He spied Pamela on the deck talking with her friends from college. She laughed several times, seeming happy to be around them. It warmed his heart to see her with them. She’d been forlorn, but the past few weeks she’d come out of her shell again. At times, she snapped a bit too quickly and came off gruffer than he’d ever known her, but her confidence had grown, and that was a good thing. Wasn’t it?
A hand bore down on his shoulder. “Come on, big brother, let’s play corn hole.”
Kirk stood. “All right.”
They walked to the corn hole game, and Kirk bent down and picked up the orange bags. Ben pointed to his friends then back at him and Kirk. “Spence and Alan against me and Kirk.”
Alan scooped up the white bags. “Hmm...did you pick Kirk ’cause he’s some kind of professional corn bag thrower?”
Kirk tossed a bag and caught it. “I’m not too bad.”
Spence grabbed two bags from Alan and started juggling. “I’m not too bad, either.”
Ben clasped his hand and rubbed them together. “All right. Sounds like we got us a good game.”
Kirk stepped beside the board. “I’m going to need a couple of practice shots.”
“Sounds good.” Ben took two bags from Kirk. “We each get two practice throws.”
Kirk lined up his throw. The object was to toss the corn-filled bag into the hole for three points, or at least toss it on to the board for one point. He turned to his brother. “Playing to fifteen? I’m going to have to grill before long.”
Ben shrugged. “That’s fine.”
Kirk tossed his practice shots and swished both through the hole. He pumped his fist, and Ben high-fived him. He still had it. Ben tossed and hit the board the first time and then landed the second through the hole. Not bad. Alan missed the board altogether on both tosses, but Spence nailed the hole both times. If Alan could manage to hit the board, this would be a good game.
Kirk and Spence stood beside each other. Kirk tossed the orange bag first and hit the board. Spence tossed and swished through the hole.
Ben growled. “Come on, Kirk. Where’s that perfect shot?”
Kirk laughed, knowing his brother had to be kidding, but when he missed again, and Spence’s landed through the hole a second time, he watched as Ben’s face turned red. He extended his hands, palms up. “Ben, it’s just a game.”
“You can play better than that and you know it.”
Kirk frowned. When had Ben become so competitive? He remembered the Fourth of July celebration, and Ben’s determination to win some silly stuffed animal. He’d never seen his brother act that way. The same way he acted today.
In a matter of minutes, Spence and Alan had beaten them. Kirk placed the bags on the board. “That was fun, but Dad looks like he needs a break.”
Ben’s face blazed with frustration. “Dad is fine. We’re playing again. Best two out of three.”
Kirk started to protest, but his dad lifted the spatula in the air. “I’m fine. Play another game with them, Kirk. You’d be a better partner than me.”
“I don’t know about that.”
Kirk frowned at his brother. The comment slithered under his breath, but it was rude and ridiculous and uncalled for. When playing a game, someone had to lose. Every time. Winning had its perks, but losing was part of playing.
He picked up the corn bags again. Part of him wanted to not worry about his toss, just fling the silly thing and let it land where it landed. But that would be spiteful, which would be as bad as Ben being a poor loser.
After Spence tossed the first through the hole, Kirk followed with one of his own. Spence tossed another, and the next time Kirk hit the board. The game continued until Kirk missed a last shot through the hole and Alan and Spence beat them again. Kirk shook Spence’s hand. “Great job, man. You’re a gifted corn hole player.”
Spence blew on his knuckles and rubbed them on his shirt. “Well, I try.”
Ben stomped to them. “I can’t believe you missed again.”
Kirk glared at his brother. “What is the matter with you?”
Ben threw up his hands. “Were you throwing the game on purpose or what?”
Kirk bit his lip and counted to ten to keep from giving Ben a tongue-lashing they’d both regret. By the time his temper had settled Ben stomped off with Alan alongside him. Kirk turned to Spence. “Does he always act like that?”
Spence scrunched his nose. “If he loses. Dude, your brother’s intense.” He shrugged. “Course, he usually doesn’t lose.”
Kirk watched as Spence walked away and caught up with Ben and Alan. Shaking his head, he took the spatula from his dad and grilled the meat as his mother brought it out to him.
Callie brought him a plate of hot dogs. Leaning down, he planted a quick kiss on her lips. She swatted his arm. “Not in front of everyone.”
He laughed and turned back to the grill then jumped at the figure standing beside him. “You scared the life out of me.” Recognizing the person, he put down the spatula and gave the guy a quick hug. “Zack. I didn’t know you were coming. How you doing?”
Zack shrugged, but Kirk noted his coloring had improved since the last time he saw him. “I have good days and bad days.”
Kirk picked up the spatula again and pointed it at Zack’s arm. “Your cast is off.”
“Yep. Over two weeks now.”
“That’s great.”
“I finished the gazebo.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. It’s really nice. Greta would have liked it.” He pointed to Heather. Kirk would have never recognized her. She’d cut her hair and must have had on makeup because her face looked different. “Heather helped. She was my second hand when I couldn’t use it.”
Kirk nodded. “I’m glad.”
“Listen, I’m happy for you and Callie. You two always seemed perfect for each other.” His lower lip quivered. “But I don’t think I’ll be at the wedding.”
“Not a problem at all.”
Kirk had to keep from chuckling aloud when Zack turned and sat beside Heather. No one was invited to the wedding. Only the same people who had originally been asked to the cookout. But somehow everyone ended up saying they were coming. The wedding was in just over a month, and they’d sent no invitations. And didn’t plan to. If people showed up, they showed up. The only person he cared about seeing there was Callie.
Chapter 16
Kirk lifted his shoulders then pushed them back then pushed them forward then pushed them back again. “Too tight.”
The woman standing in front of him pursed her lips. Her features squished together making her look as if she’d sucked on a lemon, and her hair had been tied up so tight on the top of her head that her eyes slanted. “Mr. Jacobs, this is the seventh tuxedo jacket you’ve tried on. I assure you it fits.”
Kirk growled when his dad busted out laughing. “Now son, are you going with a bow or a tie? What about a vest?”
Horror raced through Kirk’s mind, and he gaped at the exasperated woman. “Surely I don’t have to pick all that out.”
The woman shook her head. “No, you do not. Callie and your mother came in more than two weeks ago with instructions on what to order.” She pursed her lips again before she added, “Of course, they said you’d be in the next day.”
Ben huffed. “It took this long to get him to come down here. If I didn’t know better I’d think he sleeps in his boots and oversize belt buckle.” He lifted Kirk’s favorite buckle off the back of the chair. “I mean, seriously man, how long have you had this thing?”
Kirk tried to remember when Mom bought it for him. Christmas. He knew that. It had been a long time. Finally, he shrugged. “High school, maybe.” He pointed to the design. “But look at it. Doesn’t it remind you of the farm with the cows in the front and the
barn and silo in the back?”
Ben blew out a breath. “Big brother, you’d be lucky for any woman to have you. God must be looking down with favor on you.”
“Amen to that,” the lady who’d helped fit him mumbled.
He scowled at her, and she looked down and started arranging ties on the table beside her. He didn’t much like that woman. There wasn’t a thing wrong with a man who didn’t want to be all squeezed up in some monkey suit.
His dad lifted up a vest and tie. “Would you like to try on the rest of your attire?”
Kirk growled. “Seriously?”
Dad nodded. “You’d better. You only have to wear it one evening of one day, then you’ll have Callie for the rest of your life.”
Kirk grabbed the clothes out of his dad’s hands. If they’d put it like that to begin with he’d have been able to endure all the putting on and taking off.
After being fitted in a getup that he swore still felt too tight, he tore out of the monkey suit and put on his worn jeans and plaid button-down shirt. He grinned at his reflection as he buckled his oversize buckle then slipped into his molded-to-his-feet boots. For the first time in over an hour he felt like himself again.
His dad and Ben decided to get a bite to eat, but Kirk declined. He grabbed a burger then headed back to the farm. Feeling a few jitters of his own, he grabbed his fishing pole and cooler of bait out of the barn and trekked back to the pond.
He didn’t care if he caught any fish. Putting on that monkey suit made him feel all stuffy and stuck. He wanted to marry Callie. No concerns or quandaries about that. But being married would change things.
For years, he’d lived pretty much for himself. If he wanted to eat, he ate. If farm work was done and he wanted a nap, he napped. If he wanted some time away from the family, he didn’t go to the main house. In a little over a month, all that would change.
Callie would be his priority, and he wanted that. He longed to come home in the evenings and find her there. To turn over in bed in the morning and see her beautiful face.
But that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be an adjustment.
Reaching the pond, he pulled a mealworm out of the cooler, shut the lid and sat down on top of it. He baited his pole then flung the line into the water.
Callie’d been acting a little funny. Jitters, his dad had told him several times. He hoped so. He’d never seen anyone with wedding jitters, except maybe what he felt was what she felt, as well.
And when he thought about his siblings. Well, he had no idea what was going on with the two of them. Pamela started school and all of the sudden she was the educated professor who thought she knew better than all of them. And Ben. Kirk shook his head. Where had his competitive craziness come from?
He felt a tug on the line so he stood and reeled in his catch. Grabbing the good-size bluegill, he pulled the hook out of its mouth then tossed the fish back into the water. He baited the hook and flung it back in the pond again.
I’ve got a lot on my mind right now, God. I’m excited about the wedding. A little nervous, too. But I’m glad to have Callie. Nerves or no nerves, I love you. But Pamela...
His line jerked again. He reeled in another bluegill, yanked out the hook and tossed the little critter back into the pond.
He sat back down on the cooler. I don’t know what’s going on with Pamela. I don’t even know how to pray...
The line bobbed again. Standing back up, he reeled in the line. This time a bass hung from the hook. He chortled as he pulled out the hook and tossed the fish back in the pond.
He gazed up at the clear blue sky. “I suppose I’m doing a little too much thinking today. Must be all I need to do is enjoy this fine weather you’ve given us and spend a little time catching fish.”
Baiting the hook again, he flung it back into the water. From now on, he was keeping the fish he caught. The weatherman predicted a sunny sky for the following day, which meant it would be good weather for a fish fry. And the way things were going, he’d be able to feed the whole family, and probably anyone else who decided to show up.
* * *
Callie cut the extra edge from the photo of her and Kirk when she was a freshman and he was a sophomore. The youth group had a fall party, and they were snuggled up on hay bales piled up in a trailer. He’d given her their first kiss on that hay ride.
She picked up another picture of the two of them beside a Christmas tree. If memory served her right, it was her junior year. She spotted her mother’s necklace around her neck, and she crinkled her nose. Definitely junior year. Her mother, fearing the cancer would eventually win her fight for her life, had given Callie the keepsake that Christmas.
Another picture showed the two of them on the front porch sitting on the swing and holding hands. There was one of her with Ben, Pamela and Kirk. She looked at Tammie. “I can’t believe you still have all these.”
Tammie huffed. “Why wouldn’t I? You were like one of my own children.” She lifted up a photo of Kirk and Callie in the front seat and Pamela and Jack in the backseat of her old car. “Jack, too.”
Callie slid the photograph she’d cropped into the leaf-trimmed frame Tammie had purchased for the wedding. She motioned toward the thirty or more matching frames. “Do we have enough pictures for all of these?”
“Why, of course.”
“And what in the world will you do with all these frames after the wedding? Surely, you don’t want thirty leaf-covered frames sitting around the B and B.”
Tammie furrowed her brows. “Pamela’s crafty. I’m sure she’ll think of something we can make so we can sell them.”
Callie spied a picture of her and Kirk on her sixteenth birthday. He’d bought her a dozen red roses and a matchbox car, promising he’d buy her a real one in a few years’ time. She showed Tammie the picture. “I’ll have to tell him I’m still waiting on that car.”
“Oh, there will be plenty of cars. Once the grandkids come into play, there will be minivans.” Tammie pressed her hands against her chest. “I’m looking forward to the minivans.”
Callie giggled at her soon-to-be mother-in-law’s dramatics as she fit another picture into a frame. “These pictures will be a lot of fun at the reception.”
“Especially since it will be more than just a family affair.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “I know. It’s almost gotten out of hand. What number are we up to?”
“My last count was seventy-five.” Tammie snapped her fingers. “I just remembered I put a box of Kirk’s graduation photos in the attic. I know there will be tons of the two of you in it. I’ll be right back.”
Callie stood with Tammie and walked to the front door. “You want me to help?”
“No, no. It will only take a minute.”
A black sedan pulled into the driveway, drove past the main house and stopped behind Callie’s car.
“Looks like you have company. I’ll be right back.”
Recognizing the driver, Callie didn’t respond to Tammie. Fear filled her heart as Dr. Coe got out of the car. Please be a congratulations-on-your-wedding house call.
The older woman’s somber expression heaped dread onto Callie’s fear. Without a greeting, she opened the screen door and Dr. Coe stepped inside. She clasped her hands as she gazed around the cabin’s living room. “You have such a sweet home, Callie.”
“What is it?”
Callie knew she’d been abrupt, but she didn’t want to make small talk. The last time she’d seen Dr. Coe in her home was the day she’d buried her mother.
“You’re right to assume I had a reason for coming.” She motioned toward the couch. “May we sit?”
Callie moved several photos off the cushion and placed them on the coffee table. She settled into the padded rocking chair across from the couch.
Dr. Coe pointed t
o the pictures. “These look lovely. Photos of you and your fiancé, I presume.”
Callie rubbed her now clammy hands together. “Please, Dr. Coe.”
“Yes, well, I wanted to tell you in person. I was so fond of your mother. I’ve never really been a praying woman, but I was intrigued by her faith, even in the midst of so many setbacks.”
Callie scratched the side of her head. The doctor needed to spit it out.
“The biopsy was positive for cancer cells, Callie, and there is a small mass on your left breast.”
Callie leaned back in the chair, sucked in a deep breath and pressed her lips together. She’d quoted the scripture from Nahum repeatedly, claiming it to mean the test would come back negative. But deep in her spirit, she’d known. Even from the day she’d run into the door. She released the breath and looked at Dr. Coe. “So, what’s the plan?”
She handed her a packet of papers. “I made your appointment with the oncologist for this week. Based on the mammogram, my guess is he will schedule a lumpectomy as soon as possible. With your mother having had breast cancer, I assume they will want to do chemotherapy and radiation, or at the very least, just radiation.”
Callie nodded. She already knew the drill. It hadn’t been necessary to ask. It was simply the first thing that popped out of her mouth. She stood and extended her hand to the doctor. “Okay. Thanks for coming. I appreciate you driving out to tell me yourself.”
Dr. Coe stood and wrapped both hands around Callie’s. “Listen, you are young. The mass is very small on the mammogram. Your situation is not the same as your mother’s.” She pointed to the pictures on the table. “I know this boy’s family. If he’s half as good as his parents, he’ll stand by you through it all. Are you listening to me?”
“Yes.” No. I’m not listening at all. You have no idea what this is like. You watch cancer. You treat cancer. You haven’t lived cancer.
A Heart Healed Page 13