The Last Detail

by Lisa J. Lickel

  When Merit inquired at the desk about Amalia, the nurse on duty called Dr. Bader.

  “Ah, good. You’re back. We’ve finished with the procedure and Amalia’s doing very well. Everything looks good. We’ll keep her in recovery for awhile yet. I’ll have someone call you when we move her to a room.”

  Merit’s mind went fuzzy. He could not think of the questions he wanted to ask. Bader seemed to understand and patted his arm again. “I’ll talk to you before I leave. Here’s someone to sit with.”

  Angus Craig guided Merit to a seat against the wall. “Can I get you some coffee, or something?”

  “No, thank you, Angus.”

  “We’re all still here for you both.”

  Merit rubbed the back of his neck. “Have you ever been married, Angus?”

  “Aye, I have. I tried marriage once. Didn’t work. Oh, I still love the lass dearly, but we couldn’t abide. I spent too much time at the shop, not enough with her. And that’s a shame. I remember the good times. We’re still friends.”

  Merit hunched in the chair, elbows to his knees. “I don’t know what I’d do without Amalia. I didn’t plan on ever getting married, and now, I can’t seem to think what to do without her.”

  Angus leaned back, making the chair creek, and folded his arms. “Yep. That’s what it’s like. I heard the doc say you’ll both be fine. Shame about the babe. Never knew that kind of sorrow. But for our girl, prayer works, just like you always tell us. Now take a back seat and let us drive for a bit. You need to slow down, trust us more.”

  “Angus?”

  “Yes, Preacher?”

  “Do I thank you enough?”

  “Aye, you do. Constantly.”

  * * *

  When Merit finally joined his sleeping wife in the darkened hospital room he ignored the recliner and pillow the nurse offered. He tugged a straight chair close to Amalia’s bed so he could hold her hand and watch her face. Before sitting, he stroked her forehead and kissed her lips gently. He could not think of the right things to say in the quiet and settled on silence. He let one hand rest against her still flat stomach and his head fall to the mattress where he could watch her breathe.

  During the hours of night, Merit wrestled with a fitful sleep, aware of the nurses coming and going. At one point, someone placed the blanket from the recliner around his shoulders. After that he knew nothing until he felt pressure on his hand.

  Merit lifted his head to see Amalia’s dark eyes opened and focused on him. The mixture of regret and fear etching lines on either side of her mouth and her brows made him quiver. He leaned close to hear her whisper.

  “I should have told you right away.”

  Merit’s throat closed up. He lifted himself to sit next to her prone figure, pick up her hand, and put his mouth against her palm. His eyes burned and he closed them to beg her, “Tell me, what should I do now? How should I feel?”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Amalia drew her husband’s face to her still tender breasts, awkwardly enfolding him with the arm not attached to an IV line. His shoulders shook and his tears wet the thin hospital gown. At last he could cry. She had hurt him dreadfully, denied him the opportunity to know about his child who had barely quickened in her womb. She would not mourn for their child yet, not while Merit needed her. Amalia stroked his head.

  Unlike that day so long ago when Merit proposed and asked questions they knew the answers to, now he’d grown helpless, unable to accept the loss of the precious gift he had not known he had. She could have told him as soon as she suspected. She should not have selfishly let the details of how she wanted to share the news interfere with his joy.

  When he gradually calmed, she whispered, “I want to go back in time, Merit, to the day we were so sure of everything. When we only needed each other.”

  Her husband raised his head to meet her eyes. He wiped his face and took a heaving deep breath. “I’m so naïve. I thought I could be married and stay the same. I didn’t take into consideration that we joined together. I forgot that we became one whole, part of each other, better together than apart. I assumed you would always be there waiting for me whenever I could spare a couple of minutes to pay attention to you. I believed that nothing could happen to us. I failed you.”

  Amalia had not expected this guilt and hurt. “But I’m the one who failed you. How could you possibly think any of this is your fault?” He looked away, burdened with some emotion she couldn’t identify. “We made this child. You didn’t do anything that caused me to lose the baby. Surely you don’t believe that.” She stroked his arm, becoming aware of his grazed knuckles. “Merit?”

  A woman from the kitchen pushed in a cart with covered dishes. “Good morning. Breakfast.”

  The thought of food turned Amalia’s stomach. Merit moved away to help maneuver her bed and the rollaway table. Lifting the head of the bed made her dizzy and nauseous, and she grimaced at the heaviness in her lower abdomen. “How about some oatmeal for you both?”

  Amalia took a deep breath and nodded.

  “I’ll be right back,” Merit said. “Have to wash up.”

  The sympathetic server smiled and left the room. “I’ll be back later to pick up the tray.”

  When Merit returned Amalia asked him about his hand.

  His face flushed dark, and he would not meet her eyes at first. He cleared his throat and stood next to the table, lifting covers and examining the food. “I’ll fix your oatmeal for you.” He put a straw in her cup of orange juice and gave it to her. When he finally sat down and picked up a spoon, she asked him again. “Merit, please tell me what happened. Do I need to know what the other guy looks like?”

  Merit lifted his spoon and deliberately put it in his mouth. He looked at her while he swallowed. “Justice and I had to work some things out.”

  “Justice? What’s that about?”

  Merit shrugged. “Don’t worry. We’re square.”

  Amalia should have realized Merit’s lack of emotional outburst over his brother’s return hadn’t meant his feelings didn’t run deep. As with Tom’s death, she guessed Merit needed to keep control, to be strong for everyone else. She shook her head. “We never talked about him. I couldn’t tell if you were happy to see him, or even believed…”

  Merit stirred the contents of her bowl. “It’s getting cold. Won’t you take a bite?”

  “Merit.”

  “I felt numb, all right?” Merit put down the spoon and sat back. “That’s an oxymoron, I know. It’s not that I didn’t feel anything. I guess, I felt scared. He left, then he came back. No warning. No rumble. What if he disappears again? I wasn’t prepared.”

  “Like this.” Amalia waved her hand across her middle. “Disasters aren’t usually predicted on the evening news.”

  “I’m learning that I’m not in control. If ever I thought I had to be the reliable one no matter what, I’ve discovered nothing could be farther from the truth.”

  “Are you sorry you married me?”

  He plunged out of the chair to grip her hand. “Of course not. I’m sorry I haven’t been a better husband to you.”

  “Please. We need to talk more, definitely, but I believe no one else could be a better husband.”

  “Aren’t you hungry?” He pushed her hair behind her ear. “Remember when we used to feed each other? You want me to help you?”

  “No, I don’t think I can eat anything. I want to talk. Merit…Merit, I love you.”

  He leaned forward again to trail the back of his hurt hand along her cheek. “I know.” His voice dropped. “I’ve always known, I think from the first time I saw you. Although why I fought it I can’t understand.” He picked up the spoon. “Just a bite.”

  She took the spoon from him.

  “Ah, good. Eating even a little is a good sign,” Dr. Bader spoke from the door. “Can I see you now?”

  “Of course,” Amalia replied. “Can Merit stay?”

  She held his hand while the doctor performed the necessary examinati
on. Merit squeezed back during the palpation of her tender abdomen. He flinched when the nurse changed the pad beneath her.

  The doctor stripped her gloves. “I know you’re familiar, Reverend, with your wife’s general physical needs, but I’d like to keep her another day. There’s obviously more bleeding than I want to see at this point.”

  Amalia thanked the woman but let her disappointment show to Merit. “You can take care of me at home. I’d rather be there than here.”

  Merit soothed her forehead, then the sides of her neck. He sat and drew her close. Amalia closed her eyes and let him hold her.

  The long day passed with the monumental preparations for trips to the bathroom, the huge chunk of time changing her sheets, dozing and meals. Merit explained Angus put himself in charge of holding church visitors at bay until they were ready, while pots and Mason jar vases of flowers began to take up all the window space. She talked to Prudence and Cherie with surprising calm, and even Justice, who told her he planned to return to Missouri. Merit stood nearby, arms folded, expression blank, while they spoke.

  “Not yet, Justice. I want you to stay….Okay, but wait until I get home, please?”

  Amalia woke from a doze to see Merit at the window watching the sunset, which she could glimpse from the bed. The set of his back told her he brooded.

  She watched for a while before speaking. “You should go home tonight, spend time with your brother and get some sleep.”

  He did not turn around. “Not without you.”

  Amalia let that pass. They spent the second night much as the first, but this time Merit let her talk him into the recliner.

  * * *

  Justice met them at the door of the big house late the next morning when Merit brought her home. Coming here felt right and good. Amalia convinced them to let her rest in the living room instead of upstairs in bed. “I’d feel too isolated. I want to be here for now. I’m not sick, you know.”

  The brothers traded amused glances. Amalia immediately picked out the bruise on Justice’s cheek, but determined that they had, indeed, squared with each other.

  Justice thanked them. “I really do have to go back to work. It won’t be long until the students return, and the dorms have to be ready. We’re overfull, and I have to organize contracts with local hotels and motels.”

  Amalia held his hand while she bid him good-bye. “From the first time I knew your story I had a feeling we’d meet someday. It’s been a joy getting to know you, Justice. Please call often and let us know how you are.” She looked at Merit. “And we’ll do all we can to help you with your daughter.”

  Amalia watched as Merit walked him to his car. They stood talking for a few minutes, then clasped each other in a hug.

  When Merit returned he fussed with her pillows and then went to make her a cup of tea. He watched while she drank.

  “Merit, stop it. I won’t break.” She smiled. “Remember what happened when I brought you a glass of water and watched you drink?”

  He touched her cheek and lip. “Yes. I love you.” He cleared his throat and looked away before reaching in his pocket. He placed a small box in her hands. “I had Angus pick this up for you.”

  Amalia watched his face for a hint of the gift. Inside the box rested a silver bar decorated with a diamond set on one side with etched lines arcing from it like a falling star.

  “Turn it over.”

  Amalia rubbed the diamond with a shaky finger before doing what he said. A single Nehrangesi word and date were engraved on the back. She pursed her mouth, then uttered the word. “Asnami.”

  Amalia felt released to mourn. “Beloved.” Shivers ran down her arms as she fell forward into Merit’s arms, trembling and weeping for the first time.

  “For our daughter,” he whispered in her ear. “Dr. Bader asked if I wanted to know and I said yes. We’ll keep her memory with us forever.”

  He held her tight against his chest, comforting her and mingling their tears.

  When Amalia felt she could breathe without pain, she let him wipe her face and bring a cool cloth for her eyes. He brushed the hair from her throat and clasped the necklace in place. She brushed her fingertips over the shape as the weight of it settled between her collarbones.

  Amalia shifted to let Merit sit behind her on the sofa, where she could lean against his shoulder. They let their fingers twine and mingle. With his lips against her temple he said, “I want to be better at giving myself to you, to grow into a deeper emotionally intimate relationship with you, not just physical. A relationship that honors all of our needs.” He swallowed. “Instead of taking you for granted.”

  She mulled over his words before she responded. “Sometimes being taken for granted isn’t all that bad. For me, it means we don’t have to wonder whether or not we can count on each other.” Amalia studied their wrapped hands. “When we married, I didn’t think I needed to change my life at all, either. I went right on making the same decisions as if I were the only one affected. I worked, I kept my house, my way of doing things, without consideration of you. I even tried to control the most important news so I could decide when and how you should learn about the baby.”

  He moved his hand across her stomach. “I overheard you on the phone that night.”

  “Oh?”

  Amalia felt his anguish. “I didn’t hear the whole story. I jumped the wrong way, to despicable conclusions. Amalia, I’m so ashamed.”

  “You heard me talking to Cherie. I complained to her instead of telling you how I felt. If anyone should feel shame, my husband, it’s me.”

  Merit’s whisper warmed her hair. He convulsed his scabbed-over knuckles into a fist. “I accused my brother of…of—”

  “Coming between us?” Amalia sat up and turned to look him in the face. “Where would you get such a crazy idea? Look at me.”

  Merit’s eyes opened. He drew in a breath, then hesitated. “You told him about the baby.”

  “Accidentally. When he came to pick me up. When I felt sick…oh, no.”

  “What.”

  “Hudson knew, too. I’m so sorry. It just came out.” She turned away and hid her face. “All I wanted was this romantic dream of the perfect moment to tell you. I didn’t stop to think ahead.”

  She tightened her hands around his while he processed the news. Then, gradually, Merit’s tautness melted, and his breathing evened.

  Amalia broke the quiet first. “Cherie said we should talk about having children, consider it carefully.”

  “She also told me to cut myself some slack, spend more time at home.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “You know, so would I. Angus told me yesterday I needed to trust the people at church more.”

  “Can you? For real this time?”

  His chest moved with his sigh. “I’ll try. Will you help?”

  Amalia twisted around to kiss him. “Yes. I’ve been handling the detailed wishes of the dying all my life. I can learn to work with the living.”

  Merit smiled and touched the diamond. “Having Justice back helped me see myself more clearly. After Tom died, I could say the right things to you, make the promises, even justify being busy because I did it for us. But that wasn’t the truth, or even the right reason. I held back, like I always did, because I was afraid of losing you.” He closed his eyes. Amalia waited. “I wanted to be perfect for you.” He opened his eyes to look deeply into hers.

  Amalia ached for him. “Thank you. I appreciate that you can admit that. I hope you understand that I can’t be perfect for you any more than you can be perfect for me. We’ll fail each other in so many ways. But you will never lose me because of anything you do. Or don’t do.”

  Merit held her so she could hear his heart beat, steady and strong.

  His chest moved with another breath in advance of speech. “So, what do you think about another child?”

  “Not as a replacement.”

  His leaned back to examine her expression. He brought her hand to his mouth and kiss
ed her knuckles. “No.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “In God’s time?”

  Amalia accepted that. “Yes. In God’s time. And we’ll share every step.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Amalia stopped to touch the white velvet of a trillium petal on her way up to the top of Starved Rock. A cardinal flashed through the newly budded wild crabapples. She had a special date with her husband. He had set aside time for the two of them throughout the busy Easter week, his second with New Life and filled with much more joy than last year. Their house and her small one were filled with guests, including a missionary family from Japan on home assignment. A rosy delight included hosting Prudence’s family along with Justice and his daughter, Cindy, a beautiful young girl who had become dedicated friends with her cousin Tricia.

  When Amalia reached the top, she leaned against the wood fence and took in the sight of the chortling river. She heard steps behind her and rushed to greet Merit. He grinned at her especially enthusiastic kiss.

  “Hello to you, too, Mrs. Campbell.” His bright eyes crinkled as he returned her kiss. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful? What a beautiful day. How’s the cantata coming along?”

  He tapped the side of her nose. “No work talk, remember?”

  “All right.” She turned to fit herself against his chest and pulled his arms around her shoulders.

  His voice and warm breath against her ear made her shiver. “What have you been up to so far today? Did you go—”

  “You’re so lucky I haven’t been at work.”

  He laughed softly and nibbled her lobe.

  “As a matter of fact, I did have the appointment moved up.”

  “At the clinic?”

  “With Dr. Bader.”

  Amalia absorbed his stillness before she took his left hand to pull over her stomach. “The test was positive. We’re going to have a baby.”

  Merit’s hand soothed over and around her waist to turn her into a crushing deep hold. When his breath rushed past her cheek she realized he prayed out those same words he had spoken on their wedding day.