Doc remained too, concerned for her physical health as well as her mental state.
“I wonder if we shouldn’t admit her to a hospital,” Doc said to Molly as Alan went to put his things away.
“No, she needs to be here where it’s quiet and safe.” Molly told him. “I can stay with her as long as need be, Doc.” “Everyone in the Meeting knows where I am and they have no problem with it.”
“Yes, but what about your farm?”
“Jared said the men would manage it.” She answered. “It will be fine.” She has accepted my being here, so maybe I can help in some way.”
“You are a good woman,” Molly,” he said. “I’ll leave you here then, when I go.” “But I want to see how she is when she wakes.”
The color was coming back to Sheila’s face and when Molly touched her hand, it was warmer than before.
“She’s getting warmer.” She announced to Doc. “I think that physically she’ll be all right.” “But what made her go out in that storm?”
“I do not have any idea. But there had to be a reason.” He agreed, as Alan returned and sat in another chair nearby.
“She’s got more color to her cheeks,” Alan said. “When we found her, I thought she was freezing to death.”
“She was pretty cold,” Doc agreed. “But Molly’s got her tucked in warm.”
Sheila did not stir for a few more hours. When she did, even though her eyes were open, and she seemed to be awake, She did not speak, and did not respond when they spoke to her. Doc examined her, and said that it was as if she was locked inside herself. Her stare was vacant, and unfocused, and she remained unmoving.
“If she remains like this, she’s going to need round the clock care, nursing basically, and someone to take care of her every physical need.” Doc told them.
“I will do that for her.” Molly said without hesitation. “That’s why I’m here.”
“That is a very big task.” Alan objected. “I could hire a nurse.”
“No need, Alan. I don’t mind at all.” Molly assured him, pulling the covers snugly around Sheila again. “We’ll be just fine.”
Doc smiled. “She’s in good hands,” he said rising. “I think I will return to Fair Hill for a little while and make sure all is well there. I will let someone know where you are, Molly and I will be back tomorrow. Alan, if anything happens, send someone up with a message,”
Alan promised he would, and they left Sheila’s room together.
Molly took up her place then beside the bed, some knitting in her hand, and kept vigil there for the next few days.
3
Sheila remained motionless and mute for the next three months. Alan was beginning to give up hope that she would ever be herself again, and Doc no longer came every day. Molly stayed on though, and except for times when she slept out of necessity, she was always there beside Sheila’s bed, tending her and talking to her, trying to arouse her from her seeming semi-conscious state.
Spring had come. Often, Molly got Sheila out of bed and took her outside in a wheelchair to enjoy her blooming gardens. Sheila did not respond to the warmth of the sun on her face or the scents of the flowers all around her or the colors they splashed before her eyes. However, Molly felt that the fresh air was good for Sheila, and that maybe the beauty of God’s creation would lighten her heavy spirit. She sat near Sheila’s chair, talking to her as if she were an attentive listener, and sometimes read aloud from the Bible or other books from the library.
Alan often wondered what kept Molly going, and why she persisted in treating Sheila as if she could hear, and respond to people and sounds around her.
“Maybe someday she will,” Molly would answer when he asked. “If no one is talking to her, then she has nothing to respond to, and no will to try.”
“I’m not sure she has any will these days.” Alan replied sadly.
“She may not yet, but God can work miracles. I’ve seen it happen.”
Alan had no answer for that. He remembered Barbara telling him about the Emerson’s Christmas miracle and about many other things that had happened since then. Perhaps the kind of faith Molly had could work miracles. He did not know. He did not believe he had that kind of faith.
One warm day in August, Molly and Sheila were seated in the summerhouse, drinking lemonade and enjoying the shade. Molly was reading from a book of poetry and Sheila sat unmoving in her chair nearby. Molly stopped reading and put aside the book. She coaxed Sheila to sip a bit of lemonade from her glass, then set it down and took her thin hand.
“I have a message for you, Sheila,” she said gently. “I wrote to the family in North Dakota some time ago and told them about you. They wrote back and I got the letter yesterday. Barbara told me to tell you that she is praying for your recovery and the Meeting out there is praying too.
We have also told everyone in Fair Hill about you and they have been praying for some time that you would feel better.” Molly was used to getting no response from her declarations of support, but this time, Sheila drew her hand from Molly’s and her eyes focused on Molly’s face.
“No one in Fair Hill knows me,” she said softly, in a voice that was rough from disuse.
Everyone in Fair Hill knows you, Sheila,” Molly told her with a smile. “And they’re all hoping you can work through this illness.”
“Are you from Fair Hill?” Sheila asked, and her surprise and confusion was clear on her formerly blank face.
“Yes, I’m from Fair Hill. I’ve lived there all my life until now.” Molly replied.
“Then why don’t you talk like the people up there do with all the thees and thous?”
“I usually do. However, I decided that I could do more to help you if I did not use plain speech. So I don’t use it here.”
This makes no sense.” Sheila said bewilderedly. “Why would anyone from Fair Hill want to help me?” “I’ve never thought much of Fair Hill and I’m sure everyone there knows how I feel.”
“Yes, we know. But that doesn’t matter.” “WE believe that we are supposed to help others when we can, and that’s what we’re doing.” “Doc has been here almost every day since you became ill, and he’s from Fair Hill too.”
Sheila sat silent for a few minutes, and Molly was beginning to wonder if she had retreated into herself again, when tears began to slowly fall from her eyes. Molly handed her a linen handkerchief from her bureau, and Sheila wiped her eyes, but the tears kept coming. Finally, she just sat back in her chair and let them fall. Molly sat with her as she wept, patiently waiting for the tears to subside, but soon Sheila was shaking with sobs and Molly took her into her arms to support her trembling body. It took some time, but finally her tears were used up, and she lay exhausted on Molly’s shoulder, unable to speak or move for a few minutes. When she drew away, her face was puffy from crying and she was spent.
“I think a rest is in order,” Molly said gently.
“Don’t you want to know what that was all about?” Sheila asked.
“I only want to know what you feel led to tell me.” I will listen if you want to talk but let’s go inside and make you more comfortable first.”
Sheila agreed to this, so Molly wheeled her inside and took her up to her room. When she was again settled in bed, Sheila spoke again, drowsily. “I want to talk, but I’m just too tired.”
“Then sleep, dear, I’ll still be here when you wake up, and then, if you want to talk, I’ll listen.”
She thanked Molly and drifted off to sleep almost as soon as she had spoken the words. Molly left her sleeping, a bell pull near her hand, and went to the library to look for Alan. This could be a real breakthrough and she wanted him to know what had happened. She found him sitting in his favorite chair, reading a book and glancing out the window between lines.
“I just had a conversation with Sheila, a two way conversation.” She announced, taking a chair near his.
“She’s talking?”
“Yes, she’s talking and coherent.”
“What happened?”
She told him the story and he sat spellbound, barely able to believe her.
“What do you think broke through?”
“I mentioned Barbara. Maybe that stirred something in her.”
“She hated Barbara. She was jealous of Barbara for gaining my attention.” Alan said, mystified.
He went up to Sheila’s room, and sat beside her bed to see what would happen when she woke from her nap. He was reading a book, to pass the time, when she touched his arm tentatively. He put the book aside and met her gaze.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said quietly.
“Molly told me what happened earlier, and I wanted to see how you are.” He told her, taking her hand in his. “How do you feel?”
“I have a lot of questions, and confusion,” she said dazedly.
“About what?” he asked, gently.
“About a lot of things,”
“Do you want me to get Molly or do you want to talk to me?” he asked, still holding her hand.
“I want to talk to Molly, but I want to talk to you first.” she began. She sat up and he put some pillows behind her to lean back against. “Why are you being so considerate and kind? What do you want?” she asked suspiciously.
“You’re my wife, Sheila, and I love you! I’ve been very worried about you for a long time.” “the only thing I want is to see you well again and happy.”
“I don’t understand how you can still have any feelings for me except hatred or anger,” she said, speaking so quietly that he almost did not hear her.
“I loved you when we got married, and I love you now.” “I’ve never been angry at you for any reason, at least not more than a few minutes,” he said with a brief smile at his admission. “I wasn’t too happy with you when you wouldn’t allow Barbara to remain here, but that turned out fine, so I never held that against you.”
Sheila was silent for a few moments, and then she looked up at him again.
“Molly says Barbara is praying for me,” she said as if that was unbelievable. “Why would she or anyone else do that?”
‘There are a lot of people praying for you, myself included,” he answered. “We all want you to recover from this.”
“I think it’s a waste of time,” she admitted sadly. ‘There’s no one there to listen.”
“How do you know there’s no one there to listen, Sheila?” He asked quietly.
“Because I used to try to talk to God but I never got an answer. Nothing ever changed, and things just got worse and worse.” Her voice broke on the last few words and she was weeping.
He gently gathered her close, holding her to him, and looking down at her face. She seemed uncertain, for a moment, whether she wanted him to be so close, but then she gave in to her tears, and allowed him to hold her.
“Sheila, my dear, what did you pray for?” He asked.
“I prayed for help. I prayed for rescue,” she said brokenly.
“Rescue from whom or what?” he asked, bewildered.
“Rescue from my life in this house!” she answered, and even through her tears, there was anger in her voice.
“I never knew you weren’t happy here, Sheila. We don’t have to be here if you’d rather not be,” he told her earnestly. “We can live wherever you like.”
“But your job is here, your work, and back when I used to try and pray, it was my father, not you.”
“What about your father?”
“He wasn’t the man you thought he was, Alan,” she said and he felt her body trembling with her anger.
“I never knew your father all that well,” he admitted. “He would never allow me to know him.”
“No, he would only show himself as it suited his purpose to be.” she said, finally looking up into his face.
“Don’t you wonder why I act the way I do? Why I never let people get too close?”
“I have always wondered that, but your father was much the same way, and I figured you got it from him, that you were raised that way.”
“I was raised by servants mostly,” she said flatly.
“I know. Your mother died when you were very young, and your father worked all the time.”
“Yes, but there are a few things you don’t know, Things I never mentioned.”
“You only need to tell me what you want to tell me, Sheila, that’s how it’s always been.”
“I’ve never wanted to tell anyone before. I was so angry and ashamed about it all, that I thought the less said the better. However, maybe I was wrong.”
“Sometimes, it’s best to let things go,” he said gently.
“After I tell you all this, you may want to leave. Moreover, if you do, I will not try to keep you here.” “I think I married you under false pretenses and you have a right to know,”
Alan was thunderstruck. This was not at all what he had expected. They had been married for 20 years and now she was telling him that there was a basic lie at the bottom of their marriage? He said nothing though, not wanting to disturb her openness. Sheila had never been like this since he had known her. Her face was full of her feelings, and he told her later, that he had never seen her look so beautiful!
“Haven’t you ever wondered why we never had a physical relationship?” she asked, after a pause.
“I thought perhaps it was because you didn’t choose to have children, and that was the only way we could make sure that never happened.” He answered honestly. “I also wondered sometimes if you just didn’t have the same feelings for me that I have for you.”
“And you did not judge me for that?” she asked in surprise.
“No, people can’t change how they feel.”
“Yes, Alan, they can.” she said, holding his hand a bit tighter. “They can, and I believe I am. But once I tell you everything, you may not feel as you do now.”
“I guess we won’t know that until you tell me, but I imagine nothing will change.”
“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it.” She began. “I was molested by my father, not once, but many times.”
Alan saw many emotions cross her face, first anger, then shame, then sadness, then anger again. “So when we got married, I wanted nothing to do with you, or any other man. Physical intimacy was hateful, and I made up my mind that I would not be a part of it.”
“But you don’t feel that way now?” he asked.
“I’m not sure how I feel right now. All I know is that I cannot go on like this. I cannot keep living this life. It will drive me insane if I do. And Besides, something about you and Molly and that doctor leaves me wondering what I am missing. All three of you have taken care of me for the past three or four months and I don’t deserve it from any of you.”
“You deserve everything we’ve done and more.” He said gently, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it lightly. “Sheila, you were not at fault in what happened to you as a child. You were not responsible for it at all. Your father was a tyrant and he abused you. I understand that now. He twisted your feelings into something you cannot live with. He taught you that physical relationships were shameful and wrong. But they are not under the right circumstances. When you are well enough, I can teach you what it is like to be loved and to love. But there is no rush. We have the rest of our lives.”” I only have one question, and if you have no answer, that’s all right.”
“What is your question?”
“I’m just wondering what brought all of this out now.”
“I don’t know for sure, but I think it was Molly’s mention of Barbara. I have thought a lot about her at times since she left Vermont, and about the fact that we have never had children, yet, when I could have had her here with us, I chose not to do that. Then, I started having dreams, or something, where my father was here again and things were as they were when I was younger. This was before you came as well as after.”
“I never saw much of you when I was here working with your father,” Alan put in.
“No, because I didn’t want you to.” she said. “I couldn’t handle seeing anyone besides my father and the servants then.”
“But since we’ve been married, you’ve been so busy and active in the town,” he said questioningly.
“Yes, because I find it very hard to be in this house for any length of time, and because if I was busy I didn’t have much time for thinking, or feeling.”
“So what changed?”
“I’m not sure exactly. But I seemed to have more time, and with the time alone came all the dreams and bad thoughts again, and I couldn’t face it.”
A soft knock was heard on the door then, and Sheila said, “Come in.”
Doc entered and took a chair near the bed where Alan still sat, holding Sheila.
“Am I intruding?” he asked, seeing that they were close.
“No, it’s all right,” she said quickly. “We were just talking about everything.”
“What do you mean everything?” he asked, and Sheila saw only concern and kindness in his face.
“Alan, you tell him. I can’t go through all of that again.” she said, leaning against him.
So Alan briefly explained what Sheila had told him before doc arrived.
“this is a good beginning, Sheila,” Doc said, taking her limp hand and squeezing it. “I’m very happy for you both.”
“She thinks it was talk of Barbara that brought this up.” Alan said.
“Yes, it probably was. There usually is some sort of trigger that brings things up again.”
“You would have made a good mother, Sheila.” Alan said wistfully.
“You’re healthy, there’s no reason you can’t still make a good mother.” Doc added. “Once you two work through this, and I’m sure you will, then, you can decide whether children should be part of your lives and your family.”
“Don’t you think I’m too old?” she asked, and Alan was surprised at her animation.
“No, I don’t think you are.” Doc told her. “How old are you?”
I’m thirty-nine,” she said hesitantly.
West From Fair Hill (A Refuge in Fair Hill Book 3) Page 2