A Vow to Cherish (4 page)

J
ohn sat in his office on a Monday morning reviewing a budget proposal. School was out for spring break, so no one else was in the office, but he was swamped with paperwork and had decided to play catch-up. Ellen had gone shopping and wouldn’t be home till after lunch.

The telephone broke the silence in the empty office. He wasn’t accustomed to answering his own phone, and it rang four or five times before he remembered that his secretary wasn’t there to field his calls.

He picked up the receiver. “This is John Brighton.”

“John…” It was Ellen and she was crying.

“Ellen. What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m at the mall.” Her voice quavered. “I think my car’s been stolen.”

“What?”

“I’ve looked all over the parking lot, and it’s not there.”

“Where were you parked?”

“I—I’m not sure. I think I was in front of Nordstrom, but the car’s not…” She was sobbing now. “John, could you just come and help me find it?”

How could she not remember where she had parked? “Where are you now, Ellen?” He was trying to be patient and not upset her any more than she already was.

“I…I think I’m on the south side of the mall. You know—where the parking garage is. Isn’t that south?”

“Yes, that’s south. Are you inside?”

“Uh-huh. By the pay phones.”

“Okay. Stay right where you are, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. But it’ll take me at least twenty minutes to get there if I leave right now. Okay?”

Silence.

“El? Are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just…please hurry.”

“Okay. It’ll be all right. Just stay there, Ellen, okay? I love you.”

She started to cry again. “I love you, too,” she sobbed.

John locked up the office and hurried to his car. Something was terribly wrong. It wasn’t like Ellen to fall apart in a situation like this. And how could she be sure the car had been stolen if she couldn’t even remember where she’d parked? Her memory had been terrible lately, but good grief, people didn’t just completely forget where they were parked at the mall!

He broke every speed limit, and fifteen minutes later parked illegally near the south entrance. He ran inside and stopped short just inside the door. Ellen sat on the tiled floor beside a pay phone, her hair disheveled, mascara streaking her cheeks, a couple of shopping bags crumpled beside her. She looked like a derelict. It was a wonder someone hadn’t reported her. He was almost embarrassed to claim her. Shame washed over him for feeling that way about the woman he loved.

He went to her and reached out his hand.

Her eyes widened as if she’d just recognized him. “Oh! John. You’re here.”

“What happened?” He helped her to her feet.

She collapsed against him with relief, and he was surprised at how fragile she felt. She’d always been thin, but he wondered now if she’d lost weight and he hadn’t noticed.

He ushered her out to his car.

As soon as they were both sitting inside, Ellen poured out her story. “I…I shopped all morning and then decided to get some lunch. But when I came out to the parking lot, the car was just…gone.” She glanced up at him, then quickly turned her eyes back to her lap. “At first I thought maybe I’d gone out the wrong entrance, so I went back in and went around to the other side, but it wasn’t there either. I…I don’t know what happened to it. I can’t remember for sure where I parked. I…I’m sorry.” She started to cry again, silently this time, her shoulders shaking.

“Well, don’t cry,” he said, putting a hand briefly on her shoulder. He didn’t know what to think. This was so unlike Ellen. “We’ll find the car. Let’s drive around and see if we can see it. Now, where do you think you parked?”

“Right in front of Nordstrom…I thought. But I’m so upset now, I don’t know if that’s right.”

John cruised slowly up and down the rows of parked vehicles in front of the Nordstrom store. As he maneuvered a corner, he did a double take. In the third row, in plain sight of the entrance, sat Ellen’s car.

“Ellen. There it is.”

“Where?”

“Right there,” he pointed.

“Where? I don’t see it.”

He drove over to the car and stopped directly behind it.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean? There’s the car, right in front of you. Don’t you see it?” His voice rose, and he bit his lip to keep from shouting at her. Again, he felt guilty for feeling so frustrated with her. But she was acting like a child. “I’ll follow you home if you want me to. Are you done shopping?”

“I want to go home.” She didn’t make a move to get out of the car. “Please…just take me home. I’m so mixed up.”

“Ellen? What is the matter with you? You’re going to have to drive the car home.”

“I don’t know where it is,” she wailed.

Now alarm rose in him. She was totally disoriented. This couldn’t have upset her so much. Something else was wrong.

He reached for her across the car’s console and held her until her sobs subsided. His thoughts were as jumbled as hers seemed when he finally let go. He reached down beside the seat for her seat belt, buckled her in as he would a child, then turned the car toward home. They could come back for her car tonight.

Ellen was silent all the way home. She walked into the house and collapsed on the couch.

John went to her and sat beside her for a long time, stroking her forehead. “Honey, what is wrong? I’ve never seen you this upset over such a little thing.”

“John, I’m so mixed up. I don’t understand it. One minute I’m happily shopping away, and the next minute I can’t even find my own car.”

“Well, I’m worried about you. I think you ought to call Jerry and make an appointment. This kind of stuff has been happening too much lately. I don’t like it.”

“John, I just had a checkup five or six months ago. I’m in perfect health. Jerry will think I’m crazy.”

“Well, I’m beginning to wonder….” He grinned at her, trying to lighten the moment, but he was only half teasing.

And Ellen was not having any of it.

He was afraid to leave her alone. He worked at his desk in the den the rest of the afternoon. She puttered around the house, doing laundry, straightening her desk. By evening she seemed to be feeling better. She was cheerful, though obviously a little embarrassed over what had happened.

After supper they went back for the car, and she followed him home without incident.

That night Ellen slept soundly, curled against John in their big bed. But he woke several times during the night, a sick feeling in his gut. His mind took him to dark places as he finally admitted that he hadn’t wanted to explore the reasons why his wife could no longer balance the checkbook without his help; why she asked him the same question three times in one evening; or why Ellen, usually so decisive, now sometimes struggled to make the simplest of decisions.

When he’d dared to contemplate these questions for more than a fleeting minute, it had been easy to rationalize: Maybe this empty-nest business was having more of an effect on her than either of them had bargained for. Maybe Jerry was right, and the hormonal changes of menopause were to blame. Maybe Ellen just had a lot on her mind. The way he did.

But he couldn’t rationalize her behavior away any longer. He had to do something.

After a fitful sleep, John crept silently from bed early the next morning, taking care not to wake Ellen. He went into the den and dialed Jerry Morton.

“Jerry? John Brighton here. Sorry to bother you at home.”

“John, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m not sure. I know Ellen was in to see you a few months ago, and she said everything was fine, but something happened yesterday that has me worried.” He told Dr. Morton the whole story, remembering the mail in the refrigerator and the 1:00 a.m. showers as he spoke. Jerry listened intently, and John wasn’t comforted by their friend’s response. Jerry sounded genuinely concerned.

“I think you’d better get her in here as soon as possible, John. It sounds like there’s definitely something going on. I’ve got a pretty heavy schedule this morning, but bring her in around ten and I’ll work her in. I think this is important. If for no other reason than to ease her mind—and yours.”

“Thanks, Jerry. I’m really sorry to have bothered you like this, but frankly, I’m worried.”

“Don’t think a thing of it. You did the right thing to call me. I’ll see you at ten.”

Later, when John woke Ellen to get ready for the appointment, her clenched jaw and quiet compliance told him she was angry he’d called Jerry without consulting her. But she showered and dressed for the appointment without arguing.

John was surprised when Dr. Morton led them to his private office rather than to an examination room. After reviewing Ellen’s charts, Jerry asked each of them a barrage of questions, and the answers brought to light just how erratic Ellen’s actions had been over the past months.

“Ellen, I’m just a family practice doctor, so I don’t feel qualified to make anything more than an educated guess here, but I definitely think there are some things going on here that need to be looked into. I want to refer you to a specialist I know in Chicago—a neurologist. We’ll get his evaluation, and then we can go from there. If you’d like me to, I can call him and set up an appointment for you. His name is Dr. Patrick Muñoz.”

Before John and Ellen left Jerry’s office that morning, they had an appointment to see Dr. Muñoz the following Wednesday morning.

They spent the next days in a stupor—going through the motions at work and walking on eggshells at home. Ellen was sensitive and emotional. John felt irritable and impatient with her, then angry with himself for not being the shoulder Ellen needed to lean on.

On Wednesday morning they got up at six o’clock, drove into the city, and ordered breakfast at a café near the medical center. They sat across from each other in a large booth, the distance widened further by their silence. They picked at their eggs and let their coffee grow cold. Finally John went to the counter to pay their bill, and they walked out to the parking lot and got in the car.

They arrived at Dr. Muñoz’s office almost thirty minutes early and sat nervously in the waiting room, leafing blindly through ancient magazines.

Dr. Muñoz looked carefully over the charts Jerry had sent, asked a few terse questions of his own, and before they knew what had hit them, Ellen was checked into Northwestern Memorial for what would stretch into three days of testing.

They had not come prepared to stay, so John helped Ellen get settled before driving back to Calypso to pack a few of her things. He’d expected Ellen to be upset about the unplanned hospitalization, but she took the news well. In fact, he thought she seemed relieved to finally be on the brink of some answers.

John stayed at a hotel near the hospital on Wednesday night. He looked in on Ellen at seven o’clock the following morning, then drove back to Calypso to be at work by nine.

He came home from the office exhausted. With two important appointments scheduled at the schools the next morning, he wasn’t crazy about making the drive back into the city.

When he called Ellen, he found her in good spirits. They chatted about their separate days for several minutes.

He launched into a story about a meeting at work, then stopped abruptly. “Well, I’ll tell you about it when I see you later. Can I bring you anything?”

“Listen, honey, you don’t need to make the trip back to the hospital tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. There’s no reason for you to come. I’m fine. Besides, with any luck, you can come Saturday and take me home.”

John didn’t argue with her.

But the evening dragged endlessly. He fixed a turkey sandwich and ate alone at the kitchen table. By nine o’clock, he was bored and restless, and wandered aimlessly through the big house. He watched the first twenty minutes of the local news and decided to turn in early.

Their big bed, usually so welcoming and warm, was cold and empty without Ellen. The darkness brought out fears he hadn’t yet let himself examine, and he lay awake into the early hours of the morning making deals with God.

E
llen came home from the hospital with more questions than answers. The tests had shown “nothing conclusive” and the hospital had scheduled an appointment the following week with a Dr. Gallia in Chicago, warning her to expect further testing. Jerry claimed the man was the best neurologist in the country, and told them most people had to wait months to get an appointment. Ellen did not find that information comforting.

As she counted down the days until the appointment, her mind insisted on carrying her to the past, to the earliest days of her marriage. It was a mixed blessing that her thoughts compelled her also to the greatest sorrow of their lives, for in this crease of her brain, at least, her thinking was utterly lucid.

When they’d come back from their honeymoon to the teaching jobs awaiting them in North Lawndale, she and John had made lofty plans. Starry-eyed and ignorant, they lay awake under the rafters of their cozy apartment dreaming and scheming late into the nights, timing the events of their young lives to perfection.

But Providence paid no attention to their plans. Just after Christmas, completely contrary to the schedule they’d made, Ellen began to suspect she might be pregnant. She was only a few days late, but her body had taken on a new fullness, and the queasiness in her stomach on the bus each morning became more and more difficult to ignore. She and John had talked often about the children they would have someday, but both had agreed that they wanted to have more than the tiny apartment and teachers’ salaries to offer their babies. They hadn’t even felt they could afford a car yet, though Oscar was generous in lending them his.

Ellen was afraid to tell John her suspicions. He was so careful with their money and had such a precise plan set out: teach another year, buy a car then go back to school for his master’s degree so he could find a job that would allow Ellen to quit teaching and have their babies. It was a good plan—a reasonable plan. But as the signs became ever more evident that Ellen was indeed pregnant, her joy grew proportionately. She thought of nothing else. She decorated nurseries in her dreams and even bought a book of baby names, which she hid under her side of the bed. She looked at it furtively—and guiltily—while John was in the shower or out playing tennis. She started to feel dishonest keeping this momentous news from the one who had helped make it so but, after all, it had not yet been confirmed by a doctor.

Three weeks passed and still her period had not come, and the morning nausea was getting worse. She would have to tell John sooner or later. Would he blame her—or worse, would he grow to resent the baby for making such a drastic revision to their well-planned blueprint?

Ellen made an appointment at the county health clinic to have a pregnancy test. As she sat in the reception room waiting for the results, she realized that even greater than her fear of what John would say if she was pregnant, was the fear that the test would show she
wasn’t
pregnant. She desperately wanted the little life she was certain grew inside her.

After twenty minutes of nervous waiting, Ellen heard her name. She looked up to see the nurse standing in the doorway, an enigmatic expression on her face. The woman motioned to Ellen and led the way to a small room at the end of the hall.

“Well, Mrs. Brighton, you are indeed pregnant. I hope that’s good news.” She glanced suspiciously at Ellen’s plain gold wedding band. “Of course you’ll need to make an appointment with your doctor to determine an accurate due date and make sure everything is progressing as it should.”

She handed Ellen a small stack of pamphlets. Ellen muttered a thank-you, gathered her coat and purse, and made her way down the corridor that led to the street. She had walked the mile and a half from the apartment, and now, in spite of the biting cold, she welcomed the time it would take her to get home.

As the confirmation of her suspicions sank in, Ellen was filled not with apprehension, but with the purest joy she had ever known. She was carrying the child of the man she loved more than anyone or anything in the world. She wanted to turn cartwheels and shout at the top of her lungs. She felt invincible. They would find a way around any obstacles to have this child. Their humble plans suddenly seemed insignificant in the face of this new life they had created.

But as each step took her closer to the apartment—and John—her confidence dwindled. By the time she pushed open their front door, the joy had been displaced by uncertainty.

The house still smelled like this morning’s bacon and eggs. John was sitting at the small table in the kitchen, reading the newspaper. They couldn’t afford a subscription to the
Tribune,
but Oscar and Hattie shared their paper with them each day. John looked up. “Hey, where have you—”

Ellen burst into tears. “Oh, John, I’m pregnant!”

His face registered shock, but no words came from his gaping mouth. He pushed the newspaper to the floor and stood up hesitantly. Then he gathered Ellen in his arms and held her as great sobs racked her thin frame. They stood that way for long minutes until finally he croaked, “Ellen, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She gulped back her sobs. “I just had a test at the clinic. Oh, John, I’m sorry. I thought I was so careful.”

He held her at arm’s length. “Ellen, is it that terrible? I mean, are you okay? Everything’s all right, isn’t it?” There was worry in his voice now.

“Everything’s okay with the baby, but look what I’ve done, John. How will you ever go back to school now? How will we buy a car?” She pointed to the newspaper that lay tented on the floor. “We can’t even afford to buy a newspaper,” she wailed. “And where will we put the baby?” She dissolved into tears again, collapsing against his chest.

He gave a quiet laugh that startled her and made her draw back and look into his eyes.

“Um…excuse me, Mrs. Brighton, but if I remember my biology correctly, I get just a
little
credit for this, too!”

Ellen smiled through her tears. “Oh, John…A baby! I’ve worried so much that you’d be upset…but…oh, honey, I’m so happy. I can’t help it. I want this baby—more than you can imagine.”

John was thoughtful for a moment. “You’ve been acting really strange the last couple weeks. I couldn’t figure out what I’d done to upset you. Now it all makes sense.”

She laughed. “Was I that obvious?”

He nodded. “How long have you known?”

“I started to get suspicious right after Christmas, but I didn’t know for sure until the test today. I know the timing is terrible, but I’ve been so happy thinking about this baby, I would have been crushed if the test had been negative. Is that awful of me?”

“Honey, it’s…it’s wonderful! So we’ll have to change our plans a little. Will it really make any difference twenty years from now that we got a little behind on our big financial schedule? I’m just relieved that this is what has been eating you. I’ve felt like you were a million miles away lately, and I couldn’t figure out what I’d done.” His tone turned stern. “You should have told me. Don’t ever keep anything this important from me, El.” Softening, he took her face tenderly in his hands and touched his nose to hers. “I love you, Ellen Brighton.” He crushed her fiercely to himself. “Our baby will have the most beautiful mother in the world. This is a blessing.” He spoke the words like a decree.

Catherine MaryEllen Brighton was born August 17 at five o’clock in the afternoon. After twelve hours of labor Ellen had given birth with relative ease, but as soon as the doctor announced it was a girl, the nurses whisked the baby out of the room with grim faces. John stood over her at the head of the delivery table, stroking hair away from her face while the doctor stitched her up.

“What’s wrong?” Ellen asked. “Is my baby okay?”

The doctor evaded her question. “The nurse will be in with a sedative.”

“But my baby? Our baby…is she okay?”

The doctor scooted his stool away from the foot of the bed and murmured something to the remaining nurse.

Something was terribly wrong.

Things went fuzzy then. Ellen gripped John’s hand, drifting in and out. She awoke to John’s gentle nudging and Dr. Jensen’s low voice.

“I’m so sorry.” The doctor shuffled his feet and looked at the floor before meeting Ellen’s eyes. “Your baby died a few minutes ago. She was born with a severe heart defect. We did everything we could for her, but there was really never any hope. It was nothing you did…nothing you could have known or done anything about. Please don’t blame yourselves. This is a very rare occurrence, and there’s no reason you cannot have another healthy baby when Mrs. Brighton has recovered sufficiently.”

Though Ellen was lying flat in the bed, the room started to spin. An oddly hushed buzzing pounded in her head. In the hour since the baby’s birth, she had tried to prepare herself for the possibility of this news, and had prayerfully, agonizingly given the child into God’s hands. But now the uncertain fear had become a cruel reality. The baby they had dreamed about, planned for and waited nine endless months for was gone before they could hold her in their arms. They had loved this baby before they had even felt her move within Ellen’s belly. Ellen felt the emptiness like a deep abyss. It was too much to bear. How could the doctor even speak about another baby? How could anyone be expected to survive such grief?

John sat in a straight chair beside Ellen’s hospital bed. He had barely moved from this place for almost fourteen hours. Through a haze of grief Ellen watched him sitting there, his head buried in his hands, but she was too numb to reach out to him.

Then suddenly summoning strength, she spoke, her voice fierce. “I want to see my baby.”

“Mrs. Brighton…” The doctor seemed to grasp for words. “Do you…do you understand that your baby is gone?”

“I understand. I just want to hold her one time.” Her voice broke. “Please don’t deny me that.”

Dr. Jensen hesitated. “All right. It will be some time before they can bring her up to your room, but I’ll let them know your wishes.” The doctor scribbled a note on Ellen’s chart and left the room.

At twilight a nurse brought the baby to Ellen’s room. The young woman—no older than Ellen—was teary-eyed and unable to speak, but she put the bundle gently in Ellen’s arms and left the young couple alone.

Someone had dressed the baby in a tiny undershirt and booties and wrapped her in a soft pink blanket. Her face was translucent as fine porcelain, with blue veins tracing a pale web. She was perfect. She had fine auburn hair that curled around her neck and forehead. “Like yours, Ellen,” John said. His words were a gift.

For half an hour they held their baby and marveled at her beauty. They counted her fingers and toes. They called her by her name and told her they loved her. And they said goodbye. It was almost more than they could bear when the nurse came and took the baby from Ellen’s arms and carried her forever from their lives. But John and Ellen never regretted having spent that sacred time with their firstborn. They often spoke of it as a blessing, and they were to look back on those moments as the beginning of their healing.

They buried Catherine in a tiny white coffin under an ancient oak tree in the Randolph family plot. The cemetery was a peaceful, secluded place in the country. It sat on a hill behind Ellen’s childhood church, surrounded protectively by a wrought-iron fence. As children, Ellen and her sisters had scaled the fence and played hide-and-seek there while their parents visited after Sunday services. It comforted Ellen to think of their baby in a setting from her own childhood.

John and Ellen stayed with the Randolphs until the weekend. Ellen was feeling strong physically, though the fullness of her breasts and the dwindling flow of blood were constant reminders of how recently her baby had been cradled warm and safe in her womb. But it was heartening to be pampered by her mother and her sisters, and it was a bittersweet pleasure to share the farm with John. They walked in the fields and along the country roads for hours, praying together, talking out their feelings and planning how they would go on with their lives after this bitter disappointment. And somehow in spite of the sorrow, they knew there was a blessing hidden somewhere in the pain. They had a child in heaven. No one could take away the love that had grown in their hearts for this child, or the bond that had melded them together through the joy and the sorrow and the hope.

When they got back to Calypso, Oscar and Hattie were there to offer their sympathy. They enveloped John and Ellen in warm hugs.

“The good Lord has a reason for everything, child,” Hattie told Ellen. “Just give Him time and He’ll take care of the hurt. I speak from experience, you know. Time and God are mighty healers…you’ll see.”

There were the nursery things tucked in the corner of the bedroom to deal with. On the first night they were back, John carried the cradle down to Oscar’s garage and then came up and sat on the bed as Ellen folded the blankets and packed the tiny sleepers and gowns into a cardboard box.

Ellen warmed a can of tomato soup and set a package of stale saltines on the table, but they ate little. They prepared for bed wordlessly and fell asleep, exhausted, in each other’s arms.

She awoke several hours later to find John’s side of the bed empty. Seeing the bathroom light was off, she padded silently into the living room and found him hunched over the desk, his head on his arms. At first she thought he had fallen asleep, but as she moved toward him she saw his shoulders heave and fall. And then she heard him. She stood there in agony, frozen, unable to move, while her husband sobbed like a child. Not knowing how to comfort him, she crept back to bed and lay quietly, sick at heart, until she finally heard him wash his face and come to bed. He pulled her to himself, not realizing she was fully awake. They lay together, her body curved to his, like nesting spoons, until at last she felt his even breaths on the back of her neck and knew he slept. She lay awake till dawn, aching more for her husband than for the child they had lost.