How the Heart Runs
Page 4
But today, it was difficult to feel cheerful. The plop of raindrops against the window alerted her that the rain had begun again. Kate felt her mood sinking into a dullness that matched the color of the sky. Still, she was determined to slog through her devotional time.
She turned to the suggested reading for the day, a selection from the fifth chapter of First Thessalonians. Paul’s letter exhorted the believers of Thessalonica to be joyful and thankful no matter what the circumstances. As she read, Kate began to smile. God always had a way of meeting her needs. Even when she was too caught up in the mood of the moment to heed his counsel, he reminded her of his love and of the wonderful world around her. She thought of her newest friend, Emmaline Ashford. Even though Kate didn’t know what kind of healing to pray for, she knew that God would offer Emmaline comfort and care.
She was anxious to see Emmaline again. Not only did Kate want to help her through her illness, but she also thought she would love to talk with Emmaline about their mutual interest in art.
Kate finished her devotional time after praying for the Lord to heal Stephanie and care for her family during this difficult time and asking the Lord to surround Emmaline with his love and give the doctors wisdom in treating her. Paul hadn’t returned from his run yet, and she knew he would be out a while longer. She figured she had time for a shower before Paul returned for breakfast. Just as she finished dressing, she heard Paul come through the door.
Returning to the kitchen, she asked, “How did it go?”
Paul took a moment to answer, chugging down a large glass of water first. When he set down the glass, he frowned. “Not so well, if you want the truth. I’m not in nearly as good a shape as I thought I was.”
“Oh dear.”
“Oh dear is right. I usually run two to three miles. Eli’s training plan is supposed to bring me up to six and a half miles, which is just a shade over 10K.” His shoulders slumped. “And he intends to accomplish this feat in just six weeks! I’m not sure I’m up for it, honey.”
“Six weeks is a long time,” Kate agreed, rubbing his back with one hand. “What exactly does Eli have planned?”
Paul rolled his shoulders. “We will be running every day except Sunday. Every day. We’re starting with three miles this week, and we’ll progress to four miles. Then he wants to increase the start distance by a half mile per week. By the end of the sixth week, we’ll be at seven miles. In theory, that should make running the 10K very manageable.”
“It seems to be a sound plan,” Kate said. “I believe you can do it.”
But Paul looked doubtful.
“What about it is bothering you?” she asked.
“I’m just worried about the intense training.” Paul grimaced. “It’s not the plan, I guess. It’s me. I’m no spring chicken anymore, and this is an ambitious training regimen.”
“You’re in good shape,” Kate assured him. “I have faith in you.”
Paul gave her a hug. “Thank you.”
“Now,” Kate said, “could I interest you in an omelet for breakfast?”
“You could.” Paul rubbed his palms together in anticipation. “I’ll start the toast.”
The two of them worked side by side in the tiny kitchen and then took their seats at the dining table. Paul offered grace before they began to eat.
“So, what’s on your agenda for the day?” he asked.
“Well, I need to do some baking and cooking,” Kate told him. “I want to make some cookies and some kind of main dish—perhaps a casserole—for Emmaline. I can freeze it if she isn’t released today or tomorrow. And then I’m going to work in my studio. Emmaline said she’d call to let me know when she would be discharged, so if she’s released today, I’ll go get her.”
“Oh, I forgot you offered to drive her home from the hospital.” Paul gave her a fond smile. “That sounds like something you would do. I wonder if we should add her to the Faith Freezer delivery program.”
“Already taken care of.” Kate made a large check mark in the air with one finger. “Renee and Livvy each are participating in that. I believe Renee intends to make it a social occasion.”
Paul’s eyes widened and he grinned. “Perhaps I should say a prayer for Emmaline now.”
EMMALINE CALLED KATE shortly before eleven to tell her that the doctor had just approved her discharge. Kate wondered if it had been Dr. McLaughlin, but she suspected that the cardiac-care physician on call took Emmaline’s case once she was admitted, if indeed she was a cardiac patient.
Kate tore herself away from her stained-glass artwork. She took a quick moment to tidy her studio, then brushed her hair and picked up her handbag.
As she drove the short distance to the hospital in Pine Ridge, she wondered if she might run into Dr. McLaughlin again. What would she say if she did? He had made it clear that discussing Emmaline’s health would be a breach of confidentiality.
Kate sighed as she got out of her car and walked into the hospital. Recalling the ER doctor’s unusual demeanor the day before, she was certain something was odd, or off, or...or something! And it was going to bother her until she figured out what it was.
Emmaline was waiting for her in the lobby, sitting with a paper bag in her lap. She wore the same clothes she’d been dressed in the previous afternoon, but she looked neat and well kept.
“Hello, Kate,” she called the moment Kate entered the lobby. “Thank you so much for driving me. I can’t wait to get home. It’s impossible to sleep well in a hospital.”
“I’m glad I could help.” Kate walked behind Emmaline while an attendant wheeled her out to the covered driveway in front of the building. Emmaline looked perfectly healthy, but Kate knew it was standard hospital policy for discharged patients to be taken right to their vehicles in wheelchairs.
Kate took Emmaline’s paper bag and placed it in the backseat while the attendant helped Emmaline transfer herself from the wheelchair into the front seat. The attendant didn’t appear to be extremely concerned about Emmaline’s mobility. She settled herself in the passenger seat and then reached for her seat belt as the attendant closed the car door.
“So,” Kate said casually once she was seat-belted behind the wheel, “shall I take you to get your car at the Bristol?”
Emmaline put a hand to her mouth. “Oh! I had forgotten my car. No, if you don’t mind, I’d rather go straight home. I’ll get the car later.”
“Paul and I could pick it up this evening,” Kate offered.
“That would be wonderful. Then I won’t have to try to drive today.” She dug into her handbag and came up with a set of keys. “Just let me take the house key off, and you can have these.”
“I bet you were glad Dr. McLaughlin decided to discharge you,” Kate said as she pocketed the key ring. She was hoping to find out which doctor had been assigned to Emmaline’s care after she was admitted.
“Oh, it was a different doctor, but yes, I was awfully happy to get out of there.”
“We have some excellent doctors here. Which doctor was it?” Kate asked, hoping to learn which unit Emmaline had been admitted to for her tests.
“I’d have to look at the discharge papers,” Emmaline said. “I’m terrible with names. But I did appreciate the care.”
Stymied, Kate drove silently for a short while. She couldn’t think of any other clever way to elicit the name of Emmaline’s doctor. Was she being overly suspicious, or was Emmaline giving evasive answers? Kate’s instincts told her the latter was the case. But why?
By now they were driving along Pine Ridge Road, heading back toward Copper Mill. “What’s that wonderful smell?” Emmaline asked.
Kate smiled. “I made you a chicken-and-broccoli casserole and some cookies. I thought you might not feel like cooking this evening.” She didn’t mention the meals that Livvy and Renee were planning; they could be a nice surprise.
“Oh, I have such a sweet tooth. What kind of cookies?”
“The original no-bake,” Kate said, “with chocolate, p
eanut butter, and oatmeal. I haven’t made them in a long time. When my children were small, I made them often. My daughters loved to help.”
“It’s one of my favorite kinds of cookie. My si—uh, friend —used to make them.”
For a moment, Kate thought Emmaline was going to say “sister.” But maybe Kate was mistaken. Emmaline had said there was no one to call when she became ill. Or maybe there wasn’t...now. Perhaps Emmaline had a sister who was no longer living, and she was unable to talk about her. How sad that would be.
The trip back to Copper Mill didn’t take long. The women filled the remainder of the drive with talk of the town, Kate sharing her meager supply of knowledge with Emmaline, who knew even less about the little community.
When they arrived at a neat little white two-story home to which Emmaline directed Kate, Kate pulled into a short driveway at one side of the house.
“Could I offer you some tea?” Emmaline asked.
“I’d enjoy that.” Kate took a moment to drop her keys into her handbag. She unbuckled her seat belt and got out. Before she even turned to shut her door, she heard the passenger door close.
Kate watched, slightly surprised, as Emmaline walked to the back passenger door and pulled it open. She leaned in and retrieved the bag of hospital things, then straightened and shut that door too. Then she set off across the drive toward the sidewalk with long, steady strides.
Kate followed, amazed at Emmaline’s progress. “It’s nice to see you looking so well today.”
Emmaline immediately slowed and turned to wait for Kate. “Thank you. It’s hard to remember to restrict my activities when I feel well.”
Indicating that she had been through this before? It was the opening Kate had been waiting for. “What did the doctor say about your attack yesterday?”
“Oh, he fussed around and finally did some tests,” Emmaline said, flapping a hand as if to dismiss the topic. “I shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy, exerting myself too hard...typical restrictions.
“That Dr. McLaughlin kept coming in and discussing me with the doctor who took my case.” She wrinkled her nose. “And I didn’t like him any better today than I did yesterday.” Then she laughed in a self-deprecating manner. “Of course, the poor man probably feels the same way about me.”
Kate just smiled.
As Emmaline unlocked her door and ushered Kate into the house, Kate caught a glimpse of her discharge papers peeking out of the paper bag. At least, she assumed they were discharge instructions.
“Oh, it’s good to be home,” Emmaline said, sighing with pleasure.
Kate could see the contentment in Emmaline’s face as she led Kate into a small but pretty kitchen. It was dated, with cherry red gingham curtains and matching seats for the chairs around the little walnut dining table, and the appliances were older. But the kitchen was clean and neat, and a little oak washstand that looked like an antique displayed several pieces of what Kate thought looked like milky white Depression glass. On one wall hung a framed oil painting of Copper Mill’s old train depot back in its glory days, when locomotives routinely made stops in town. Currently, the depot was used as a banquet space for community events.
“This is cozy.” Kate gestured to the room. “All these things were your grandmother’s?”
Emmaline nodded, some of the happiness fading from her eyes as she busied herself preparing tea. “Yes. She and my grandfather moved here right after they were married. They raised their family in this house, and she continued to live here after his death until she passed away.”
Kate stood at the window and looked out at the mountains visible beyond the town while she waited. She was begin-ning to feel a bit frustrated. The previous afternoon at the Bristol, Kate had assumed that the woman was having a heart attack. But Emmaline’s evasiveness when Kate had asked straightforward questions about her health and diagnosis was starting to appear deliberate. Also, Kate reminded herself, the doctor who had been on the scene had said that Emmaline was not showing signs of cardiac arrest. Kate wondered what she was hiding.
“I didn’t even ask if you would prefer coffee,” Emmaline said. “I’m sorry. All I drink is tea.”
“Tea will be fine.” Kate smiled and took a seat at the table as Emmaline bustled around the little kitchen.
“So you told me you like to sketch and paint,” Kate said. “Have you ever had any training?”
“Only basic drawing lessons,” Emmaline said. She set two mugs of tea on the table, placed a creamer and sugar within reach, and took a seat. “I’m mostly self-taught. My favorite medium is watercolor.”
“That’s difficult to do well,” Kate said, truly impressed. “I’ve tried it before, and I never can get the vision in my head to translate well to paper.”
Emmaline laughed. “I know that feeling. That’s how I am with oils. I used to belong to a studio club in Philadelphia, and my oil works were so bad I never even showed them.”
“But you did show your other pieces?”
Emmaline nodded. “Pencil sketches and watercolors.”
“I’d love to see your work sometime,” Kate said.
“I haven’t unpacked any of my drawing supplies yet,” Emmaline said. “I just couldn’t get enthusiastic about it for some reason.” She smiled at Kate. “But now that I’ve met a fellow artist, perhaps that will change. Oh! I just remembered something.”
She set down her mug of tea and left the room.
As Kate waited for Emmaline to return, she realized that the sheaf of papers Emmaline had been carrying lay fanned across the kitchen table. The top one, she could see, was a sheet of discharge instructions. Unfortunately, the physician’s name across the bottom was written in such a ridiculous scribble that she couldn’t even make out the first letter.
Then the second page caught her eye. Kate leaned forward, sure she had misread something. The second sheet was an invoice. It showed a cash payment, but what really had Kate gasping was the size of the remaining balance due. Surely that was before insurance, she told herself. Emmaline was self-employed, but Kate felt certain she must have some type of insurance. At their ages, to forego insurance coverage would be foolhardy.
Then she saw a large red stamp across the bottom: NO INSURANCE. Her heart plummeted to her stomach at the thought of Emmaline paying off such a sizable bill with no insurance to absorb any of it.
A moment later, Emmaline returned, carrying a small framed picture no more than eight inches by ten. Handing it to Kate, she took her seat and blew on her tea to cool it. “I did this for my grandmother years ago,” she said. “She loved irises and had a stunning iris garden out back. I thought she might like to have it with her even in the middle of winter.”
Kate turned the frame around and looked at the picture. It was a watercolor, far more sophisticated than anything Kate ever expected. The artist had been looking along a row of irises in full bloom as they stood edging a garden path. There were lavenders and deep purples, shades of yellow, pink, and orange, and the sky blue shade that was one of Kate’s favorites.
Kate gaped. “Emmaline, this is extraordinary! What a lovely piece of work. You’re extremely talented.”
The level of skill in the little painting Kate held plainly indicated that Emmaline knew her way around an easel. Kate thought she probably had shown her work and was familiar with other highly skilled artists.
Emmaline smiled modestly. “Thank you. It’s my personal favorite of anything I’ve ever done in watercolor.”
“I can see why,” Kate said with feeling. “More! I must see more!” Kate said with a laugh.
Emmaline chuckled. “I wish I could oblige, but I left everything else I’ve finished at home in Philadelphia.”
“Oh, so this isn’t a permanent move?” Kate wasn’t sure why, but she had assumed that Emmaline was going to stay in Copper Mill.
Emmaline shook her head. “I don’t think so. At least, I hope not. I miss Philadelphia.” Her voice was melancholy and her shoulders slumped.
There was a sudden taut silence in the room. Kate regretted her impulsive question when she saw unmistakable sorrow cloud Emmaline’s gray eyes. But before she could form some subject change to bridge the awkward moment, Emmaline spoke.
“No,” she said. “My...ah...my maiden name began with an N.” She let the bald statement hang in the air with no further explanation.
You were married? Kate was certain she hadn’t hidden her surprise very well. Since Emmaline had said she had no one to contact, Kate had assumed she wasn’t married.
Emmaline awkwardly stood and left the room to return the painting to its spot. Kate let out a deep breath and digested the revelation. What, she wondered, had happened to Emmaline’s husband? Divorce, statistically speaking, was the most likely answer. But somehow Kate didn’t think a divorce, painful as it could be, had put that desolate look in Emmaline’s eyes.
Chapter Five
Tuesday afternoon, Kate made her promised appearance at the home of Stephanie Miller.
Stephanie and her husband, Frank, lived just outside the center of Copper Mill on Sweetwater Street, right after it split off to the right. The home was a pleasant-looking little brick ranch that still had masses of summer flowers blooming around it.
When Kate stepped onto the stoop in front of the door, she hesitated. Should she ring the bell? It was either that or knock, and both options would make noise if there was a sleeping baby in the home. Then she heard the sound of a child crying and realized waking the baby would not be a problem. She pushed the doorbell.