Garden of Dreams

by Leslie Gould

  Bev smiled.

  “If I can’t decide what the right thing to do is, I do the opposite of what Marion did.”

  Bev laughed.

  “It’s true.” Jill put her paring knife down. “Caye thinks I should make amends with her—that it would help my healing process.”

  “Do you think you can?” Bev asked.

  “I don’t know. I tried when we came back from Argentina, but it felt so flat. As if she was just going through the motions.”

  “Maybe if you can’t make amends, you can at least lighten the load.”

  Lighten the load. Jill thought of the pieces of cancer floating away.

  At dinner, as they stood around in a circle on the patio, Hank asked Nathan to pray before they ate.

  Jill caught Nathan’s quick glance at Caye. Her friend’s eyes were still red. Caye and Nathan had spent an hour in Hank’s workroom with the door closed. Jill was heartbroken that Caye felt so badly about Liam falling into the pond.

  Nathan cleared his throat. He thanked God for Bev and Hank and their hospitality, he asked that Jill would be healed, and then he asked God to use the food they were about to eat to help them love each other more.

  As she opened her eyes, Jill saw Nathan quickly squeeze Caye’s hand.

  She noted that he hadn’t thanked God that Liam was unharmed. No need to rub that in. They’d already said that thanks.

  25

  Something changed inside Caye after the “pond incident,” as she thought of it. It was too hard to think the words “when Liam nearly drowned” or “when Liam could have drowned.” She’d realized in her head, after Jill was diagnosed with cancer, that they were all vulnerable. Now she felt it in her heart.

  That evening, sitting on the patio, Caye looked from person to person. Rob sat close to Jill, his arm draped around her shoulders. Hanks suspenders buckled against his chest and looked as if they weren’t accustomed to him sitting down. Bev was enjoying the hubbub. They didn’t often have company. She sat in her rocker lawn chair and gave Simon his bedtime bottle.

  Crickets chirped in the high grass around the yard. The cows mooed in the field. Soon the toads would begin to croak.

  Caye was still irritated with Nathan. He’d been so critical of her for dozing. She knew he was right; she’d been hard on herself too. That’s why she was irritated. Why did he have to make it worse? She’d tried to talk things through with him after her shower. Finally she asked again what was really bugging him. He said he’d been thinking about when his mother left. Caye didn’t pry. She knew before he said it that that was the issue, but she didn’t have the energy to dig it out of him, to help him sort it through. His hometown, Sweet Home, was a logging community. Not only had his mother left, but the whole town knew she’d taken off for Portland, that she couldn’t stand the small-town life or Nathan’s father anymore. In Nathan’s mind, she couldn’t stand him either.

  Bev asked Jill and Rob why they moved to Ashland.

  “It was part of Jill’s sovereign plan,” Rob said with a chuckle. “She saw the big picture for our lives very clearly, and Ashland was the setting for that plan.”

  Jill and her plan. Caye thought about her own simple plans—how long to stay home with the kids, what kind of job to find, how to pay the bills, what to plant in the garden. That was it. No mansions. No trips to New York or Europe or Argentina or even Disneyland. No thoughts of someday opening her own business.

  Jill makes the big-picture plans, Caye thought. I come up with the daily details. But that wasn’t entirely true either. Jill planned the activities and adventures, the special dinners. She decorated and painted and filled her house with bouquets of flowers.

  That’s it. Jill plans the fun stuff—I do the drudgery.

  Simon’s head bobbed against Bev’s arm as he fell asleep. “Should I just put him down?” she asked. “In that fancy portable crib?”

  “Thanks,” Jill said.

  Caye couldn’t stop thinking about Liam. In all her diligence, she’d failed. She’d let her guard down. She had fallen asleep. Her hyper-responsibility wasn’t enough.

  The sun was setting over the river. Hank stood. “I’m going to go check on those calves,” he said.

  “I’ll go with you,” Jill said, rising to her feet.

  “Sure you feel up to it?”

  Jill nodded and followed Hank off to the ATV. The calves were just across the road in the pasture, but with Hank’s bum hip he drove even short distances. Caye heard the motor whine as it started and the wheels grind on the gravel as Hank pulled out.

  “Can we catch toads?” Andrew asked Nathan.

  “Please?” Audrey chimed in.

  “What do you think?” Nathan asked Caye.

  “I’m going to bed,” she said. “Do what you want.”

  “Please,” Audrey said again, grabbing Nathan’s hand and jumping up and down.

  Caye gathered up the pie plates and headed to the kitchen.

  Bev stood at the sink and ran the hot dishwater. “I know Jill’s getting better, but she sure doesn’t look good. Too skinny. She hardly eats. And that belly sticking out is just eerie.”

  Caye nodded. “She really is better though.”

  “Are you okay?” Bev asked her daughter.

  “Just tired.” She looked out the window. Nathan had pulled the flashlight off the shelf by the back door. He and Rob, followed by the kids, walked toward the pond in the twilight. Scout followed.

  “Why are you so quiet?” Jill asked Caye the next day. They stood on the patio watching Rob tie the luggage onto the Suburban’s roof rack. Liam ran back and forth across the patio, plowing the air with his head pointed toward the ground.

  “Just tired.”

  “Is it the stuff yesterday with Liam?” Caye shook her head.

  “Just look at him,” Jill said. “I love him to pieces, but he’s an accident waiting to happen. He’s one of those kids that you just have to hope God assigned three guardian angels to.”

  Caye smiled.

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

  “I’m not,” Caye answered.

  The best thing about being in Burns, Jill decided, was that Caye had stopped asking her how she felt fifteen times a day. Maybe it was because they were in a different location, away from Jill’s house. Maybe it was because Jill really was feeling better, and it showed. It had been nearly six weeks since the surgery. It made sense that she was finally feeling better. And the cancer was shrinking—the thought sustained her through every minute of every day.

  “I think what is really bothering me,” Caye said, “is how little control we actually have over our lives.”

  “But don’t you think that’s a good thing? Think of all the extra trouble we’d get into if we really were in control.”

  “How can you forgive Rob so quickly?” Caye asked.

  “That was a topic change.”

  “Not really,” Caye said. “It’s all related.”

  “How?”

  “You can’t control Rob, but you seem to have forgiven him. His actions could have placed you in a very vulnerable situation, but you haven’t held it against him.”

  “He asked my forgiveness. I forgave him.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Maybe not just like that. It’s a process. I really think he was sincere. He dropped the account. He’s not going back to Raleigh. It still hurts—hurts my trust, my pride. But I’m living on borrowed time. I don’t have the privilege of carrying a grudge. Or of giving in to being insecure.”

  “What about Marion?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you think you should work things out with her?”

  “I think she should work things out with me.” Jill smiled at Caye, a cutting, conclusive smile.

  “But, Dad.” Both women turned their heads toward Andrew and Nathan. “I have to take
the toad with me.” Andrew held a half-gallon mayonnaise jar with a toad, a rock, and a quarter-inch of pond water.

  “He won’t live,” Nathan said. “And we don’t have room in the Suburban.”

  “I’ll hold him on my lap. Grandma said I could take the jar with me.

  Andrew held up the jar. The toad slid off his rock onto the glass bottom.

  “He’ll just die.”

  “I’ll let him go when we get home.”

  “Let him go here.”

  “Let him take the toad,” Jill said. “That’s why God made toads. For little boys.”

  Nathan turned his baseball cap forward so the bill shaded his eyes from the sun.

  Caye headed toward the house.

  “It’s not a big deal, Nathan,” Jill said. She began to feel uncomfortable as Caye walked away.

  “It is a big deal for him not to obey me.”

  “It’s okay for him to know what he wants.”

  “Keep the toad,” Nathan said, turning to Andrew. “But let him go as soon as we get home.”

  Immediately Jill regretted butting in. Nathan had probably only agreed to humor her. Six weeks ago he wouldn’t have. Six weeks ago he wouldn’t have had to—she wouldn’t have pressed the issue, wouldn’t have interfered. Jill tousled Andrew’s hair. “Keep that thing in the jar. He’s gargantuan, big enough to have his own seat belt, and we don’t have any to spare.”

  Caye stood in her mother’s kitchen and wished she were nineteen again. Where had this husband come from? These children?

  She wished that they were all going home and she was staying. She wished she could sleep, the way she used to when she came home after finals, for a week.

  Tears smarted Caye’s eyes. She felt so tired.

  She watched her mother dry her hands on an embroidered dish-towel. Everyone else congregated around the Suburban ready to go. Through the kitchen window, Caye could see Hank walking from the barn to the house.

  “I just don’t feel like I can do it all,” Caye said to her mom. “I try so hard and still don’t get it right.”

  “You can do everything you need to do,” Bev said. “Maybe not to meet your standards. But you can do what needs to be done, and if you can’t, ask for help.”

  Caye stood silently, her arms crossed.

  “Ask the people in your home church. Or ask me. Remember, Daddy and I can come over for a few days.” Caye sighed.

  “But don’t beat yourself up. You’re exhausted. Anyone would be.”

  “Jill’s getting better, and I’m turning into a mess.” Caye tried to laugh, but the sound came out like a sob. For the first time since Jill was hospitalized, Caye felt tension with her friend.

  Show your faith through love.

  What happens when I’m too tired to love?

  “Everyone’s waiting,” her mother said.

  Caye drove Jill to her Monday morning chemo, but Joya would take her home. A message from Joya offering the ride was waiting for them Sunday evening. “So Caye doesn’t have to hang out there with the kids,” Joya said. “It should be easier on everyone.”

  “Interesting that Joya’s willing to show her face now that you’re getting better,” Rob had commented after listening to the message and relaying the information to Jill.

  Now, pulling out of the clinic parking lot, it dawned on Jill that Joya had a specific purpose in taking her home.

  “I wanted to talk with you,” Joya said. “Alone.”

  Jill rubbed the spot on the back of her hand where the catheter had been inserted. It was so like Joya to jump right into a conversation without a warmup.

  “We were talking about your cancer during Fellowship yesterday.” The group had met at Thomas and Joya’s.

  “Obviously something has changed. I wanted to ask you, in private, what it is. What has happened to you spiritually to allow the healing?”

  Jill’s head began to ache. A dull pain settled at the base of her skull.

  What had changed? Things were better between her and Rob. She felt hopeful. She was more aware of her trust in God. It was true: The better she felt, the easier it was to trust.

  There was a time when she would have said something vague to please Joya. Back when they were in Argentina.

  “Let me ask you a question, Joya.”

  Joya nodded.

  “What are you looking for? A sin I’ve confessed? That I’m sorry I didn’t reveal my family medical history to Rob? That I’m human? Joya, I don’t know what you want.”

  “I want you to be healed. I know God’s going to do that. I want to understand the process.” Joya paused and took a deep breath. Jill sank inside.

  “Rob told Thomas about a confession that he made to you. I’m wondering if Rob’s confession has led to your healing.”

  Why had Rob said anything to Thomas? Why had Thomas said anything to Joya? The image of David sitting on Rob’s lap back in Argentina floated into her mind, followed by Joya wringing the fuchsia scarf.

  “Why don’t you ever talk about David in Fellowship?” Jill asked.

  “There’s never been a reason to.”

  Jill looked intently at Joya.

  “Do you feel like you’ve dealt with his death?”

  “What is there to deal with?”

  Jill looked out the window. She imagined the chemo attacking the cancer. This time the pieces floating away looked like Marion and Joya.

  Caye stood on the deck and watched Jill carefully select and cut roses for a bouquet. Jill wore a sundress with a long-sleeve white shirt over the top. In a few minutes Rita would come to stay with the kids so Caye and Jill could shop for Simons and Hudson’s birthdays. Rob had done the shopping for Liam’s. Jill didn’t want to miss out again, plus she’d said it would be good to get out of the house without the kids.

  Jill straightened her back. “What’s the matter?” Caye asked. “I just had a pain. I’m okay.”

  Caye watched as Jill cut another rose. A Tropicana. She held a garden bouquet in her hand—yellow, red, orange, and pink. The smell of the roses filled the courtyard.

  Jill straightened up again. “Yikes.”

  “You okay?”

  “This is a different pain. I haven’t felt it before.”

  “Is it time for a pain pill?” Guess so.

  “What’s the matter?” Rita asked as she came through the front door. Jill stood at the front window sipping a glass of water. “You’re so pale.”

  “Just some sharp pains.”

  “Hi, Rita,” Caye called out as she came down the stairs. “Simon and Liam are asleep. Hudson and Audrey are playing in the basement. How long can you stay?”

  “Two or three hours. I need to stop by the office on my way home.”

  “We’ll be back by then. Call Jill’s cell if you need us.”

  “What about Andrew?”

  “He’s going home with a friend.”

  Jill stopped before she climbed into Caye’s station wagon. “Does it still hurt?” Caye asked.

  “A little.”

  “Do you want to go? Or stay home?”

  “No, let’s go.”

  As they walked across the parking lot to the Rogue Valley Mall, Jill stopped.

  “You’re not okay, are you?” Caye asked.

  “This is really bad pain. Sharper. Different.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Take me home.”

  They climbed into the car. Jill started to fasten her seat belt and then stopped. “It hurts. Really hurts.”

  Caye put her hand on Jill’s shoulder. Jill reached up and grabbed her friend’s hand.

  “I changed my mind. Call Rob. See if he thinks I should go to the doctor,” Jill said.

  It was not like Jill to think of calling Rob before making a decision.

  “Maybe we should just go to the doctor.”


  “No,” Jill said, pulling her cell phone out of her purse. “Call him first, okay?”

  “It could be a pinched nerve,” Dr. Scott said. “Perhaps the tumor is growing again. There could be lesions that have grown since the CAT scan.

  “That fast?” Rob asked.

  Dr. Scott shrugged. “We see everything. Let’s hope it’s a pinched nerve. We’ll start with an MRI. In the meantime, we’ll admit you,” he said, looking at Jill. “And we’ll give you more medication to ease the pain.”

  Jill stood by the sink in the examining room. It hurt to lie down.

  “What about the boys?” she said to Rob.

  “Caye will stay with them.”

  “But she’s so tired. I think we’ve worn her out.”

  Caye cried as she talked to Nathan on the phone. “Rob just called. She’s going back into the hospital.”

  “Why?”

  “Her pain was really bad. Excruciating. They’re going to do an MRI.”

  “Where are you?” Nathan asked.

  “Back at Jill and Rob’s. With the boys and our kids. I picked up Andrew on my way.”

  “Should I come there?” Caye sobbed.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No. I’m a mess.”

  “About Jill?”

  “About everything.”

  He’s going to ask if it’s PMS. It probably was. Not that having Jill so sick wasn’t enough to cry about, but it wasn’t like Caye not to be able to cope.

  “Are you pregnant?” Nathan asked.

  When had her last period been? She couldn’t exactly remember. “No, I had a period just a month or so ago. Or two months ago. Maybe more.”

  Pregnant. It couldn’t be.

  “I’ll pick up a test,” Nathan said.

  “I’m not pregnant,” Caye said. “I would know if I were pregnant. I’m just a mess.”

  Nathan was silent.

  “I’ll go to the store after you get here. We need milk and cereal and a bunch of other stuff,” Caye decided.

  “I can stop on my way home,” Nathan said.

  “No. You come here and feed the kids. Get a pizza on your way. I’ll go to the store.”