Unto These Hills (35 page)

Dr. Wood, obviously as taken aback as I was from Muffin’s abrupt attack, gathered his wits about him and continued. “After some more blood tests, I’ll know more.” He left quickly, relieved, I could tell, to escape the ugly family ambiance fermenting in Walter’s room.

We all fell silent, standing as though figures frozen in a suspense video
pause
. Only Muffin remained animated. Anger sizzled and crackled the air as she stalked in circles about me, eying me up one side and down the other.

I met her gaze steadily, dreading what I would see there but compelled to connect, to get past it. After a long, contemptuous glare, she turned her gaze upon Daniel, who now leaned indolently against the far wall, watching her with measured detachment. He never blinked as she sighted and perused him for long moments.

When her attention returned to rest upon me again, there was a knowing look in her eyes. “Sooo,” she drawled, “that’s the way it is, huh? Of course,” she added flippantly, “I already knew the score there, didn’t I, Mommy dearest?”

“Stop it, Muffin!” Doretha stepped forward. “You shouldn’t talk to your mama like that. She’s a good woman.” Doretha’s rather bold chastisement left me speechless. Then, she softly backpedaled. “You’re just upset and all and that concussion’s not helping none, either.” She reached out and took Muffin’s arm. “Come on, let me take you back to your room. You need to rest, honey.”

I was truly amazed when Muffin complied and settled docilely in the wheelchair. Then I noted her pallor and trembling. It hit me.
This is a replay of her
daddy’s first accident
. My heart lurched at the slumped shoulders as Doretha wheeled her from the room.

My knees buckled suddenly and in a heartbeat Daniel’s hands caught me before I went down. “Come on, Sunny. Sit.” He settled me in one of the comfortable chairs and gently chafed my cold hands in his, bringing me back to a semblance of balance.

“I’m fine now,” I said, sliding my hands from his. The contact was too soothing.

Too painful.

Chapter Nineteen

Dr. Wood called me outside the room the next afternoon. Muffin, who’d been released that morning, trailed us to the hall. Without preamble, he said, “Your husband needs a liver transplant. Quickly. We need a donor and the waiting list will take too long. We need to look within the family for the best match. But if there’s no one to volunteer there, we’ll look elsewhere.”

“Me,” Muffin rushed forward. “I’ll do it.”

My heart gave a painful jerk then began palpitating.
Family…blood…Muffin’s not blood. Oh my God!

“I’ll do it,” I quickly insisted. “Test me.” I shot Daniel a desperate look. Realization dawned and he stepped forward and took Muffin’s hand, taking her by surprise

“Muffin, you’re in a weakened state now. I’ll go ahead and test, just in case, okay?” He spoke so gently and persuasively it took my breath. Apparently, it did Muffin’s as well because she nodded assent then slumped submissively down in a nearby chair. Doretha sent me a troubled look over her head.

In those few moments, the atmosphere had so thickened that it would’ve taken a chainsaw to cut it. I felt suffocated. “I need a cup of coffee,” I said, snatching up my purse and heading for the door. “Anybody else?”

“Decaf. Cream,” Doretha opened and rummaged in her purse for change.

“I’m buying,” I said over my shoulder. “Muffin?”

“Diet Coke.”

“I’ll go help,” Daniel trailed me outside and fell into step beside me. I began trembling in earnest.

“What am I gonna do, Daniel? I can’t let Muffin find out Walter’s not her daddy.”

“She won’t.”

“But if she tests….”

“Negative won’t prove anything.” I felt his hand cover my elbow and it released a soothing balm, spreading over and through me.

We paused in the deserted corridor and gazed out into the sunlit day. I looked up into his face and saw such caring my breath hitched. I swallowed a tiny, fluttery bird.

“Daniel, I need to talk to Emaline. She knows nothing of what happened all those years ago.”

Astonishment creased his brow. “Nothing? You two were so close, Sunny…”

“I know.” I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly. “I don’t know why I didn’t trust her with the truth.” I looked at him then. “Might have saved myself some heartache had I gone to her then.”

We gazed at each other, memories and emotions riding our features and swimming in our eyes, a wordless drama shared by us and us alone.

“One thing I do know, Daniel,” I said as we approached the coffee shop. “I’ll not hurt Muffin again.”

~~~~~

Later that evening, I left the hospital, leaving Daniel with Walter. Lee Roy was visiting for a short spell as well. So I knew Walter was in good hands. He still looked like death and I felt guilty leaving him, but I was desperate to talk to Emaline.

Emaline answered the parsonage door. “Well,
Sunny!”
she hugged me, then stepped back, her brows drawing together. “Walter’s not worse, is he?”

“No, thank God. He still looks terrible…but I really need to talk to you. There are some things I want to share,
need
to share with you. Things I should have told you years and years ago.”

“
Whoa.
This sounds
heavy,.
Emaline cut her green eyes at me dramatically as we pulled out kitchen chairs and settled with our coffee.

“It all began while Daniel was gone to find his mama, the time I slept over at Doretha’s. You know, the time her step-father, Ol’ Tom was in the hospital.”

~~~~~

“
My god
, Sunny.” Emaline wiped her eyes and blew her nose two hours later. “Why in heaven’s name didn’t you come to me?” We’d drifted to her bedroom to lounge on the bed over an hour ago.

I shrugged limply and settled back against throw pillows stacked at the headboard. Emaline lay at the foot facing me, propped on one elbow. “I thought you’d judge me, Emaline. And at that time I couldn’t handle that.”

“
Judge you?”
She stared at me, tears puddling again. “Don’t you know, Sunny, that you’re my
sister
? My best friend in the world? God in Heaven, my
hero.
How could I
judge
you?” Fresh tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry you didn’t trust me to be there with you. Y’know, I could whine and wail about how hurt I feel but then — this isn’t about me, is it? It’s about you.”

“Look.” I scooted across the mattress and took her hand. “Don’t take it personal, Emaline. I was as messed up as a wrecked rattletrap. I didn’t even trust God. I quit praying.” I met her sad eyes. “I still don’t pray like I should. Seems I’ve shut down most all of me over the years.”

“I’m sorry, Sunny,” she rasped, snuffling, struggling upright to sit tailor-fashion. “Sorry for all you’ve been through. But this is a new day…a new beginning. And I, for one, am tired of you getting beat up on.”

I smiled as she aggressively blew her nose. “Yeh. Me, too.”

She smiled back, her nose as red as Rudolph’s. “I want the old Sunny back.”

My smile vanished. “I don’t know about that, Emaline. Don’t know as there’s any of her left inside this aging shell.”

“
Hah!
Aging shell, my eye!” she laughed then. A full, rolling one from the belly. “I saw that cart wheel you did at the party.”

I burst into laughter. “Yeh. And y’know what? This old bod will
never
be the same.” Just as suddenly as it came, the humor evaporated. “I pray that Muffin won’t find out the truth.”

She gazed at me for long moments before speaking. “Just remember that
whatever
happens will be for the best.”

I thought on that. At one time, I’d staked my life on that biblical promise. Now, it wasn’t in me to trust that implicitly. Didn’t, in that moment in time, know that faith would ever again be the backbone of my existence.

“We’ll see. If my life’s been bad, Muffin’s has been hell. She lost her daddy one time. I’ll not take him from her again.”

~~~~~

Neither Daniel nor I were donor matches. I tried to talk my daughter out of testing but, as usual, was no match for an impassioned Muffin.

“
Duh
! Mama! Look around you. Blood kin?
I’m it
!” thrusting out her hands, she angled me a condescending, scathing look. “Don’t you get it?” She rounded on the doctor and insisted, “Test me, Dr. Wood.”

Dr. Wood looked at me, half-apologetically, half-puzzled. “She’s the logical candidate, Mrs. Stone.”

Terror ravaged me as I pasted on a calm face. Dear
Lord! How can I divert this from happening?
My heart pounded in my ears and chest so loudly I could hardly hear the doctor’s words. I cast Daniel a frantic look, then Doretha, who appeared dug-in with us for the long haul. Though she still distanced herself from Walter, she hung closely with me, offering endless support, from running errands to taming Sunny. She remained an enigma to me.

Help! s
hrieked my heart as I gazed helplessly at my friends.

Daniel said, “Muffin should test if she wants to. She wants to do something for her daddy.” His gaze held mine, relaying a message:
humor her.

Doretha’s sad hazel eyes implored. “Daniel’s right, Sunny.”

I sighed deeply. “Okay,” I muttered, still reluctant. “Of course you want to help Daddy, Muffin. Go ahead.”
It won’t prove anything if she doesn’t match. Will it?
Years of duplicity warred against exposure.
“
I just hate for you to go through anything invasive or painful.”

Muffin rolled her eyes. Dr. Wood grinned. “Spoken like a true mother. I’ll assure you the tests won’t be uncomfortable.”

Except for me.
As Muffin left with the doctor, a foreboding fell over me. One that threatened to smother the life from me. I gazed plaintively at Daniel and Doretha, my allies, my protectors, and groped for humor. “You two look like yesterday’s leftovers.”

Neither smiled. Doretha said, “Try not to worry, Sunny.”

“Wouldn’t help.” I sank into a chair, propped my tired feet on the bed rail, closed my eyes and tried to relax. “As the old saying goes, its outta my hands.”

~~~~~

I slept little that night on the hospital cot set up for me in Walter’s room. Walter was restless, too. Aside from his lingering weakness, I think he sensed my desolation, though I tried hard to hide it.

“What’s wrong, Sunny?” he finally croaked as I gave him water, worry in his blood-shot, sky-blue eyes.

“Nothing, honey.” I leaned to hug him. Lordy, his skin felt hot. “Just tired. But there
will
be something wrong if you don’t get some rest.” I kissed his creased brow, readjusted his sheet and plumped his pillow. As I turned to go, he caught my arm.

“What is it?” I asked, troubled.

“Would you — you know, tell me about when Muffin was little?” he asked almost shyly. And my heart melted. It took so little to make Walter happy. And so I pulled a chair up bedside and did just that. By the time I got to her toddlerhood, he was fast asleep.

~~~~~

Walter’s strength didn’t come back as I’d hoped. X-rays and MRIs filled the following days and hours. Each day Walter seemed a little more limp and quiet. I asked the staff about it but they remained evasive. “Ask Dr. Wood,” they always insisted. When I did, he said they were trying medications and to ‘sit tight’ and see how they would work. Said Walter was too weakened for a liver transplant at present.

Grimly, Dr. Wood ordered further tests.

Emaline came a couple days later. “I’m gonna sit with you,” she said, grinning like a little Cheshire kitten and suddenly, the hospital room lost its tiresomeness, began to fizz actually. For a few hours, the chamber became enchanted as Emaline and I reminisced and giggled over growing-up times.

Walter even rallied, perking up a little at some of our outlandish recollections. “You didn’t, did you, Sunny?” he’d ask and Emaline would bobble her dark head up and down. “Oh yes, she did, Walter. Trust me.” And we would roar with laughter at his disbelief until he, too, would begin to chortle weakly.

Doretha joined us late morning, then Muffin near noon. Daniel wasn’t due till later in the day.

While Walter napped, we all traipsed downstairs to the hospital cafeteria for a leisurely lunch. With friends to buffer, Muffin was downright pleasant and I thought how wonderful it was to simply enjoy being together. I indulged in a rare mother/daughter fantasy, imagining that it would, magically, always be so.

Then the foreboding I’d felt earlier descended again, like a black cloud, snuffing my joy. I grew quiet, watching the others interact, with Muffin being so animated and over-the-top entertaining…Emaline gushing good humor and fun…Doretha doing her quiet little
thang
with her gentle snicker-laugh and soft words.

Yet — I couldn’t shake the portent hanging heavily in the air as we returned to check on Walter. When we rounded a corner in the corridor I nearly collided with Dr. Wood. I laughed shakily as he put his hand on my shoulder to steady me.

“I just left Mr. Stone’s room,” he said, his expression settling into gravity.

“Wh — is something wrong?” I asked. “Walter…?”

He avoided my gaze. “I’m going to order a couple more tests on him. But I do have some good news.”

“What?” I was desperate for some good news. Anything to turn away the goshawful blackness hovering about me.

He looked at Muffin then. “You’re a perfect donor-match for your dad.” He smiled at me then, an
I-knew-it
one.

Muffin lit up, then slapped her hands over her mouth, too choked to speak. Tears filled her eyes, puddled, then splashed over.

Perfect donor match.
Icy shock stealthily oozed through me as I watched the tears glide between her fingers. I looked at Doretha, who’d gone incredibly pale. Then at Emaline, who looked perplexed. Stunned. Woodenly, I walked over to Muffin and slid my arms around her. It was a knee-jerk, numb gesture but something deep inside me said she needed it.

Dr. Wood continued in his evasive way. “In the meantime, Mr. Stone’s strength is going somewhere. He’s too weakened for a liver transplant at present. I’ll schedule a regimen of tests for tomorrow and we’ll go from there.”

That was when Daniel walked in. He took one look at us and knew that somehow, for whatever reason, the stink had hit the fan.

~~~~~

Muffin left the hospital to meet a friend for dinner. I was ridiculously relieved to drop all pretense. I could acknowledge that my world had been turned upside down and remained grotesquely tilted. Emaline left because of Wednesday evening prayer service at church. She hugged me at the door, remaining inordinately silent, watching me like a mother hen. I gave her a tight smile of reassurance, drawing it from God-only-knew
where.

Only Doretha, Daniel, and I remained. The silence sizzling between us was of the uniquely stunned variety. Exhausted, Walter slept like the dead.

“Let’s go get some supper.” Daniel stood and reached for my hand. Reluctantly, I let him help me to my feet, astonished at how my legs vibrated beneath me. As one, we three silently made our way to the nearly deserted hospital cafeteria. Each in his own thoughts, we filled plates with food and took seats at a lone corner table. I took one bite of something and chewed. The wad grew bigger and bigger — I couldn’t swallow it. I discreetly spat it into my napkin and slowly sipped coffee.

Daniel watched me with somber eyes. I avoided them. I wasn’t ready for what lurked there.

Suddenly, Doretha sat forward, elbows on table, startling me with her atypically swift movement. “Sunny, we gotta talk.”

I closed my eyes, felt my head begin to spin like a crazy off-balance top.

“I’m not ready for this.” I pressed shaking fingers to my forehead and realized I didn’t feel it. The numbness was back. The blankness. I welcomed it. I didn’t want to know.

“You’ve gotta face it, Sunny,” Daniel said huskily.

“No,” I whispered, rebuffing reality. I shoved back my chair, then laid hold onto the table long moments for balance, during which I felt Daniel’s hands gently but firmly steady me, then turn me until our gazes collided.