A Shattered Wife (14 page)

Bill’s mouth formed the words ‘help me’.

She squeezed the trigger.

The impact slammed his wheelchair against the side of the
house, where it tipped, hit the wall, and righted itself. The unexpectedly
powerful recoil of the rifle caused it to strike Martha on the cheek and
propelled her backward into the laundry room with enough force to throw her
down. Her head hit the washing machine, knocking her unconscious.

Martha sat alone on the far end of the back porch, looking contentedly
at the familiar surrounding countryside. She loved all the seasons of the year,
but fall was her favorite because it was the most beautiful. The trees were
flaming oranges, yellows, and reds. Occasionally, the deep green of a pine
slashed through the colors. She inhaled deeply and the fresh air smelled sweet
– perhaps sweeter than it ever had before.

It was still warm - much too warm for October – but she
would not complain. Cold weather would come soon enough and her son would start
badgering her again about how she could not live alone and how she should move
to Cleveland to live with him. Well, she thought, he can badger all he wants.
She was determined to keep her home for as long as possible. She was enjoying
the solitude. Besides, she wasn’t alone.

A fat red squirrel scampered up a nearby tree, working hard
and fast to store food for winter. Rabbits played hide and seek among the now
naked-looking rhododendrons and peonies that edged the driveway, and groundhogs
rummaged through what was left of the summer garden. A scolding blue jay caught
her attention, and she returned to her self-appointed task of crumbling bread
and tossing it out into the yard for the birds. The mid-morning sun was growing
warmer, so she took off her sweater and placed it across her lap. She felt
peaceful, happy. Watching two birds fight over the last crumbs of bread, she
smiled. "Don’t be so greedy," she said aloud. Her own voice sounded
good to her ears.

Hearing the sound of an approaching car, she looked up to
see Paul Newsome’s old yellow VW putt-putting up the curved gravel driveway.
Thank goodness. She had expected him earlier, and had started to worry just a
little. Seeing Katie in the seat beside him brought another, brighter smile to
her lips. They made a handsome couple, and their wedding on the front lawn had
been a beautiful sight. Their love and devotion to each other was obvious;
their happiness was contagious. She waved a greeting.

Katie, in the front seat, waved back at her. "Did you
ever see so many animals? She told me once that they ate right out of her hand,
but I had no idea…." She left the sentence unfinished as they climbed out
of the car. The animals didn’t seem to even notice.

"I told you. It’s been like this since Bill died.
They’re everywhere, and they don’t seem to even notice people." Paul’s
eyes met hers and they both looked around cautiously. The animals met their
gaze with curious stares but no fear.

"It’s spooky," Katie said, and placed her hand in
Paul’s. He nodded.

"I was getting ready to start lunch," Martha said
as they climbed the stairs. "Will you join me?"

"Sure," Paul said, knowing that’s she’d really
been waiting for their arrival.

Either Paul or Katie made it a point to join her for lunch
or dinner several times a week. They enjoyed her company and the pleasant,
comfortable conversations. At first, Martha had been consumed with Bill’s death
and was lost and adrift without him. The last couple of months, though, had
brought about a great change in her. She seemed much more content, happy and at
ease with herself and her world. This particular visit, however, was not a
social one for Paul.

"What’s the word?" Martha asked, looking at him
with surprising directness just before they went inside.

Paul shrugged, glanced quickly at Katie and then said, "Still
no answers. We’ve been over the tests a thousand times. There’s absolutely no
physical reason why you can’t walk."

"Meaning that it’s all in my head."

He nodded. "I guess so. Katie can tell you more about
that than I can."

Martha waved a hand. "No hurry. If it can’t be helped,
it can’t be helped. I’m alive and I consider that to be pretty lucky."

The couple exchanged relieved glances.

"I might as well give you your vitamin shot now,"
Paul said as he rummaged through his bag and began to prepare a hypodermic.

Martha’s easy, contented smile changed to a look of
resignation. "Fine," she grumbled. "But let’s at least go
inside." She turned and propelled her wheelchair through the front door.