The Caregiver (15 page)

Chapter 19

P
aul’s neck hung limply to one side. After touching his skin, Lucy backed up. As her thick-soled boots scuffed the floor, dust flew into her face. Her eyes teared up.

Next to her, Star whined his displeasure.

After an eternity passed, Lucy reached out and pet the dog’s ears. “I know,” she murmured. “This . . . this is a scary thing. Ain’t so?”

In a daze, Lucy slowly turned. Walked to their horse’s stall. With mechanical movements, she brought Blaze to the buggy and hitched him up.

Then, with Paul still staring up at her blankly, she turned and called for Star. One leap brought Star onto the leather seat, his tongue hanging out in anticipation.
“Gut hund,”
she murmured.

Paul never let the dog ride in the buggy. Not ever.

As she motioned Blaze forward, Lucy realized things had already changed. Paul couldn’t tell her “No” anymore.

It was a relatively short distance to the bishop’s home. There, she would tell him about the accident, and rely on him to tell her what to do.

The street was empty. Blaze’s clip-clopping echoed through the still evening air.

When she was halfway to the bishop’s home, the tears began to fall. One by one, they splashed against her cheeks, fell onto her lap. Next to her, Star whined and cuddled closer.

The dog’s comfort spurred her crying. Lucy’s shoulders jerked, shook.

And when she appeared at Bishop Lund’s door, and told him about Paul, his wife had enfolded her into a gentle hug.

“Ach, Lucy. I am so sorry. It is a terrible thing, this.”

That’s when Lucy knew she’d never tell a soul that her tears were ones of relief. No one needed to know that. Not ever.

G
asping for air, her eyes opened wide.

Calvin now knew, too.

As she sat in bed and welcomed the morning sun, Lucy fought back the fears that seemed to constantly plague her. And remembered how hurt and confused and, well . . . angry she’d been for months after Paul had died.

Knowing her feelings were shameful, she’d poured all her secrets into the journal. And now Calvin had read them.

How could she ever face Calvin again? Every time she remembered the things she’d written—and Calvin’s expression when he told her that she’d sinned—she flinched.

Just as if he’d attacked her physically.

Just as Paul had.

She shifted in the bed, carefully rearranging the sheets around her body. Reviewing the whole conversation with Calvin once again.

She closed her eyes and winced as she realized the crux of it all—he still had the journal! She’d been such a fool to trust him. So silly to ever imagine any man could push his own feelings aside and care enough to try to see her point of view.

Still gripped by demons, she was startled by the footsteps outside her door. Brought back to reality.

Ah, yes. It was time to push her own concerns to the back of her mind and try to concentrate on her cousin. Tomorrow, she and Mattie would be going back to the hospital for another chemotherapy treatment, which would begin another bout of nausea and discomfort. The cycle was grueling. With each day, her admiration for Mattie grew. Without a doubt, she was one of the strongest women she’d ever had the good fortune to know.

That’s what she needed to concentrate on. Slowly, she got out of bed and prepared to shower. Anything instead of dwelling on what couldn’t be changed.

Thirty minutes later, Lucy forced a smile to her lips as she walked into Mattie’s bedroom. “How about some breakfast?”

“Not right now.”

Though Mattie was out of bed and sitting curled up in a chair, to Lucy’s eyes, her cousin looked as despondent as ever. “Hot tea, perhaps?”

“No.” As if realizing her tone was rude, she softened her voice. “Maybe in a little bit?”

Lucy bit her lip in frustration. She’d been hoping Mattie would be able to eat well today, since there was little doubt that she wouldn’t be able to stomach much over the next few days. “All right. If you’re sure you’ll try to eat something soon?”

“Sure. Just don’t push so.”

Her cousin didn’t like to be treated as if she had no choices. Since Lucy could understand that, she was doing her best to give Mattie as many options as possible for how to spend her days. That way Mattie would be able to have at least a little control over her life.

“What would you like to do this morning?”

Mattie pursed her lips. “Well, the weather is lovely, to be sure. Maybe we could go for a walk?”

“A walk would be
gut
for both of us,” she said agreeably. “As long as you eat something first.” Before Mattie could protest again, she looped her arm through her cousin’s and playfully guided her into the kitchen.

“You weren’t going to give up until you got your way, were you?” Mattie asked, her tone wry.

Lucy decided to let that quip pass as she opened the refrigerator. “Oh, look. Your
mamm
made some granola this morning; and there’re apples and oranges, too. I think some oatmeal or toast and jam would taste very fine with that, don’tcha think?”

“I suppose.” Mattie sat in her wooden chair, leaned back, and watched Lucy bustle around the kitchen. “If you really think we should eat now.”

“I do.”

Mattie said nothing. Instead, she crossed her arms on the table and rested her elbows on the worn wooden surface. She stayed silent, though Lucy wasn’t sure if it was because she was miffed or only seeking a respite from the effort of making conversation.

So much seemed to affect her these days.

After Lucy had set the water to boiling on the stove for the oatmeal, she noticed Mattie looking a little bit interested.

She sipped her hot tea when Lucy brought it to her, and smiled when Lucy placed on the table two bowls of oatmeal and glasses filled with granola, fruit, and yogurt. “Perhaps I was a little bit hungry,” she said. After a brief, quiet prayer, she dug in. After two bites, she looked at Lucy in surprise. “This tastes wonderful-
gut
.”

“I think so, too.”

When they were almost finished, Mattie put her spoon down. “So, what happened the other day on your walk?”

Lucy’s stomach sank. This was exactly what she was hoping
not
to think about! “Nothing.”

“Come now. You left for your walk with an empty pail. Since the weather was so nice, neither Mamm nor I expected to see you for an hour or two. But you came home after little more than an hour . . . crying.”

“I know. ”

“What happened? Please tell me. Instead of coming home with a pail of blackberries and a lighter heart, you returned with only a terribly sad expression.” She leaned forward. “Come now. All I do is sit in bed all day. At the very least, tell me what happened to the pail?” Looking almost like her former self, Mattie’s eyes sparkled. “Let’s see . . . you were besieged by a hungry bear?”

“Of course not.”

“Raccoon?”

“Oh, Mattie.”

“I’m waiting . . .”

“All right. I left it at the patch,” she said quickly. “I must have forgotten it when I left.”

“You forgot it after picking berries?” Mattie’s expression told Lucy that she didn’t buy that excuse for a second.

And Lucy didn’t really blame her. “Um, leaving it on the ground was just a mistake. And simply a small one, too. Mattie, there’s no need for you to be so worried. I promise I’ll go fetch it later today.”

“It is not the pail nor the berries I am thinking of.” Mattie looked her up and down like she was a recalcitrant child at school. “Lucy,” she said with exaggerated patience. “I know you saw Calvin on your walk. Mamm told me.”

Alarm, and a bit of irritation, coursed through Lucy. Had her Aunt Jenna really been keeping tabs on her? And was it really her aunt’s business whom she talked to, anyway? “How did she know I saw him?”

Mattie pushed her chair back and stood up, then gathered her dishes and walked to the sink. “So, your secret is out,” she said airily as she turned on the faucet.

Indeed it was. Lucy scrambled to meet her at the sink. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you sit for a bit?”

“I can wash dishes, Lucy. I get tired of sitting and watching.”

Too flustered to argue, Lucy gave in. “All right.” After squirting dish soap into the sink, she began scrubbing bowls after Mattie scraped them off. The warm, soapy water helped calm her frazzled nerves.

When Mattie looked at her again, her eyes full of concern, Lucy knew it was time to lean on her cousin. Mattie wanted to be thought of as more than just a cancer patient—and Lucy desperately needed someone to confide in. “You’re right. I did see Calvin. And . . . something happened between us.” With a deep breath, she said, “Calvin found my diary on the train and kept it.”

Mattie stilled. “And?”

“And Calvin read some truly hateful things that I wrote about Paul.”

“He shouldn’t have read a word.”

“I know.” Her body relaxed. Oh, it felt good to share her anger and dismay with her cousin! “He was, um . . . horrified about what I wrote on the pages.”

“
He
was horrified by
your
feelings?” Mattie shook her head. “If he could have seen you. Even once.” Her eyes burned bright. “Lucy, do you remember your broken arm? Your black eye? Your . . . your bruises?”

“Of course.” Of course, she remembered so much more. “Calm down.
Jah
—of course I remember.” Though she couldn’t believe she was defending Calvin, she still did. “But Calvin wasn’t there. He didn’t know . . .” Lucy stumbled, trying to verbalize all her feelings, yet trying to put it all behind her, too. “Calvin really doesn’t realize how it was.”

“Well, I’ll tell him. I’ll be happy to help him understand how difficult your life was.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Besides, I did tell him a little . . .”

“Good. So, how did you end things?”

Lucy ducked her head. “I ran away.”

To her surprise, Mattie chuckled. “Oh, Lucy. You poor dear. Ach. Well, don’t worry about the journal or Calvin. Things will get better.”

Lucy glanced at her in surprise. “You sound so sure.”

Dipping her hands in the soapy water once again, Mattie handed her a spoon. “I am. See, sometimes I wonder if our two situations aren’t all that different.”

Drying that spoon, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“Well, something happened to me that I didn’t expect—and it’s taken just about all my energy to fight it. Perhaps not all that different from your life with Paul.”

“Paul’s behavior was a slow progression, Mattie. I saw the signs. My problem was that I didn’t act on it quickly enough.” Though, Lucy realized, there wasn’t anything she could do. She’d been trapped.

Mattie handed her a glass. “I am afraid that I ignored the signs of my cancer at first, too.”

Lucy was stunned. “What?”

“When I finally went to the doctor about that lump, she said it had been most likely growing for at least six months. Maybe longer. And now that I think about it, I do believe that I did notice a lump . . . but I ignored it.” Looking guilty, she added, “See, I thought if I ignored it, it would go away.”

Mattie’s revelation forced Lucy to be completely honest, too. “The first time Paul grabbed me when I argued with him, I was shocked. Even indignant. But then, after he apologized, I convinced myself that some of the fault was mine, too. I guess I, too, tried to ignore the obvious,” she added softly.

Mattie turned off the water. “So you watched and waited.”

“And prayed.” Lucy closed her eyes. “Mattie, you have to believe me—I didn’t wish Paul harm. I didn’t want him to die. I just wanted to be free. I . . . I just didn’t want to hurt anymore.”

“I know that,” she said with an understanding smile. “But, Lucy, now you are sitting and watching everyone else move forward. Other people make plans, but you do not.”

“I don’t know what to hope for.” Maybe she had already gotten what she’d wanted. She’d wanted to be free and happy, and now she was. To ask for more seemed like a selfish thing.

Looking somewhat like a schoolteacher, Mattie stared at her. “All you need is the freedom that will come from knowing that none of what happened was your fault. Not Paul’s abuse. Not his death.”

“You’ve told me this before, you know.”

“And I’ll continue to tell you until you believe me.” She handed Lucy a dishrag. “This Calvin Weaver, he is a fine man. But he’s only human, yes? Calvin has qualities for which to be proud of. And some other not-so-good traits, too.”

“What should I do about the journal?”