Chapter Four
The church grounds were dotted with people heading to the building for weekly worship. It was the first time Elizabeth had attended church since leaving the hospital and she was intensely glad to be back to normal, to be coming to this place again.
Carol met them in the courtyard that fronted the church. The structure was ancient as American buildings go, parts dating back to the early 1700s. Of course it was colonial, but with the angles and grandeur of England outlining its dimensions.
The cousins looked at each other and smiled.
Shared memories flooded over the two women; they had practically grown up at this church. The private school they had attended, supported by the Episcopal diocese, inevitably focused part of its teaching within and about this holy place. The rest of the time, their dutiful parents had brought them here to learn and socialize and become productive citizens of society. At least the parents hoped that was what they were accomplishing. Carol could feel the past rolling over her in nostalgic waves and could almost see the innocence of their youth waving from a distance.
“God, to think we used to practically live in this place! Maybe if I’d kept up with this part of my life in California, things wouldn’t have gotten so . . . crazy.” Carol shook her head, a wry smile tugging her lips.
“Do you think so?” Elizabeth asked, wondering—again—just what had gone wrong, exactly, in California. It seemed to her that she and Carol were overdue for some serious talking. That would have to be remedied. And soon.
“That’s what Father Wells thinks,” Carol said, squinting up at the cross on the steeple, her voice casual.
“Oh, you’ve met him?” Elizabeth was surprised. “When was that?”
“When I first got back for good, after I knew the divorce was final. I needed some . . . spiritual comforting.” Carol’s sober glance fell on one of the many stained-glass windows decorating the brick walls and she suddenly laughed. “Elizabeth, remember when we got in trouble for throwing spitballs at the Crosby twins during confirmation class?”
Elizabeth glanced at a disinterested Michael, and then grinned. “Behave, or I won’t take you out in public again.”
Michael remained silent, not really listening, instead nodding pleasantly to acquaintances as they walked closer to the entrance of the old Episcopal church. Michael and Elizabeth were married in this church; Kellan was baptized and later confirmed here. It was a building that held a host of memories for all of them.
Footsteps came closer behind them and then stopped.
“Hello, folks.”
They turned in unison and saw Dr. Gordon Jones smiling at them, hands in the pockets of khakis, a dark brown sports jacket over a clean white shirt, with a tie that actually looked nice. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” His smile included all of them before settling on Carol.
Elizabeth was surprised at his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here? I thought you only got one Sunday off a month.”
His nod was amiable. “That’s right. The third one.”
Three pairs of eyebrows rose as Carol pointed out before an anxious Elizabeth could, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Gordon, but this is the second Sunday of the month.”
“Damn!” He hit his forehead with an open palm. “Where am I supposed to be then?” He waited to see their concern, and then he relaxed, smiled, and pushed his glasses up. “Kevin Bliley asked me to switch with him. He needs that weekend because his twins are being baptized. Gotcha, huh?”
Carol rolled her eyes. “And it’s always a pleasure to see you, too.”
“Right, you can say that again.” Elizabeth punched his arm. Michael, with a bored smile, listened to them and glanced at his watch. “We’d better get a move on, folks. The bells are going to start ringing any minute.”
“Oh, yes, Michael does have a thing about time, doesn’t he? Are you getting more obsessive about punctuality or is it just me?” Carol inquired with sarcasm, her smile bright and brittle. He ignored her and took Elizabeth’s hand.
“Come on.” Michael pulled his wife along, leaving the other two to follow. Within moments they were just yards away from the huge arched double-door entry of the church.
Elizabeth half turned back to Carol to point out some of the colorful fall plantings by the walkway when she stumbled. It was a small misstep, one she could have easily remedied.
But everyone reacted.
Michael felt her dip sideways and tried to pull her back the other way but only succeeded in further unbalancing her. Gordon, who had been walking behind with Carol, made a grab for her other arm and missed. It was Carol, who was directly behind her, who reached out just as Elizabeth started falling backward.
With too many hands fumbling to help, gravity finally prevailed and Elizabeth fell back hard, directly on top of Carol, knocking them both to the sidewalk with a loud thump.
“Elizabeth!” Michael had to steady himself before he could help her. “Dammit, I told you not to wear those shoes!” Incredibly, his wife was laughing, which did nothing to improve his temper. He didn’t recognize the embarrassment or nervousness that echoed in her hilarity; he was too concerned for her.
Gordon also knelt down to help untangle the mess. “Carol, are you okay? You sure got the brunt of that one.” With the help of both men, the two women were up within moments, brushing off the leaves that clung to them.
Carol removed her arm from Gordon’s hand and smoothed out her black skirt. Straightening caused a slight grimace, and she heard a bone crunch somewhere in the vicinity of her backside. With a steadying hand there, she took a deep breath and sent a mock glare Elizabeth’s way. “The only thing that’s hurt is my dignity and my butt,” she said, rubbing the latter. They glanced at each other and began giggling like the schoolgirls they had been years ago.
Gordon and Michael made eye contact. Gordon, amused, just shrugged. But Michael was more irritated, not only by what happened to his wife, but also by their giggling response. Immediately, his thoughts flew back to all the information he had been reading, all the symptoms, and the endless possibilities . . . and they thought it was funny?
The grip he placed on his wife’s arm was unrelenting. “Elizabeth, this is the last time you will ever wear shoes with heels. You are not going to give me a near heart attack every time we go out.”
“Michael,” she chided patiently, “it’s an old cobblestone sidewalk. It’s always been uneven. I just stumbled, and if everyone had not been in such a hurry to help, I would have been fine.” Although she was a little shaken, there was no way on this earth she would admit to the sudden weakness in that leg. It was fine now, that was all that mattered. Thank You, God. I’m fine, I’m going to be fine . . .
“Yeah,” Carol chimed in from behind them. “And if she hadn’t fallen on me, I’d be fine, too.”
Gordon fell in step next to her. “Let me know if you find you’re in any discomfort. I can get you some heavy-duty Tylenol for pain,” he offered. “Just say the word.”
“I’m fine,” Carol snapped, and immediately bit her lip. He was just trying to help. Her glance was apologetic. “Thanks. I’ll . . . let you know.”
They entered the sanctuary and found their pew; there was no more discussion about anything.
Chapter Five
Now faith is the substance of hope, the evidence of things not seen . . .” Father Joseph Wells read the Scripture again. Elizabeth had quickly come to love the new rector. He had come to St. Matthews Episcopal Church two years ago. Almost from the beginning, his presence and his words had begun to breathe new life into the old building. His light blue eyes held the warmth of years of heeding a calling that had stretched his soul and mind in countless ways. He was, Elizabeth often thought, real. And his sermons were practical, almost personal, getting to the heart of the message that touched people in new ways. Maybe that’s why so many people were coming to hear him preach, reaching out to learn the same things in a different way that touched hearts.
Today’s sermon was obviously about faith, and Elizabeth sat up attentively.
Since she had started praying again, a yearning had started pulsing within her, a restlessness she couldn’t explain. Elizabeth had always been perfectly content with the romantic ideals of her religion, but since she had started an ongoing dialogue with God, she knew something was missing.
“On a visit to the Chesapeake Bay a few months ago, a friend took me out fishing, someone who is a member of this church, as a matter of fact. He asked me not to reveal his name. I told him I would try to remember, but I couldn’t promise it wouldn’t slip out. Sorry to say, I have these inadvertent senior moments that keep crowding closer together and in the course of telling this, I may blurt out a name, so I apologize in advance if that happens.
“It was a great day for fishing; they were biting vigorously, at least in the morning. We were so busy for the first, oh, say, hour or so, we had no time for conversation. But after that—nothing. The fish must have realized what we were up to, because they left us high and dry holding on to some mighty fresh wriggling bait.”
His smile was reflected in his eyes.
“I enjoyed catching the fish, but I enjoyed the conversation that ensued even more. Since my fishing partner wishes to remain nameless, I can be frank and tell you how much fun he made of my being a city slicker and how long he laughed at my, uh, lack of knowledge about the sporting life. I made him promise not to tell any fish stories about the ones that got away from me. He is supposed to let me acknowledge how large they were and how I very nearly had them! In honesty, on that particular day, I caught eight I could keep and two that had to be thrown back.
“When the fish stopped biting, there was nothing to do but talk. And how my friend can talk!
“Well, a little ways into our idle chatter, he asked if I had noticed the sun dogs.” Father Wells’s gaze swept over the large, arched room full of familiar and new faces. “Does anyone know what a sun dog is? Come on, a show of hands, if you please. Be honest.” A sprinkling of uplifted hands joined the ripple of laughter.
“Well, let me tell you, I had to ask him to say it twice, I thought I had misunderstood him. When I finally figured out he was talking about dogs, I looked toward land and asked, ‘Where are they? Are they at your house? In the car?’ I couldn’t remember seeing any animals at his place.” More laughter.
Father Wells shook his head. “‘Nope,’ was the answer. I must tell you, by this time Hoyt Johnson was laughing so hard he was rolling, and I thought we were going to end up swimming to shore. Oh, sorry, Hoyt. I forgot you wanted to keep out of this, but Lord only knows how you could ever be anonymous.” Another loud spate of laughter erupted because those who were acquainted with the gregarious Hoyt Johnson knew that was futile. The rector gazed down with an uplifted hand toward the man in question. “Please forgive me. But you’re an integral part of this story.” He chuckled. “Well, I won’t leave you in suspense. My friend, who is no longer nameless, pointed to the sky and said, ‘Look. Look up there, next to the sun. Hold your hand up to block out the sun if you have to, and look to the right. See, there, a little farther down. There’s two more. See?’
“I looked where he was pointing, but I had no idea what he wanted me to see. A sun dog in the sky sounded pretty strange. At first I thought he was making a joke, but no—he was pointing and looking up and he was being serious.
“‘Hoyt,’ I finally asked, ‘what am I supposed to see?’ He looked at me like I must have something wrong with my hearing. ‘The rainbows,’ he said very patiently. He started talking more slowly and louder, perhaps thinking I might understand better. And his voice was incredulous that I would ask what I was supposed to be seeing when they were right there in the sky, sitting there plain as the nose on my face.
“He explained what a sun dog was. ‘See, those are thin cirrus clouds. When those clouds are twenty-three degrees from the sun at the same elevation, sunlight will hit the ice in the clouds and make little rainbows. Any waterman knows that a sun dog in the sky means the weather’s going to change within forty-eight hours. Kind of like a warning. And a promise. Enjoy the day because change is on the way.’”
Father Wells paused, eyes twinkling. “Obviously, I’m not a waterman. I had never heard the story of sun dogs before, but I was charmed. When we motored up to the Johnson dock, our wives came down to greet us. I immediately wanted to share my new knowledge and impress my partner in crime—er, make that life. My wife, as some of you may know, also grew up in the city, so I knew she had never heard of sun dogs. ‘Estelle,’ I asked, relishing my new knowledge, ‘did you see the sun dogs?’
“She looked at me with that look of superiority wives sometimes get and said, ‘Yes, I did. Very pretty.’
“I was merely going to nod and keep quiet, but Hoyt walked up behind me and announced, ‘Joseph had never heard about our sun dogs, but he has now. So he’ll be able to look for them and predict the weather.’
“My wife gave me a knowing look and turned to Hoyt. ‘No, he won’t.’
“‘Sure he will,’ Hoyt insisted, but he was obviously puzzled. I can’t say as I blame him. My wife has kept me puzzled for years. But in this case, she knew what she was talking about. Estelle, with the sureness of our thirty-five years together, again shook her head and said with authority, ‘No, he won’t.’
“Hoyt was quick to take up for me yet again, when my wife interrupted to finally explain something few people know, because it’s simply not important. She said, ‘Joseph didn’t see the sun dogs today, and he won’t see them next time. He’s color-blind, has been for what, fifteen years now, dear?’
“We grinned at each other and I nodded. It was about that long ago when I had severe and unexpected eye inflammations that unfortunately damaged my ability to see color. I see perfectly, but life is like a black-and-white television set. In the lingo of current business practices, you might say my eyes got downgraded.” He grinned, enjoying the familial intimacy of shared laughter.
“But that didn’t stop me that day. Everywhere I went and saw people I knew as well as plenty I didn’t, I would ask if they had seen the sun dogs. Since I was in waterman country, the majority of them already knew, but I had a wonderful time anyway, talking about what the weather might do. And there were a few, from the city I guess, whom I was able to share new knowledge with. I had a wonderful time.
“As I often do, I let Estelle read my sermon—to get her reaction, to see if there’s anything I’ve left unclear. Also, whenever she is a part of the sermon, I generally like to let her know about it in advance. I’ve found that is generally better for maintaining a harmonious relationship.” He waited for the chuckles to end.
“She read it, looked at me, and had two things to say. The first was ‘Why?’
“‘Why what?’ I asked. She wanted to know why I was so delighted to tell people about something I couldn’t see. And the next thing was, she felt it was unfair the way I glossed over the part about losing the ability to see color, portraying it as unimportant.” His expression sobered.
“Well.” His face grayed slightly with darkness only he knew, and he looked, seemingly, at every person in the church. “In all honesty, when it happened I was devastated. It was a rare time when I was in between parishes. I had been prayerfully seeking God’s direction as to what I should do, where I should go to serve Him most effectively. One day my vision started blurring slightly, and after only a day I went to the doctors, who in turn were puzzled. Let me tell you, that is a scary situation when your own doctors don’t have a clue! They set up testing for the very next day to try to figure out just what was going on. But as I slept, my world became as colorless as night.
“The shock was enormous, but nothing compared to how I felt when I discovered the doctors could do nothing to bring back the color in my life.” Father Wells shrugged. “‘Sorry,’ they said. ‘We’ll monitor you from time to time to see if anything else may be going on, but just be thankful you can still se
e. Life isn’t so bad.’
“Well.” Father Wells looked stern, his normal smile turned upside down, and Elizabeth could feel the bleakness, the desperation in that memory.
“I wasn’t thankful. Fury, rage, and any other emotion you care to imagine ripped through me. It was definitely not all right, and all I could do was tell this, scream this, to God over and over and over again.”
His eyes were downcast as he confessed, “It didn’t take very long to become the kind of person I don’t care to be around. And I was like that for far longer than I care to admit. I only thought about my loss, how awful and terrible and unfair it was.”
Gazing into the sympathetic and attentive eyes of his congregation, Father Wells’s face slowly brightened, like the sun parting through shadowed clouds. Elizabeth was holding her breath.
“Finally, a dear friend, Father Albert Simmons from the diocese, came and took me firmly in hand three months after my world became colorless. He made me go with him to a rehabilitation center for the blind. Believe me when I tell you that this was the last place on earth I wanted to be, but it turned into one of the most profound moments of my life. Here were people who had started out as sighted individuals and now were having to learn to live in complete and total darkness.
“There was a young man there; he was barely thirty then, and his name was Cal. Albert most particularly wanted me to meet him. Cal had been extremely successful in commodities trading, a highly technological gambler who had become a millionaire several times over through his own efforts. As Cal told his story, he made it clear what he did in his life had never been enough. He craved more and more of the tension and stress of the competition, the adrenaline rush of almost losing, then making a fortune over and over again. But in time, even that ceased to be enough to satisfy whatever was lacking in his life.
“The money enabled him to live a frantic lifestyle earmarked by excesses. It was this extreme way of living that finally culminated in a horrendous car accident. Now his old life was over. He had to learn to start living a new life. The accident cost him his sight.
A Sundog Moment Page 6