often found himself at loose ends, not knowing what to do with his mind and his hands.

  As he approached the house, he saw an unfamiliar car and wondered who had come to call. He felt a moment of foreboding that faded away when he saw the Buddy Smith Ford license-plate holder, the John 3:16 personalized license plate, and the Pray for America bumper sticker. This would not be a lawyer or a reporter or anyone bringing a load of trouble his way.

  Elijah waved good-bye and headed toward the guesthouse, but Sam knew he would be back. His mother would have the table set for the three of them for supper, and actually, he liked that fact. He enjoyed the man’s company. Elijah was a balanced man, he realized. He had the firmness of purpose that his own father had, but a gentleness and calm that set the heart at rest. The thought nagged again that when Elijah left, there would be another tear in his mother’s tattered heart. He set it aside, ironically remembering Tom Bradley, the hospital administrator’s admonition: “Sufficient unto the day.”

  He stepped onto the porch, pulled open the screen, stepped inside, and heard the hissing of the pressure cooker and the murmur of women’s voices coming from the direction of the kitchen. He went in and found his mother with two of his father’s sisters in sober conversation.

  His two aunts mirrored many of his father’s features, and his own, he supposed. They had the same dark hair, though theirs had gone to gray, and the same shocking blue eyes. They had the wide foreheads and symmetrical faces of the Truelove clan, the same even white teeth and wide smiles. He greeted them each with a hug, and though he looked for condemnation or judgment in their eyes, he saw nothing but kindness and love.

  “Sammy, we’ve been praying for you. Night and day,” Aunt Roberta said when she released him from her tight hug, and Sam received her words with thankfulness.

  “I appreciate that,” he said simply. “I need it.”

  “I’ve been telling everybody what a good doctor you are, what a fine Christian man,” Eloise interjected after a rough hug of her own. She was not the soft comforting type, but she had a fierce protectiveness of her family. He pitied the person who made a disparaging comment about him in her presence.

  “We’re just discussing the reunion,” his mother said.

  He nodded and went to the stove to lift pot lids. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes and whatever was cooking in the pressure cooker. A pie cooled on the counter. Strawberry, judging from the color of the juice that had escaped through the slits of the crust. His stomach growled.

  “We’ve decided to cancel it,” Eloise said.

  He turned around abruptly, whatever dread he might have felt at the thought of confronting all of his family suddenly overshadowed with a sharp pang of loss. “Why in the world would you do that?” he asked.

  Roberta blinked. “We thought you might prefer it that way.”

  He shook his head vehemently and found himself really meaning the words that came out of his mouth. “Now more than ever we need it,” he said, and he saw Eloise’s eyes light with fire.

  “That’s exactly what I said,” she pronounced. “Let Sammie know his people love him, I said. It’s the best thing in the world for him.”

  Sam smiled and felt his heart expand. They were flawed and rough around the edges, his people, but he realized again that they would never cut him loose. Chastise him, yes. Give him the rough side of their tongue, of course. But they were united by blood, and that was a loyalty that could never be broken.

  “Same setup as always?” he asked, and with a moment’s hesitation they all nodded. The reunion itself would be on Saturday at the church campground, and every far flung branch of the Truelove clan would come to that. On Friday, though, a smaller group of close relatives would gather for the traditional fish fry.

  “I’ll fry the fish this year,” he volunteered, and he watched his mother’s face light with joy.

  “Maybe Annie would like to come,” Eloise interjected boldly. Roberta’s and Mary’s faces went blank, obviously thinking she’d gone too far.

  Sam turned to face his aunt. She met his gaze, never one to back down.

  He thought about it, the prospect of seeing his wife with his family once more in that familiar setting, and he remembered the first year they had attended the Truelove reunion together as a couple. He shrugged and kept his face noncommittal. “Maybe she would,” he said, then went to change his clothes. As he left, their heads were together in a flutter of busyness, and it gave him another moment of happiness to see his mother so absorbed.

  Twenty-seven

  Mary slept without interruption Monday night, the first time in ages. On Tuesday morning she rose when the sun did, showered, dressed, and had breakfast ready for Sam and Elijah before they left for their rounds. The three of them ate, and just as they were finishing, Sam’s cell phone rang. He stiffened, as he always did when a call came, then rose and took it into the hallway. Mary had noticed that he always became tight and tense until the caller was identified. It was as if he had been pummeled and pulled for so long, he just naturally expected every interaction to bring another blow. She tensed a little for him now, but as she overheard the first few words of the conversation, she realized it was one of Carl’s patients.

  Seeing Sam and Elijah work together, having them both close again made her heart feel big inside her chest, and she realized she had felt that way more than once lately. She could not deny that things were happening. Joyful things. She did not know where they would lead or if they would usher in anything at all other than this brief reprieve. After all, there was so much that was still so horribly wrong. She thought of Sam and Annie and little Kelly Bright, but even then she could not help but feel a faint stirring of hope. She thought of Lazarus, still bound in the darkness of death and despair but hearing the first faint sound of someone in the distance calling his name.

  She glanced at Elijah. He was older. They both were. She could not deny that. But he was still handsome. His sun-browned skin fairly glowed against the white cotton shirt he wore. He was taking a sip of his coffee and must have felt her eyes, for he turned to smile at her, kindness crinkles appearing on his face, his warm gray eyes
lighting with what looked to her, for all the world, like affection. Oh, how she remembered that smile, and she felt a surge of what she had felt for him then. Back then it had seemed to her that her heart, the very world itself, had been too small to contain all he had meant to her. She remembered her bitter, bitter tears when he had left her, the hollow place in her heart she had thought would never be filled.

  “What will you do today, Miss Mary Ellen?” he asked in that gentle voice he reserved for her. “Lie on the sofa and watch soap operas and eat bonbons?”

  She smiled. No one had spoken to her that way in a long time. No one ever teased her anymore. They all treated her with kid gloves, as if she might break.

  “I believe I’m going to drive to Asheville to see Carl today,” she said. “And after that, I don’t know. Maybe I will have a bonbon or two.” She smiled back at him.

  “It feels nice now and then to have some time all to yourself, doesn’t it?”

  “I suppose it does,” she said, but his simple comment made her realize that although she had plenty of time, little of it was spent on anything she particularly enjoyed. She thought of the things she never did anymore. She never quilted. She never sewed. She never went on an outing. She never read a book or a magazine. She never did anything that fed her soul, except perhaps tend her garden, but even that had become businesslike and intentional, a hunt for weeds rather than a nurturing of beauty.

  She looked at Elijah, at his worn face, and she realized that he, too, must have had precious few of those days. His life had not been easy after he had left her. Granted, he had been the one to do the leaving, but it wasn’t as if he’d run off to a life of luxury and ease. It had been the Lord who had taken him away, not some other woman. He had given up everything to answer that call, and suddenly she caught a glimpse of how that must have felt, how it must still feel to be so rootless and alone.

  “Have you been back to your home?” she asked him, aware she was probably probing sensitive ground.

  He gave a half nod. “Reverend Lindsey drove me there. It’s all torn up and gone.” His face became bleak, his eyes sorrowful. “Everything has changed,” he said, and even though he smiled, the lonely look was still in his eyes as he gazed past her.

  She put her hand on his briefly, barely touching his warm browned skin before pulling it away. “Not everything,” she said boldly, and his eyes lifted to hers in surprise.

  ****

  Mary was still blushing over her brashness as she pulled into the hospital parking lot in Asheville. Poor Elijah had no idea what he’d been stepping into when he’d arranged to stay at the church lady’s guesthouse, had he? No idea he would run up against some long-forgotten romance. And how she had behaved herself this morning! Why, she saw now where Laura Lee had gotten that flirtatious streak she’d tried so hard to contain when her daughter was in high school. Mary’s cheeks burned, and she resolved to put the matter behind her. She hoped Elijah would do the same. She parked the car, found the elevator and Carl’s room, and by the time she’d arrived, she was back in proper order again.

  Diane was there knitting. Carl was watching television, looking bored enough to jump out of his skin, but he brightened considerably when he saw her. People had that effect on him. He fairly vibrated with energy when he was in a crowd.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mary Truelove come to visit me,” he said, and he beamed a welcome at her. She smiled back warmly in return. Carl had always been like a brother to her, and Diane had become like family. Mary bent over to give Diane a hug, then gave one to Carl.

  “Here, sit down,” Diane offered. “I’ll go find another chair.”

  “I’m all right,” she protested, but Diane was already gone. She returned in a moment with a rolling stool, and Mary wondered if she’d stolen it from the nurses’ station. She wouldn’t put it past her. They both sat down, and Carl beamed at her again.

  “So I hear you’ve had a visitor,” Carl said, not wasting time on small talk, and Mary felt her cheeks heat up again.

  “I thought we could cover the topic of your health first,” she said with a wry smile.

  Diane rolled her eyes. “Carl doesn’t think he has a health problem. He thinks we’ve all overreacted and he should go back to his diet of fried chicken and potato chips.” She effortlessly picked off stitch after stitch in that strange method of knitting she had. Continental, she had told Mary one time. She had said it was faster and more efficient. “Besides, he’s much more interested in discussing your personal life.”

  Carl grinned and didn’t deny it. “How is Elijah?” he asked. “Has he made the adjustment back to civilian life?”

  Mary stopped joking and considered his question. “I think it’s helped him a lot to have something to do. He seems happy, but every now and then I know he feels as if he doesn’t really belong anywhere.”

  Carl nodded and for once looked serious. “It’s got to be a difficult adjustment after all these years. Nothing is the same as it was in 1959.”

  “That’s what he said,” Mary agreed. “Everything has changed.”

  “He’s invested his whole life in God’s work,” Diane said, looking up, “and now it’s finished.”

  Mary shook her head, her stomach feeling empty. “I think he plans to go back.”

  Diane frowned and picked off several more stitches. Carl grinned broadly and shook his head. “What a man says and what he does are two different things. I don’t think the Lord brought him here just to take him off somewhere again.”

  “We’ll see,” Mary evaded. She thought of the other things the Lord had taken away and realized with a sinking feeling that she had no assurance this would not end in loss, as well.

  They talked of generalities then. The dry weather. Diane’s sheep. Carl’s anticipated release date.

  “It sure is good to see Annie,” Mary finally said. “It’s good to see her and Sam together again.”

  “There’s another situation God’s working on,” Carl said, smiling broadly.

  Diane shook her head and set her knitting down. “Carl, you’re worse for gossip and matchmaking than any old lady I know.”

  “I’m interested in the welfare of the people I love,” he said staunchly. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

  “Nothing at all, sugar,” Diane said, but rolled her eyes again.

  The nurse’s aide came in with Carl’s lunch tray, and Mary checked her watch. It was nearly noon. The girl set it on the bedside table, and Carl lifted the lid with a dispirited expression. It was Salisbury steak and stewed tomatoes and two boiled potatoes. He shook his head and put the cover back down.

  Diane stood up and stretched. “It’s time for my outing,” she said to Mary. “I always go for a walk at lunchtime so I won’t have to listen to Carl complain about the food. How about joining me?” she invited.

  Mary checked her watch, then wondered why. She had no schedule to keep.

  “Let’s take the car and go to Mill Village,” Diane suggested, and Mary agreed after only a moment’s hesitation. She had heard about the little collection of restaurants, galleries, and craft stores. “All right,” she agreed. “Let’s go.”

  “I know what y’all are up to,” Carl said, shaking his head. “You stay away from those shops.”

  Mary knew he was teasing. He was the one who couldn’t keep a dollar without it burning a hole in his pocket.

  Diane planted a kiss on his lips and grabbed up her purse. “I’ll be back soon,” she said. “No trips to the snack bar while I’m gone.”

  He grumbled.

  Mary and Diane walked down the corridor and rode the elevator to the hospital entrance. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when he’s up and around again and capable of driving himself to Waffle House and Old Country Buffet,” Diane said with a shake of her head. “I suppose I’ll just have to leave him to God.”

  “That’s a hard thing to do sometimes,” Mary said gently, and Diane gave her a tight smile.

  “Don’t we k
now it?”

  No answer was necessary. They walked, companionable in their silence. Mary pointed the way to her car. They negotiated their way through Asheville, through the historic district. The buildings were old and well preserved, lovely and graceful. They went through town, and Diane directed her to the Village. Mary found a parking spot, and they walked slowly along the sidewalk. There were craft shops, galleries, and restaurants on both sides of the street.

  “Look here,” Diane said, stopping in front of one. “This was meant to be, Mary. Right up your alley.” She stood in the doorway of A Stitch in Time quilt shop. Mary smiled and followed her inside. The walls were lined with bolts of fabrics and display samples of quilt squares. Mary walked slowly, looking at the fabrics and patterns. She was drawn to one in particular, a display of watercolor quilts. They were beautiful—works of art, really. She examined the intricate piecework, the colors so carefully arranged to wash from dark to light. There were samples already pieced and quilted—an arched garden door dripping with flowers in shades of red and pink and coral, a garden reflected in a pond, every color finding its quieter, gentler reflection in the shimmering water, and her favorite, called “Siena,” a collection of red-roofed buildings on a hillside of verdant greens, the sky behind them blending from pale blue to distant purples. There were several books with instructions and patterns. She began leafing through them, then immediately felt guilty. She was taking too long. She glanced around to see if Diane was ready to go, but she was absorbed in another section of the store. Mary went back to the book. She looked at the piecing diagrams and examined the colors the artist had chosen.

  “Those are beautiful, aren’t they?” Diane asked, back at her side.

  “They are.” Mary put the book down.

  “Are you going to get the book?”

  “No, I don’t expect so.”

  “Why not?” Diane asked, and Mary couldn’t really give her an answer.

  They went back onto the sidewalk, walked a little longer, chatting, stopping to window-shop a time or two.