Adrienne’s intense frown turned into one of concentration as she thought hard. “You mean that the therapy you’re on worked synergistically with the dope? Is that possible?” Her tone was hushed; she felt as if they were on the precipice of an enormous discovery.
“That’s what I think,” declared Sandra, her head nodding emphatically.
Adrienne had another question: “Have you been back to see your doctor?”
“The neurologist? No, but I called his office, and they said it would take about two months to get an appointment so I told the secretary—not about the marijuana, but about how I could suddenly do all these things I haven’t been able to do for years.”
“Did they say anything? Did he call you back?”
Sandra shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? She told me that in this disease there is always the possibility of a total, spontaneous remission. Forget that I’ve never had one in my entire life, but she insisted that’s what probably happened. She said the doctor did want to see me and suddenly they had an opening in three weeks.”
“Are you going to go?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, I’m going, but I don’t think I’ll tell him what I’m doing because he’ll tell me to stop.” Sandra’s brow wrinkled up with worry. “And I can’t. I won’t. Not as long as I’m doing this good, no way Jose!”
Adrienne nodded. “I think that’s wise.” She gnawed her lip in contemplation and then turned to Elizabeth. “It’s something you might think of doing. I know you’ve been reluctant to try one of these therapies because no one knows how they really work, but—”
Elizabeth colored, and interrupted. “I already have. I started shooting myself up yesterday.”
“Well, that was providential,” Adrienne said.
“Coincidence,” muttered Carl.
“You mean a God-incidence.” Adrienne chuckled, then held up her hand. “Just kidding; I couldn’t help it.” She started giggling. “You might say the devil made me do it. Oh, dear, I think Sandra’s news has addled my brain. Forgive me, Carl?” She waited for a grudging nod and then snatched a breath. “Elizabeth, I’m excited for you; this might work out very well. Can you imagine? If you have the same results as Sandra, we could be making medical history.”
Elizabeth’s nod was distracted. Her mind was racing. To do this she would have to stay at the river for a while. She didn’t think Michael would be too understanding of having an illegal drug used in the house. As a matter of fact, she shuddered at what his reaction would be to this entire meeting. She had no plans to tell him.
While she mulled over differing possibilities, Claude Nolan suddenly spoke up. “Why just her? I say, Why the hell not all of us?”
He looked around and glared at what he first thought was hesitation, but was, in reality, speculation. Pairs of eyes met up and down the table, eyebrows raised in question marks. Within seconds an upsurge of hope crushed all tentativeness, and first one and then another and soon everyone was nodding, murmuring assent. Nolan turned triumphantly to Adrienne, his face a challenge. “Are you going to start squeaking?”
Startled out of her inward pondering, fired up by a rush similar to the ones she used to feel on Capitol Hill, Adrienne sat up, looked hard around the room, liking what she saw. “Why the hell not?”
The rest of the meeting centered on how to make this happen. There were a million details to work out, such as where to meet, how to get the illegal drug, how much it would cost . . . It was the sort of thing Adrienne relished. Such logistics tired Elizabeth out completely. Adrienne was in her glory.
At the end of the meeting, when everyone began leaving, Gregory walked in. Greetings of hi and bye met him as Adrienne motioned him over.
“I don’t think I should tell you the context of today’s meeting. It’s, ah, well, complicated—maybe next time,” she said, coloring at his curious glance. And then he smiled.
That normally serious face changed; he had a killer smile. Elizabeth wondered why he hardly ever smiled and then immediately answered her own question.
“It must have been some meeting to make you speechless.” He laughed. “I got held up down the road, that’s why I’m so late. I just wanted to come by and say hello. So, maybe next month.” He lifted his hand but Adrienne stopped him.
“I wanted to ask you about your uncle,” she began softly. She saw the smile drop away and the slight flush. He didn’t lie well, she thought.
“He’s about the same,” Gregory said, glancing at his watch and starting to move away.
“Gregory.” Adrienne’s compassionate voice stilled him. “I want you to know I met Dr. Meade. And if you ever want to talk to me about it, I’m here. That’s all.” She smiled. His face remained blank, not giving anything away.
She touched his arm. “Have a great day, and I hope we’ll see you next month,” she said, and then moved her wheelchair away toward Elizabeth. Gregory shoved his hands in tan pockets and left without saying a word. Elizabeth frowned.
“Adrienne?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to say anything to him about his uncle?”
Adrienne nodded. “I know.”
Elizabeth waited. She watched Adrienne pack up her briefcase and tuck it into the compartment in the back of her chair. And waited while she maneuvered the cart toward the door. “Then why did you?”
“Actually, I was trying to compose an answer for you.” Adrienne looked up, a little sheepish. “I’ve thought about this a great deal since last month. I finally decided that sometimes keeping something awful inside you can be as bad as the secret. I have found that if you can say it out loud, it helps diminish the fear. At least it does for me. So I offered, just in case it might do the same for him.” Adrienne shrugged. “How about you?”
Elizabeth’s mouth twisted and she gave a little laugh. “I never get the chance to have any secrets.”
“It’s probably just as well,” Adrienne said. “Now, come have lunch with me,” she demanded, “my treat.”
Elizabeth was feeling worn out and lunch didn’t sound appealing. Not nearly as enticing as a nap and she said so.
“Please,” Adrienne said. “I have something to tell you. Couldn’t you come to my house and rest afterward?”
The restaurant was a new one, hooked up to a new eighteen-hole golf course. Although well into January, the winter had remained mild and the course was busy.
They were seated in a formal dining area overlooking the green. Gourmet delicacies graced the pages of the restaurant menu and with the smells from the kitchen, even Elizabeth felt hungry. The prices made her eyes widen. “Adrienne, you’re not treating, not with these kind of prices. We’ll go dutch today.”
“No, no. I’ve been here before so I knew what I was getting into, don’t worry. At least it’s not dinner.” She chuckled. “Do you want a drink while we wait for our lunch?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “It’ll only put me to sleep, and I have to drive back to the city this afternoon.” Her voice was not enthused at the prospect.
“Stay here,” Adrienne urged. “Do you have to go home today? There’s so much to talk about.”
Elizabeth shrugged, touching the ice water glass and feeling the wet condensation. “I suppose I do. Michael’s in town, but he’ll be leaving in a few days—will be gone for a couple of weeks. I know he’ll want me home.”
Adrienne ordered a glass of chardonnay, reasoning, “I’ll have coffee for dessert and that’ll keep me alert.”
“What do you think about Sandra’s news?” she asked.
Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t know. Are we really going to try to use it, all of us?”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll get on the Internet and get as much information as I can, see about the medicinal uses. Then we can go from there. I must say I was flabbergasted with her waltzing in. She is so much better it defies explanation, don’t you think?”
“I agree and wouldn’t it be wonder
ful if . . . Do you think it’s possible?”
“With God, all things are possible,” Adrienne stated and then leaned over. “And do I have a story to tell you.”
“About what?” Elizabeth suddenly noticed how vibrant Adrienne had become, animated, as if she had been colored in neon. She had such a . . . presence.
“Thomas.”
Elizabeth stared at her. What more could possibly be told about a dead boy? Of course there was only one response.
“Tell me.”
Adrienne smiled. “Well. It’s quite a story. And an emotional one, so I reserve the right beforehand to break into tears.”
“Then wouldn’t you rather do this at home?” Elizabeth asked anxiously, not desiring such a public display—not like when she burst into tears that day long ago.
“Don’t worry, I’m teasing . . . sort of. It’s such a wonderful, absolutely joyous story that I’m honored to have a part.” Elizabeth could see her friend already misting.
Joyous, she had said? Elizabeth thought not, but was poised to listen stoically—she did not want to get involved emotionally; she had already shed too many tears over a child she didn’t know.
The waitress brought their food and left. Adrienne sipped some of her wine and suddenly Elizabeth motioned the waitress back. “I’ll take some white wine, please.” She might as well be fortified, too.
“I spoke with Thomas’s mother, Danielle Smith, before Christmas and she was having a hard time. She said she was trying hard to give Thomas back to God, but it was hurting, she was missing him so. She found herself searching through the house, looking, hoping to find something that belonged to Thomas that she hadn’t found before. She was searching for . . . something. And then she finally put it into words; she wanted to find a scent of him, of his life, something new, something tangible to hold in her hands, crush to her heart.” Adrienne looked up as the waitress placed a small napkin and then the wine in front of Elizabeth.
“Thank you.” Elizabeth was glad for the distraction because reluctant tears were threatening, and she didn’t think she wanted to hear any more. “Can I get you anything else?” the young girl asked, her smile bright and energetic.
The women shook their heads politely. When they were alone, Elizabeth spoke. “Adrienne, I’m not so sure I want to hear any more; this is all so . . . terribly sad.”
Adrienne held up a hand. “Wait. Trust me, just let me finish.”
Elizabeth hastily took a big gulp of her drink. With a great deal of misgiving, she nodded.
“Just two weeks ago, I had a very vivid dream. Filled with color and emotions, it was like a family reunion. Ian was there nearby, although I didn’t really see him, just as I knew there were others there, but not in focus. It was Thomas’s family and friends. We were in a cafeteria-style room, with long tables and chairs, and there was food being cooked. We were all waiting and talking and laughing. The only one I could see clearly was Thomas, sitting just a few feet away from me. He looked at me, and even though I knew he was dead, it was the most natural thing in the world that he should be there. His smile showed me he was happy, he looked healthy and well and so very pleased to see me. When I looked around I realized no one else could see him or even knew he was there, but I was fine with that because I knew somehow if they were supposed to see him, they would.”
“You mean you didn’t grab Ian and force him to look?” Elizabeth’s smile was faint.
“No, which shows you this was indeed an extraordinary dream. Now, after I finished dreaming about Thomas, I had other dreams but there was one constant thread throughout the night I kept trying to remember. It was a verse from the book of Thessalonians, and something about that line kept repeating itself. Although I didn’t remember the other dreams, I kept telling myself over and over again to remember this from Thessalonians because I had to tell Danielle. It was very, very important for me to do this.
“When I awoke the next morning, sunshine was streaming through the windows, which I found odd because the weather forecast had been for rain. I immediately remembered the dream and could see Thomas’s face as if he were right there. I also remembered he looked amused at finding himself in my dream. I called his mother before I even got out of bed, before I even told Ian.
“Danielle was quiet, and although I kept gushing on and on about how well and happy Thomas looked and how something from Thessalonians kept threading through all my dreams, she didn’t say very much. When I hung up, I wondered at her quietness, and then thought about how I would feel if our roles were reversed.”
“I’d feel awfully jealous,” Elizabeth said, second-guessing a woman she had never met, the mother of a boy she had also never known. This was taking on a surreal quality, and she wondered how much longer this story would go on. She took a bite of food and surreptitiously glanced at her watch. She would have to be leaving soon.
“Stop with the learned responses,” Adrienne said sternly.
“Excuse me?”
“The learned responses of our culture. Society tells us this is supposed to be this way because our culture says so. Our culture and advertisers, that is. Of course you’d be jealous, because our society says you should be jealous in a situation like this. Get over it. And listen to the rest of this story before you jump to preconceived notions. Will you do that for me?”
Elizabeth felt diminished, although she wasn’t sure why. “Go ahead,” she said stiffly.
Instead of answering immediately Adrienne touched her mouth with a napkin, then placed it on the left side of the plate. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked, as she beckoned their waitress over. “Two coffees,” she ordered, without waiting for Elizabeth’s answer.
As soon as the girl left, Adrienne started talking. “During the next few days I was having a rough time of it. Things were a little off and I fell, bruised up my legs, and Ian was very angry with me for not waiting for him. I was feeling depressed, wondering just where the heck was God when I needed Him. I forgot all about my dream and Danielle. The next Sunday after church, I got a call from her and I could hear in her voice something wonderful had happened. There was brightness that hadn’t been there the last time we talked. I assumed it would be about her other children or perhaps something good had happened for the entire family. Well!” Adrienne took a deep breath and patted the vicinity of her heart. “Danielle told me that when I called to tell her about my dream, it was her birthday. I had completely forgotten and felt terrible. She brushed aside my apologies, saying they had not planned to celebrate this year.
“That day she was experiencing an even deeper sorrow because Thomas, more than anyone else in the family, always made sure she had a birthday card. After I told her about my dream, she went to her room and cried, knowing her son was gone and he would never again be able to give her a birthday card. It was one more loss she had to endure. Later that day she thought about what I had said about Thessalonians. Even though I couldn’t remember the exact verse, she got out her Bible and opened it.”
Adrienne’s face was shining with a wonderment that couldn’t reflect what she was talking about, and Elizabeth felt a ripple of irritation. She stared down at the coffee.
“Danielle said, and she was half laughing and half crying, there on a sticky note was a drawing Thomas had made for her about three years ago. They were at some meeting and she gave him some sticky notes to draw on. So”—Adrienne closed her eyes tightly, trying to control the tears in her voice—“she suddenly realized that Thomas had indeed provided her a birthday card, just like always.”
Elizabeth’s eyes began to fill, and she blinked rapidly, feeling her throat close. Breathing hurt, and she looked away at a group of golfers hitting balls outside. Her heart cracked as she realized how much this must mean to Thomas’s mother, good God . . . And suddenly she knew that God had provided this moment . . . what an extraordinary story—but it wasn’t over yet.
Adrienne dabbed at her own eyes. “She said that Thessalonians is the only place in her B
ible that has something from Thomas.” She blew her nose. “Then yesterday she called me. ‘You will never believe this,’ she said. ‘Someone just sent me a newsletter. It’s called First Thessalonians 4:13. It’s for families who have lost children. I immediately looked it up and this is what it says: ‘We do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters, about those who have fallen asleep, so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope.’” Adrienne lifted her hand. “That verse was on the very page where she found Thomas’s drawing.”
Laughter and tears tangled as Elizabeth visibly tried to keep her composure. The barrage of emotions battered and uplifted and filled her with a new knowledge. Could she believe? How could she not? But if she did, then God had also taken this wonderful child away in a senseless, tragic accident. The tragedy juxtaposed vividly against this extraordinary story, one that was years in the making . . . Therein was the rub. A nagging memory of the vitality of a bit of morning sunlight made her wonder again about the music that made it dance. Where did that music come from?
Chapter Twenty-five
Michael was waiting when she wearily pushed open the back door. She had decided to stay at Adrienne’s to rest and actually fell asleep. She already knew she was late but figured they could call for takeout or see what was in the freezer.
She felt like a cluttered bag of mixed feelings, churning and changing with each second. All the way home she had pondered that wonderful story shadowed by the needless accident. She was edgy and certainly didn’t care for Michael’s tone of voice when he started in on her the moment she walked in.
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