Abide With Me (12 page)

Andrea watched the woman climb the steps and let herself into the house before backing out of the driveway. Then, eager to end her own day, she headed for home.

All in all, the day hadn’t turned out to be too bad. She had ordered a new credenza for the office—with locks, and there was no way Doris would ever find the keys. Andrea had every intention to wear them on a chain around her neck if she had to, just to protect her paperwork.

Now wasn’t that just wonderful. On top of dealing with a cancer recurrence and treatments, hair the texture of a scouring pad, physical-therapy appointments three times a week, a new agent in her office who was taking most of her clients, a man who was interested in dating her, leading her on goose chases and a promise to take Jane home every week, Andrea was now going to have a bunch of keys hanging from a chain around her neck.

Madge would be thrilled that Andrea was finally going to wear some sort of jewelry.

At least someone was going to find something about Andrea’s life that made somebody happy.

B
y the third week in September, warm, sunny days were giving way to chilly evenings. Vacations were memories, captured in photographs to be arranged in scrapbooks, shared through e-mail with relatives or on videotapes that would provide entertainment over the winter months to come. Children were trading bathing suits and beach toys for new school clothes, backpacks and lunch boxes. The ritual of work, fall housecleaning and monitoring homework was keeping the adults busy.

Most people had neither the time nor the inclination to spend a weekend at the shore, much to the relief of the folks who were residents of towns like Sea Gate.

Lucky folks. No, not lucky—blessed, Madge decided. She carried a tray of fresh fruit out to the beach where the last of her guests sat together in beach chairs. Russell had
come home for the settlement in early September, but only managed to stay a few days before being summoned back to work. He hoped to be home next week, and Madge was anxious for him to see the house fully furnished. Drew and Brett had been able to spend four days at the new beach house, but both of her sons had left earlier that morning to catch flights home.

Fortunately, Madge was still surrounded by family. Her nieces, Katy and Hannah, were sitting in a pool of water the morning tide had left behind, making mud pies, under Michael’s watch, while Jenny napped with her hands cupped protectively over the gentle mound of her tummy. Andrea was still arguing with a pair of knitting needles that flashed reflections of the sun each time she attempted another stitch with the green yarn that lay in a tangled mess on her lap.

As Madge approached, Katy and Hannah squealed and raced to meet her with Michael close on their heels.

Katy arrived first and tugged on Madge’s arm. “Can I have some watermelon, Aunt Madge?”

“I want gwapes,” Hannah cried as she wrapped her little arms around one of Madge’s legs.

“Whoa, ladies! Give Aunt Madge a break,” Michael warned.

Madge grinned down at the upturned faces of the two little girls. Dressed in matching bathing suits, with dainty barrettes in their dark hair, their eyes shining with innocence, they were utterly adorable. They also soothed the tiny ache that still remained in Madge’s heart, even after all these years, for the daughter she had wanted, but never had. “Rinse off your hands first. Daddy will help you,” she urged.

“Clean hands first. That’s the rule.” Michael scooped up his daughters, one in each arm. “You can both have a snack, then it’s naptime.” He caught Madge’s eyes as the girls wriggled to get free and whined about taking a nap. “I don’t suppose you have any more fruit inside?”

“Well, sure, but—”

“I think it would be easier if I take the girls inside for their snack and away from the beach. Are there any towels left in the outside shower?”

“I hope so. Here, babies. Take a little treat before you go,” she insisted. She tugged a grape from one of the bunches and broke a piece of watermelon in half. The girls opened their mouths like baby birds, and Madge plopped their treat inside. “Aunt Madge has lots more in the refrigerator, and if you take a good nap, I’ll show you how to dig for sand crabs when you get up.”

The girls clapped their hands, spraying sand on their daddy, but Madge was quick enough to turn and protect the fruit from a sand shower.

“Dig for sand crabs? I don’t think so,” Michael replied sternly, but his eyes were twinkling. “I think we should find some pretty seashells to paint, especially since we’re going to stay at Aunt Madge’s for a few more days,” he murmured as he carried his girls away. “Aunt Madge loves seashells, especially purple ones.”

“And I love you,” she called, and waved to the girls.

“I love you, too, but I’ll love you more if you give me some fruit,” Jenny teased.

Madge turned and smiled at her baby sister. “You’re awake?”

Jenny tugged on the arms of her beach chair until the
back was in an upright position. “I’m awake, and I’m starving, as usual.” She yawned and patted her tummy. “A growing baby makes for a hungry mama.”

Madge offered Jenny some fruit first. “Here, princess. Take some for you and some for the baby.”

Andrea set aside her knitting for a moment and raised the brim of her sun visor. “Princess? You called Jenny a princess? What about me?”

Jenny snagged a bunch of grapes and popped a plump green one into her mouth. “Sorry, big sister. Now that you’ve ditched your crutches and you’re walking on your own two feet again, Madge gave the crown to me.”

Madge laughed. “Besides, you’re the oldest. You really shouldn’t be a princess anyway, but if you insist on a title, would you settle for queen?”

“A queen without a country or a crown, that’s what I am,” Andrea grumbled. She picked up her knitting, ripped out the last few stitches and started again.

“The queen’s a little cranky,” Madge whispered as she sat down in between her sisters and put the tray on her lap.

“I’m not cranky,” Andrea countered. “I’m frustrated.” She tossed her knitting needles into the sand, along with her sorry attempt at creating an even row of stitches. “So much for that brilliant idea. It looks like the Shawl Ministry will have to manage without me, and Miss Jane Huxbaugh will just have to find someone else to drive her home.” She reached over and grabbed a slice of honeydew melon. After she polished it off, she looked from one sister to the other. “Okay, so I’m cranky, but I’m frustrated, too,” she admitted, stretching out her left leg and rotating her ankle.

“How long before your physical therapy ends?” Madge asked, avoiding the entire topic of her sister’s mood.

“I had my last session last week.”

Jenny frowned. “You stopped physical therapy or it ended?”

Andrea shrugged and munched on a pineapple stick.

Madge shook her head. She knew Andrea well enough to be able to read through her words to the truth. “You just stopped going, didn’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Somehow, between the weekly chemo treatments and physical therapy three times a week, I’m supposed to be running a business.” She snorted. “Something had to go. It’s not like I can’t continue the exercises on my own at home,” she added defensively.

“Your weekly treatments ended three weeks ago,” Jenny reminded her sister in a gentle voice. “You only have to go every month now.”

Andrea hugged her knees to her chest. Her eyes glistened with tears, a sight so rare Madge’s heart trembled. When Andrea began to speak, her voice was just above a whisper. “That’s true. That leash I’ve been wearing isn’t quite so short anymore, but it’s still there, tugging me back to reality when I can forget, for one very short moment, that I have cancer. Unless I’m scheduled for a cysto. They’re joyful. I can’t tell you how much fun I have, lying there on the table and holding my breath during the examination, wondering if the doctor isn’t saying anything during the exam because she doesn’t see any new growths or because she sees them and wants to wait until she’s finished before she tells me the chemo isn’t working.”

She swiped at a tear that had escaped. “Look at me. I’m
a mess. My energy level isn’t half of what it used to be, and my hair feels like a steel-wool scouring pad.” She leaned toward Madge. “Go ahead. Touch it. Be careful not to disturb any of the hairs that prefer to stick out straight so I look like a porcupine having a bad-hair day. I can hardly wait to see how I look by the end of the treatments.”

Madge swallowed hard. She pressed a kiss to Andrea’s head and tried to smooth a few errant gray hairs back into place. “Stubborn little wisdom hairs, aren’t they? At least you still have them. Kathleen and Sandra lost every hair on their heads, remember?” she murmured. “I thought you were going to see Judy at the salon and ask her to recommend something.”

Andrea sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. “I haven’t had time,” she whispered. Her voice cracked as she visibly struggled for control. “I’ve been a little busy trying to help clients who seem so happy dealing with Doris they’re not the least bit interested in talking to me. Maybe it’s the chain of keys I have to wear around my neck. The clients aren’t sure if I’m a real estate agent or a warden. Of course, Doris doesn’t have to miss as much floor time as I do, and she doesn’t have to reschedule clients to keep outside appointments for herself, either. I would have let her go weeks ago when my ankle was finally healed, even though I’m not up to running the agency completely on my own, but she’s endeared herself to the clients and the community to the point that I can’t let her go, not without looking like an ogre.”

“I have an appointment with Judy on Thursday. I’ll get her to recommend some hair-care product, and I’ll bring it with me on Friday. Your chemo is at ten, right?” Madge of
fered, trying to do something that might make Andrea feel better.

Andrea barely nodded, and when Madge opened her mouth to speak again, Jenny stopped her by laying her hand on Madge’s arm. Jenny’s gaze, however, reflected the same troubled emotions that tugged so hard on Madge’s heartstrings. In all honesty, she had never seen Andrea so despondent. Of the three of them, Andrea was the rock, steady and solid against every challenge life had thrown at her, steady and solid when life dared to threaten either of her sisters.

Andrea could be their mother, their friend, their confidante and their confessor, but most of all, she was their big sister, and Madge could not bear to see her so sad and so shaken. She took Jenny’s hand and gave it a squeeze before she spoke to Andrea again. “You’re right, you know.”

Andrea opened one eye. “Right about what?”

“You’re frustrated.”

“And a teeny, weenie bit cranky,” Jenny teased.

Andrea opened her other eye. “Great. This is just great. I pour out my troubles for the first time in decades, I lay my soul bare so you can see what an ungrateful wretch I’ve become, and I let you see that my faith is about as steady as…as that piece of seaweed blowing across the sand, and the only thing my sisters, the only family or real friends I have near me, can say to me is that I’m frustrated and cranky?”

“Just a teeny bit,” Jenny repeated.

Andrea huffed. “You’re sick! Both of you! Sicker than I am, too.”

“But there’s a cure,” Madge argued.

Andrea looked at her as if she had grown a third eye on the tip of her nose.

“There is,” Madge insisted. “Isn’t there, Jenny?”

“Um. Sure. If you say there is, then I believe you.” She leaned around Madge and looked at Andrea. “You should believe her, too.”

Andrea did not smile, but her face relaxed. “The last time I trusted Madge to cure something, we both ended up in trouble. I think I’ll pass. I’m actually getting used to being frustrated and a little cranky. It’s a refreshing change.”

Jenny scooted forward in her chair and looked from one big sister to the other, clearly ready to hear the story.

Madge pursed her lips and tilted her chin.

Andrea actually produced a lopsided grin.

Madge held up her foot and watched the sunlight sparkle on her anklet. “Andrea was the one who climbed over the fence to steal our neighbor’s peaches and wound up with poison ivy.”

“Which spread to every pore of my skin. I even had blisters on my ears, thanks to your so-called cure, Madge.”

“You begged me to help so Mother wouldn’t find out what you’d done.” Madge defended herself.

“You ate the peaches, too.”

“But I didn’t steal them!” Madge cried.

“You dared me to steal them!” Andrea retorted.

Jenny played referee and held up her hands. “Let’s skip to the cure, shall we?”

Andrea smirked.

Madge huffed. “I told her to scratch at the blisters so they’d go away.”

“So I did,” Andrea added. “I scratched like crazy.”

Jenny laughed out loud.

“It worked for bug bites. Sometimes,” Madge said defensively.

Jenny held her hands up in mock surrender. “You’re right, Andrea. I’m switching sides. I don’t think Madge has a good record when it comes to cures.”

“Traitor! You’ll wish you hadn’t,” Madge warned. “You’ll both wish you had listened to me.” She set the tray aside, stood up and brushed the sand from her legs.

“Where are you going,” Jenny asked.

“With both of you siding against me, I’m feeling a little frustrated and a little bit cranky, so I’m going to get a cure for myself. Not that you should care.” She picked up the tray and started back to the house.

Andrea’s voice rang out first. “Wait! Aren’t you at least going to tell us what the cure is?”

Madge smiled to herself, but kept walking until Jenny called out, “There’s no cure. You’re just teasing us.”

That did it.

Madge turned around and faced her sisters, now some twenty feet away. “My cure, ladies, is not a joke. Definitely not. A Monsoon Sundae at French’s is no joke. It’s a cure. It’s also healthy. There’s a lot of calcium in five scoops of ice cream. Then there’s the hot-fudge sauce, toasted walnuts, crushed cherries, sliced bananas and homemade whipped cream that’s so stiff you can stick a spoon into it and the spoon will stand up straight. And if a Monsoon Sundae doesn’t cure whatever ails you, then you’ve got one foot inside the Pearly Gates and you don’t want to be cured!”

Jenny scrambled out of her chair first. She took two
steps, then rocked still. “Wait a minute. French’s isn’t open after Labor Day, is it?”

“Only on weekends from Labor Day through the end of October.”

Madge smiled when Jenny started racing forward again, but her smile stretched straight to her heart the moment Andrea got out of her chair and started running, as well as she could, to catch up to her sisters with a grin on her face and her eyes sparkling with joy instead of sadness.

“God’s love and your sisters’ love. That’s the real cure,” Madge whispered. “Come on, Andrea. We’ll help you through this…if you’ll let us.”