by Janie DeVos
CHAPTER 27
Parting Paths
It had been over three weeks since the emotional visit with Mama, Donnie, and Geoffrey. Donnie had been in school for over two weeks and, thankfully, seemed to be enjoying Washington Primary. Though Chesterfield had been Geoffrey’s choice of the two schools, they’d had an overabundance of students register and had had to turn down quite a few, including Donnie. Geoffrey had been indignant beyond reason. As far as he was concerned, his son should have been enrolled regardless, especially since the headmaster was on the board of trustees with Geoffrey at our church. But he complained to no avail. Their limits were their limits, he was told, and Geoffrey had attempted to register Donnie too late.
Geoffrey had hired a part-time nanny, Nell Lewis, to pick up Donnie at school and stay with him until Geoffrey returned about six each evening, and so far, their routine seemed to be working for each of them. Apparently, the smooth running of my household was the best medicine I could have been given because my second sputum test had come back clear, too, and my X-rays showed that some of my lesions were completely gone, while the ones that remained were much smaller, and no new cavities had formed. The miraculous antibiotic cocktail was working well, and I couldn’t have been more grateful to the doctors and the incredible people who had never given up the research until they found success with these amazing, curative medications and procedures. If only the breakthroughs could have happened sooner, before two billion people were destroyed by this disease, I thought.
My daily routine at Pelham had changed in the last three weeks, and it was entirely due to my fear and shame: I was afraid to see Philip, ashamed of the episode in the greenhouse, and ashamed of my strong feelings for him. Though the kiss was far from cousining, I had to be honest with myself. I knew that I could have given in to that moment and allowed us to go down a road where there could be no undoing what was done. I did see Philip around the grounds and in the dining hall, but it was always at a distance and I kept it that way, knowing it was far safer for both of us.
I had stopped working in the garden for the most part, and only spent time in it for short periods, when I was sure Philip wouldn’t be there. But as the growing season was winding down, so was my time in the garden. Instead, I spent most of my active time working on different crafts in the occupational therapy rooms. I’d busied myself working on a queen-sized quilt for my parents for Christmas (which was still several months away, but I’d need every bit of that time to finish it), as well as a toy sailboat for Donnie and a beautiful model ship for Geoffrey. He’d been in the sailing club while in college, but now that we were landlocked in Cabot, he’d traded his sexton for a tennis racket. However, I knew he loved ships of all sorts, and I hoped he’d be pleased with my gift.
I was trying to think positively about Geoffrey, and our marriage, which was the main reason I’d avoided Philip. I couldn’t be distracted by a temporary infatuation when I had a long-term, committed relationship that needed my attention. However, I kept having to push aside the fact that whenever I thought of Geoffrey, I felt a heaviness, whereas when I thought of Philip, there was only lightness. So, to lessen my inner turmoil I avoided Philip, hoping that the old saying out of sight, out of mind would prove to be true. But getting someone out of your heart was another matter altogether.
One Wednesday evening after supper, Marsha and I were taking a walk along the pathway leading to the koi pond. It was movie night and we were killing time before the film started, to enjoy the touch of fall in the air. More and more leaves were beginning to turn magnificent shades of bright orange, red, and yellow, while some had already fallen. Somewhere on the grounds, a pile was being burned, and the seasonal smell drew most everyone into reflective moods, thinking of home and the upcoming holidays. Homesickness and loneliness were felt more this time of year, and the fact that Annabelle had been released from Pelham late that morning made Marsha and me a bit more melancholy than usual.
We were thrilled that Annabelle had been given a clean bill of health. From now on, her treatments of antibiotics could easily be taken while living an everyday, normal life. But because there was nothing at all “everyday normal” about Annabelle, we already missed her in just the seven hours she’d been gone. Her vivaciousness and energy set her apart from the other women in the ward, and we’d thrived on it. She’d kept ward life fun—as fun as it could be in an institution—and certainly interesting, and for those reasons, we loved her and would feel the void that her absence created.
“What are they showin’ tonight, anyway?” Marsha asked, interrupting my thoughts of Annabelle.
“The Quiet Man, with John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara. It’s set in Ireland, and it’s good. Geoffrey and I saw it last year when it first came out.”
“Oh, you don’t want to watch it again, do you? We could go back to the room, if you’d rather.” As usual, Marsha was always thinking of others.
“I don’t mind seeing it again, and it sure beats going back to the room.” I checked my watch. “It’s starting in fifteen minutes. We’d better head on over if we want to catch it from the beginning.”
The movie was shown in the auditorium, the same one used for the talent show, and because it was a popular diversion, as well as a chance to socialize, it usually drew a good crowd.
One of the orderlies immediately directed Marsha and me toward the tuberculars’ section up in the balcony. The whole back row was empty, so moving a few seats in from the aisle, we sat down.
“Want one?” Marsha held out a brown bag of peanut butter cookies that she’d brought from the dining hall.
“Lord, no! No, thanks. I swear, Marsha, I’ve put on five more pounds, and if I’m not careful, I’ll start gettin’ a little too plump.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears, m’dear! That means you’re getting well, and to gain a good amount of weight is your meal ticket out of here—no pun intended.” She chuckled.
The lights came down and the screen came to life with a news short. Black-and-white images of a smiling Brazilian president, Getúlio Vargas, showed him just days before he committed suicide after being accused of conspiracy to murder his chief political opponent, Carlos Lacerda. Next, scenes of the Soviet Union’s military practice drills flashed before us as we were informed of the growing tension between Russia and the United States. Finally, as if to end the news on a good note, the scene shifted to more soldiers, but these were our own, walking down the stairs from a plane and out onto the tarmac as they returned to the homeland, waving, smiling, and triumphant, after winning the Korean War. As we watched, “God Bless America” played softly beneath the voice of the newscaster, and everyone in the audience cheered, while several military veterans stood and saluted the images on the screen. It reminded me of sitting in the only movie theater in Howling Cut, the Galaxy, when I was a teenager, clapping and cheering as the men returned from Europe at the end of World War II. There was nothing like home; and the returning soldiers knew that. So did those of us institutionalized around the country. My melancholy grew a little, and I tried to focus on the next story coming up, but it was an advertisement; a cartoon box of popcorn and one of candy strutted across the screen, urging audience members to go to the lobby for a treat. Maybe in the real world, I thought, but in this surreal one, the only thing in the lobby were the orderlies to ensure that the Captain Crows and the Mary Boones did not just go out to the lobby for a treat, but out the door and the facility’s front gates, too. After watching the news briefs, though, I wasn’t sure which was the crazier world—the one I was in at the moment, or the one beyond the walls.
The Quiet Man started, and I laid my head back and closed my eyes. I was tired. I hadn’t slept well the night before. The night sweats were barely an issue anymore, but my worries about the future were. I was hopeful I’d be leaving Pelham before too long, but when I did, what then? Could Geoffrey and I pick up the pieces where we’d left off? And, if so, would our former life be enough for both of us? I’d never had t
houghts like that before, but I had a lot of time to think about things, and see them from afar. Being removed from the life I once knew gave me a chance to see things a little more objectively, giving me a different perspective on things.
Utmost in my mind, of course, was Donnie’s happiness and well-being. And while I realized that the thing that would make Donnie the happiest in the short term would be my returning home, I wondered if my little boy was unhappy in other ways. When he had cried in my lap the day Geoffrey had come to take him back to Cabot, the intensity of his unhappiness stunned me. I wondered if the emotional distance between Donnie and Geoffrey had created fissures that were becoming increasingly harder to close. And, perhaps, widening that chasm even more had been the physical distance between them over the last several months. I told myself that once we were all back home again things would get back to normal, and maybe even be better than they had been before, including their father/son relationship and our husband/wife one, as well. As I sat there thinking, hardly even hearing Maureen O’Hara’s lilting Irish brogue emanating loudly from the auditorium’s speakers, I gave myself a hundred different reasons why things at home would change when I returned. And when I got to number ninety-nine, I wondered if coming up with a hundred more might actually convince me that they would.
“You were snoring!” Marsha laughed. She’d had to shake my arm to awaken me when the movie ended. Apparently, I’d been asleep for a good part of it. “And you snore like a sailor, too,” she teased as we got up to leave.
“Oh, I do not!” I laughingly denied, following her down the stairs. Though, if the truth were known, I’d been accused of snoring before. I’d broken my nose when I was about eleven, playing baseball. As I’d looked up to make the catch, the sun blinded me, and the ball nailed me, leaving my straight nose just a little offset. Gives her character, my father had said. It gave her a broken nose! my mother had replied, and promptly replaced the hardball with a softball.
“Oh, phooey!” Marsha laughed. “Why, heck, if someone didn’t know any better and walked into our ward in the black of night, they’d think they were in the men’s bunk room on board the SS Snoresalot.” She walked out into the lobby.
“Hey,” I heard a deep voice say from a small shadowed alcove where the restrooms were. Startled, we both turned to look, and out into the light stepped Philip, unable to hide a grin. “Sorry, ladies, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He looked nice, dressed in gray flannel pants and a dark blue buttoned-up long-sleeved shirt, with a light blue vest over it. He was usually wearing blue jeans and flannel shirts, or T-shirts if he was working in the garden.
“You most certainly did intend to scare us!” Marsha accused with a good-natured laugh.
“Hi, Kate.” His mischievous expression faded when he turned to me. “If you’re not in too big a hurry, could I talk to you for a few minutes?”
“I’ll see you back at the ward,” Marsha promptly said and hurried away before I could object.
“Philip . . .” I turned to him. “It’s getting late and I—”
“I’m leaving tomorrow, Kate. I was given my walking papers today.” He smiled slightly, trying to keep it light. But I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me, taking all of my words with it.
“C’mon, let’s take a walk. It’s a nice evening.” I didn’t object, and started down the auditorium steps with him and out to the walkway. “Oh, look, the moon is full! Too bad it’s a little late in the season for evening primroses,” he said as he admired the brightly lit orb. I tried to say something, anything, but my mouth was bone-dry. I licked my lips, trying to moisten them.
“Philip, I’m happy for you.” My words sounded stiff. I tried again. “So, all of your tests are clear?”
“Yep. I’ll stay on my meds for a while, but that’s it. I’ll get checked every few months, of course, but with my medications, I should be fine. Amazing what they can do today, isn’t it? You know, you’re looking good. How’re you feeling? What did your latest tests show?”
I caught him up with my positive news. “So, I’m hopeful I’ll be going home soon. Speaking of which, where will you go now? Did anything open up for you at UNCA, or anywhere else you applied?”
“No, nothing yet, but I have a couple of irons in the fire. First, I’ll head down to Atlanta for a little bit to see a couple of navy buddies of mine. One of ’em has a construction company and got a government contract for building VA housing—you know, modest housing with really low interests rates for veterans. He said he’ll put me to work if I want, and though it’s not quite my choice of a career, it’s a job, at least until I can find a teaching position somewhere. So, I’m taking the 11:05 train out of Asheville in the morning.”
We were near the koi pond. “Let’s go over there and sit down for a few minutes,” he said. “I need to say a couple of things to you.” He saw my hesitation. “Lord, Kate, relax. I’m not going to bite you.” He smiled at me as tenderly and patiently as a parent would a child.
Once we sat down on the bench we’d shared before, he jumped right in. “Listen, I’m sorry about what happened at the greenhouse.” I started to tell him that he didn’t need to apologize, but he held his hand up to stop me. “Let me finish. Now, don’t get me wrong, Kate. I’m not a damn bit sorry I kissed you—on the contrary. But I am sorry it upset you so, to the point that you’ve kept your distance from me.”
I was uncomfortable discussing this, so I looked out at the pond. The moon and the light breeze created an iridescent shimmer on the water. “I only want you to be happy, Kate, and the fact that I’ve upset you so much upsets me even more. But it was one kiss, and it’s not going to happen again. I know you have strong morals and that you’re a woman of integrity, and also one who keeps her vows, but I’ll be gone tomorrow, so let’s part today as the good friends that we’ve become. Working in the gardens with you was a happy time for me. I looked forward to those days, and spending hours with you. And, I’ll, well . . . I’ll never forget you. I never want to, either.”
“I’m going to miss you, Philip.” I looked directly at him. It was time to be honest. “I’m thrilled for you that you’re well and can leave, but I’m going to miss you. You’ve . . . been a good friend.” You’ve become more to me than that, I thought, but could never say.
He was watching me hard, as though he was trying to decide something. “Kate, I can promise you this: If the circumstances were different and this was another time, in another place, that kiss would have been the first of many. I’ll remember the taste of you and the smell of you for a long time to come. As a matter of fact, it’s going to take a whole lot of time and determination to get you out of my head, and keep you out. But the circumstances are what they are. Just promise me one thing, Kate: Make sure that the rest of your life is the happiest part. You deserve that, and your son does, too. I know there’s a real sadness and disappointment about your life that you try to hide, and you hide them pretty well, but I know they’re there. Don’t spend the rest of your life wishing for more and settling for so much less. You deserve to be loved, in every way—passionately and thoroughly. And if you won’t let me love you, then make sure that someone else does. Just promise me you’ll do everything you can to make the rest of your life really count.”
“I promise. I promise I will.” But I want it to be you loving me, I thought. “Will you please write to me, just let me know you’re okay?”
“No. There’s no reason to.” He didn’t mince words. He was straightforward with everything he said. It was one of the things I admired about him.
My head hurt. And my heart hurt. It literally hurt. Feeling like I was made of wood, I stiffly stood up. “I understand. You’re right.” I could feel my eyes starting to fill. I couldn’t let him see it. He couldn’t know. I could never admit to him what I’d finally admitted to myself a moment ago, that I had begun to love him. “It’s getting late,” I said, needing to be away from him. “Nurse Silvers will have a fit if I’m not back in the ward soon
.”
As we walked back, we talked about the possibility of my release in another month or so. “And what will you do then, Kate?”
“Go home, raise my son, and try to pick up the pieces with Geoffrey.”
“Then it’ll be hard keeping that promise.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“That you’ll make sure the rest of your life is the happiest part.” We had come to the front of building three. “You go on in. I’m gonna walk for a little longer.”
“Are you sure?” I said, deciding to let his remark go. I could clearly see the intensity of his eyes and the firm set of his mouth as we stood underneath one of the tall street lamps that lined the walkways.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Philip took my hands as he looked up at the building; the place he had called home for many months. “If they get sore about me coming in late, well, they can just kick me out of the joint!” He smiled, and I forced one, too. Then, he gently leaned down and whispered, “Bye, Kate,” before softly kissing my cheek. His lips lingered there for a moment, and my eyes closed as they did. How I wanted to turn my mouth to his, to be physically and emotionally connected to him just one more time. But instead, I whispered good-bye and forced myself to turn and walk away from him. And quite possibly the one chance at fulfilling my promise.
CHAPTER 28
Lost and Found
“. . . and he’s playin’ it for everything it’s worth!” my mother said, though she was trying not to smile.
“Well, that’s the biggest bunch of hogwash I ever heard!” my father responded.