Fine Things

by Danielle Steel

  The worst moment of all came the next day when Ruth left for the airport. She stopped at the house first, in the morning before Liz left for school. Tracy picked Jane up every day now, and Bernie had already left for work. But Liz was waiting for the sitter so she could leave for school, and Alexander was down for his morning nap. Liz went to the door, and for a moment the two women stood in the doorway knowing why she had come. There was no pretense as their eyes met, and then Liz reached out and hugged her.

  “Thank you for coming. …”

  “I wanted to say goodbye to you. I'll be praying for you, Liz.”

  “Thank you.” She couldn't say more as the tears filled her eyes and she looked at Ruth. “Take care of them for me, Grandma …” It was only a whisper …“And take care of Bernie.”

  “I promise. Take care of yourself. Do everything they tell you.” She squeezed the frail shoulders and noticed suddenly that Liz was wearing the dress she had bought her the day before. “We love you, Liz …very, very much….”

  “I love you too.” She held her for one more minute and then turned to leave, with a last wave, as Liz stood in the doorway, watching the cab pull away. Ruth waved for as long as she could see her.

  Chapter 21

  Liz managed to hang onto her classes until the end of school. Bernie and the doctor were amazed that she could do it. She had to take the Demerol every afternoon now and Jane complained that she slept all the time, but she didn't know how to voice the complaints that she really felt. The real complaint was that her mother was dying.

  The last day of school was June ninth, and Liz went in one of the new dresses Ruth had bought her before she left. She talked to them all the time on the phone, and Ruth told her funny stories about the people in Scarsdale.

  Liz drove Jane to school herself on the last day, and Jane looked at her happily. Her mother looked wide-eyed and alert and beautiful, just like she had before, only thinner, and they were moving to Stinson Beach the next day. She could hardly wait. And she scampered off to her own classroom in a pink dress and black patent-leather shoes that Grandma Ruth had helped her pick out for the occasion. There was going to be a party with cakes and cookies and milk before dismissal.

  And when Liz walked into her classroom, she closed the door quietly and turned to look at her students. They were all there, twenty-one little clean shining faces, bright eyes and expectant smiles, and she knew for certain that they loved her. And she knew just as certainly that she loved them. And she had to say goodbye to them now. She couldn't just leave them, disappear without explaining. She turned and drew a big heart on the blackboard with pink chalk and they giggled.

  “Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!” She looked happy today, and she was. She had completed something that meant a great deal to her. It was her gift to them, and herself, and to Jane.

  “It's not Valentine's Day!” Bill Hitchcock announced. “It's Christmas!” Ever the wise guy and she laughed.

  “Nope. Today is my Valentine's Day to you. This is my chance to tell you how much I love you.” She felt a lump rise in her throat and she knew she couldn't let it. “I want everyone to be very quiet for a little while. I have a Valentine for everyone …and then we're going to have a party of our own …before the other party!” They began to look intrigued and sat as still as they could, considering it was the last day. She called them up, one by one, and handed them each a Valentine she had made, which told them what she loved best about them, their skills, and their best features, and their achievements. She reminded each one of how well they had done, even if it was only at sweeping the playground. She reminded each one of the fun they had had, and each Valentine was covered with cutouts and pictures and funny sayings that were important to each child, and they sat back, a little awed, holding their Valentines like rare gifts, which they were. It had taken her months and the last of her strength to make them.

  And then she pulled out two trays of heart-shaped cupcakes and another tray of beautifully decorated cookies. She had made them for everyone, and she hadn't even told Jane. She had just told her that it was for the main party. And she had done some for them, too, but these were special. These were for “her” second graders.

  “And the last thing I'm going to say to you is how much I love you, how proud I am of how wonderful you've been all year …and how well I know you'll do in third grade next year with Mrs. Rice.”

  “Won't you be here anymore, Mrs. Fine?” a little voice piped up from the back row, and a little boy with black hair and dark eyes looked at her sadly, clutching his Valentine in one hand, and his cupcake with the other. It was so beautiful he didn't even want to eat it.

  “No, Charlie. I won't. I'm going away for a while.” The tears came anyway. “And I'm going to miss you all terribly. But I'll see you again one day. Each one of you. Remember that…” She took a deep breath and didn't try to hide the tears anymore. “And when you see Jane, my little girl, give her a kiss from me.” There was a loud sob in the front row. It was Nancy Farrell, and she ran up and threw her arms around Liz' neck.

  “Please don't go, Mrs. Fine …We love you. …”

  “I don't want to, Nancy. I really, really don't…but I think I have to …” And then, one by one, they came up and she kissed them and held each one of them. “I love you. Each and every one of you.” And with that, the bell sounded, and she took a deep breath and looked at them. “I think that means it's time to go to the party.” But they were a solemn little group, and Billy Hitchcock asked if she would visit them. “If I can, Billy.” He nodded, and they filed into the hall more neatly than they had all year, with their goodies in little bags, and their Valentines. And they looked at her, as she smiled at them. She was a part of them forever. And as she stood watching them, Tracy came by, and sensed what had happened. If nothing else, she knew Liz' last day would be hard on her.

  “How'd it go?” She whispered.

  “Okay, I guess.” She blew her nose and wiped her eyes, and her friend gave her a warm hug.

  “Did you tell them?”

  “More or less. I said I was leaving. But I think I said it. Some of them understood it.”

  “That's a nice gift to give them, Liz, instead of just disappearing from their lives.”

  “I couldn't have done that.” She couldn't do it to anyone. Which was why she had appreciated Ruth coming by the house on the way to the airport. It was a time to say goodbyes, and she didn't want to be cheated of the chance to say them. She had a difficult time leaving the teachers when she left the school, and she was exhausted as she and Jane drove home later that morning. Jane was so quiet that it frightened her and she suspected that she might have heard about her “Valentine party” and resented it. She was still trying not to face what was coming.

  “Mommy?” It was the most solemn little face Liz had ever seen as she turned off the car and looked at her outside their house.

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “You're still not getting better, are you?”

  “Maybe a little.” She wanted to pretend, for her sake, but they both knew she was lying.

  “Can't they do something special?” After all, she was such a special person. Jane was eight years old and she was losing the mother she loved. Why wouldn't anyone help her?

  “I feel okay.” Jane nodded, but the tears poured down her cheeks as Liz whispered hoarsely. “I'm so sorry to have to leave you. But I'll always be near you, watching over you and Daddy and Alex.” Jane hurled herself into her mother's arms, and it was a long time before they got out of the car and went inside arm in arm. Jane almost looked bigger than her mother.

  That afternoon Tracy came to take Jane out for an ice cream cone and a walk in the park, and she left with a lighter step than Liz had seen in months, and she herself felt better, and closer to the child than she had since it had all begun. It wasn't easier, but it was better.

  And that afternoon she sat down with four pieces of paper, and wrote a letter to each of them, not a long one, but
she told each of the people she loved how much she loved them, and why, and how much they meant to her, and how sorry she was to leave them. There was a letter for Bernie, and Ruth, and Jane, and Alexander. The one to him was the hardest of all because he would never even have known her.

  She slipped the letters into her Bible, which she kept in a dresser drawer, and she felt better after she had done it. It had been on her mind for a long time. And now it was done. And that night, when Bernie came home, they packed for Stinson Beach, and everyone was in a festive mood when they left the next morning.

  Chapter 22

  It was three weeks later, on the first of July, that she was scheduled to come back to town for another treatment, and for the first time she refused. The day before she told Bernie she didn't want to, and at first he panicked, and then he called Johanssen and asked him what to do about it.

  “She says she's happy here and she wants to be left alone. Do you think she's giving up?” He had waited till she had gone for a walk with Jane. They would walk down to the water, and sit looking at the surf, and sometimes Jane carried the baby. Liz hadn't wanted any help at the beach, and she was still cooking and taking care of Alexander as best she could. And Bernie was there to help her all the time, and Jane loved helping with the baby.

  “She might be,” the doctor answered. “And I can't really tell you that forcing her to come in for chemo is going to make a lot of difference. Maybe it won't do her any harm to take a week off. Why don't we postpone it till next week?”

  He suggested it to Liz that afternoon, admitting that he had called the doctor and she scolded him, but she laughed when she did it. “You're getting sneaky in your old age, you know that?” She leaned over and kissed him, and he remembered the happy times and the first time he had come to the beach to see her.

  “Remember when you sent me the bathing suits, Daddy? I still have them!” Jane loved them so much she would never give them away, even though she'd long since outgrown them. She was going on nine. And it was such a difficult time to be losing her mother. Alexander was fourteen months old, and on the day Liz would have been getting chemotherapy, he began walking. He lurched forward on the beach, and teetered toward Liz squealing in the sea breeze as they all laughed. And she looked at Bernie with victory.

  “See! I was right not to go today!” But she had agreed to go the following week, “maybe.” She was in pain now, much of the time. But she still controlled it with pills. She didn't want to resort to shots yet. She was afraid that if she used the stronger medication too soon, it wouldn't work when she'd need it. She had been honest about it with Bernie.

  And that night, after the baby walked, he asked her if she wanted to see Bill and Marjorie Robbins. He called but they were out, and instead she called Tracy, just to chat. They talked for a long time and laughed a lot. And she was smiling when she hung up. She loved Tracy.

  On Saturday night she cooked them dinner, their favorite, steak. He did the barbecue, and she made baked potatoes and asparagus and hollandaise, and she made hot fudge sundaes for dessert. And Alexander dove into the fudge and smeared it all over his face while they laughed. She hadn't served his hot so he wouldn't burn himself and Jane reminded Bernie of the banana split he had bought her when she got lost at Wolffs. It seemed to be a time for remembering for all of them…Hawaii…their joint honeymoon …the wedding …their first summer at Stinson Beach …the first opera opening …first trip to Paris…. Liz talked to him all night that night, remembering all of it, and the next day she was in too much pain to get up, and he begged Johanssen to come and see her. Remarkably, he did, and Bernie was grateful to him. He gave her a shot of morphine, and she fell asleep with a smile, and woke again late that afternoon. Tracy had come to help him with the kids and she was out running with them on the beach, with Alexander in a backpack she had brought just for the occasion.

  The doctor had left more medication for Liz, and Tracy knew how to administer the shots. It was a blessing having her there. And Liz didn't even wake up at dinnertime. The children ate quietly, and went to bed, and Liz suddenly called out to Bernie at midnight.

  “Sweetheart? …Where's Jane?” He'd been reading and was surprised at how alert Liz looked. She looked as though she'd been awake all day and hadn't been sleeping or in pain. It was a relief to see her looking so well. She didn't even look as thin to him as she had before, and he suddenly wondered if this was the beginning of remission. But it was the beginning of something else and he didn't know it.

  “Jane's in bed, sweetheart. Want something to eat?” She looked so well, he would have brought her the dinner she had missed, but she shook her head with a smile.

  “I want to see her.”

  “Now?”

  Liz nodded and looked as though it were urgent, and feeling a little foolish, he put his robe on and tiptoed past Tracy asleep on the couch. She had decided not to go home after all, in case Liz needed a shot during the night, or Bernie needed her to help with the children in the morning.

  Jane stirred for a moment as he kissed her hair and then her cheek and then she opened an eye and looked at Bernie. “Hi, Daddy,” she whispered sleepily and then sat up quickly. “Is Mommy okay?”

  “She's fine. But she misses you. Want to come give her a good-night kiss?” Jane looked pleased to be called for something so important. She got out of bed immediately, and followed him to their room, where Liz looked wide awake and was waiting for her.

  “Hi, baby.” She spoke in a strong, clear voice, and her eyes were bright as Jane bent to kiss her. She thought her mother had never looked more beautiful and she looked better to her too.

  “Hi, Mommy. Are you feeling better?”

  “Much.” She didn't even have the pain anymore. For the moment nothing hurt her. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”

  “Can I get into bed with you?” She looked hopeful and Liz smiled and pulled back the covers.

  “Sure.” It was then that one saw how painfully thin she was, but her face looked as though it were filling out again. At least tonight anyway.

  They whispered and chatted for a little while and eventually Jane began to fall asleep, and she opened her eyes one last time and smiled at Liz, who kissed her once more and told her how much she loved her. And then she fell asleep in her mother's arms and Bernie carried her back to her bed, and when he came back, Liz wasn't in bed. He looked in the bathroom and she wasn't there and then he heard her in the room next to theirs, and he found her leaning over Alexander's crib, stroking his soft blond curls. “Good night, pretty one …” He was such a beautiful baby, and she tiptoed back to their room quietly as Bernie watched her.

  “You ought to get some sleep, sweetheart. You're going to be exhausted tomorrow.” But she looked so alert and so alive and she snuggled into his arms as they whispered. And he held her and stroked her breast and she purred and told him how much she loved him. It was as though she needed to reach out to each of them, to hang onto life, or perhaps to let go of it. She was just falling asleep when the sun came up. She and Bernie had talked almost all night, and he drifted off to sleep just as she did, holding her close to him, and feeling her warmth beside him. She opened her eyes once more, and saw him drifting off happily, and she smiled to herself and closed her eyes. And when Bernie awoke the next morning, she was gone. She had died quietly, in her sleep, in his arms. And she had said goodbye to each of them before she left them. He stood looking down at her for a long, long time, as she lay sleeping in the bed. It was difficult to believe that she wasn't sleeping. He had shaken her at first …and touched her hand …and then her face …and he had known, as a great sob wrenched from him and he locked their bedroom door from the inside so no one could come in, and slid open the glass windows that led to the beach. He let himself out and quietly closed the door and ran for a long, long time, feeling her next to him …running …and running …and running …

  And when he came back, he walked into the kitchen, and found Tracy giving the kids break
fast. He looked at her, and she started chatting, and then suddenly she knew, and she stopped, looking at him, and he nodded. And he looked down at Jane, and sat down next to her, and he took her in his arms and told her the worst thing she would ever hear from him or anyone else. Ever.

  “Mommy's gone, sweetheart. …”

  “Gone where? … To the hospital again? …” She pulled away from him to see his face and then she took a sharp breath as she understood and she started to cry in his arms. It was a morning they would all remember for a lifetime.

  Chapter 23

  Tracy took the children home after breakfast and the people from Halsted's funeral parlor came at noon. Bernie sat alone in the house, waiting for them, with the bedroom door still locked, and finally, he went back through the sliding doors, and sat there with her, holding her hand, waiting for them to come. It was the last time they'd be alone, the last time they'd be in bed, the last time they'd be anything, but there was no point hanging onto it, he kept telling himself. She was already gone. But as he looked down at her and kissed her fingers, she didn't feel gone to him. She was part of his soul and his heart, and his life. And he knew she always would be. He heard the car from Halsted's drive up, and he unlocked the door and went out to meet them. He couldn't watch while they covered her up and took her out. He spoke to the man in the living room, and told him what he wanted to arrange. He said he'd be back in town by the end of the afternoon. He had to pack up the house and go back to town. The man said he understood, and he gave Bernie his card. Everything was going to be made as easy as possible for him. Easy. What was easy about losing his wife, the woman he loved, the mother of his children?