Abide With Me (22 page)

“I know. I’ve been wondering how to forgive him, too, but if Madge can manage to do it…”

“Then we’ll have to forgive him, too,” Jenny whispered. “Maybe you should wait to tell her about Michael’s book and all. She’s so unhappy right now. It doesn’t seem fair that Michael and I both had our dreams come true while hers…”

Jenny’s eyes widened with horror. “Oh, no, Andrea. What a goose I am! I’m sorry. Here I am all giggly and excited one minute and worried about Madge the next, and I forgot about you! You just look so good. I forgot for a moment that you’re sick. You have your own worries. I’m really sorry.”

Andrea put her arm around Jenny’s shoulders. “Madge and I are your sisters. Even though her life is a mess right now and I’m fighting for my health, we can still be thrilled for you because we’re more than just sisters. We’re His children. That means we can do anything, as long as we let Him guide the way.”

Jenny sniffled. “Tell Madge I love her and tell her to call me, too.”

Andrea gave her sister a hug. “I’ll tell her tonight when I take Russell’s car back.” When Jenny’s eyes filled with confusion, Andrea explained what had happened to the Jeep on the way home from Sea Gate with Bill.

“So you’re driving down, but Bill is going with you so he can bring you home in the Jeep?”

Andrea nodded. “He was pretty embarrassed.”

Jenny grinned. “But he got what he wanted, didn’t he?”

“Which was…”

“A second date!”

Andrea huffed. “It’s not a second date. It’s…it’s just the end of the first date.”

“Ha!”

“Ha, yourself!” Andrea stood up. “I’m going home to get Russell’s car and pick Bill up at work so we can finish our
first
date.” She put her hand on Jenny’s shoulder when she tried to get up. “Sit. I can get back to the car by myself.”

“Okay, but if Bill shows up with blueprints for a house, like Daddy did when he had his second date with Mother because he was so sure she would marry him, you’re in trouble. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

“Trouble is having a baby sister who is an impossible matchmaker!”

“You love me anyway.”

“I love you any way at all,” Andrea replied, and left to fulfill a promise to an old woman who might have found a lot more joy in life if she had been blessed with a sister or two.

H
eart-weary, Madge sat and watched the sun drooping low in the sky, just above the horizon. After a weekend alone with Russell and Sarah, she knew she had a difficult journey ahead. One day, they might be able to be a family together. With time and prayer, she and Russell would be able to fix their marriage, especially since he had agreed to start marriage counseling, but she was still worried about telling Drew and Brett they had a half sister.

Russell joined her on the patio and interrupted her thoughts. He sat down on the chair next to her, put his briefcase on the ground and let out a sigh. “She’s finally asleep. She loves
Good Night, Moon
a little too much. I had to read it three times before she drifted off.”

Madge felt a tug on her heartstrings and resentment flared briefly. The boys had both loved that classic story,
too, but Russell had not been home very often to read it to them. Maybe Sarah was giving him a second chance at fatherhood, an idea that suggested to her that she also might be able to do things better on her second go-around at motherhood.

“I made those calls today that I mentioned over the weekend,” he said. “Everything is set to go, but I want to run everything by you first to make sure you agree this is a good idea.”

She was curious about his future at work and more than anxious to discuss something he had planned himself, since she had been the one to set so many conditions so far. Other than suggesting he had to make a few calls before he could make definite plans, he had told her little about what kind of changes he apparently had in mind. “I’m listening,” she murmured.

“If we’re going to make our marriage work better and make a home for Sarah together, the first thing I need to do is to be home more. Frankly, traveling so much in my job is getting tedious. It may pay well, but we’ve paid a high price, too. So…I want to quit my job.”

Madge almost fell out of her chair. “Quit your job? How on earth can you do that and still support us?”

“We’d have to make some sacrifices. The beach house, for example. We’d have to sell it and absorb the loss, but I’ve got that all worked out.” He took some papers from his briefcase and pulled his chair closer to hers so they could review the papers together. “I know you don’t have much interest in finances, but that needs to change, too.”

“I know.” She glanced at the papers, which had a num
ber of columns of figures and struggled to keep tears at bay. Was there no end to the pain he caused?

He pointed to the first column. “If I quit my job, this number represents the cash assets we can access. The second column represents the projected loss on the beach house and the repayment of the home-equity loan on the house in Welleswood. Are you with me so far?”

“So far, but what’s the third column?”

“Start-up costs, projected expenses for the first two years of business, plus living expenses. If you compare that total with the total in the first column, you’ll see we can do it, at least for two years. If the business fails or doesn’t prove profitable by then, I’ll have to get a job working for someone else again.”

“Business? What business? You never mentioned going into business before.”

“I guess I never thought long enough about it before,” he responded. “Or maybe I just never felt the need like I do now. I need to be here at home with you to help raise Sarah, but I want to be home to do that, more than anything.”

She agreed with him. He did need to stop traveling, but the prospect of starting a business at his age seemed a bit of a stretch financially. They could be ruined and have nothing left if the business failed. “What kind of business?” she asked.

“I only know one business. I know pet food and pet supplies, but I also know it very well. I’ve had to be one step ahead of the trends, and I’m convinced I’m on the right track.” For the next half hour, he explained his plan to open a gourmet store catering to pampered felines. He
had the statistics showing demand and some reports indicated that cats, not dogs, were the number-one choices for pets. He had the contacts he needed to provide the gourmet food, from snacks to meals. He could ask Andrea to check on storefronts available for rent or purchase on the avenue. He had even contacted Stan Anderson, the owner of The Cat’s Meow, a grooming salon in Welleswood for cats only. The Cat’s Meow would be a perfect “feeder” store. Stan’s customers would be Russell’s customers. Stan was doing so well, he had already been considering cutting out the accessories he carried to make more room for grooming, and Russell could add the accessories to his store.

But it was the commitment in Russell’s voice and the excitement in his eyes that reminded Madge of the young man she had married so many years ago.

“I could make this work. I know I could,” Russell vowed. “But I won’t even consider it or bring it up again if you don’t like the idea. I can stay where I am and travel. You won’t have to give up the beach house, and things can stay pretty much as they are, at least financially.”

She glanced down at the papers again. “The figures are right? You double-checked them?”

“Double-and triple-checked.”

This change would be hard and potentially a financial disaster. Not changing, not taking the chance and having Russell continue to spend so much time away from home, however, would put much more than their financial future at risk. If saving their marriage was the priority, then change they must. The beach house was way down on her list of things she wanted now. “Did you have a name in mind for this business?” she asked, finding his enthusiasm contagious.

He shrugged.

She did not stifle her grin. “The Purrple Palace,” she suggested, emphasizing the name by purring the first part of the word
purple.
“We could get a purple awning for the front window and have different kinds of cats stenciled on the awning in cream or lavender. Purple gingham curtains. Purple bags to hold the customers’ purchases—”

He held up his hand. “Enough! Decorate the store any way you like. The name you picked is
purr
fect!”

They laughed together for the first time since he had brought Sarah home, but their laughter was not the only great thing that night. When Andrea arrived just before dark with Russell’s car, and Bill walked down to the garage to get the Jeep, Andrea brought the good news about Michael selling his book and Jenny getting her dream of staying home with her babies. When the doorbell rang at eight-thirty, the time when Bill had agreed to return for Andrea, Madge walked her sister to the front door. “I wish there was something special happening for you today, too,” she admitted. “Maybe Bill—”

“He’s just a friend,” Andrea insisted. “Don’t start match-making. Jenny is bad enough.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Madge said.

Andrea kissed her cheek. “I’m not alone. I have you and Jenny. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you and Russell know which storefronts are available.” She slipped out the door and closed it, avoiding an awkward meeting between Madge and Bill. Madge went to the window and watched her sister and the tall man walk to the Jeep and then pull away. Given the opportunity to choose between putting her
marriage back together or being single again and part of the dating scene, Madge knew she had made a good decision. She did not envy Andrea, not even a little.

After Bill picked up Andrea at Madge’s beach house, he drove them back to the beach area reserved for all-terrain vehicles and parked in the same parking lot he had used on Friday night. They walked together to the beach. Andrea carried the suitcase with Miss Huxbaugh’s letters. Bill carried a stack of wood and everything else they would need to make a fire, including a special permit.

They chose a spot well away from the grassy dunes, although the night was calm, with nothing but a whisper of a breeze. While Bill got the fire started, Andrea sat quietly and thought about Miss Huxbaugh, the boxes of letters stored in the suitcase, the years wasted on bitterness and disappointment, and the mystery of the long-missing fiancé.

When the fire was ready, he helped her set the suitcase closer. “We’ll have to feed the letters into the fire a few at a time, or they’ll smother the flames.”

She nodded and opened the suitcase. The lid blocked the light from the fire. She could see the outlines of the envelopes containing the letters, but it was too dim to be able to read any of the handwriting.

“Are you sure you don’t want to read any first or at least note the return addresses?” Bill asked. “She’s gone now. No one would be hurt.”

Andrea shook her head. “I promised to burn them so no one could read them after she was gone. She’d never know I broke that promise, but I would.”

He nodded.

“I feel we should say a prayer or something,” she murmured.

He joined his hands with hers, and they bowed their heads. “Heavenly Father, we know You have called Miss Huxbaugh Home to be with You, and we pray she has found the love and happiness that so eluded her here on earth. We are burning these letters tonight to fulfill a promise because You have always been faithful to us and we believe in Your promise of life everlasting for those who claim You as Lord God. Amen.”

Andrea blinked back tears. “That was beautiful. Thank you.”

One handful at a time, they fed the letters into the fire. Bill had to add more wood twice. When the last letter had been reduced to ashes, they sat, back to back, and watched the fire until there was nothing left but embers. After he buried the remnants of the fire and the ashes that had not blown away, he helped her to her feet, picked up the suitcase and held out his hand. “Ready to go home?”

Hand in hand, they walked back to the Jeep. Bill headed out toward the freeway, but he pulled into an all-night diner before they left Sea Gate. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I know it’s late, but I don’t usually skip dinner and there’s no way I can wait to eat until breakfast.”

She did not have to respond. Her stomach growled loudly enough for him to hear it, too. “I thought you were going to get something to eat while I was at the house.”

“And I thought you were going to eat at your sister’s.”

“I forgot.”

“Me, too.”

He smiled. “Eat in or take out?”

“Let’s eat in.”

“Great.” He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out an envelope that had been folded in half lengthwise. “While we’re eating, there’s something I wanted to show you.”

She laughed. “Sure. As long as it’s not a set of blueprints.”

“Blueprints?”

“You know. Blueprints. Like plans for a house. Or an office building,” she added quickly.

He narrowed his gaze. “Did you peek or are you just as good at reading people’s minds as you are at keeping promises?”

“This isn’t our second date, right? It’s only the end of the first date, which we started on Friday, but got interrupted when the Jeep died. Right?”

“Right. I think.”

“Good answer. Okay, then. I’ll take a look at the blueprints. Men who bring blueprints on the second date are pretty dangerous.”

“Really?” he asked as he escorted her into the diner.

“Really,” she replied, although she had a feeling that this man might be as dangerous and sure of himself as her father had been when he had courted her mother.

B
risk October air, waning daylight hours and brilliant displays of fall foliage proved the seasonal shift from summer to autumn was well underway. With vacations long over and school and work schedules becoming routine, weekends took on a festive flavor that was familiar to all who lived in Welleswood.

On Saturdays, soccer and midget football games sponsored by the Welleswood Youth Athletic Association (WYAA) filled the fields at Welles Park, not far from the new skateboard complex and a new sign indicating the fund-raising efforts for the girls’ crew team were still less than halfway to the final goal. The cries of cheering fans and anxious parents carried to those at the open-air farmer’s market, or shopping along the avenue, or at home doing yardwork or fall housecleaning. Sunday morning,
church bells would call families from their homes to worship. With the heat of summer past, many people would walk to church again and gather on the lawn after services to chat while their children played together.

Not everyone greeted this particular weekend with joyful anticipation.

Too nervous and agitated to get very much sleep Friday night, Andrea had been up since dawn. Her “girls” had sensed her mood and stayed within sight but beyond her reach. At eight o’clock, she showered, dressed comfortably, grabbed her purse and a striped bag and left her house. She did not want to answer the telephone, and she had deliberately left her cell phone in the charger, too. She could not handle any calls from well-wishers, namely Madge and Jenny—not right now.

Out of habit, she went to check the clock in her car, but caught herself just in time. She had developed a real aversion to clocks lately and had even stopped wearing her wristwatch. She did not much care for calendars anymore, either. Unfortunately, her business demanded that she pay close attention to dates and times.

On this particular date at eleven-thirty, she would learn if the chemo she had started three months ago was working or not.

She pulled out of her driveway and headed toward Dr. Newton’s office, but her mind was not focused on the road. She would be able to tolerate the cysto, which only lasted for a few minutes. The procedure itself, which would allow the doctor to actually see the interior of her bladder to check for any new growths, was uncomfortable rather than painful.

Still, there were a million different places she would rather go today and a zillion other things she would rather do. Or would she? Wouldn’t knowing be better than just hoping the chemo was working?

“What if it isn’t working?” she murmured. Negative thoughts had been threatening to overtake her for the past week, and she forced herself to think of something positive. She drove down the avenue past her office and managed a smile. She had hired Jeanne Drake two weeks ago. What a difference the retired chemistry teacher had made! Behind her ever-present smile and intelligent eyes lay a sharp mind and a strong will. She had become so efficient and so competent at running the office, Andrea had been able to spend only a few hours a day there and still keep tabs on everything, including Doris.

But not today. Andrea would not be able to work until Monday.

Up ahead, two blocks down on the opposite side of the avenue, she spied the purple-striped awning on the storefront Russell had rented for the
Purr
ple Palace. She slowed down and pulled over in front of the store. At this early hour, there were more open parking spaces than there were cars driving down the avenue.

Arched across the top half of the plate-glass window, workmen had already painted the name of the business, along with a pair of cats at either end of the lettering, all in shades of purple. Beyond that, Andrea could not see a thing. Inside the window in the door and the plate-glass window, huge sheets of white paper blocked the view, yet announced the Grand Opening for November sixth. The business was only one of the new beginnings Madge and
Russell were making to put their lives back together, but introducing Sarah at Sunday services tomorrow would be a far more important test of community reaction than the store would be.

Andrea’s mind swept back to the present. Would today mark a new beginning for her, too? Or a slide back toward…the end? She pulled back into traffic, passed the street where Jenny and Michael lived, and smiled again. Of the three sisters, Jenny was certainly faring the best. Her world was filled with new beginnings. She had been home now for a few weeks and was loving every minute of it. She was feeling well. Her pregnancy was proceeding smoothly, while Michael worked hard on the revisions his editor at Sinai Press had requested.

With her spirit infused with positive energy, Andrea drove directly to the doctor’s office. She parked the car and carried her purse and the striped bag with her as she walked around to the back. For the first time, she used the key Dr. Newton had given to her and let herself into the garden. She had not been here since that one time in July at her first post-op visit and the day she started chemotherapy.

She was surprised by the transformation that had taken place in three months. Against a backdrop of evergreens and conifers, hardy autumn flowers in shades of gold, mustard and burgundy had replaced the flowers painted in the soft palette of spring and the dazzling primary colors of summer. Even the air had changed. The heavy perfume of summer had faded to more subtle fragrances that no longer overpowered the scent of pine and cedar.

She followed a path bordered with white October daisies and sat down on a wrought-iron bench. She put her purse
alongside her. Once she retrieved her knitting needles and the shawl she had started, she rested the striped bag on the ground at her feet.

Bathed in crisp sunshine, Andrea closed her eyes and recited the prayer she had written for herself as part of the Shawl Ministry. “With these hands, I reaffirm my love for You, dear Father. With this shawl, I will share my love with one of Your beloved children, so he or she may feel Your love and never feel alone. Amen.”

She had to really concentrate on her knitting for the first few rows, and she had to accommodate Muffin, the curious calico cat that stopped by for a visit, until it got bored with playing with the yarn. Andrea was still too unsure of herself, but after she caught the rhythm, she relaxed and knitted away the time between now and her appointment.

She was not sure who would receive the shawl she was making. As each shawl was completed, the members would discuss the possible recipients and decide together who would receive the shawl. Andrea had missed a meeting or two, but as far as she knew, no one had finished a shawl yet. The dark green color of her shawl, which she had chosen in memory of Miss Huxbaugh, reminded her of the yarn the elderly woman had donated and which Andrea had used for practice.

She had received the listing to sell Miss Huxbaugh’s house from the old woman’s attorney, who insisted the house be sold as-is and fully furnished. Andrea had led a literal parade of people through the house in the first few days. Most had been curiosity-seekers. She had even had to stop some from rummaging through closets and drawers, proof that the mystery surrounding Miss Huxbaugh’s
past was still very much alive. Within a week, though, Andrea had sold the house to out-of-town cash buyers and settlement had just taken place earlier this week.

She stilled for a moment and laid her knitting on her lap. She thought of Bill and shook her head. The man had turned out to be one surprise after another, although he had kept his promise not to waste her time looking at houses anymore. He had not even asked to see Miss Huxbaugh’s house when it went on the market.

Instead, he had decided to stay in the apartment he was renting and purchased the old schoolhouse on the avenue from the borough. Located at the south end of town, just a few blocks from the business district itself, the site was perfect for professional offices, and the old schoolyard would provide precious, off-street parking.

She chuckled and started knitting again. While looking over the blueprints with him in that all-night diner in Sea Gate, she had been surprised to learn he was an architect. Or he had been an architect. After the death of his wife, he had shut down his office, gotten a trucker’s license and taken to the road, driving back and forth across the country. He believed his ordeal at the hands of hijackers, who still remained at large, was a blessing in disguise that only confirmed his decision to settle down in one place again. He was ready to resume the career that had once given him so much satisfaction, right here in Welleswood.

Thinking about Bill, who had not asked her out on a date again, led her to more confusing thoughts, and the reality of her visit to the doctor today hit hard. Driven by anxiety as the hour for her appointment drew closer, she put her knitting aside and got up from the bench. She strolled
along the walkway until she reached the center of the garden, where all the other paths met to join a bricked courtyard. Circular benches surrounded a tarnished bronze sundial resting on a concrete bed at the feet of a marble angel. Andrea sat down on a bench and read the plaque at the base of the sundial:

I must find time to pray.

I must find time to love.

Because life is Thy most precious gift to me.

Though the journey is hard,

With Your angels to guide me,

Life can be all I discover through Thee.

Tears welled and choked her throat. For the past several weeks, Andrea did not have to pretend she was in perfect health. She honestly had almost forgotten about her cancer. After her last treatment in September, she had been tired, as usual, but with more rest, she had done almost everything she had wanted to do. She had even tried searching the Internet for information on bladder cancer and tried eating more nutritiously. She fared better, at least mentally, when she focused on everything but her cancer.

Prayer had helped.

Having Madge and Jenny’s support had helped, too

But once the calendar read “October,” she had found herself slipping back to fear again. She had not prayed as often. Today, with her appointment at hand, she wanted to run and hide or turn back the calendar to two years earlier before her first battle with cancer had begun.

Humbled by the words on the plaque, she bowed her head and folded her hands in prayer. “The journey is hard today,” she whispered. She prayed with her heart, but she
knew no one could travel this road with her today. She had to travel it alone.

On impulse, she looked up at the sky. A sliver of the moon was visible, but the sun was too bright for a single star to shine through. She closed her eyes and prayed for God to guide her.

“Andrea?”

She flinched. Her eyes snapped open, and she saw the receptionist, Nancy, standing behind the sundial.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, but Dr. Newton is ready for you now. I saw your things on the bench. I’ll get them for you and keep them until you’re finished.”

Andrea nodded. Surrounded by His loving angels, she left her fears and anxiety on the bench and went inside. When she came out again half an hour later and returned to the garden, she stopped to offer a prayer. “Thank you, Father, for sending so many angels to help me. From now on, I’ll try harder not to be such a weakling,” she promised.

She left the garden before the doctor’s good news truly sank in: The chemo was working perfectly. The joy in her heart erupted when she reached the parking lot, and she danced her way back to her car. She really did not care what anyone might think if they saw her, either!

Two weeks from now, when she faced chemo, she might be fearful again, but today was nothing but sheer joy. God was so good, even to weaklings like her.