“I love being married.”
“I’ve figured that out. Tom spoils you rotten.”
“He tries to.” Jennifer tossed the sunscreen she used out of habit to the side. “How’s Cole?”
“Jen.”
“I’m not the only one who would like you to be married.”
Cole was one of the most intriguing guys she knew, but Rachel didn’t want to mislead her sister. “He’s Jack’s boss. He’s a friend. Let’s leave it at that.” She had so many knots in her past, and her present would never fit a definition of orderly. As much as she hoped something might work out with Cole, she knew better than to assume anything. Her past wasn’t as tough as Kate’s or as tragic as Jennifer’s, but it had still left scars.
Jennifer dropped the towel over her face. “Where’d I go?”
A bark, and the puppy set to joyfully digging with his front paws at the towel. He lifted the edge and shoved his nose underneath to pull it off Jennifer. The little guy gave her face a bath as she giggled. “I taught him this game.”
“So I see.”
The puppy tried to climb over Jennifer and got stuck. She helped him with a push. “He is so much fun.”
Rachel held out her hand and the puppy came to climb all over her. “He still looks a bit like a butterball.” He settled across her lap, panting.
“Butterball is his unofficial name since my lapse in speech with Jack.” Suffering from a bad fall and confused by medicinal side effects, when Jennifer had first seen the golden fur and a very round puppy, she told their brother that Tom had bought her a butterball for Christmas. Amid the laughter, it had stuck.
Jennifer returned to studying the album and the loose pictures Rachel had slipped in the front. “Who’s this?” Jen held up a picture.
“Adam Noles. Jack was teaching him the finer points of skipping rocks in the river.”
“One of yours?”
“He got a card,” Rachel confirmed.
“I thought so. Think anything from their home will be salvageable?”
“Not much. If it was just rising water in the house, it would be one thing, but there’s a strong current through the floodwaters doing a lot of damage. His mom Ann is hopeful, but it’s going to be a mess.”
“How long before you know?”
“Once the water recedes they have to get the structural engineers in to look at the homes. It will be at least a week before cleanup can start. Have you found the pictures of Jack and his rubber ducks yet?”
“I just did. These are priceless.”
Rachel looked at the picture Jen held up. “That duck was his tribute to Cassie.” She settled her hands behind her head and closed her eyes against the sun. “Summer is going to be here before we know it. And this sun is going to give me freckles.”
“You look good with freckles. You know what we need this summer? An O’Malley ladies only weekend. A hotel, pool, girl talk.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Rachel agreed.
“Maybe we can talk Kate into setting a wedding date.”
“She wants to elope.”
“It takes two. Dave’s sister Sara would kill him.”
“Very true.” Rachel wasn’t sure which O’Malley wedding would come next. Lisa and Quinn’s probably, but Lisa wanted to wait on Marcus, and he and Shari didn’t want to set a date while Jennifer was in the hospital. Everyone was trying not to make plans so as not to complicate things for Jennifer.
“Ouch.”
Rachel turned sharply, for it wasn’t a soft sound. “What’s wrong?” She had watched Jennifer closely enough through the day to know that the pain was constant and her energy didn’t last long. Her health was precarious at best, all the upbeat talk notwithstanding.
“Just a twinge. I moved wrong.” Jen was leaning back on her elbows, cautiously moving her toes.
“Tom!”
“Did you have to—?”
“I had to.”
“Here, Jen, lean back against this.” Shari offered her pillow.
Tom came hustling over. “Good plan. Lay back, hon.”
“The meds are wearing off. That’s all.”
“Any numbness?” Tom asked.
“Just that all-too-familiar pinch followed by a case of the tingles.”
“Since we’ve been out here for three hours and I’ve been run ragged by your brother, it’s just as well.” Tom leaned down and kissed Jen’s forehead. “Let’s go, darling.” He scooped her up and settled her carefully in the wheelchair.
Rachel hurriedly gathered up the blanket and pictures.
“It’s no big deal, Rae,” Jen tried to reassure. “The meds wear off and it’s like an adrenaline letdown. It caught me by surprise is all. I just need a nap.”
Rachel smiled at Jen because her sister didn’t want this to be a problem. “We both could do with an afternoon nap.”
“Who’s got the puppy?”
“I do, Jen,” Marcus said. “Go with them, Rae. Shari and I will bring the stuff.”
Rachel paced in the lounge down the hall from Jennifer’s room, feeling like the walls were closing in on her. By the time Jen was settled back in bed, she was no longer trying to insist that it was no big deal. She was in severe pain and the numbness had spread.
Rachel drew in a deep breath, fighting the fear. Jesus, I can’t do this. How many people had she sat beside who were having to accept losing a loved one? She knew what it would be like toward the end and what the aftermath would do to the O’Malleys. I see so many lives cut short—by illness, natural disasters, tragedies caused by men. I don’t have it
in me to lose family. Please, Lord, be merciful.
Tom stopped beside her and rested his hand on the window glass.
“Is she going to die here?” Rachel whispered.
“They’ll tell her to go home first.”
“How long does she have?”
“She won’t die in a hospital, Rae. I’ve promised her that.”
She leaned against Tom and hugged him. Jennifer had married such a good man. The fact he hadn’t even offered a guess for how much time was left… “How can I help you?”
He drew in a deep breath. “Pray. She’s still got the heart to win. She doesn’t want to talk yet about that not happening.”
“She’s a realist under that optimism.”
“She’s not talking about that reality because she knows I can’t handle it.”
Rachel tightened her grip. She was hurting, but for Tom… this must be agony to daily watch Jen’s decline.
“Rae, she’s getting better in some ways. Her blood work is finally improving. Another remission is possible.”
“But is it likely?”
“No.”
The silence lingered. With a child she knew the words to help, with a woman she understood how to communicate with the silence, but for a doctor watching his wife die… “Jen mentioned she was craving peanut butter cookies.”
Tom kissed her forehead. “I know why she loves you so much.” He tucked a tissue in her hand. “She’ll sleep for the rest of the afternoon. Marcus will take you back to the bed-and-breakfast if you’d also like to get a nap. Why don’t you join us for dinner around six? Bring the photo albums. It was good to hear her laugh today.”
“My pleasure.” She hugged him. “Six o’clock.”
Rachel was glad Marcus was driving. She wiped her eyes, grateful she didn’t have to hide tears from him but doing her best to stop them.
There was a place deep in her heart where an ocean of tears was waiting to fall if she let them start.
“You want to talk?” Marcus asked.
They were almost to the bed-and-breakfast. Rachel shook her head and quieted the puppy she held.
“You need to.”
“Is it going to get worse than this in the next week? Do we need to get everyone here?”
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. “No. Jen is stable. Not doing great, but stable.”
“Then I think today I just wan
t to sleep.”
Marcus reached over and squeezed her hand. “Kate’s coming in on Wednesday for a quick day visit. Jen doesn’t have the energy for a bunch of us. We’ll have one of us with her at all times, with Tom.”
“He needs that support.”
“It’s there.” Marcus glanced over. “You heard about Lisa’s tough task during the flood, but did you hear about Kate’s evening last night?”
“No.”
“She got called out on a domestic squabble, a guy threatening to shoot his elderly mom. It goes on a couple hours; she isn’t getting anywhere negotiating with the guy, so she has the SWAT team guys dig up the cable line going into the house and cut it. She got the man so mad at her for making him miss the ending of the ballgame that he came out of the house to go after her. They cuffed him while he yelled at her.”
“It sounds just like Kate.”
“She called me when she got home and wanted to know if I had heard the game’s final score. She’d been following the game while negotiating with the guy and wanted to know how it ended.” Marcus shook his head. “I trust her instincts—she can figure out a way to end a standoff short of a tactical response in more creative ways than I have ever seen—but every time she gets one of those calls…”
“She’ll never change that take-control attitude when a hostage is involved.” Rachel agreed. “The best thing you can do is just keep close contact.”
“Anything I can do for you when I get back to Chicago? I know you were rushed to get out here.” Now that they were both engaged men, Marcus and his partner Quinn had arranged to split their time fifty-fifty between Washington, D.C. and Chicago, where their respective fiancée’s Shari and Lisa worked.
“I think I’m covered,” Rachel replied. “Jack’s going to call if the river gets away from them. And Gage is keeping an eye on my place for me; he’ll handle mail and the rest.”
“If Jennifer needs anything, just let Kate know and she can bring it out with her on Wednesday.”
“Will do.”
“We’ll get through this, Rae.”
She wondered if he was saying it for her benefit or his own. They had no choice.
The puppy disappeared under the bed with Rachel’s tennis shoe. “It won’t fit under there.” She gave up and held out her favorite belt. The end was taken, shaken, and the belt disappeared after the shoes. “And those were new shoes, just for your information.”
She couldn’t sleep and she was talking to a dog. Rachel tugged the pillow over. Grief was hitting so hard it was difficult to breathe.
Jesus, what do I do? I need to sleep. I really need to sleep.
Was she going to be facing a family funeral this summer? The thought was terrifying. Why don’t You heal her? Why are the prayers answered with silence? Am I doing something wrong?
She could counsel Marissa through that question, but she didn’t know how to answer it for herself. Through the past year Jennifer had shown a joy and confidence that didn’t waver. Rachel would have pegged it as denial—the safe place that people went to when the tragedy was this huge—but now she knew it wasn’t denial as much as it was hope.
What am I going to do when Jennifer’s hope wavers?
She wasn’t ready for this.
Rachel thought about Cole and the way he so easily fell asleep. She wished she was more like him. Did years of believing lead to that calm trust, or was she missing something more profound? Rachel thought about calling him, but he’d likely be at the levee and busy. Besides, she couldn’t think of anything to ask him; she’d be calling just to hear the comfort of his voice.
The comfort of his voice… She buried her face in her pillow. Cole had slipped through her defenses over the last year. He’d shown himself to be a man able to help her carry the weight of nights like this one.
Her relationship with Cole was so different than most in her life. He didn’t need her for anything, not really. It was disquieting to realize she consciously tried to keep the scales balanced in most of her relationships. With Gage it was a balance of helping him with his grief and her getting back in return someone she could absolutely trust. With the O’Malleys it was helping them with anything they needed as a thank-you for the deep family loyalty she had that survived any pressure.
With Cole…he might seek out her company, enjoy it, but his life was pretty complete as it was. He was ready to settle down, and he needed someone to love who would love him back. If she missed fulfilling that, then there weren’t many other things he needed to take up the slack.
Jesus, this is scary. An unbalanced scale with Cole—I need him more than he needs me. Does he realize that? Does it matter to him? Or is my desire to have a balanced scale part of my own habit of trying to stay safe in a relationship? To ensure that I am needed and thus not going to be abandoned? It’s old territory, Lord, and I wish I were past this. It complicates my life and my relationship with Cole. I trust You. I know Cole is Your man. Help me figure out how to trust You for my security without attaching that emotional weight to Cole.
Rachel looked at the clock and didn’t know if Cole was working the day shift or still working nights. She’d feel awful if she woke him up when he most needed his rest, but she needed to talk about Jennifer and this grief.
She leaned over and picked up her Bible, seeking a deeper source of comfort available tonight. There was a slip of paper in the front where she’d been collecting verses on suffering and comfort and prayer. Jennifer understood the subjects as did Cole, but Rachel couldn’t share this with Jennifer unless she understood not only the words but also what they meant.
“After you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, establish, and strengthen you” (1 Peter 5:10).
“These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full” (John 15:11).
“Is any one among you suffering? Let him pray. Is any cheerful? Let him sing praise” (James 5:13).
She loved the first verse and was puzzled by the second. The verse in James was clear, but what was she supposed to pray for regarding suffering? Relief from it? The verse in 1 Peter suggested that God would step in when the time was right.
Jennifer had often said that prayer was simply the honest expression of what was on your heart. Cole said to pray for the small things when the big things didn’t seem to be answered.
Jesus, I’m thankful that I have so many incredible people around me— Jennifer, Marcus, Kate, Cole, even Gage, who has taught me that anything can be endured if necessary. I’m suffering because I love Jennifer and the cancer is taking her from me. I know heaven is real and a day is coming when all of this will go away, and there will be no more illness or evil or suffering in our lives. Heaven sounds so gloriously peaceful. But I don’t want heaven to come yet. I want more time with my sister. Please, don’t let her die.
The puppy started pushing his bed around the room. Rachel held down her hand and snapped her fingers. He scampered over to join her. “Are you going to wear out soon?”
He rolled over to have his tummy rubbed.
“That’s what I thought.”
She obliged. It was comforting to have him around.
“Lisa? It’s Cole.” It had taken him more than two hours to track her down on a Sunday night. “Sorry to interrupt.” His secretary had gone to Post-it notes with messages across the back of his chair because his desk was overflowing with incoming mail. Arson investigations didn’t stop just because he was wading through water for a few days. Cole pulled them off, read them, and either deep-sixed them for later in the week or added them to his list of calls to make tonight.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lisa replied. “I’m between trips to the lab. It’s been a busy night for people dying. What’s happening?”
“Your murder at the house that was flooding out—”
“Hold on.” She shifted the phone. “No, I need that blood panel tonight. Her kid
is in the hospital with the same symptoms!” she hollered back in answer to another question. “Sorry, Cole. Carol Iles. Okay. I’m with you now.”
“I knew her.” It hadn’t clicked until he read the obituary in the newspaper this afternoon, and forty minutes of hunting through archived files had confirmed it.
“How?”
“Five years ago, a house fire. Her son was playing with matches. Her name was Carol Rice then, which is why it didn’t click.”
“That fits. Detective Wilson’s been looking at her background. She’d been divorced less than a year with joint custody of one son. Wilson jotted a note that the boy lives with his father.”
“Her son—that would be Mark.”
“Was it an accidental fire, or the first signs of future trouble?”
“My notes show that he was playing with matches in her closet. He had all her expensive shoes piled together in a mound with one of her silk blouses balled up under them.”
“He’d have been what, eight, nine? This kid is trouble.”
“Home had been a battleground and the fire was just the latest round. I’m not surprised to hear the marriage came apart in divorce. His dad dismissed the fire as ‘boys will be boys.’”
“Has Mark started any other fires lately?” Lisa asked.
“He got through middle school with a lot of stuff I suspect but can’t prove—a trash can fire, bottle rockets, pulling the fire alarm. I’m more worried now that he’s a freshman in high school. He’s hanging out with a bad crowd. The boy strikes me as an insecure kid, a bully, looking for attention even if it’s for being a troublemaker.”
“Would he be violent enough to kill his mom?”
“I’m no expert on what a kid might do. But no, I think this info is just background noise,” Cole said.
“I’ll pass it along to Wilson.”
“Making any progress with other leads?”
“Not much. No luck matching the bullet to a gun.”
“The river will crest soon. Let me know if you need a lift back to the crime scene.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks, Cole.”
“Talk to you soon, Lisa.” He cradled the phone with one hand and closed the Mark Rice file with the other. He’d have to get by the high school Monday and talk to the counselor. It was hard to tell how Mark would react to Carol’s death. Cole didn’t want to deal with another arson fire set by an angry boy.
The Healer Page 6