For Momma's Sake

by Bonnie Gardner

  “Now, now, Darcy girl. It’ll be over soon. Then you and Billy can start your life together, and you won’t have to worry about me.” Nettie worked her arm around Darcy’s shoulders and drew her near.

  That gentle hug was almost more than Darcy could bear. Nettie was waiting to die, and all the woman could think about was her and Billy’s happiness. She let all her misery and sadness go and wept in Nettie’s arms.

  She was so glad that Nettie couldn’t possibly know why.

  Finally, she cried herself out.

  “Are you going to be all right now, Darcy?” Nettie patted her lightly on the shoulder, her weathered face a mask of concern in the yellow porch light.

  Darcy nodded, her grasp on control too fragile to allow her to speak.

  “Then I’ll just go on to bed now.” Nettie pushed herself up out of the porch swing. Smiling, she caressed Darcy’s cheek. “It’ll all work out, Darcy girl. What’s meant to be will happen.” Then Nettie slowly made her way back inside, leaving Darcy alone with the night.

  * * *

  BILL CAME IN from PT and his morning run in a sour mood, and it wasn’t because of a bad workout. That had been happening too often lately, and it didn’t take a degree in psychology to figure out why. He struggled with the combination of his gym locker and when it wouldn’t open, slammed the metal door with his fist.

  “Boy, if you was a married man, I’d say you and the little woman were fighting,” Runt Haggarty commented from the locker next to Bill’s.

  Clenching his towel tightly with his fist, Bill gritted his teeth and pretended he hadn’t heard and worked at opening the lock. But, he had heard. And if Runt only knew how close to the truth he was.

  He chuckled bitterly. He was a married man. And he and Darcy were so far apart that they might as well be fighting.

  He’d made a promise to Darcy. And it hadn’t been to have and to hold forever. Only to make his mother happy.

  Well, he wasn’t happy. And he wouldn’t ever be. Not as long as Darcy was two hundred miles away pretending to be single, and he was here doing the same.

  He was going to have to come up with a way to convince Darcy to give him a chance. But, he couldn’t do it from here.

  And he couldn’t go home.

  Not until after he’d completed NCO Academy. And that didn’t start till Monday and wouldn’t end for four long weeks.

  But maybe he could do something to get Darcy to see how he felt about her. He’d call her. Tonight. Every night. He’d even send her flowers. He’d do everything he could think of to show her how he felt.

  To show her that he loved her.

  * * *

  THE PHONE RANG and Darcy knew without answering that it was Billy. He’d taken to calling every night and inquiring about her day. Both she and Nettie looked forward to their nightly talks. She dried her hands and reached for the phone on the kitchen wall.

  Pasting on a smile he couldn’t see, but Darcy knew Billy could hear, she answered.

  “Yes, she’s fine. She still hasn’t regained her strength, but her attitude’s good.” What else could she say? They both knew that Nettie wasn’t getting better.

  Though they never said anything intimate, Darcy looked forward to chatting, to hearing his rich, masculine voice. Hearing it every night was the cherry on top of her day.

  She’d asked about Ski and Block, the men who had been injured in the night jump. He told her that Block would make a full recovery, but Ski’s progress had been slow. Ski was expected to walk again, but he’d never be the active, athletic man he’d been.

  Finally they ran out of things to say. “Yes, she’s out in the swing. I’ll take the phone out to her.”

  She carried the cordless phone outside, stopping to sniff at the vase of yellow roses on the end table next to the sofa as she passed. She left the phone with Nettie and went back inside. Darcy let Nettie think that they’d shared their sweet nothings. It was the only way.

  When she finished the dishes, she went out to the porch as was her habit and settled next to Nettie, who was staring off into the evening. The phone was turned off and rested in Nettie’s lap.

  “Did Billy say how he was enjoying his training course?” Translation: did he ask about me?

  Nettie shrugged. “He didn’t say too much. Said he’d be glad when it was over. He’s anxious to get back to you.”

  Darcy’s breath caught. “Did he really say that?” she asked, too eagerly.

  “Well, not in those words, but I could tell that’s what he meant,” Nettie said. “I reckon you two spend too much time with I love yous to talk about much else.”

  Darcy blushed. If Nettie only knew.

  She’d gotten to know Billy much better through their nightly chats. But the word love never came up, though she strained to hear it, if only between the lines. Darcy swallowed a lump of disappointment, but she managed to smile at Nettie.

  “I reckon I’ll just go on to bed. I do declare I get so tired these days.” She patted Darcy’s hand and Darcy couldn’t help noticing how cool Nettie’s fingers were in spite of the warm summer night.

  “Do you need any help?”

  “No, hon. I’ll be fine.” Nettie squeezed Darcy in a weak hug, then pushed herself out of the swing. She smiled. “We’ll finish our story in the morning. I’m just too sleepy tonight.”

  Darcy squeezed back. “Don’t worry, Nettie. I’ll keep after you until I’ve heard every word of the Hays family history.” She loved the tales of Nettie’s youth and how she and Raymond had fallen in love and struggled to work the farm.

  “You are goin’ to be so good for our Billy,” Nettie said. “He needs you, you know?”

  Darcy just smiled, sadly, she supposed. Nettie might think Billy needed her, but Darcy knew the truth. If only she didn’t.

  * * *

  BILL LAY BACK in his lumpy bunk and tried to sleep. It seemed so stupid to him that he had to stay here when he had a perfectly good apartment in Fort Walton Beach. But, rules were rules, and regs were even worse. The regs said you attended NCO Academy in residence, and it didn’t matter whether you lived across country or across town.

  He just wished he were home.

  And he didn’t mean the apartment on the other side of town.

  The only thing that was keeping him going was that he had his dreams. Dreams where he and Darcy were married and happy, and the marriage was real.

  He punched his pillow and wadded it up and wrapped his arms around it. It wasn’t the same as holding a real, breathing woman—Darcy—but until he could make her his it was the best he could do.

  * * *

  DARCY HAD OVERSLEPT, trying to cling to a few extra moments of a wonderful dream about how it could be for her and Billy if… And now she was running late.

  To make matters worse, Earline had called to say that she and Leah would be late, too. The only saving grace in all this was that after Darcy had slept through an entire hour of morning chatter from the clock radio, Earline had called and that was what had woken her up.

  She hurried toward the bathroom, pausing in flight to knock on Nettie’s closed door. “Nettie, I’m running late. Are you up?”

  “I’m awake, sugar,” Nettie answered. “I just seem to be having a hard time getting moving this morning.”

  “I hear ya’,” Darcy called back. She smiled grimly. Apparently, that particular bug was contagious. Seemed like everybody was suffering from it this morning. “I’m just going to take a quick shower, and then I’ll get your meds and start breakfast.”

  Nettie didn’t respond, but no response was necessary, so Darcy hurried into the shower. She showered quickly and dressed in record time. One good thing about wearing a uniform to work, she thought as she slipped into her white slacks: there was
no need to stare into the closet trying to figure out what to wear.

  She swiped at the cloudy mirror until she’d cleared a small patch of fog and made quick work of combing her hair. She was grateful for her simple short do that made getting ready easy. Most of the time she was envious of women with lovely, styled hair, who always looked as if they’d just stepped out of the beauty parlor, but not on mornings like this.

  Maybe, if she’d let it grow out a little, change the color, try a little curl, Billy might look at her as someone other than his mother’s caretaker.

  That thought made her laugh. Billy probably had his pick of any number of squared-away military women, not to mention stylish secretaries, bar girls and every other woman he passed on the street.

  “Get a grip, Stanton,” she muttered to herself as she stepped out into the cooler, dryer air of the hall. She didn’t have time for a pity-fest this morning. She had to get Nettie ready for the day. Then she had to get to work.

  People were counting on her.

  She dashed into the kitchen to make Nettie’s oatmeal. While the water boiled she poured a mug of coffee, doctored it, and took a sip. Finally! Now, she felt human.

  There was no time for bacon and eggs today, so she popped a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster and grabbed a processed cheese slice from the fridge. She could eat a toasted cheese sandwich on the way, and maybe she’d get to work on time, in spite of spending too much time lying in bed clinging to a dream that she was realistic enough to know wasn’t likely to ever come true.

  Still, she thought, smiling to herself. It had been a very nice dream.

  Too bad she didn’t have all morning to think about it.

  The water boiled and she added the rolled oats and stirred quickly to keep them from boiling over. If she had a little more time, she wouldn’t mind having some herself. But once she had Nettie up and had doled out her meds, Darcy had to go.

  “Nettie?” she called after she realized that Nettie hadn’t made her usual prompt appearance in the kitchen. “Breakfast is served.”

  Darcy peeled the plastic off a slice of cheese and placed it between the two pieces of toast she’d plucked from the toaster. She took a bite while she waited.

  She swallowed her dry sandwich, took a swig of coffee to wash it down, then hurried down the hall. She guessed she was going to have to light a fire under Nettie this morning, something she’d never had to do before.

  “Come on, Nettie,” she called as she hurried down the hall. “You’re holding me up.” She glanced at her watch. Later than she thought. “Let’s move it. I’ve got to go,” she called as she rapped lightly on the door.

  There was still no response from inside the room.

  None at all.

  “Nettie?” Darcy called softly, a wave of panic surging through her. She knocked again. Louder this time.

  “Are you up?” The bathroom was empty, so Nettie couldn’t be in there. Darcy tried calling one more time. “Come on, sleepyhead. It’s time to get up.”

  Still no response, and it worried her.

  Darcy pushed the door open and it glided silently inward as if pointing to the woman lying in the bed.

  Nettie lay there, eyes closed as if asleep, peaceful as could be, her worn features softened and smoothed in repose. Darcy registered a short glimpse of the beautiful, young girl who had once loved a boy named Raymond and had worked so hard to make a go of this farm.

  Darcy called again, with difficulty this time because of the lump in her throat. “Nettie? Are you all right?”

  She crossed the room, touched Nettie’s forehead, and quickly drew her hand away.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  NETTIE’S SKIN WAS WARM, but then why wouldn’t it be? It was July and they had spoken not fifteen minutes earlier. Darcy swallowed, took a deep breath and reached for Nettie’s hand. It, too, was still warm, but deceptively so. There was no life in the papery skin. No blood pumped through the veins. There was no response to Darcy’s touch.

  There was no sign of life in the hand that had squeezed Darcy’s so lovingly just the night before.

  As she’d known there wouldn’t be.

  Darcy had thought she was prepared for it, but she wasn’t. Not when it was Nettie. Student nurses didn’t get many opportunities to look at death up close, and this was more painful because it was someone she loved. She was the only one there to deal with this now. It was up to her.

  She knew in theory what she had to do, and her training kicked in, overriding her emotions. Tears sliding silently down her cheeks, she tucked Nettie’s hand back under the covers, noted the time, and whispered a silent prayer.

  “Goodbye, Nettie,” she murmured. “I love you.” Then she went back into the living room to make it official.

  As if on automatic pilot, Darcy picked up the phone. She dialed Doctor Williamson’s pager, then slowly placed the receiver back on the cradle. She barely had a chance to wipe her streaming eyes when the phone rang again, the doctor returning her call.

  Darcy cut in before he could speak. “Nettie Hays died about fifteen minutes ago,” she said quietly.

  She didn’t hear what he said in response, and it didn’t really matter—she knew he’d take care of the details. Someone behind her gasped, and she jerked around in time to see something crash to the floor.

  She hadn’t heard Earline and Leah come in, and one of them had knocked over the roses from Billy. The flowers didn’t matter now. The people did.

  Darcy would have liked to soften the blow, but that couldn’t be helped now. She did the only thing she could do. She gathered Leah and her mother in her arms, held them close and wept with them.

  The only thing remaining to do was to call Treadwell’s Funeral Home. And that could wait until…

  …after she called Billy.

  And she couldn’t help thinking that, somehow, she’d let him down.

  * * *

  ANOTHER MAD DASH through the back country roads to get home. Bill wanted to weep, to gnash his teeth and roar in anger, in pain, but all he could do was drive.

  The news had reached him about midday. Captain Thibodeaux had come to him, pulled him out of class and delivered the news personally. He shouldn’t have been surprised by it, but he was. It was something a man never wants to believe, to accept.

  It was another reminder of his own mortality.

  He’d checked out of the academy and stashed the same dress uniform he’d worn to marry Darcy in in the plastic garment bag. He hung it on the hook behind the driver’s seat, then headed north.

  He’d been so overwhelmed with grief that he had barely seen the countryside he’d driven through. Now he was about to merge onto the interstate, and he wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get here, much less driven all that way without killing himself or someone else. Thankfully, it was early enough in the afternoon that the traffic was still light.

  Just over an hour and he’d be home.

  And he dreaded what was waiting for him. No matter how much he thought he’d prepared, this was something he wasn’t ready to face.

  * * *

  DARCY HAD MADE IT through the afternoon on adrenaline and raw emotion. Nothing from the moment she’d found Nettie seemingly asleep until now had seemed real. She kept wondering if it was a dream and she’d wake up soon.

  Somebody pinch me, she pleaded inwardly. Please, she prayed silently, but she knew that wouldn’t happen.

  By noon neighbors had begun streaming in with love offerings of food and kind words, and it had helped a little, but not enough. Food and words would never heal the fathomless pain of such a devastating loss. Even one she should have been prepared for. Only time would do that.

  And Billy.

  Was she expecting more than she truly deser
ved?

  “So, do you know when Bill will be able to make it in?” Mrs. Scarborough asked.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that question. Darcy recited the same answer she given everyone else. “I notified his commander first thing this morning. As soon as he gets his orders to leave the base, he’ll be here.”

  “Humph, a man ought not have to get permission to go to his own mother’s funeral,” Mrs. Scarborough complained, wearing her indignation on her sleeve.

  Darcy didn’t disagree, but she was well familiar with the way military bureaucracy worked. And at times like this, it did move faster than usual. “Yes, ma’am.” What else could she say? She accepted a yellow squash casserole from Billy’s old teacher and placed it on the groaning dining-room table.

  How anyone could think of food at a time like this, she didn’t know.

  Another woman approached, someone she didn’t recognize. She offered simple condolences, and Darcy responded by rote. The woman left a baked ham and moved on to another part of the room. At least they wouldn’t starve.

  Her head throbbed and the jumbled babble of voices in the room didn’t help. For the moment, she was alone, and she sank gratefully onto a chair, closed her eyes, and pressed her fingers against her temples.

  Relief.

  If only for a moment.

  The garbled sound of so many voices seemed to fade away, and Darcy drew in a breath of welcome fresh air.

  The peaceful feeling grew until she realized that the room was silent. It wasn’t the absence of sound she felt, but a feeling of expectation. Someone had come in. Curious about who could have caused such a change in the noisy room, she opened her eyes and slowly lifted her head to see.

  Bill. Her Billy was home. Still in his light blue uniform shirt and dark blue slacks, he was standing there in the open doorway from the porch into the little parlor. He seemed to be looking for someone.