After the glass of wine, Libbie felt calmer.
At work the next week, things hadn’t become any easier. Libbie had taken her pills before going, and soon she felt drowsy and lightheaded. She did her best to focus on what she was doing, but it was hard. Libbie didn’t understand why she wasn’t feeling better after all this time. Without the pills, she was jittery and her head ached. With them, she couldn’t focus and all she wanted to do was sleep. She was so frustrated by the middle of the day that she finally had to tell Mrs. Thompson she needed to go home and rest.
“Go ahead, dear. We have enough volunteers to help.”
When Libbie got home, the fire had already gone out and the cottage was cold. Starting the fire all over again took time, and she was exhausted. She shoved paper under the wood, but no matter how much paper she used, the wood wouldn’t burn on its own. It was cold, she was tired, and her pills were wearing off. Frustrated, she picked up a piece of starter wood and threw it across the room. It hit the windowsill where she’d lined up the pretty vases from all the flowers she’d received at the hospital. One vase fell to the floor and crashed into pieces.
Tears filled Libbie’s eyes. “I hate this place!” she yelled into the empty room. She grabbed the pain pills off the kitchen counter and took two pills out of the bottle, swallowing both with a glass of water. She turned on the electric heater in the bedroom and also the electric blanket and without even changing out of her dress, she crawled into bed and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pills to take effect and lull her to sleep.
Jack came home and immediately noticed how icy cold the room was. He flipped on the lights and looked around. A small piece of wood was lying on the kitchen floor next to a pile of broken glass. He frowned. Where was Libbie?
Jack walked to the bedroom and peered inside. The room was dark, but he saw that Libbie was tucked into the bed and the heater was running. Still, it was chilly in here.
“Libbie?” he said softly. “Libbie? Are you okay?” When there was no answer, he grew worried. He walked closer to the bed and bent down to look at her. She was sound asleep, so he walked back out into the living room to start a fire.
Two hours later, Libbie still hadn’t woken up. Jack was worried. Her breathing seemed normal, but why was she still sleeping? The living room was toasty warm, and he’d heated up some food for himself. While he’d waited for the food to heat, he’d noticed the bottle of pain pills on the counter and picked them up. Peering into the bottle, he saw that there were only two left. He looked at the date on the bottle. It read November 20. That meant she’d had them refilled since the hospital had given her a bottle of pills on the first. Why? Was she still in that much pain?
He went into the bedroom again and leaned over her, brushing her hair back with his fingertips. “Libbie? Are you awake? Libs?”
She stirred and then gazed up at him. “Jack?”
“Yeah, sweetie. I heated up some food. Do you want to eat?”
Libbie sighed. “No, just let me sleep.” Then she closed her eyes again.
Jack gave up. He washed the dishes, put more wood on the fire, and then crawled into bed next to Libbie’s sleeping form. “Goodnight, hon,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “Feel better soon.”
He really hoped she would.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
December came, but Libbie continued to feel strange. Their first Christmas together wasn’t the joyful time it should have been. Even though her cast had been taken off, Libbie’s wrist still ached, and she constantly had headaches. The doctor gave her one more refill for pain pills and then suggested taking aspirin after that. But for Libbie, the aspirin wasn’t enough. Once again, she began taking Valium twice a day, and most afternoons and evenings she drank wine to ease her pain. She felt calm and mellow from the wine and Valium, but then she’d also feel tired and her head was fuzzy.
She found that despite being underage, she could go into the liquor store and buy wine if she asked the owner to put it on her parents’ account. The owner never questioned it; she was a Wilkens, after all, and her parents paid the bills and never asked her about it, either. She hid the wine from Jack. She didn’t want him questioning her about it or worrying that she might get into an accident again. She felt guilty about hiding it, but decided it was for the best.
They decorated the little cottage with a blue spruce tree and garland all around, and although they’d had fun trimming the tree together, Libbie just couldn’t get into the holiday spirit. They spent Christmas Eve with Libbie’s family, and then Christmas Day they went out to the farm for a big, old-fashioned holiday meal. Libbie had enjoyed the warmth of the family Christmas at the farm much more than the stuffy atmosphere at her own parents’ house. Jack’s parents gave down-to-earth gifts from the heart. His father made a jewelry box just for her like the ones she’d seen in his shop, except hers was bigger, with a removable compartment inside. It had a carved rose on top and was stained a light oak color. Libbie loved the gift more than if it had been bought in a store.
“And here’s something to put in it,” Jack said, smiling warmly at her.
Libbie opened the small gift box. Inside a velvet box was a lovely blue topaz ring set in yellow gold. “Oh, Jack. It’s so beautiful!” Libbie squealed, quickly slipping it on her right hand.
“It reminded me of your eyes,” he told her.
Libbie’s heart swelled with love for Jack. His gift was so sweet, and he was so good to her. She wished she felt better, but it seemed out of her control. She tried her hardest to act happy for Jack’s sake, but her heart wasn’t in it.
On New Year’s Eve, Carol and Larry came over for a quiet celebration. Even though the two weren’t dating anymore, they still got along well, and the four always had a good time. Larry brought vodka and a bottle of champagne, and Carol brought wine. All evening, Libbie felt Jack’s eyes on her every time she took a drink of wine, and it annoyed her. She knew he was just worried about her, but she didn’t want him counting every sip. By midnight, she’d drunk too much despite Jack’s warning glances, and she fell asleep soon afterward. Their first New Year’s Eve as a married couple should have been sweet and romantic, but she ruined it by drinking too much and, again, she felt guilty.
Libbie felt as if a dark cloud was casting shadows over her and she couldn’t shake it off. The cold weather bothered her more than it ever had before, mostly because she felt lonely during the day and grew weary of keeping the fire going. Cooking dinner and doing laundry grew tedious and tiresome. And even her job at the library was getting on her nerves. She didn’t know why, and she didn’t know how to dig her way out of the unhappy state she was in. Worst of all, Jack was always so sweet and understanding, even after working hard all day, yet she’d find herself snapping at him unprovoked. Then she’d break down into tears for having been so cruel.
One night in mid-January, Libbie yelled at Jack when he came home and found her asleep on the sofa—again. He’d only suggested they go out for a bite to eat since she was so tired, and she started complaining about all she had to do around the cottage.
“I know you think I don’t do anything around here all day but sleep, but I do! Keeping that damned fire going, cleaning, and laundry doesn’t do itself, you know,” she yelled, her heart pounding furiously. “All I do is work! I never have any fun anymore.”
“I know you do a lot around here, Libbie,” Jack said soothingly, although his expression had been one of confusion at her sudden outburst. “I only suggested we go grab a burger so you wouldn’t have to cook dinner. I don’t mind going out.”
Libbie dissolved into tears then, hating the way she constantly felt and the way she spoke to Jack. “I sound like a bitch,” she said, weeping. “How can you stand to live with me? I’m always unhappy and complaining, and I don’t even know why.”
Jack sat beside her on the sofa and wrapped her into his arms. “Don’t cry, Libbie. I understand. I know you have so much to do around here, plus your work at the libr
ary. And winter has been hard for you. And then there was the accident. I’m sure you’re still healing from that. Please don’t cry, sweetie.”
Libbie looked up at him with swollen eyes. “I feel so sad all the time. And then I get so angry, I feel like I’m going to blow. I’ve never felt this way before. I thought we’d be so happy once we were married, and I was, but now I just keep ruining everything with my moods.”
Jack tenderly brushed his fingers through her hair, sweeping it away from her face and behind her ear. “Is it me, Libs? Do I make you angry and unhappy? Tell me what I’m doing wrong or what I can do to make things better. I’ll do anything to make you happy.”
Libbie’s heart swelled at the troubled look on Jack’s handsome face. “No, it’s not you,” she said softly. “You do everything right. I love you so much. It’s just me, and I don’t know why I’m feeling this way. I want to be happy. I don’t understand why I can’t control my emotions anymore.”
“Maybe you should talk to the doctor,” Jack suggested. “There has to be some reason you’re feeling this way.”
Libbie nodded. She hated going to the doctor, but maybe Jack was right. She couldn’t continue feeling so out of control.
When she did see the doctor, she was surprised by his suggestion.
“It could be that the birth control pills are causing your hormones to fluctuate,” he suggested. “Maybe you should try going off them for a while to see if you feel better.”
Libbie hadn’t even given the pills that much thought. She’d started taking them right before they were married and never even considered that they might be playing havoc with her emotions.
The doctor also reminded her that she’d recently had an accident and a bad bump to the head. “You may just need some extra time to let your body heal from the accident. Just because you look fine doesn’t mean your body isn’t stressed.”
When Libbie told Jack what the doctor had said, he looked thoughtful.
“Maybe you should stop the pill for a while. We’ll just be careful,” Jack told her.
Libbie stopped taking the pills, but her emotions were still all over the place. The doctor had said it might take a few weeks to feel normal. The problem was, Libbie couldn’t remember what normal felt like anymore. Her emotions fluctuated from angry and agitated to excited and energetic all in the span of a few hours. After a spurt of energy, she’d again feel drained and depressed. It was a vicious cycle that left her exhausted. Desperate for relief, Libbie started taking Valium three times a day. The effects of the pill didn’t last as long as they had a year ago when she’d first started them. Taking more each day, plus a glass of wine before Jack came home, allowed her to feel calmer, even though her mind felt fuzzy. At least she wasn’t snapping at Jack like before. And she let Jack believe she’d calmed down from stopping the birth control pills instead of telling him the truth about the Valium and alcohol.
“The doctor was right. The birth control pills must have been the problem,” he said one night as they sat eating dinner. “You seem calmer. Are you feeling better?”
Libbie nodded. “Yeah, I feel a little better.” She hated not telling him the truth, but she was afraid Jack would be upset if he knew about the Valium. He might think less of her, or that she was somehow damaged because she needed pills to keep calm, and that would break her heart. As long as the pills worked, Libbie didn’t feel the need to tell him.
Jack’s twentieth birthday came and went. They spent the evening having supper at the farm. Jan already had a new boyfriend, and Ray was growing up fast. Libbie felt that time was running away from her. Every day was more and more of a struggle to get through, and everyone else seemed to just glide along in their lives. She wished she could feel that carefree again.
But as the cold days of February dragged on, Libbie found that even three pills a day weren’t enough. She felt like she’d fallen into a dark pit and couldn’t pull herself out. The combination of Valium and wine continued. Some days she could barely get out of bed, other days she felt better, almost exuberant, and couldn’t wait to face the day. She’d miss making dinner some nights because she’d drink herself to sleep by late afternoon. Some mornings she just couldn’t get up and go to work and would have to call in sick. She managed, but Libbie felt like she was lost half of the time. And she wasn’t sure what to do, because she didn’t want to admit to anyone, least of all herself, that she was losing control.
Jack saw that Libbie was struggling, but he had no idea why—or how to help her. Some days she’d be so happy and upbeat. They’d have snowball fights in the yard or glide around the icy lake on skates, and then go home to their cozy cottage and make love. Those days were precious to Jack. Other days, however, he’d come home from work and she’d be asleep on the sofa. She slept so soundly, she never heard him come in and start cooking something for them to eat. It would take him several minutes to wake her up, and if she did stay awake to eat dinner, her eyes were glassy and her movements slow and unsteady. Jack didn’t understand what was happening to her. It was as if he was married to two women—cheerful Libbie and depressed Libbie. But when he’d try to bring up the subject of her health, Libbie wouldn’t discuss it.
“I’m fine,” she’d say bluntly. “Winter is just dragging me down. I’ll be better in the spring.”
Jack hoped that was true.
The last Sunday in February, Larry dropped by. Jack stepped outside a moment to speak to him before he came inside.
“How is she today?” Larry asked softly.
“It’s been a good day,” Jack told him. He’d confided in Larry about Libbie’s moods. “I’ve already told her you enlisted a few weeks ago, and she took that pretty well. Saying good-bye might be a lot harder, though.”
“For me, too,” Larry said with a grin, but there was no mirth in his smile. A soft crying sound came from Larry’s coat pocket.
Jack’s brow wrinkled. “What was that?”
“You’ll see,” Larry said. “Let’s go inside. I’m sure Libbie already knows why I’m here.”
Jack opened the door and led the way. “Larry came to say hi,” he said cheerfully.
Libbie was curled up on the sofa with an afghan wrapped around her. She and Jack had been watching Bonanza on television. She smiled up at Larry when he came in. “Hey, Larry. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good.” He smiled and walked across the room to her. “I brought you something that I hope you’ll take care of for me.” Larry reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny, orange-striped kitten. The little ball of fur mewed softly.
Libbie squealed with delight and reached out her hands to hold it. “Oh, Larry. It’s adorable. It’s so tiny.”
“Yeah, he is. One of our barn cats had an early litter, and this little guy was the runt. The bigger ones kept pushing him away from the mother, so I took him in and fed him milk with an eyedropper. I was thinking that maybe you might like to have him. He could use some extra loving care.”
Libbie held the little kitten close to her. “I love him, Lar. Jack, we can keep him, can’t we?”
Jack smiled. “Of course we can. I’m sure you’ll give him all the love he needs.”
“I’m going to get him a litter box and keep him inside so he doesn’t drown in the lake or get hurt by a wild animal,” Libbie said. She beamed up at Larry. “I’ll take good care of him.”
Larry sat down beside her. “I know you will,” he said softly. “Since I’m leaving tomorrow, he’ll need you to take care of him.”
Libbie’s eyes went wide. “You’re leaving? Tomorrow? For the Army?”
Larry nodded. “Yep. I’m taking the bus tomorrow morning, and in two days I’ll be at the Army camp, ready for them to make a man out of me.” He grinned crookedly.
“Oh, Larry.” Libbie’s eyes filled with tears. She reached out and hugged him with one arm, holding the little kitten between them. “I’m going to worry about you every moment you’re gone.”
Larry pulled away and loo
ked down at her tenderly. “Now don’t you worry about me. I’ll be just fine. You love that little kitten and take care of this big oaf here, and the time will go by quickly. Before you know it, I’ll be home again.” He kissed her softly on the cheek.
Libbie nodded, but she was too choked up to speak. She sat back and hugged the kitten close to her, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Maybe you can name that silly kitten after me,” Larry said, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Larry’s a good name for a cat.”
Libbie laughed and Jack snorted.
“Larry is a terrible name for a cat,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t do that to the poor kitten.”
Libbie looked thoughtful a moment. “I know. I’ll name him Spence. That would be cute, and it still has part of your last name in it.”
“Spence is a great name,” Larry said softly. He bent over to pet the kitten, then kissed Libbie on the cheek one last time. “Take care of Spence. When I come back, I’ll expect to see a big, fat cat, all lazy and spoiled.”
Libbie smiled at him. “Good-bye, Larry. Please be careful and come home to us.”
Larry nodded. He stood and then walked over to the door. “Good-bye, Libbie. Take good care of yourself, too.” He waved and walked out the door with Jack behind him.
After Jack closed the door, he stood next to Larry, not knowing quite what to say.
“Hey, no frowning, Jack. We’ve known each other a long time, and you know that I’m tough and crazy. If anyone can come home from Nam, it’s me.”
“I expect you to keep that promise,” Jack said. For the first time in their friendship, a handshake wasn’t enough. They hugged each other, and then Larry left with a grin and a wave.
Jack watched him drive away, then took a deep breath to clear his head and went back inside. Libbie was still hugging the kitten tight.
Finding Libbie Page 17
