Elizabeth watched from the open front doorway, waiting to wave good-bye because her mother would expect it. She wandered into the bedroom and watched her husband change. “How’d work go today?”
“Fine. We’ve added another hospital chain. I have to fly to California next week to take contracts. Want to go?”
Michael nearly two decades ago had the foresight to get into the manufacturing and marketing of artificial hips and knees. He had built the company into a leader of the industry by operating better and smarter than anyone else. Recently, the company had expanded into heart-monitoring devices that could instantly distinguish a heart attack from a range of other symptoms. By diagnosing an attack quicker and more accurately, proper treatment could be started almost immediately, thereby saving time and lives. He had been determined to keep the cost affordable. Business had never been better.
She shrugged. “Maybe.” She sat down on the side of the bed and idly traced the embroidered flowers on the spread. The colors were subtle and delicate. She remembered buying it from the Amish in Pennsylvania several years ago. When she saw it she knew it would feel like having an indoor garden on their bed. That was how she created her house; it was filled with special things she had bought carefully and thoughtfully over the years. They wrapped her life in memory, color, and time.
“What are you thinking?” He had come to stand next to her, lightly touching her shoulder, and she looked up. He had pulled on a polo shirt the color of corn, and it contrasted nicely with the dark jeans.
“How nice it is to be home,” she said, and then tilted her head back and gave him a jaunty grin. “Hospitals stink.” He chuckled as she continued, her nose wrinkling. “They smell like all the ammonia and antibacterial detergents, like the inside of a toilet bowl. Awful.”
Michael laughed again. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that before. What about when you visit the babies? Isn’t that the same smell?”
She shook her head emphatically. “Nope. The babies smell wonderful. You can’t wash away baby smells, despite all the industrial cleaners they use. Babies are always . . . sweet and fresh, like a new moment. There is nothing like holding a little one, letting them know they matter. Babies are the best.” A smile lit her up from the inside. “I can hardly wait to get back to them, I’ve missed them so much. Now, that’s something that will make me rest and behave myself—to be able to hold and feed as many babies as I can.”
Her volunteer work at the hospital, hugging and touching babies who needed a little extra loving, was immensely fulfilling.
Michael, for his part, did not find her expectations pleasing at all. He decided to call the doctor tomorrow before Elizabeth made the trek to the state hospital to cuddle children who needed her.
He touched her shoulder. She looked up and saw his face. “I’ve been worried about you, Beth.”
She was standing, her smile and words strong. “Don’t worry. You heard Gordon. Nothing else will happen.”
“Might happen,” he corrected.
“Won’t happen. Let’s forget it, okay? That’s what I want to do; that’s what I want us both to do.”
The front door banged open. “Hello. I’m home. Where is everybody?”
Kellan Lane Whittaker met her parents in the hallway, hugging and laughing and talking a mile a minute. Elizabeth blinked back some foolish tears trying to slip out and wondered how she’d been able to survive two months without seeing her daughter. Before she could stop herself, one word flew out: “Transfer.”
The noise stopped. “What?” Kellan pulled back.
“Well . . . I said”—Elizabeth took a big breath—“transfer. Why can’t you go to college here and live at home? I’ve missed you.”
Kellan laughed hard and hugged her mother tighter. “How sweet. I’ve missed you, too. But I can’t transfer. I’ve got a scholarship, remember?”
Elizabeth didn’t care. “Oh, pooh. We’ll pay.” Even as she said it, she knew her daughter and knew she wouldn’t be coming back.
“Yeah. Right. But hey, how are you? You’ve had me worried.” Kellan began asking for information, wanting to know all about her mother’s recent hospital stay, every last detail. They walked arm in arm into the kitchen, Michael following.
His daughter, clad in jeans tucked into low black boots and topped with a red sweater, was a commanding presence. A few inches taller than her mother, her trim, lean-muscled form was the result of running, horseback riding, and playing a wicked game of tennis.
Kellan sat down at the kitchen table opposite Elizabeth. Her wavy blonde hair rippled away from a face that bore a striking resemblance to her mother’s.
Although Elizabeth’s preference was to hear about what Kellan had been doing at school, Kellan was focused fully on her mother. Earnest and concerned, with a sharpshooter’s knack for asking questions that hit the mark, she was making Elizabeth uneasy. After all, she had just told her husband to forget this entire incident. Kellan’s questions included the hospital stay and medication, and, more precisely, what the doctors said.
Sipping tea to gain time, Elizabeth personally thought by giving this so much discussion, it was making her recent problem too important, too . . . real. But she did her best because Kellan wasn’t going to accept anything less.
“A brain tumor!” Astonished, Kellan shot her father an accusing look. “You never told me that!”
“He never told me that either,” Elizabeth said and watched Michael hold up his hands, surrendering to his women.
“There was no reason to tell you anything until we knew for sure.”
Questions kept coming from an insatiable Kellan, until she stumbled over the same word her parents were struggling with.
“Incurable? Does that mean you’re going to get worse?” Kellan’s face went pale.
It was the last thing Elizabeth wanted to hear, and when she answered, her voice was stern, even though the answer was meant to be reassuring. “There’s nothing to get worse because I’m fine; the medicine did the trick and nothing else is going to happen. This was a . . . fluke. I’m not worried. And you shouldn’t be either,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Now. I’d like to officially change the subject. Tell me about school.”
Kellan spoke briefly about her various classes and then, a little tentatively, asked about alternative medicine. “Have you thought about investigating other treatments, like holistic therapies? I heard about some up at school, after Dad finally called to let me know what they found. Did you know that NIH even has a center now, just for that?”
“We’d be willing to listen,” her father said in a neutral voice. Elizabeth nodded.
Kellan smiled and squeezed her mother’s hand. “Let’s order Chinese, you want to? I’m starved.”
“Sure.” Michael pulled out one of the kitchen drawers and tossed some menus on the table. “Tell me what you want and I’ll call it in.”
Kellan scanned the items. “Something with an attitude. Szechuan, medium, if you please.”
She smiled wickedly as her mother groaned. “I’ll be smelling hot peppers and garlic all night.”
“And you love it as much as I do,” Kellan pointed out smugly, making her mother laugh.
Within the hour, dinner had been served and while they were eating, Elizabeth turned to Kellan. “Tell me, how long do we have you? Would you like to go shopping tomorrow after breakfast? Your grandmother’s coming early to see you. Oh, and Carol is looking for a date of lunch and shopping, her treat.”
Kellan shrugged, her face and voice regretful. “I have to leave way early tomorrow. I told Dad,” she said, “that I couldn’t stay long at all. A bunch of us are going hiking up in the mountains of Madison County. John Duncan’s family has a huge orchard and cattle farm up there, adjacent to one of the parks. We’ll be on those hills roughing it through Monday. We had planned to leave tonight. I was going to cancel everything to stay here, but Dad said you were so much better. I did want to see you before I left. They’re waiting for me. I
’ll be gone before you get up.”
“Oh.” Surprise and disappointment wiped away her smile as Elizabeth looked at her husband. “Michael, you should have told my mother before she left. She’s going to be even more disappointed than I am.” And Elizabeth knew she would hear not only how disappointed her mother was but also how somehow this was her fault.
God, she hated to disappoint her mother. Reading his wife’s face accurately, Michael said, “I’m sorry, Beth, I completely forgot.”
“Having one of those senior moments, eh, Dad?” Kellan asked with a grin that widened when her father slapped the air near her and said, “Brat.”
The levity was short-lived; he saw the furrowed brow on his wife’s face. “I really did forget. I’ll call Virginia Mae for you later. Don’t worry about anything.” He reached and covered her hand.
“I’m not worried,” Elizabeth lied, relief sweeping the anxiety from her eyes. Virginia Mae’s emotional illogic was legend; her feelings bounced back and forth like a ball in erratic motion, making conversations just as dizzying since little was based on fact. Instead, her mother used whatever feeling was central at the moment, either as a shield or a weapon. Situations that changed without a lot of advance notice were grounds for a tirade. Poor old thing, Elizabeth thought, knowing how lonely her mother was now. Then she turned her full attention back to her daughter.
“I’ll miss you, beanpole. Who’s going hiking with you?”
With enthusiasm, Kellan told her, and also what they planned to do. “We’ll end up at Graves Mountain Lodge by Sunday night. You know their meals are to die for, so that’s going to be our reward for roughing it.”
“What if you run into a bear or some other wild animal?” Elizabeth’s worries started flaring.
“John’s bringing a hunting rifle, not to worry. We’re going to try to do some fishing and plant gathering, stuff like that. Our goal is to survive on whatever we can scrounge off the land. At least as much as we can.”
“You’re not going to take food with you at all?” Michael asked, his skepticism obvious.
Kellan’s eyes rolled. “Do you think we’re idiots? Of course we’ll have some food with us, just in case. We want adventure, not starvation.”
It was late when they finally called it a night. A chorus of good nights ended the evening, and then Michael led Elizabeth to their master bedroom in the back of the house.
She yawned several times as she and Michael got ready for bed. It was wonderful to be home, but wearing. Part of her wanted to drift off to sleep but she finished brushing her teeth, walked back into the room, and was met by Michael. His arms were around her, his lips teasing and hovering over hers, and she knew the night was far from over. She shivered in anticipation. Before proceeding any further, he pulled back and looked carefully into her eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”
She reached up and touched his mouth and then reached for him, murmuring words of love and endearment as she pulled him closer.
By the time they reached the bed, their clothes were off and they were entangled as only familiar lovers can be. The recent absence made each shared caress, each ragged and quivering breath . . . more.
Perhaps that was why they lingered over each touch, savored each kiss like fine wine. It was all enjoyed more completely, more fully while the journey to fulfillment was gentler, hotter, more deliberate, yet more delicate than it had ever been.
It took several minutes for their breathing and heartbeats to slow. As they curled up against each other, Elizabeth should have drifted into an easy gentle sleep, as Michael was already doing.
She shut her eyes but couldn’t shut off her thoughts. Instead of curling up and sleeping, everything was fluttering with intense exhaustion. A switch had been turned on; thoughts and pictures raced about at breakneck speed and would not stop.
She tried to move into a more restful position. And then tried another. Several moments passed before she realized that, incredibly, she was too tired to go to sleep.
After another several minutes of trying not to disturb Michael she finally gave up, got up, and walked out of the room. She would make some hot tea and read something boring. The silence of the house was deafening and every simple, normal sound she made was so much louder because of it.
The fragrant tea—marketed as a sleeping aid—was useless. She drained the cup, put it in the sink and leaned against the counter, so exhausted she felt sick. Never in memory had sleep been so elusive. She couldn’t understand it.
Walking into the living room, she squinted through the bookshelves, thinking she could read herself to sleep. Something she had read before, something slow-paced, known.
Finally, she chose Silas Marner. She reclined on the emerald couch, propped up slightly by a pillow, and let her eyes drift wearily over the small letters. It was slow reading. The closer she got to the bottom of the page, the lower her eyelids sank until, finally, they closed. The stillness was wrapped around her tightly until she was snared by sleep. Breathing deeply, she slept hard. Still, within the deepest recesses of her mind, she dreamed her eyes snapped open, and she was completely alert.
The book slipped to the floor as she sat up. Blinking, she looked around. There was no sense of time; she felt as if she could have been asleep for days, but it was still dark. She sat up, her hands covering a huge yawn.
A quiver of anxiety made her stand up. Overwhelmed by restlessness, there was a need to move, her legs needed motion. The kitchen was dark when she heard a car pull out, and at the back door she saw a pair of red taillights burn brightly before disappearing. Kellan had indeed gotten an early start.
Elizabeth turned and headed toward the dining room at the front of the house. The outside street lamps lent enough light to see. Her hand trailed along the table and she glanced around at the shadows of the room, knowing everything by heart.
It was what she didn’t see that stopped her like a slap. Her heart started to race as she realized the large mahogany china cabinet they had inherited from Michael’s great-grandmother was gone!
Shivers kept time with her shallow gasps as she examined the massive, metal door that now dominated the large wall, startled to see it was ajar. Confused, she thought hard about what to do. Where was Michael? Shouldn’t she call for him? Even as she opened her mouth her legs started moving, and then she forgot about everything as she pushed the door wide open.
Who had the audacity to steal her beautiful antique and then put this ugly thing here? Did they think she wouldn’t notice? It was a mystery, and suddenly she was angrier than she had ever been in her entire life. She wanted her dining room back to its original shape, and she wanted it done now! Feeling powerful, Elizabeth boldly strode through the door, intent on discovering how this had happened and getting it fixed.
She stopped abruptly as she heard the metal hinges creak and groan and then the entire metal door slammed shut behind her.
She could hear nothing but the clamor of her heart as she turned back and fumbled for the door handle.
She was in total darkness.
Raking fingernails against the sides of the door, there was nothing but a smooth surface—no door handle. Nothing!
She licked dry lips and felt her legs weaken. Where was she? How had this happened? What could she do?
Michael! Where was Michael? She would scream for him and he would come and save her; yes, that was what she would do. This heartened her until she tried to open her mouth and realized she had no voice.
Paralyzed, she stood there for a breathless moment and then with a resolution borne of the finality of not having a choice, she turned slowly to face what was ahead. The darkness was palpable, she felt tangled in it. She had never known such blackness; it was numbing and cold, stripping breath from her lungs. She had to do something. She took a step and then another one.
She did this for several minutes, until all her thoughts were centered on finding some sort of light, some kind of end to this place. Suddenly consumed by anxiety, she halfw
ay turned to start back. She wanted, needed, to go back.
Was that a flicker? Or were her eyes tricking her? Just as she thought she saw a flash of movement, she took one more step—and felt nothing but air. She fell, and kept falling, turning head over heels, twisting and turning like a dead leaf dropping from a living tree. There was no end to the falling . . .
Chapter Three
Sleep drifted away slowly from Michael, like the dying embers of a campfire. Noting it was still dark outside, Michael lazily stretched out an arm to embrace his wife. Connecting to nothing was enough to jolt his eyes open. Blinking, he turned on the table lamp and saw the light spill into an empty room. Not stopping for a robe or slippers, he left to find her. The kitchen was empty. He looked outside and saw Kellan’s car was gone. Well, she said she was going to leave before they got up.
He wiped away some of the sleep, wondering where Elizabeth was and, more to the point, why she wasn’t in bed with him.
He wandered next into the dining room, puzzled but not yet concerned. Logically, she had to be somewhere in the house. There would be a reasonable explanation.
He crossed the hall, entered the living room, and was gripped by fear that was so consuming he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Elizabeth!
His wife was on the floor in front of the couch, slumped over on her side, and his first frantic thought was that she was dead. Dear God, where had he been when this horrible thing happened? He was sweating, hyperventilating. He cursed himself, the grayness of despair so real and menacing he felt his knees begin to wobble and start to collapse. He had to crawl to her. Relief almost made him cry out at the sight of her chest moving, then as he felt her warmth. She was alive!
His grateful sigh immediately slid into a devastating thought. She must be ill again. Got up, fell, and hit her head; she was unconscious.
An ambulance! He needed an ambulance. He tried to get up, reach toward the phone, but fear made his movements spastic, and all the while his wife was hurt.
He had never been this vulnerable and at that moment, deep within him, a cold wind of betrayal slipped inside, as subtle as a shadow at night. This was not supposed to happen to us! How could she let this horrible thing come into our lives? It was a soundless melody that would start to color how he looked at everything, at his life, at his Elizabeth.
A Sundog Moment Page 4