A Sundog Moment

by Sharon Baldacci

  Dismayed, Elizabeth searched his face. “Does this mean I’m going to become lame? I’m not asking for a blessing exactly . . .” Her voice trailed off as Father Joe looked at her intently. For a moment, she had the oddest feeling he wasn’t seeing her; he was seeing something beyond her.

  When he spoke it was with an absoluteness she found frightening. “God wants to bless you and let you feel His heart. You are His, Elizabeth, and He knows your heart is searching, and He already has found you. Keep looking, and you will find everything your heart and soul needs.” He blinked and suddenly he was the same, ordinary priest she had known for the last two years.

  “Could we pray?” he asked, his eyes bright on hers. She nodded, unsure yet wanting . . . something more. They held hands, heads bowed.

  “Our Father, Ruler of the universe and Commander of all that is good and pure, we come humbly to You with a request for this child of Yours, Elizabeth, so recently touched by illness. She wants to know You more deeply, feel Your extraordinary presence in every moment of her life. We ask You to hold her in Your arms and be with her, because she is Yours, Almighty God, now and forever. In the name of the Father, the precious Son, and Holy Spirit, amen.”

  A brief hug and a smile and she departed. Outside, Elizabeth discovered that somehow her eyes had been polished; everything seemed brighter, clearer . . . focused. Scanning the deep blue sky of this windy day, she wondered if anything new would happen, and where she was supposed to be looking. Reluctant but hopeful, she got in her car and left.

  She woke up and knew immediately; her old energy was back, humming and crackling through her. Elizabeth welcomed it like an old friend. Thank You, God, I’m back to where I want to be. Thank You; oh, thank You.

  Michael had left for work a half hour ago. The day was all hers, and she knew exactly what she was going to do with it.

  Her babies! She wanted to cradle them in her arms, feed them, smile and stretch her heart around them.

  A few years ago, she had not been looking for anything to add to her life, but that changed when she read in the church bulletin one Sunday morning about the need for hugs. A local hospital was beginning a Cuddles and Hugs program for premature and sick babies whose parents couldn’t be with them often enough. Parents signed up their new babies for the program, which also included babies who had been abandoned and were waiting to be placed in foster care.

  Elizabeth was one of the first to volunteer. The fact that she was able to help a premature baby gain needed weight and help it go home was more satisfying than anything she had ever done.

  Her heart broke while tending the few babies who had actually been abandoned. She would sing and smile and love them until they were—she hoped—placed with a good and nurturing foster family. Occasionally, a mother was simply too ill to care for her baby and while she was recovering, Elizabeth’s arms were filled.

  She thought of this as her special ministry, though she never spoke the words out loud. Her prayers for these babies were pleas of hope that the God she talked with, that her grandmother held in such high regard, the God who was so intriguing and mysterious, would somehow make things better for these babies. It was such a little thing, and it always made her heart feel a little gladder.

  On the floor housing the maternity ward, she saw and smiled at the nurses she recognized, her expression softening as she heard muted cries from outside the glass. She was humming to herself as she entered the nurses’ lounge to dress in scrubs and gloves. She wore surgical masks only on the rare occasions she had a cold, but more often because the infant in her arms was sick. That part made her sorry. She would rather touch them skin to skin, but regulations and safety were the rule here.

  She was nearly finished and ready to go in search of a baby when a pediatric nurse, Ann Holiday, discovered her. “Elizabeth! Hello. Have you seen Ellen? No? Well, she’s in her office. I think you really need to see her . . .”

  Elizabeth was so glad to be back she halfway thought Ellen Steelman would want an explanation of where she had been all this time. Or perhaps to welcome her back. Nothing prepared her for what actually was on the supervising nurse’s mind.

  “He . . . what?” Elizabeth, unbelieving, half rose from the chair. Surprise dropped her back into the seat. Ellen’s small office closed around her as she tried to gather scattered thoughts. She was glad she was sitting down because she didn’t think her legs would hold her. If someone had suddenly punched her hard in the gut, she couldn’t be more winded. Or hurt.

  Ellen Steelman was actually smiling!

  “Michael and your doctors have only your very best interests at heart, Elizabeth. We all do! And think of this as not only for your protection but for the babies’, too,” Ellen said, her eyes sympathetic but her voice firm. “You have an autoimmune disease—a very serious and potentially crippling illness.”

  Ellen paused, wanting those words to sink in deeply to the woman sitting in front of her. Elizabeth was dazed, completely taken by surprise, but she had to understand what was at stake here. There was also anger brewing inside Ellen, because she had never intended to do this. Michael said he would take care of everything, and here sat his wife, completely blindsided.

  “There is no cure, there are no substantive treatments. Of course, there are some new therapies, but I’ve heard differing opinions from friends who take them. What is vitally important is that you not disturb your immune system. If you do that, it might kick into overdrive and cause another exacerbation. That’s why you should avoid putting yourself in a position where you might be exposed to germs.

  “It is also because your disease is incurable that we have to consider the babies. One theory, and I know it’s only a theory, says a person can be genetically predisposed to this disease. Later in life something triggers it, causes the immune system to turn on itself. Who knows whether or not you’re carrying that trigger inside of you now? We have no idea how that might affect the babies later in life. We just don’t know.”

  Ellen paused again, waiting for some response from Elizabeth. She got none.

  “I can see you’re disappointed. You have been a wonderful mama for these children, but we have to think of what’s best . . . for everyone.”

  Ellen pushed her chair back and walked over to where Elizabeth was still sitting. Ellen reached out and gave Elizabeth a hearty hug. “You look absolutely wonderful; I can’t tell you how glad I am that you are doing so much better.” Ellen kept on talking, even as she helped her up and began walking them both out of the office and toward the elevator. “I am happy the drugs seemed to work for you. Last year a good friend of mine had a horrible attack. They didn’t know what was wrong with her; they diagnosed all sorts of horrible things but finally concluded it was MS. Poor thing, she’s still in a nursing home, getting physical therapy, but it looks like she’ll be able to come back home soon.” They were finally in front of the elevators and Ellen pushed the down button.

  “Keep in touch, please? Maybe we can find you a place elsewhere in the hospital. A safe place.” Ellen waved good-bye, her smile genuine and dismissive.

  The elevator doors shut and two floors had already gone by when Elizabeth realized she had never said one word. Not one word. It wouldn’t have mattered, though, she suddenly knew, because no one was listening anyway.

  By the time she got home, the anger began burning inside and when Michael walked into the house, it was all-consuming.

  She waited until he tried to give her a hug before she pushed him away and demanded to know why he had done this awful thing to her. She didn’t notice the flowers in his hands; she didn’t see anything but the rage inside her.

  Chapter Nine

  How could he do that without even asking you?” Carol was livid.

  They were sitting in Elizabeth’s kitchen and Carol was boiling, ready to get in the car and travel to Michael’s office and punch him. Their tea sat forgotten, cooling on the linen place mats.

  The incident with the babies had happened the
week before, but it was only now that Elizabeth had been able to talk about it. It had allowed her time to reflect on all the reasons that Michael had given her. For the first time, she had glimpsed his deep, wrenching fears for her.

  After listening to Carol rant and say things she had already considered, Elizabeth gently pointed out, “You have to understand, his heart was in the right place.”

  “Yeah, right in the seat of his pants,” Carol snorted, ignoring Elizabeth’s shocked giggle.

  “Carol!”

  “I just can’t understand how you can be so calm about this.”

  “I wasn’t, not at first.”

  “So what changed?” Carol demanded.

  “I told you he was shocked I had gone there without telling him. Believe me, I was upset. I had never been so angry with him, but he walked in, his face so white I thought he was going to pass out. ‘Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Forgive me, I had no idea you were going to go down there. I wanted to discuss it, to tell you why the doctors and the nursery felt it wasn’t best for you to do this now . . . I’m so, so sorry.’ He couldn’t say he was sorry enough. Carol, we have had so few arguments; why, we always, nearly always, agree on everything. I was mad; I said some things that probably would have been better left unsaid. He let me rant and rave, get it out of my system, and then he wrapped his arms around me and kept telling me over and over how sorry he was.”

  She paused, finally sipping some tea. “He had his reasons, validated by the doctors—not only Gordon, but the specialist I told you about. Finally, Michael, he . . . he almost broke down when he told me how worried he is. Oh, Carol, he almost started crying. Do you know, in all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never seen him cry?” Elizabeth said this in such wonderment, Carol almost snorted again.

  “What has ever happened to make him cry? Anything?” Carol asked it impatiently, already knowing the answer.

  “Well . . . not much really.” Elizabeth thought for a moment. “I mean, when his parents died, first his father and then his mother, they had been so sick, it was more of a relief. A blessing.

  “Then when my father died, Dad had been suffering, too, just not as long, so . . . Now that you ask, I suppose nothing really bad has happened to us.”

  Carol set the white teacup down on the table with precision, looked up, and said, “Until now.”

  Elizabeth didn’t like hearing that and shifted her attention from Carol to the window. She saw white flakes cascading and swirling, a gusting wind making them dance.

  “I didn’t know they were calling for flurries,” she said, surprised.

  Carol barely looked. “I knew something was up. I saw a sun dog day before yesterday.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been looking for them ever since Father Joe told that story.”

  Carol was puzzled by how upset Elizabeth was. “I didn’t see you that day.”

  “Well, promise me next time you’ll call, okay?”

  Puzzled, Carol shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Did they look like he said they would?”

  “Yep. Liquid color, pastels, really. And yes, next time I’ll call you. If I remember,” Carol qualified. “I really will try.”

  Gingerly, Elizabeth changed the subject.

  “Carol, we’ve talked enough about me and my minuscule problems. I want to talk about you. What happened in California?” She had kept her voice neutral, but when she looked at Carol she saw that face closing like a door slamming.

  “Carol.” Her hand touched her cousin’s arm. “I’m not prying; I’m simply worried. It’s been wonderful to have you here, back at home, but . . . there’s this edge to you I don’t understand. Aren’t you happy about the divorce? Or is that too simplistic?”

  Carol’s shoulders suddenly sagged, as if the anger were the only thing propping her up. “No, I’m not happy about much of anything. Don’t get me wrong, the divorce is final. I care for him, but I also never want to see him again.” The emptiness of her voice was reflected on Carol’s face. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  Impulsively, Elizabeth got up and wrapped her cousin in a hard hug. “Fine. But I’m here whenever you need me. Can you stay for dinner with us?”

  Carol shook her head. “No. Mother has issued a command for my performance—ah—presence tonight. And she is most certainly having guests.” A small sigh slipped out as she pushed back a stray hair. “I’m her local attraction; you know, the daughter who used to hobnob with movie stars. She loves for me to regale her friends with these fascinating and completely worthless tidbits from my life in Tinseltown.”

  Elizabeth chuckled and kept an arm around Carol’s shoulders as they walked out of the room. In a voice of false scolding, she said, “It’s your own fault you couldn’t stay put right here in Richmond like the rest of us. You’re the one who dared to go so far away . . . and then make a success of your life. So sad . . .” Their shared amusement was brief. Carol turned at the door, resting a hand on the brass knob.

  “As long as we ignore the fact,” Carol drawled, “that when I sold my first screenplay for more money than I’d ever seen in my life, I went out and bought the requisite mansion, sports car, and other frippery things attached to such success. Unfortunately, as you know, I never got great marks in math. All of these things added up to more, much more, than I had. Selling one screenplay gave the money a finite life span. Oh, no, we won’t talk about how Carol had to file for bankruptcy.”

  She grinned at her cousin’s shocked face.

  “Carol, I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us? We could have helped . . .”

  “Are you kidding? I never even told my mother, and you better not either. No, she likes for me to tell only the glamour stories. Then she finishes it off with the punch line.”

  Carol was too funny; Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh. “What punch line?”

  “Carol came home because of the illicit and tawdry immorality of that sinful city, because of the infidelities and the horrendous liberal idiots—and especially because of that heathen she is no longer married to; thank You, God.” Head thrown back, a hand held dramatically limp at her brow, Carol theatrically mimicked her mother but Elizabeth heard only one thing.

  “He was running around on you, then? Having affairs with pretty little bimbos?”

  “No. That I could have handled . . .” And then she was running down the steps to her car and was gone.

  Chapter Ten

  Adrienne Moore sat motionless in the family room, gazing out the large window toward the river and clear sky. It was late afternoon, and the water was dark and rolling with a restlessness she felt. She heard Ian walk in.

  This new house they had built and waited nine months to occupy was a mess. Boxes of their former lives filled each room, contents written on the outside for easy unpacking, but there were so many of them—everywhere she looked, as far as the eye could see. It was overwhelming.

  “Ian.” She watched as he brought another box of books to be placed on the built-in shelves surrounding the fireplace. He smiled. “Yes?”

  She took a mournful breath. “Have we made a mistake?”

  He carefully put the box down, walked over to her, and squatted down so they would be at eye level, placing a large hand over hers.

  “This is a trick question, right?” His eyes swept over the boxes and the clutter as he shook his head and thought of the last several weeks and all the changes that had taken place.

  “Not really. But do you think we were too hasty?”

  He sat down next to her, his voice patient and conciliatory as if to humor her. “All right, Adrienne, if you want to regress, I’ll see if we can buy our house back. I kind of doubt it, though, since the family who brought their six kids and two dogs have been settled in for, what, six months.” A deep, long-suffering sigh was expelled. “But I’ll try.” His puppy dog eyes drooped even as he tried to hide the twinkle lurking in those depths. He was so pathetic, it made Adr
ienne giggle.

  “Oh, stop, you poor beleaguered soul.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I get a little scared sometimes.”

  “I know, I know,” he murmured, holding her, comforting her, wanting her to know everything would be just fine. Even though they both knew better.

  “I keep wondering, Did I try hard enough? Surely I could have gone back, I could have made it work . . . if only I had tried harder?” Her eyes searched his face.

  He thought of all the heartache she’d encountered on the Hill, people too busy pitying her to listen, people flying by her to get to their own destinations, not thinking twice about leaving her behind, about how she had felt seeing herself reflected in their eyes, their uneasiness . . .

  “You did more than enough. They didn’t and don’t deserve you.” She took small comfort in this, but still couldn’t shake the doubts.

  “You know, in the paper today, I read that a new congressman is being sworn in. He’s a quadriplegic . . . Maybe that will set a new tone; maybe if I went back and tried again . . .” Her voice trailed off at the quick shake of his head.

  His voice was firm. “We are retired. There is no going back in our lives, only going forward. And don’t think we won’t have plenty of adventures here, my girl. You just wait and see. My only apprehension is—” And at this point his eyes dropped and he was silent.