Garden of Dreams

by Leslie Gould

  The cart pulled to the right as Caye pushed it through Safeway’s produce section. It felt too heavy to handle, as if she might have to abandon it next to the nectarines. Instead she trudged to the cereal aisle. Jill never let her boys have sugared cereal. Caye chose two boxes of Lucky Charms.

  As she passed the tea and coffee, her eyes fell to a large empty space ready to be restocked at the bottom of the shelf, just below the hot chocolate. She stopped the cart, overcome by fatigue. She wanted to curl up on the shelf to rest, to sleep. She wondered if anyone would notice.

  She glanced at her list. Pregnancy test. She wheeled the cart around and headed to the pharmacy.

  26

  “The cancer has spread to your liver,” Dr. Scott said.

  Jill leaned against the sink. Rob had spent the night at the hospital with her. She’d hardly slept.

  “Liver?” Rob asked.

  Dr. Scott nodded.

  “How can it be shrinking one week and in her liver the next?”

  Two weeks. It’s been two weeks. Jill corrected Rob silently.

  “It’s unpredictable,” the doctor said.

  Rob kicked the end of the hospital bed. Hard.

  “I’d be angry too,” Dr. Scott said.

  “That’s right,” Rob retorted. “You have a wife. And kids. And another baby on the way.” He kicked the bed again.

  “Rob,” Jill said, turning toward him.

  Jill climbed back on the bed and sat facing the doctor. She reached for Rob’s hand. “What now?” she asked.

  “We keep going with the radiation and the chemo. We do more to manage your pain.”

  “And what are our chances?” Rob asked.

  Our chances. The chances that their family wouldn’t be set adrift. The chances that their family would remain intact.

  “Once cancer reaches the liver, it’s very serious. I’ll be honest. The chances—from a medical perspective—don’t look as good as they did two weeks ago.”

  Rob sat down hard on the bed. Jill winced.

  “Is there still reason to be hopeful?” Rob asked.

  “There’s always reason for hope.”

  “When can I go back home?” Jill asked.

  “As soon as we get your pain under control.”

  “Best case scenario, until the miracle occurs, what are we looking at?” Jill asked.

  “As far as what?” Dr. Scott asked. Time.

  “I don’t give my patients estimated times. There are too many variables.”

  “What’s the purpose of the chemo and radiation now?” she asked.

  “To prolong your life.”

  Rob buried his head against Jill’s neck.

  “Thank you,” Jill said to the doctor. “For being honest.”

  He sighed. “You could live for months,” he said. “For years. And you could still be healed. Don’t give up on that.”

  Jill thought he sounded sad, despondent. “Have you seen it happen?” she asked. “With pancreatic cancer?”

  “I haven’t seen it,” he said. “But I’ve read about it.”

  “So have I,” Jill answered. But what she meant was “so has Caye.”

  Caye stood in Jill’s upstairs bathroom and looked in the mirror. She spotted a few gray hairs among the red and gold highlights. She needed a haircut and her color touched up.

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She felt old.

  She picked up the baby stick, as Nathan called it, and then dropped it on the counter. The bubble of color really had changed to green. She was pregnant.

  “Maybe it’s wrong,” she said to Nathan, who stood in the doorway.

  “Only if it’s negative, remember? They’re never wrong when it’s positive. Remember, that’s what the doctor told us when you were first pregnant with Andrew.”

  Their first test, with Andrew, had registered negative. It had taken Caye a few months to realize she was pregnant that time, too. Her cycles were typically long.

  Nathan did a little dance around the bathroom. Caye sat down on the toilet and cried.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to be pregnant.” She wasn’t sure, but she was probably nine weeks along. That would make for a January due date. She couldn’t think that far ahead—she couldn’t imagine life past next week.

  She buried the stick in the bathroom garbage. She didn’t want Rob or Jill to see it.

  Nathan had a smile on his face all evening. He seemed to forgive Caye her negligence of the kids and overinvolvement with Jill all at once.

  In the morning Nathan changed Simon’s diaper and fed the older kids so Caye could sleep.

  “So are you all better?” Caye asked as Nathan hurried out the door.

  He squinted his eyes.

  “You were out of sorts. Now you’re better.” He smiled.

  “Was it Jill’s being sick? My being so preoccupied? Did it make you think of your mom not sticking around?”

  “I’ve got to go,” Nathan said, glancing at his watch.

  “But a baby offers hope?” Caye knew she was being relentless.

  Nathan shrugged again. He kissed her quickly on the lips and then hurried down the steps to unlock the car door for Andrew.

  As Caye fed the baby his cereal, she thought about when Jill was five months pregnant with Simon.

  Jill had left a message for Caye: “I have a great idea! Give me a call.” Caye had returned late in the evening from grocery shopping. Brown paper bags lined the counter. The sink was full of dirty dishes. Audrey had thrown up the night before, and the sour laundry was still piled in the basement.

  Caye picked up the phone and hit speed dial for Jill.

  “How are you?” Jill had asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” Caye moaned.

  “Ready for an adventure? To get out of town?” It was the middle of February. Both had been complaining of cabin fever.

  “Disneyland,” Jill boomed. “Lets take the kids to Disneyland. I made some phone calls today. We could go the last week of the month.”

  Jill covered the airfare and the hotel, claiming that Rob had enough frequent flier miles and she’d gotten a two-for-one deal on the rooms. It took Caye several late-night discussions to convince Nathan to let Andrew miss three days of school. “For crying out loud,” she finally said, “he’s only in the first grade. It will have no bearing on his long-term academic career.”

  They’d stayed in a suite near Disneyland. On the third day, Jill asked Caye if she would mind if Marion met them for dinner at the hotel. Of course Caye didn’t mind. But she was surprised. She didn’t know when Jill had called her mother or why they hadn’t seen Marion sooner.

  Marion sat next to Hudson during dinner. “Put your napkin in your lap,” she told him. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” She entirely ignored Liam, even when he knocked the metal highchair tray to the floor with a horrible clatter.

  Jill was unusually quiet.

  Caye tried to make small talk. “Aren’t you excited about another grandbaby?” she asked Marion.

  “I’d be more excited about Jill taking care of herself,” Marion answered. “All these kids so close together can’t be good for her.”

  Marion looked at Jill. “Why do you have to have more? Caye stopped at two, and she’s perfectly happy.”

  Jill gave Caye a pained look. “Mother, stop,” she said. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  They’d gone back to Disneyland that evening for the night show. Jill took Hudson, Audrey, and Liam to the teacups while Caye and Andrew ran to Splash Mountain for a final ride. It was glorious. Caye was so glad they’d made the trip, that she’d swallowed her pride and accepted Jill’s generosity.

  She and Andrew raced back to the teacups, running hand in hand, darting around rides and people. Caye spotted Jill standing toward the front of the l
ine holding Liam. Hudson and Audrey held each others hands. Jill looked like a stranger for a moment. Her dark hair was back in a French braid. Her face looked clouded, uncertain. The confident look Caye was so used to was missing. She looked weathered, almost mystical.

  “Jill!” Caye yelled and waved.

  Jill looked around, a slow smile spreading over her face. “You don’t mind,” she said to the people behind her, “if my friend cuts in? I need her help with the kids.”

  Caye and Andrew slipped under the metal chain. “Let me take Liam,” Caye said.

  The phone rang. Caye slipped another spoonful of cereal into Simons mouth and picked up the phone.

  It was Nathan. “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “The same. Like a mess.” She tucked the phone under her chin and lifted Simon from his chair.

  “I’m so happy,” he said.

  “I’m so shocked.”

  “It will be wonderful.”

  It was hard not to smile at his enthusiasm. “But we’ve wanted this for so long,” he’d said last night.

  “I wanted it for so long that I stopped wanting it. I moved on,” Caye said. Hadn’t they decided she needed to go back to work? That they could hardly afford the two kids they had?

  “I’m almost done with my master’s,” Nathan replied when Caye posed the questions. “I’ll get a job as a vice principal. I’ll keep coaching. We’ll make it.”

  Nathan said good-bye without asking about Jill.

  The phone rang again. “How is she?” It was Joya.

  “I haven’t heard anything yet. I’ll call you when I do.” Caye hung up, wondering at Joya’s response if the news was bad.

  Minutes later the phone rang a third time.

  It was Rob.

  “We’re going to increase the pain meds,” the nurse told Jill. “This pain is too much.”

  Jill nodded. It was morphine now. She hated the thought of it; she hated the pain more.

  She stood in a garden holding a hoe, a big open garden with no fence. The sun was hot on her face, her neck.

  She looked up at the house.

  The boys were asleep. Napping

  How much longer did she have to hoe? She felt anxious about her work, about completing her task.

  She heard the sound of the plane but never saw it.

  Something pierced her—shot through her lower back into her belly.

  She dropped the hoe and sank to her knees in the soil. The roar of the plane drifted away. Who would take care of her children? Who would be there when her baby boys woke from their naps?

  The snakes came then, crawling across the garden, scaling the plants, scurrying onto Jill. She covered her face with her hands.

  “Jill. You’re having a bad dream.” She felt a hand on her shoulder.

  Jill opened her eyes. It was Caye.

  “Who’s with the boys?”

  “Rita. She left work early. Where’s Rob?” Caye asked.

  “He had to go into the office. It’s in my liver.”

  “I know. Rob told me.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you think I can still be healed?”

  “Yes.”

  Caye sat down on the bed and wrapped her arms around Jill.

  Jill shivered. “So do I. But I’m worried about the boys.”

  Jill took a deep breath. “I’m afraid Rob will forget their immunizations. He won’t think to feed them lunch on the weekends and to have them brush their teeth. I’m afraid he’ll forget about swim lessons and homework.”

  “Shh,” Caye said. “Don’t talk that way.”

  Jill began to cry.

  Caye held her without saying anything until Jill pulled away and yanked a tissue from the box. “Is the pain better?” Jill nodded.

  “We spent the night at your house last night,” Caye said. “We can again tonight, too, if that’s easier.”

  “Is Nathan okay with the idea?” Caye nodded.

  “It might be easier. I don’t know what Rob’s doing—if he’ll stay here or not. I should be able to go home tomorrow.” Jill paused. “I’m having a hard time being positive.”

  “That’s okay,” Caye said. “You’ll feel positive again.”

  “Did you tell Joya?” Jill asked.

  “Yes. And the rest of the Fellowship.”

  “What did Joya say.”

  “Oh.”

  Jill began to laugh. “That hurts.” She took a deep breath. “She said oh’?”

  “Yep. Just oh.’ Then she said she had to go pick up Louise.” Caye looked toward the window. “It’s hot out there. Close to ninety.”

  “How does my garden look?”

  “Good. Well, pretty good.”

  As Caye sat down on the bed next to Jill, Rob walked into the room.

  “Congratulations,” he said to Caye, without acknowledging Jill. His voice was strained. “I stopped by the house. Nathan told me your news.”

  27

  Why did Nathan tell Rob? Nathan seldom spoke impulsively. He usually thought things through. Why had he blurted it out? It hadn’t occurred to her to ask him not to tell anyone.

  “What?” Jill asked, looking from Rob to Caye.

  Neither answered.

  “Are you pregnant?” Jill asked, sitting up straight. Caye nodded. She was afraid to say anything. Afraid she’d start to cry and not be able to stop. “That’s wonderful.”

  Caye looked at Rob. His arms were crossed.

  Caye began to cry.

  “Aren’t you excited?” Jill asked.

  Caye nodded. She was lying.

  “But it’s wonderful,” Jill said. “I’m so excited. It’s such a reminder that life goes on. It’s such an answer to our prayers.”

  Caye sat in the parking lot with the air conditioning on. It was 5:30. She hoped that Rita had gone home—and that Nathan was feeding the kids. Why had he told Rob? If she’d had any idea he was going to do that, she would have told Jill first.

  I feel guilty. Jill’s fighting for her life, and I’m growing a baby. I’d give anything not to have another child as long as Jill could live.

  She caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye.

  It was Rob. He was a few steps away from the car.

  Caye hesitated and then reached over and unlocked the passenger door.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he opened the door.

  Caye shook her head. “No, I behaved badly.”

  He lowered his body into the seat and shut the door. Caye was silent.

  “Nathan was right to tell me. The sooner the better. And don’t think I’m not happy for you. It just feels as if God is blessing you…and not us.”

  Caye nodded. She knew the feeling. All the years she’d known Rob and Jill, she’d seen God’s blessing on them. Now she was ashamed for how she’d felt.

  “You’ve been such a good friend to us,” Rob said. “I’d be crazy to hurt you.”

  Caye wondered whether Rob realized that she was hurt by his response—or if Jill had pointed it out.

  “I’m scared,” Rob said.

  “I know. I am too.” “Jill doesn’t seem to be.” “She is,” Caye said.

  Rob stared at the dashboard. “What do we do?”

  “What we’ve been doing.”

  Rob opened the car door.

  “Have you called Marion?” Caye asked.

  Rob pulled the door shut. “No. I thought about it this morning. But I didn’t. I’ll ask Jill what she wants me to do.”

  Caye nodded and watched him walk back toward the hospital. He wore Levi’s and a white oxford shirt. His long legs moved quickly over the asphalt. His shoulders drooped.

  Jill sat in her living room and stared at her tubes of paint. She had decided to do watercolors. Acrylics would take too long.

 
Rob had brought up her drafting table and supplies from the basement and set them out for her. The paint, brushes, palette, sponges. He’d even wet the paper and taped it to the board.

  She would start with the magnolia tree for Rob. Then do the cherry tree for Simon. For Hudson she would paint the wisteria. Liam’s painting would be of the Tropicana roses that always bloomed for his birthday.

  That left Caye’s. Jill’s grandmother’s tulips with the forget-me-nots scattered around would be the subject of the painting for her friend.

  Something was changing inside her body.

  It was Saturday afternoon. The little boys were napping. Hudson was at Caye’s playing with Andrew. Rob was out for a run.

  It was a joke to give Rob the magnolia tree. She hoped he’d appreciate it. Life, even though it was messy, was beautiful. And for short periods of time it smelled like gardenias.

  She drew the magnolia tree, the sturdy trunk, the tall branches, the beautiful blooms. She chuckled. Rob, too, was like the magnolia tree—beautiful but messy. She was sorry she’d taken him for granted the last year. Sorry, but not surprised. She was sure that, if she hadn’t gotten sick, she would have come out of it. The passage would have been normal. An adjustment after a third child. Part of the landscape. Except for his emotional affair. That was a glitch, a tremor.

  Thomas had called about Fellowship the next day. He wanted all the members to be together. Joya had mentioned Jill’s baby-sitter. Did Jill think she’d come during Fellowship and watch the kids?

  Jill called Stephanie. She was willing.

  “What’s up?” Jill asked Thomas when she called back. “What are you planning?”

  “Communion. I want all of us to be together.” “Is Joya coming too?” “Yes,” Thomas answered.

  Jill thought ahead to the cherry tree painting she would do for Simon, for her baby. The cherry tree was so fragile with its pale pink blooms. So new and fresh as it ushered in spring. The wisteria, for Hudson, was sturdy and strong, strong enough to tear down a building if not supported. The Tropicana rose for Liam was vibrant with its orange, pink, and yellow mix. It screamed of action and beauty.

  She worried about the daily stuff for her boys—that they’d get what they needed—but she didn’t worry about the lifelong picture. They were her babies—they would succeed.