Spring Rain

by Gayle Roper

  “But for now he can stay home?” she asked, trying with limited success to keep her voice calm. “Because he’ll be all right? You’re not just saying that?” She wanted to grab David’s lapels and make him swear, make him promise on every Bible they could gather, that Ted would be fine.

  David rubbed weary eyes. “He should be all right in a couple of days.”

  “Should be? Just should be?” It wasn’t good enough.

  “Julia, that’s the best I can do. If the medicine works and the fever breaks in the next couple of days, we’ll survive this crisis. He’ll have more time. You’ll have more time.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  He didn’t answer, and she didn’t need him to. “Sometimes I can’t stand the uncertainty.” She pulled away from him. “I just can’t stand it!” She turned and started for the stairs, her steps jerky and her breathing rapid. She had to see Ted for herself, see that he was still breathing, still living.

  David caught her arm. “Don’t go up now.”

  She pulled against him. “I’ve got to.”

  “He’s resting, and Clay’s with him. He’ll let us know if there’s any change.”

  “Clay.” She said it with scorn. “What does he know about caring for Ted?”

  “Julia, look at me.” David waited until she turned her frantic gaze on him, then shook his head slowly and deliberately. “Don’t go up. You’ll upset him more than help him.”

  “I have to! I’m his mother.” She pulled against him some more, trying to wrench her arm from his grasp.

  He placed himself between her and the stairs. “You’re too distraught. He needs to rest.”

  Huge tears slid down her cheeks. “Get out of my way, David. That’s my baby, and he needs me.” And I need him.

  He didn’t move. Instead he said in a wry tone, “By how many minutes?”

  “What?”

  “You said he was your baby. How many minutes later than Clay was he born?”

  David’s question burst the bubble of Julia’s near hysteria like a well-placed pinprick. In that instant her fear metamorphosed into anger. “Are you laughing at me?” she demanded, her voice quivering with fury.

  “Hardly,” he said evenly. “I’m trying to calm you down.”

  “Calm me down?” Her voice rose. “Calm me down? Why, you—”

  David enfolded Julia in his arms, surprising her and pinning her arms against her sides.

  “Let me go,” she hissed, struggling. “Let me go.”

  He ignored her and held on as she pushed and shoved against him. “Shh, sweetheart,” he whispered over and over again. “Relax. Just relax.”

  She continued to struggle halfheartedly for a few minutes, then sagged against him. Her arms snaked around his waist, and she went still, weeping softly, her fiery defiance tempered into slow-burning despair.

  “David.” Leigh’s face was pale. “Why don’t you take her outside for some fresh air? I’ll go up and help Clay.”

  Julia looked at Leigh through her tears. She couldn’t seem to grasp the meanings of Leigh’s words, simple words, regular words. They sounded like an unknown tongue.

  “Julia.” Leigh laid her hand on Julia’s arm. “You know I can care for Ted, right? And you know I’ll call you if you’re needed?”

  Comprehension came and Julia nodded.

  Leigh gave a soft half smile. “I’m going up now. You go for a walk with David.”

  “But—” Julia looked up the stairs, her face full of yearning. Then she nodded. “I need to calm down, and he needs to sleep.”

  “Good girl.” David held out her jacket. When she made no move to put it on, he stuffed her arms into the sleeves and zipped it up. He grabbed his own jacket and the flashlight by the back door, then took her hand and led her through the dunes onto the beach.

  She followed docilely. The waves mumbled a greeting, and the moon, low in the sky, laid a path of brilliance over the sea to their feet. They stood in silence as the water advanced and retreated. His hand tightly grasping hers felt like the only untainted thing in her world.

  “David, I can’t stand the pain.” She gasped for air.

  He pulled her against him and held her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and wept out more of her fear. He rocked her gently, running his hand soothingly over her hair.

  “You’ll be all right,” he whispered. “You’ll be all right.”

  “It hurts differently,” she said against his damp jacket, her voice hoarse from her tears. “From Will’s death, I mean. Then my chest ached, and my heart felt squeezed by a giant hand. The pain was so intense it was physical.” She leaned back and placed her fist on her chest just left of center. “Right here. I felt the hurt with every breath. But this takes my breath away. Literally. Sometimes I think I can’t breathe. My whole body is alive with pain. I can’t think. I can’t read. I can’t pray. And he hasn’t even died yet. What will the agony be then?”

  He nodded. “I know.” His voice was soft and full of its own aching.

  She blinked at him as a thought struck her. “And you had to deal with both at the same time, didn’t you? Leslie and Adam.” She felt an awe, an amazement that he was still functioning, still willing to get involved with people, still willing to risk caring. “David, how did you do it?”

  “One minute at a time.” He brushed back a curl the brisk wind had blown across her mouth. “There’s no other way. You just hang on to God by your fingernails and live another minute. I kept repeating over and over, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you. I will never leave you nor forsake you. I will never leave you nor forsake you.’ I said it even when I felt so alone that I wasn’t sure I believed it anymore.”

  Julia shivered. “Your children aren’t supposed to die before you. It’s against the rules. And your spouse is supposed to die of old age quietly in bed.” She shivered again.

  “Are you cold? Or is it emotions?”

  She considered his question. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. I know where we can be warm and still watch the water and the waves and the moon.”

  He led her back toward the dunes, stopping beside one of the little cliffs where a winter storm had eaten away part of a dune and left a drop of five feet. He sat and pulled her down beside him.

  “This will block the wind for you.”

  It was true. It was as if a little vacuum existed under the cliff, the wind whipping past without stopping to investigate the lee of sand. He put an arm around her and pulled her against his side. Still she shivered.

  “The sand’s cold.”

  “Come here.” He took her hands and pulled her onto his lap. She sat sideways to him, her shoulder leaning against his chest. He wrapped his arms about her and pulled her closer. Her head rested against his shoulder.

  She sighed, feeling comforted by his closeness, feeling his warmth gradually seep into her, as near to peace as it was possible to be these days. “You’ve been so good to me, David. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  She could just make out the faintest of smiles on his face. “I don’t intend that you have a chance to find out.” His voice was soft but firm, full of promises and a future she didn’t know how to deal with right now. Today was hard enough. She said nothing as her thumb fiddled with her wedding ring, but he didn’t seem to expect a response.

  They sat quietly for a while, watching the moon over the water, listening to the soft murmur of the waves breaking on the sand. If she angled her head right, she could see the water and the moon without the lights of Atlantic City to distract from them.

  “ ‘Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.’ ” Her voice was soft. “I think that will be my verse.”

  He nodded. “That’s what it comes down to many times—trust. Nothing more because there is nothing more.”

  “He looked so—” she hesitated, searching for the words she wanted—“so not there.” Her hand went to her heart. “It terrified me. ‘Not on their birthday, Lord,’
I kept thinking. ‘Not on their birthday!’ ” She gave a sad smile. “As if another day will be better. But I don’t want Clay to have to carry that burden for the rest of his life. It will be bad enough that his twin is gone. To think that he died on their birthday would take so much of the pleasure of future celebrations away.”

  David’s arms tightened about her, and he leaned over to kiss her cheek. “You’re an amazing woman, Julia Wharton. And you’re a lot stronger than you think.”

  She settled against him and stared at the moon.

  Twenty-three

  LEIGH HURRIED UP the steps to Ted’s room. Concerned as she was for both Ted and Julia, her heart was strangely light in both its definitions: light as in freed from a great burden, buoyant, weightless, the heavy chains of her secret unlocked from her soul; and light as in flooded with brilliance, the doors of her self-inflicted prison thrown open to the radiance of sunlight pouring over her spirit.

  She wanted to laugh, to sing, to dance, but Ted’s bedroom was hardly the place. Instead, she grabbed hold of her elation and pushed it firmly down to percolate just below the surface of her skin, to bubble through her veins. Later she’d have time and be in the right place to explode with her emancipation.

  Clay now knew. She grinned. She had to admit to an all-too-human satisfaction at his despair. If he had brushed off his paternity, she knew she’d have spent the rest of her life struggling to forgive him. Any warmth she’d begun to feel toward him would have been frozen in the winter of his contempt. But it was obvious he ached to the marrow of his being, and that pleased her. Not that she delighted in his pain, for she didn’t. Not at all. But she did rejoice that he took the situation so to heart.

  Happy birthday to you, Bucko!

  She stopped in the doorway for a minute and just watched the brothers. Ted was in bed, and Clay was trying to get him out of his clothes. Ted was so limp that it was like undressing a doll except that you couldn’t push and pull the limbs any way you wanted. Every few seconds, Ted would hiss, and Clay would close his eyes in frustration and try again.

  Leigh bit back a grin. Julia was right to be concerned about Clay’s nursing skills. She bet that if he took one of those tests for spiritual gifts, his mercy scores would be about zero. Administration, now, that would probably be off the charts.

  Her shoulder resting against the jamb, she studied Clay. He was such a commanding presence with his height and strength. He had that same aura of competence that Will had had and that used to mark Ted before his decline. The Wharton men were all leaders, the kind of men people automatically followed, but Clay even more so. Bill showed the same presence, but then why wouldn’t he? He was a Wharton man too.

  As Julia often said about the boy, “He’s going to lead somebody someplace. It’s just a matter of who and where.”

  Clay must have felt her eyes on him because he looked up. She smiled and was delighted to see his mouth turn up in that half grin she had always loved. That he could smile at all considering the punch he’d taken in his metaphorical gut was a wondrous thing.

  “What?” Ted mumbled, aware that he’d lost Clay’s attention. He turned his head.

  “Leigh. Help. He’s killing me.”

  “Poor baby.” Leigh laughed as she came into the room. She placed a hand on his forehead and felt the heat.

  He batted at her weakly, making a noise like a growl. “Don’t baby me. Rescue me.”

  “He’s very grumpy,” Clay said in a disapproving voice. “Very.”

  “So would you be if you felt like he did,” Leigh said. “Now let’s get these clothes off him.”

  In a matter of minutes, Ted was tucked under a sheet and blanket, too weary to even scowl any longer. He was slick with sweat as his fever ate at him, and he tried with feeble kicks to get the covers off.

  “They have to stay on to keep you from getting a chill,” Leigh said, laying a restraining arm on his leg.

  He muttered something indecipherable though obviously uncomplimentary, but he stopped kicking.

  Leigh looked at the chart posted on the wall. “What meds are you due, Ted?” With quick, practiced movements she collected the proper pills from their vials and bottles.

  “Lift him up a bit, Clay,” she ordered.

  As Clay slid his arm under Ted and raised his shoulders, Leigh poured fresh water. She stuck the angled straw in the glass and handed the medical cocktail to Ted. He stared at the collection of pills for a minute.

  “Why bother?” he whispered.

  Leigh ignored the tremor those two words caused in the pit of her stomach. “Because you can’t give up. It’s against the rules. Whartons never give up.”

  “She’s right,” Clay said. “I’m sure it’s written down somewhere in all that genealogy stuff Grandmom Wharton collected.”

  Ted snorted, but when Leigh raised the medicines to his mouth, he swallowed them. Gently Clay lowered him to the pillow.

  “Hot,” Ted whispered.

  “Get a washcloth, Clay, and a bowl of cool water.”

  “Yes, sir,” Clay said, amusement in his voice.

  “Watch her,” Ted managed, turning on his side and curling in on himself. “Dictator.”

  Laughing, Clay left the room.

  Ted grabbed her hand as soon as he was gone. “Are you mad at me?”

  She looked at his questioning face. “It was a rotten thing to do, both to me and to Clay.”

  He nodded. “But are you mad at me?”

  “What if Bill had caught on? He’s got to be told, but not like that.”

  “A risk worth taking.” He coughed harshly, his face creased with pain.

  Immediately, Leigh reached for the cough medicine. “Take more.”

  He swallowed obediently. “Love you both,” he muttered as he closed his eyes.

  She gently brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I know, and I’ve got to admit, I’m glad the secret’s out. It’s a relief.”

  He smiled blissfully. “Good.”

  “But how did you figure it out after all these years? How did your mother?”

  “The picture,” he said, nodding to the bureau.

  Leigh looked on the cluttered top of the bureau, searching among all the medical paraphernalia for a picture. She spotted it where it had slid between a container of body lotion and a bottle of mouthwash.

  She looked at the photo in amazement. “It’s Billy, but it’s not.” She turned it over. “Will Wharton, age 10. I can’t believe the resemblance!”

  “It was in the box from the attic,” Ted said with a shiver. His teeth knocked against each other as he tried to curl into an even tighter ball. “How come I’m freezing all of a sudden? How can I be cold and hot at the same time?”

  Leigh dropped the picture back onto the counter and didn’t bother to pick it up when it missed and fluttered to the floor. She went quickly to Ted. She climbed onto the bed behind him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing his back to her front. She felt his shudders and the slickness of his sweat and closed her eyes against the tears. How she hated his illness! She rested her forehead against the back of his neck and tried not to cry.

  The click-click of toenails on wood announced the entrance of Terror who came zipping into the room with his usual energy. He bounded onto the bed, stopped dead when he saw Ted and Leigh. He stared at them for a heartbeat, then went unerringly to Ted. He licked his face, then settled down against his chest.

  Ted sighed. “Wonderful.”

  Clay came in, a basin in his hands.

  “Go away,” Ted muttered. “I’m happy.”

  “I’d be happy like that too,” Clay said. He put the basin on the bureau in a space he made by pushing a dozen medicine containers to the side. He dipped the washcloth into the cool water and wrung it out. He sat in the chair beside the bed, leaned over, and washed his brother’s face, neck and chest, the latter in spite of Terror’s complaints. Then he rinsed the cloth and did Ted’s face again.

  Leigh watched from behind Te
d, her heart moved by the gentleness of Clay’s movements. Maybe he had the gift of mercy after all.

  Oh, Lord, help them!

  “I checked on Bill,” Clay said quietly as he sat back in the chair. “He’s watching TV. David must have convinced him Ted was okay because he’s lost that pinched look.”

  Leigh nodded, relieved. “How’s your mother?”

  “She’s not there. Bill says she went out with David.”

  Leigh nodded. “Good. They must still be walking on the beach. David didn’t want her to come up here because she was so upset.”

  “Sorry.” Ted sounded resigned. “What I do best.”

  “Be quiet and rest,” Leigh whispered softly in his ear.

  The three kept a companionable silence for a while. Then Clay asked, his voice tight, “Does she love him?”

  Leigh resettled her head more comfortably on one of Ted’s pillows. She still lay spooned against him, offering her warmth, her comfort. She heard uncertainty and something like fear in Clay’s voice. Her heart ached for him. “I don’t know if she loves David. I think he loves her, but I don’t think she knows how she feels yet. There’s so much going on that it’s difficult for her to sort it all out.”

  “She loves him,” Ted said and began to cough. “Doesn’t realize it yet,” he managed between gasps.

  “You might be right.” Leigh rubbed her hand across his back, patting him gently to help ease the cough.

  Silence settled on the room again. Then, cautiously, Clay spoke. “He seems very nice.”

  “He is.” Leigh raised herself on one elbow to look across Ted. “I know it’s hard for you to see your mother with someone besides your father, but try to think what’s best for her.”

  “Nice man,” Ted mumbled. “Nice for her.” Terror gave a sleepy sigh of agreement.

  “It’s so strange,” Clay said. “Things you never in a million years anticipate happen when you’re away, and it takes a while to come to terms with them. You two are used to the idea of David. You’ve seen the whole thing develop.” He sighed. “I’m trying.”