So Little Time

by Al Lacy

  “I have no idea. I wish he’d go back to Virginia and leave me alone.”

  “Well, if this keeps up, he’s going to force my hand. I’m not going to tolerate it.”

  “I appreciate that, honey. But if you get physical with him, he might go to the law and get you for assault and battery. I don’t want anything like that to happen. One day you will own the Lamont Construction Company, and you’ll need the respect of the people of Sacramento to succeed.”

  “I know, but one way or another, I’m putting a stop to the harassment Jason’s putting on you.”

  Rya reached across the table and took hold of his hand. “Maybe today’s little incident is all there’ll be.”

  “I’d like to believe that, but I’ve got a feeling he’s not through.”

  On Tuesday, when Rya came out of the school building, she looked across the street where Jason had been the day before and was relieved that he was not there.

  It was the same on Wednesday, and as she walked home, she told herself that Jason’s little game was over.

  When she arrived home, she decided to do some cleaning in the parlor before she started supper.

  While using a feather duster on the furniture in the parlor, Rya moved to the large window to dust the sill. Suddenly her attention was drawn to a figure standing in the middle of the street in front of the house. Jason was looking at her.

  She gave him a heavy scowl and pulled the drapes. Her hands shook while she finished her dusting. When she had put the feather duster away, she eased up to the window, parted the drapes a tiny bit, and peered out. Jason was gone. She opened the drapes and went to the kitchen to start supper.

  Though Rya was experiencing some stomach pain when McClain came home, she did not let on. Neither did she tell him about Jason’s appearance in the middle of the street.

  After supper, while McClain was taking a bath, Rya went to the kitchen and took the medicine.

  The next day, she saw Jason standing across the street from the school again. This time, he smiled at her when she glanced at him. But he did not follow her. Her stomach pain was excruciating. As soon as she arrived home, she took more medicine. But when McClain came home, she kept it to herself.

  Jason did not put in an appearance on Friday or Saturday. Sunday came, and being in church and hearing their pastor preach was a comfort to Rya.

  On Monday, however, when Rya arrived home from work, Jason was standing across the street from the house. Again, he smiled at her.

  She dashed inside the house, and after a few minutes, she went to the parlor window and looked out. Jason was still across the street.

  Quickly she pulled the drapes, ran upstairs to the bedroom, and threw herself across the bed, weeping.

  “Dear God,” she sobbed, “please make this horrible nightmare come to an end. Make Jason leave me alone.”

  When she had her emotions under control, she crept up to a front window in one of the spare bedrooms and peeked out. Jason was gone.

  When McClain came through the back door from the barn, Rya was in the kitchen, cooking supper. Rya kissed him. “Hello, darling! Did you have a good day?”

  Holding her at arm’s length, McClain said, “A very profitable one, honey. I lined up two good construction projects today.”

  “Wonderful!”

  McClain’s brow furrowed. “Sweetheart, when I pulled into the driveway, I noticed the drapes on the front window in the parlor are closed. Why’s that?”

  Rya’s lower lip quivered. “Honey, I … I—”

  “What?”

  Tears filmed her eyes. “Well, I just didn’t want to tell you because it upsets you so, and I don’t want you to do something rash.”

  McClain caressed her cheek. “I appreciate your concern for me, but I must know what’s going on. It’s Jason again, right?” “Yes.”

  Rya wiped tears while she told McClain of Jason’s repeated appearances, both at the school and in front of the house. She drew a shuddering breath. “I forgot to open the drapes after he was gone.”

  McClain took her in his arms and held her. “I’m angry enough at Jason to do something rash, Rya. But I won’t. I’ll go to the sheriff’s office tomorrow and ask Sheriff Drew to do something about this harassment.”

  Relief showed in Rya’s eyes. “Oh, thank you, McClain. I’m glad you are going to handle it this way.”

  When McClain entered the kitchen the next evening, Rya hugged and kissed him. “Jason was across the street from the school again today,” she said with irritation in her voice. “Did you get to see Sheriff Drew?”

  “I did,” replied McClain, his voice heavy. “He said there isn’t anything legally he can do about these appearances. He can’t arrest a man for standing on public property. Jason will have to make some hostile move before he can arrest him.”

  “So we just have to sit back and let him keep this up till he decides to make a move to hurt me?”

  McClain nodded. “That’s the law. I guess I showed some anger when the sheriff told me this. He warned me not to try to stop Jason’s harassment on my own by some kind of violence.”

  Rya sighed. “Well, I don’t want you doing anything like that either. So we just have to put up with Jason’s nonsense.”

  “Not exactly. I’m going to have another talk with Jason. I don’t know where he lives or where he might be working, but I’m going to find him. This harassment is going to stop.”

  “But, Sheriff Drew warned you—”

  “I won’t get violent, honey. But this is going to stop.”

  Rya clung to him. “You be careful. Jason might just be the one to resort to violence.”

  22

  ON WEDNESDAY MORNING, MCCLAIN REARDON sat in Ward Lamont’s office and told him about Jason Lynch harassing Rya in Virginia, on the trail from Missouri, and in Sacramento.

  Lamont leaned his elbows on the desk. “I’ve heard this guy’s name time and again. He’s a troublemaker, and people in this town don’t like him. Maybe he needs to be tarred and feathered and run out of Sacramento.”

  “Believe me, Ward, I’d love to be the one to do it, but if I did, Sheriff Drew would have me behind bars. I talked to Drew about this and he said Lynch would have to make some kind of hostile move before he could arrest him. As long as he’s merely standing on public property, he’s within his rights. He also cautioned me about using violence to stop Lynch from harassing Rya.”

  Lamont chuckled. “Well, I never thought of tar and feathering as violence, but the sheriff might. And for sure, as Christians, you and I both know the Lord wouldn’t want you to be violent toward him unless it was to protect Rya from harm, or in your own self-defense. We both fought Indian wars, McClain, but we knew in battling the hostiles, it was kill or be killed. But from what you’ve said Lynch has made no threatening moves of bodily harm toward you or Rya.”

  “He did bruise her arms some when he grabbed her and shook her that first day in front of the school, but I doubt a jury would consider it serious enough to jail him.”

  “For sure, they wouldn’t excuse you for beating him to a bloody pulp. And according to that sermon from Romans 12:19 Pastor Whitfield preached a week ago, the Lord wouldn’t either. ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.’ ”

  McClain nodded.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  McClain sighed. “Well, boss, that’s why I’m here. I talked to Lynch about this once. He wouldn’t listen. I guess the only thing I can do is talk to him again. He’s got to leave Rya alone. This harassment is affecting her physically as well as emotionally. I need some time off work today so I can find him and have that talk.”

  Lamont eased back in his chair. “Take all the time you need. You’re caught up on your work And Lynch must be stopped.”

  McClain drove his buggy out to the lumbermill and asked Bill Barton if he knew where Lynch took up residence after leaving the American Hotel. Barton told him that Lynch had moved into Martha’s Boardinghouse on the north
side of town. McClain then drove to the boardinghouse, where Martha Wells told him that Lynch caused so much trouble with other boarders that she had to put him out. She had heard that he was now staying at the Sacramento Hotel.

  Fifteen minutes later, McClain entered the lobby of the Sacramento Hotel and approached the desk

  “May I help you, sir?” the desk clerk asked.

  “I hope so. My name is McClain Reardon. I was told that you have a Jason Lynch as a guest here. Is that so?”

  Looking at the guest register, the clerk ran his finger down the page, then looked up. “Yes, sir. Mr. Lynch is in room 212.”

  McClain thanked him and turned to head for the staircase. Suddenly he saw Lynch coming down the stairs. Many people were milling about the lobby, and Lynch did not see McClain as he headed for the front door. When Lynch was almost parallel with the desk, McClain stepped in front of him.

  Lynch halted and they looked at each other for a moment. Then Lynch said loudly, “Get out of my way, Reardon!”

  This caught the attention of everybody in the lobby.

  McClain could once again see the fear and pain in Rya’s face that Jason Lynch had put there repeatedly. His eyes measured the man coldly, and the words cracked with tension as he said equally as loud, “You’d better quit bothering Rya, Lynch. I mean it! If this keeps up, you’re going to be sorry!”

  Lynch hissed through his teeth, “Don’t threaten me, Reardon! I’m not breaking any laws.” With that, he stepped around McClain and hurried out the door.

  When McClain arrived home that evening, Rya asked if he had found Jason.

  McClain told her he had, in the lobby of the Sacramento Hotel. He warned Lynch to stop bothering her.

  “Well, it didn’t do any good. He was across the street from the school this afternoon, watching me.”

  McClain felt his blood heat up. “Guess I’ll have to come up with some other approach. But right now, I’m concerned about you. You’re hurting a lot, aren’t you?”

  Rya’s hand went to her midsection. “Yes.”

  “I’m taking you to see Dr. Yarrow tomorrow after school. We’ve got to find out just how serious this problem is.”

  Jason Lynch was not in sight when McClain picked Rya up in the buggy at school on Thursday afternoon. When they entered the doctor’s office, Sarah Wickham smiled. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Reardon. May I help you?”

  “Dr. Yarrow told us that if Rya continued to have problems with her stomach, we should get her in here right away. She is having severe pain almost constantly.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that, Mrs. Reardon,” Sarah said, giving Rya a compassionate look. “Sit down. I’ll tell Dr. Yarrow you’re here.”

  Less than five minutes later, the Reardons were sitting in front of the desk in the doctor’s private office. When Rya told him of Jason’s appearances and the excruciating pain she was experiencing, he said, “No question about it, Mrs. Reardon. It’s time to do the tests. We can do it tomorrow if you can make arrangements with Mr. Baxter.”

  “We’ll go to his house on our way home from here,” said McClain. “I’m sure he has someone who can substitute for her.”

  The doctor nodded. “Fine. Then I will need her at the hospital at eight o’clock in the morning. The tests will take about three hours. Since we have to work internally, there will be some discomfort.”

  “I figured that would be the case, Doctor,” Rya replied. “I’m certainly willing to go through some discomfort in order for you to know what we’re dealing with and to get this problem cured.”

  Yarrow nodded. “Of course. You should feel well enough to go home when the tests are over. I’ll know the results of the tests by Saturday morning. Since I take my lunch break each day at one o’clock, let’s have you come in at noon on Saturday. I’ll tell you what we’re looking at, and what we have to do in order to get you over this problem.”

  Rya had her tests done as scheduled on Friday morning. McClain had her home by eleven-thirty, and rushed off to work.

  Rya lay down for a while, then arose and went about doing some light housework. While sweeping off the front porch, she thought of Ted and Colin Yoder, whose brother Cecil was dying in Oregon of stomach cancer. She wondered if they had arrived there in time to see their brother before he died.

  As she carried the broom back into the house, a sharp pain lanced her midsection. She closed the door behind her, pressed a hand to her stomach, and said in a tremulous whisper, “Please, dear Lord, don’t let this be stomach cancer. McClain and I are just starting our life together. He needs me. I want to give him children. I want us to have a long, happy life together.”

  Returning the broom to its place in the pantry, Rya turned to other small jobs about the house. The hours seemed to drag by as she vacillated between optimism and despair. Trying with all of her Christian might to give this burden to the Lord, she still found herself carrying it and grappling with emotions.

  Neither Rya nor McClain slept well Friday night. They were both awake when the early light filled the room.

  McClain took hold of her hand. “Sweetheart, we’re both on edge. I know we prayed a long time before we put out the lantern last night. But let’s pray some more.”

  “Yes,” said Rya, squeezing his hand.

  They rose from the bed and dropped to their knees beside it, still holding hands.

  Rya felt her husband’s body trembling and there was a sob in his voice. “Father, You know my concern for my precious sweetheart, and how desperately I want this problem to be a simple one that can be treated and cured in a short time. But … but in my heart, I know I must leave it in Your hands. Whatever will give You the most glory is what I want. I’m committing her to You, and asking that Your will be done.”

  “Yes, amen,” said Rya, clinging now to her optimism. “May Thy will be done. We are Your children. Whatever You choose for me in this situation will be right.”

  They wept together and prayed some more, asking God for His strength and peace. Then rising from their knees, they prepared for the day and whatever God had for them in the future.

  McClain pulled the buggy to a halt in front of the general store, tied the reins to a hitching post, and helped Rya out of the buggy. He glanced at the clock on the Bank of Sacramento a few doors down and noted that it was 11:47.

  They entered the general store, made a small purchase, and returned to the boardwalk. McClain placed the paper bag on the floor of the buggy. “All right, sweetheart. Let’s go see what Dr. Yarrow has to tell us.”

  Rya took hold of his arm. They stepped off the boardwalk and paused in the street, waiting for traffic to clear so they could get across.

  While they waited, McClain patted the hand that held onto his arm and looked into her eyes. “I adore you. Do you know that?”

  A smile spread over her features. “Yes, I know. And I adore you.”

  McClain looked at the clock on the bank’s sign. “Oh, it’s three minutes till twelve. We’ve got to get across here, now. Don’t want to be late.” McClain quickly guided her through the traffic as they made their way to Dr. Peter Yarrow’s office.

  When they stepped inside, they looked at Sarah Wickham, expecting her customary smile and cheerful greeting. Sarah forced a thin smile, but she was not her usual chipper self. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Reardon. Dr. Yarrow is waiting for you in his office.”

  They followed Sarah toward the doctor’s private office. She tapped on the door, then opened it. “Mr. and Mrs. Reardon are here, Doctor.”

  Yarrow stood up behind his desk. “Please come in, folks.” He managed a grim smile as he told them to sit down, then settled into his chair as Sarah stepped out and closed the door.

  Biting his lower lip, Yarrow picked up the folder on his desk that had Rya’s name on the tab. He opened it, looked at the papers inside, then set his eyes on the nervous couple. He cleared his throat. “The … ah … test results are not good.”

  McClain took hold of Rya’s hand.

&nb
sp; The doctor’s eyes filled with tears. His throat was constricted as he spoke solemnly. “Mrs. Reardon, you have cancer in your stomach, and I’m afraid there’s not much we can do. Surgery would do no good. In fact, it would only make the cancer spread.”

  There was an ever-tightening knot in the pit of Rya’s stomach. Her tongue was thick and dry and clung to the roof of her mouth.

  All of McClain’s senses were wound tight. “Well, Dr. Yarrow, what does this mean?”

  “It means—” He choked and cleared his throat. “It means her life is going to be cut short. She … she has a year to live … at the very most.”

  “Are you sure you’ve diagnosed this correctly?”

  “Two other doctors have studied the results of the tests, Mr. Reardon. They are older and more experienced than I. They both agree with my conclusion. If you would like to talk to them, I—”

  “You’ve done the right thing in getting their opinion, and I appreciate your being so thorough. Your word is good enough for me. It’s just that—”

  “I understand, Mr. Reardon. Naturally, you were hoping for a simple problem with a simple solution. But let me say this: I will give your wife the best of care, so she can stay at home as long as possible. And I will do everything I can to ease her pain, which is going to get worse. Her … ah … last few months will have to be spent in the hospital where she can get the care she will need by then.”

  McClain clenched his teeth and nodded.

  “Mr. Reardon, you will need to have someone come in during the time she is staying at home. A woman who can look after her needs and take care of her while you’re at work. She will need this care soon.”

  McClain patted Rya’s hand. “I’ll take care of it, Doctor.”

  Rya drew her breath in a short, pained gulp. “Elsa has told me two or three times that if this stomach problem ever got so bad that I needed help at home, she would be glad to come.”

  Yarrow set compassionate eyes on his patient. “Mrs. Reardon, I’m so sorry I had to give you this bad news. It’s at times like this that I wish I was in another profession.”