The Scarlet Thread (22 page)

day, James was in bed with us, his arm around us

both.

Joshua came home today. I have missed him terribly. He is my child. It dont matter how I came to

have him. He may look like his father and mother,

but that dont mean he will be like them. Henry is a

week old and a fine, strong baby. Joshua tries to

crawl into my lap when I nurse him.

I am joyful tonight. James is asleep on our bed.

Our son is sleeping soundly in the cradle near the

fire. Joshua is sleeping beside it bundled in his

blankets. He scorns his bed because he wants to

be close to his baby brother. Sometimes I think

Joshua guards him the way Matthew guarded

me. Everything is so peaceful. Especially me.

Aunt Martha brought me a package today

labelled Master Henry James Farr care of Martha Werner. In it was a beautiful silver spoon and

small cup. And this note.

My dearest Mary Kathryn, May God always bless

you and your family. Always your friend, Tom.

I wept when I read it.

My heart is full to overflowing.

Henry James turned four months old today. He

will have a sister or brother come late fall. James

is pleased. Aunt Martha is mortified. She turned

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dark pink when I told her. She said it is too soon.

What of your health? And think what people will

say. I said I was stronger than most and she could

tell everyone it must be God’s will James and I be

fruitful and multiply.

The truth is I have few pleasures in this world

and no wish to shun James embrace. I told him

what Aunt Martha said. He laughed. I said it was

not funny. He said she is innocent and modest. As

to the rest, they are jealous. He said everyone will

get used to us having a baby every year and think

nothing of it.

Martha Elizabeth was born midday November

20. She is healthy and beautiful. Aunt Martha

was here at her coming into the world. She was

first to hold her.

James says Beth has my blue eyes and red hair.

Little Hank had blue eyes too when he was born.

Now they are dark brown. His blond hair all fell

out when he was barely a month old. I was afraid

he would be bald. Then it all grew back in black

as Papas.

Betsy came to the cabin today. She said I look

tuckered out. I felt better for her visit. A good

talk can bolster spirits and renew strength. It gets

lonely when the only people you have to talk to

all day are a five year old boy and two babies. I

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yet for Stimulating Conversation. And Aunt Martha is often too occupied with Good Works to

spend much time with me. When she does come,

it is little Hank and Beth who have her attention.

Betsy was like a breath of spring air even though

she bossed me the whole hour she stayed.

I know I should not complain. Aunt Martha is

ever kind to me and mine. I remind myself that I

am more Fortunate than some.

I love James.

He loves me.

I have three beautiful children.

I am healthy.

I have a roof over my head with only a few

leaks.

I have food on the table.

Yet there are times when I feel something is

lacking. I despair. I
yearn.
I cannot put my finger

on what I yearn for or why. It is just an ache

inside that wont go away.

Maybe I am just tired. I weary of washing

diapers. I think about the African women I read

about in a book Aunt Martha brought me. They

let their children grow up naked. Maybe their

way is better. Seems to me it would save time

better spent on other things.

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10

“My brother,” she said in surprise and punched the button.

Mike never called. He wasn’t at ease on the telephone and left it

to Melissa, his wife, to keep in touch. “How’s everything down

there in la-la land?” Melissa would always say and make her

laugh.

Nothing short of an emergency would get him to lift a receiver

to his ear. “What’s wrong, Mike?”

“Mom’s sick.”

“Sick?” she said, alarmed.

“She’s got cancer.”

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a few months ago.” She had noticed at Christmas her mother had

looked thin. She’d even asked about it. “She’s lost some weight,

but she said she was fine.”

“She didn’t want you to know.”

Sierra clutched the telephone receiver more tightly. “You’re

sure?”

“She’s known for quite a while,” her brother said quietly.

“She’s just kept it to herself until recently.”

“What do you mean she’s known? When did she find out?”

Her brother was silent for a moment. “She was diagnosed with

breast cancer just before you and Alex moved south.”

“What?” Sierra felt her blood chilling with shock. “That was

two years ago, Mike.” In a blinding flash she remembered hints

that something was wrong. She had wondered why her mother

was so intent upon going through all the things in the attic. What

was it she had said? She didn’t want to leave the chaos to her and

Mike.
Oh, God.
Sierra’s eyes filled with hot tears. “Why didn’t she

say something?”

“You know how Mom is, Sierra. She doesn’t want anyone

worrying about her.”

“What’s being done for her?”

“She had a lumpectomy when the doctor first diagnosed her.

They found out in the tests afterward that the cancer had already

metastasized into her bones.”

“Oh no,” Sierra murmured. “And she didn’t tell you?”

“She didn’t tell anyone until a few days ago.”

Alarm filled her. “What happened a few days ago?”

“Her right leg hurt so much she couldn’t drive. She called

Brady and asked if he could take her into the doctor’s office.” He

was quiet for a few seconds. “They did another MRI. It looks

bad.”

Sierra closed her eyes, panic bubbling inside her. Her mother

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was her rock of strength. She couldn’t lose her! She was only

sixty-five. They’d always laughed and talked about how they’d

celebrate her hundredth birthday when it came. “Is she going to

have chemotherapy?”

“No.”

“What do you mean
no?”

“She said she didn’t want it.”

“But—”

“It wouldn’t do any good at this point, Sierra.”

“They have to do
something.
What about radiation? Couldn’t

they do that?”

“It’d already metastasized into her bones when she was diagnosed. It’s spread to her liver.”

Sierra lowered her head and covered her mouth for a moment

until she could get control of her emotions.

Mike didn’t say anything for a minute. “She’s undergoing palliative treatments,” he said hoarsely.

“What’s that?”

“They’re giving her radiation to ease the pain in her right leg.”

Tears ran down Sierra’s cheeks. She swallowed, trying to keep

her voice steady. “Is she in a lot of pain, Mike?”

“Not that she talks about,” he said with difficulty. “You know

Mom.” He was quiet for a minute. “I think she’s been on pain

medication for months. Melissa was putting dishes away in the

cabinet the other day and found the prescription bottle tucked in

the corner.” He cursed softly, and she knew he was crying. “I’ll

call you back in a few minutes.” He hung up abruptly.

Sierra put the receiver in its cradle and covered her face. She

tried to fight down the rush of emotions: grief, fear, the desire to

get in her car and start driving north right this instant. She was

shaking and felt cold.

“Bad news?” Ron said, standing in the doorway that joined his

large office to her smaller one.

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anything more, she’d break down.

Her intercom buzzed. She snatched up the telephone and

punched the line-one button. “Mike?”

“Sorry,” he said hoarsely.

“It’s OK,” she said, clutching the phone tightly, keeping her

other hand up to shield her face from Ron’s perusal. Her throat

was so hot and tight, she could hardly breathe. “How long do we

have?”

“A month. Probably less.”

She swallowed convulsively. Her vision blurred with tears as

she stared at the calender. If that was true, her mother wouldn’t

even make it to her sixty-sixth birthday. Her chest ached with

the weight of fear. “Is she at home?”

“No. She’s in the hospital. Just until she finishes the treatments. Five days, maybe six. Then she comes home.”

“Which hospital?”

“Community.” He gave her the number.

“I’ll call you tonight, Mike.” Her hand shook as she hung up

the telephone. Ron was still standing in the doorway. He didn’t

say anything, but she sensed his deep concern. Over the past

four months of working with him, she had learned he was a perceptive and caring man. “My mother has cancer.”

He let out his breath slowly. “How bad?”

“It’s in her liver,” she said huskily, afraid if she said more, she’d

start crying. She felt Ron’s hand slide over her shoulder and

squeeze gently in comfort.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sierra.”

She recalled how her mother had looked six months ago, thin,

her hair graying. She had asked straight out if she was all right,

and her mother had said everything was fine. Fine? How could

she have kept such a secret? “She never said a word, Ron.”

“What do you want to do?”

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Her hands felt like ice. “I want to go home.”

“Then go,” he said simply.

She thought of the chaos she’d leave behind if she did. Her

desk was piled with work. And what about the children? Who’d

take care of Clanton and Carolyn? Who’d drop them off at

school? Who’d take Clanton to his baseball practices or Carolyn

to her piano lessons? Alex was gone by six-thirty and never

home before seven.

Maybe she should pull the children out of school and take

them with her. But how could she do that when she didn’t even

know what she would be facing when she got home? What

would they do while she was taking care of her mother?

“I don’t know what to do,” she said shakily. “I don’t even know

where to start.” Her brother’s words rang in her ears. A month.

Maybe less.

Oh, God! God, where are you?

She wanted to be with her mother. She wanted that so desperately, she shook with fear that it wouldn’t be possible.

Ron sat on the edge of her desk. “Call Alex.”

She dialed Beyond Tomorrow. Alex’s secretary told her he

wasn’t in the office. “He had an appointment at one.”

“Can you page him?”

“He told me not to—”

“This is important! When you get in touch with him, tell him to

call me here at work. Please.” She hung up. Every time she called

Alex lately, he was out.

Shaking, she began shuffling the papers around on her desk,

wondering how she could get everything sorted out and finished

by the end of the day. And what about tomorrow? She had the

schedules to type up. She had calls to make. She had letters to

write.

She couldn’t concentrate.

Ron’s hand stopped her agitated movements. “I’ll call Judy.

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