Promise Me (15 page)

Charlotte didn't have a stomachache the entire day and that evening seemed to be more active than usual. The next morning I woke to find her sitting up in our bed. It was the first time in more than a year that I hadn't had to wake her. “Can I watch cartoons?”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, surprised to be woken by something other than my radio alarm. “How long have you been awake?”

“I dunno.”

I looked over at the clock. It was eight minutes before seven. “How are you feeling, honey?”

“Good.”

“No headache or tummy ache?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Can I?”

“Yes, you may.”

I got up and turned the television on for her, then shut off my alarm clock before it went off. After showering and dressing I made Charlotte breakfast. Out of habit I put a piece of bread in the toaster but stopped myself and scrambled an egg instead. As she was eating, I called Dr. Benton's office. The clinic didn't open until nine and I had expected to just leave a message, but fortuitously Dr. Benton was in the clinic early that morning and answered the phone. I briefed
him about our emergency run to the hospital and then, a little more confidently, asked him if Charlotte's ailments could be celiac sprue.

“It makes sense,” he said. “I should have thought of that myself. But it wouldn't be the first time a doctor missed it. Celiac sprue is hard to diagnose.”

“How would that affect her?”

“When someone with celiac eats something containing gluten, the gluten causes a reaction that damages the intestine and makes the body unable to absorb nutrients, which, of course, can lead to a whole host of nasty problems—weight loss, anemia, malnutrition, seizures, even cancer.”

“Cancer?”

“It can if untreated. Hold on a second, I think I have some material here on it.” He left the phone for a moment, then returned. “Symptoms of celiac sprue include gastrointestinal problems such as diarrhea, abdominal pain and bloating. Other related symptoms include irritability, anemia, upset stomach, joint pain, skin rash, etc. Celiac can cause malabsorption, with such symptoms as weight loss, stunted growth, cramps, fatigue, and weakness.”

“That sounds like Charlotte,” I said softly. “So what is the treatment?”

“Well, it's simple but hard—just don't eat gluten. If you can come by the clinic, I have some brochures on celiac I think you'll find helpful. This brochure here even has some meal-planning suggestions.”

“I'll try to make it by this afternoon.”

“Good. Hopefully we'll figure out what this thing is and get her better.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” I was about to hang up when Dr. Benton asked, “By the way, how did you figure this out?”

“A friend of mine said he had a lot of experience with it.”

“Well, you should bake him a cake,” he said, then added, “Just make sure Charlotte doesn't eat any of it.”

I hung up the phone.
Curiouser and curiouser
.

Einstein said that the most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. Perhaps that's why Matthew's so beautiful to me.

Beth Cardall's Diary

It was an hour after sunset when Roxanne dropped by the house to visit. After Charlotte was in bed, we went out to the kitchen. I made us some decaf coffee and we sat at the table.

“Charlotte looks like she's doing better.”

“She is. We're trying a new diet. The doctors think she might be allergic to gluten.”

“Finally they have something. When did they figure that out?”

I took a slow sip of coffee. “That's the thing—
they
didn't. Matthew did.”

“Matthew? Mr. Soap Opera?”

“The same. He came over last Sunday. I was still a bit in shock from Friday, so I was explaining to him why it wasn't a good time for me to see him, when he tells me that Charlotte has this celiac disease and is allergic to gluten.”

“How did he know that?”

“I have no idea.”

“But he was right?”

I shrugged. “She hasn't complained of a headache or stomachache since I changed her diet. She has more energy
than I've seen in years and even her skin color has changed. She looks healthy again.”

“That's amazing.”

I shook my head. “Honestly, Rox, it was so curious.”

“How's that?”

“Well, it wasn't like he was guessing at her disease; it was more like he knew what was wrong. He was just so confident. In fact, he asked something that was a little strange.”

“What's that?”

“He asked me how old Charlotte was. I thought it was a little random, but when I told him, he said, ‘She's only six, you don't know . . . ' And then he stopped, mid-sentence. It's weird, but I think he was going to say, ‘you don't know
yet
.' ” I took another sip of coffee. “I don't know what to think.”

“Maybe he's an angel,” Roxanne said, then added, “Sure looks like one.”

I rolled my eyes. “I called the hospital to ask if it could be this celiac thing, and the doctor was impressed with the diagnosis. Then, yesterday, I called Dr. Benton and asked him. He agreed that celiac was a distinct possibility.”

“That's crazy. So do they give her drugs for that?”

“No, it's an allergic reaction to gluten, so we have to change her diet.”

“What's gluten?”

“That's what I asked. It's a protein found in grains, like wheat.”

“You mean she can't eat anything with flour? No cake, cookies, pizza?”

“No.”

Roxanne grimaced. “That's awful.”

“Not as awful as what she's been going through. And at least it's manageable. Untreated, it can cause cancer and a lot of other problems, even seizures. It's possible that that's what happened Friday night when I gave Charlotte that bowl of Ramen—it triggered a seizure. Here I was trying to make her eat all these carbohydrates so she would gain weight, and I was really just poisoning her. So much for the Mother-of-the-Year Award.”

“Girl, you're the best mother I know. You didn't know. The doctors didn't even know. So maybe Mr. Gorgeous is secretly a doctor.”

“I thought you said he was an angel.”

“Maybe he's both. No matter what he is, you owe him. What are you going to do to thank him?”

“I don't know,” I said, resting my head in my hands. “I haven't thought about it.”

“Well, you better start. When do you see him again?”

“I don't know that either. He said he was leaving town for a while. He said he'd be back in a couple weeks.”

“Good,” Roxanne said. “It will give you some time to figure out how to properly thank him. And I'm tellin' you, sister, it better be good. You let this one off the hook, I'm revoking your fishing license.”

Matthew met Charlotte today. There was a discernible energy between them. I don't know if this should please or concern me.

Beth Cardall's Diary

Matthew didn't come back that week, and by the end of the next week I began to worry that he might not return at all. Roxanne kept assuring me he'd be back, but I think that secretly she was also worried. After all I had done to push him away, I was surprised at how disappointed I was.

On the bright side, Charlotte just kept doing better. She was back in school, and her teacher, Miss Rossi, stopped me one day after school in the parking lot to tell me how miraculous the change had been. “She's like a new girl,” she said. “I just wish she could share some of that energy.”

Thursday afternoon I was in the living room reading when a navy blue BMW with dealer plates pulled into my driveway. Other than the family who owned the cleaners, I didn't know anyone with that nice of a car, and my first thought was that it had just pulled into my driveway to turn around, but it stopped. The driver's door opened and Matthew stepped out. He was dressed in tan corduroy jeans and a thick, leather bomber jacket with Wayfarer sunglasses. He looked like something out of a men's fashion magazine. Seeing him made me happy.

I set down my book and met him at the door before he rang the bell. He had removed his sunglasses.