by Delia Parr
On this particular date at eleven-thirty, she would learn if the chemo she had started three months ago was working or not.
She pulled out of her driveway and headed toward Dr. Newton’s office, but her mind was not focused on the road. She would be able to tolerate the cysto, which only lasted for a few minutes. The procedure itself, which would allow the doctor to actually see the interior of her bladder to check for any new growths, was uncomfortable rather than painful.
Still, there were a million different places she would rather go today and a zillion other things she would rather do. Or would she? Wouldn’t knowing be better than just hoping the chemo was working?
“What if it isn’t working?” she murmured. Negative thoughts had been threatening to overtake her for the past week, and she forced herself to think of something positive. She drove down the avenue past her office and managed a smile. She had hired Jeanne Drake two weeks ago. What a difference the retired chemistry teacher had made! Behind her ever-present smile and intelligent eyes lay a sharp mind and a strong will. She had become so efficient and so competent at running the office, Andrea had been able to spend only a few hours a day there and still keep tabs on everything, including Doris.
But not today. Andrea would not be able to work until Monday.
Up ahead, two blocks down on the opposite side of the avenue, she spied the purple-striped awning on the storefront Russell had rented for the Purrple Palace. She slowed down and pulled over in front of the store. At this early hour, there were more open parking spaces than there were cars driving down the avenue.
Arched across the top half of the plate-glass window, workmen had already painted the name of the business, along with a pair of cats at either end of the lettering, all in shades of purple. Beyond that, Andrea could not see a thing. Inside the window in the door and the plate-glass window, huge sheets of white paper blocked the view, yet announced the Grand Opening for November sixth. The business was only one of the new beginnings Madge and Russell were making to put their lives back together, but introducing Sarah at Sunday services tomorrow would be a far more important test of community reaction than the store would be.
Andrea’s mind swept back to the present. Would today mark a new beginning for her, too? Or a slide back toward…the end? She pulled back into traffic, passed the street where Jenny and Michael lived, and smiled again. Of the three sisters, Jenny was certainly faring the best. Her world was filled with new beginnings. She had been home now for a few weeks and was loving every minute of it. She was feeling well. Her pregnancy was proceeding smoothly, while Michael worked hard on the revisions his editor at Sinai Press had requested.
With her spirit infused with positive energy, Andrea drove directly to the doctor’s office. She parked the car and carried her purse and the striped bag with her as she walked around to the back. For the first time, she used the key Dr. Newton had given to her and let herself into the garden. She had not been here since that one time in July at her first post-op visit and the day she started chemotherapy.
She was surprised by the transformation that had taken place in three months. Against a backdrop of evergreens and conifers, hardy autumn flowers in shades of gold, mustard and burgundy had replaced the flowers painted in the soft palette of spring and the dazzling primary colors of summer. Even the air had changed. The heavy perfume of summer had faded to more subtle fragrances that no longer overpowered the scent of pine and cedar.
She followed a path bordered with white October daisies and sat down on a wrought-iron bench. She put her purse alongside her. Once she retrieved her knitting needles and the shawl she had started, she rested the striped bag on the ground at her feet.
Bathed in crisp sunshine, Andrea closed her eyes and recited the prayer she had written for herself as part of the Shawl Ministry. “With these hands, I reaffirm my love for You, dear Father. With this shawl, I will share my love with one of Your beloved children, so he or she may feel Your love and never feel alone. Amen.”
She had to really concentrate on her knitting for the first few rows, and she had to accommodate Muffin, the curious calico cat that stopped by for a visit, until it got bored with playing with the yarn. Andrea was still too unsure of herself, but after she caught the rhythm, she relaxed and knitted away the time between now and her appointment.
She was not sure who would receive the shawl she was making. As each shawl was completed, the members would discuss the possible recipients and decide together who would receive the shawl. Andrea had missed a meeting or two, but as far as she knew, no one had finished a shawl yet. The dark green color of her shawl, which she had chosen in memory of Miss Huxbaugh, reminded her of the yarn the elderly woman had donated and which Andrea had used for practice.
She had received the listing to sell Miss Huxbaugh’s house from the old woman’s attorney, who insisted the house be sold as-is and fully furnished. Andrea had led a literal parade of people through the house in the first few days. Most had been curiosity-seekers. She had even had to stop some from rummaging through closets and drawers, proof that the mystery surrounding Miss Huxbaugh’s past was still very much alive. Within a week, though, Andrea had sold the house to out-of-town cash buyers and settlement had just taken place earlier this week.
She stilled for a moment and laid her knitting on her lap. She thought of Bill and shook her head. The man had turned out to be one surprise after another, although he had kept his promise not to waste her time looking at houses anymore. He had not even asked to see Miss Huxbaugh’s house when it went on the market.
Instead, he had decided to stay in the apartment he was renting and purchased the old schoolhouse on the avenue from the borough. Located at the south end of town, just a few blocks from the business district itself, the site was perfect for professional offices, and the old schoolyard would provide precious, off-street parking.
She chuckled and started knitting again. While looking over the blueprints with him in that all-night diner in Sea Gate, she had been surprised to learn he was an architect. Or he had been an architect. After the death of his wife, he had shut down his office, gotten a trucker’s license and taken to the road, driving back and forth across the country. He believed his ordeal at the hands of hijackers, who still remained at large, was a blessing in disguise that only confirmed his decision to settle down in one place again. He was ready to resume the career that had once given him so much satisfaction, right here in Welleswood.
Thinking about Bill, who had not asked her out on a date again, led her to more confusing thoughts, and the reality of her visit to the doctor today hit hard. Driven by anxiety as the hour for her appointment drew closer, she put her knitting aside and got up from the bench. She strolled along the walkway until she reached the center of the garden, where all the other paths met to join a bricked courtyard. Circular benches surrounded a tarnished bronze sundial resting on a concrete bed at the feet of a marble angel. Andrea sat down on a bench and read the plaque at the base of the sundial:
I must find time to pray.
I must find time to love.
Because life is Thy most precious gift to me.
Though the journey is hard,
With Your angels to guide me,
Life can be all I discover through Thee.
Tears welled and choked her throat. For the past several weeks, Andrea did not have to pretend she was in perfect health. She honestly had almost forgotten about her cancer. After her last treatment in September, she had been tired, as usual, but with more rest, she had done almost everything she had wanted to do. She had even tried searching the Internet for information on bladder cancer and tried eating more nutritiously. She fared better, at least mentally, when she focused on everything but her cancer.
Prayer had helped.
Having Madge and Jenny’s support had helped, too
But once the calendar read “October,” she had found herself slipping back to fear again. She had not prayed as often. Today, with her appointment
at hand, she wanted to run and hide or turn back the calendar to two years earlier before her first battle with cancer had begun.
Humbled by the words on the plaque, she bowed her head and folded her hands in prayer. “The journey is hard today,” she whispered. She prayed with her heart, but she knew no one could travel this road with her today. She had to travel it alone.
On impulse, she looked up at the sky. A sliver of the moon was visible, but the sun was too bright for a single star to shine through. She closed her eyes and prayed for God to guide her.
“Andrea?”
She flinched. Her eyes snapped open, and she saw the receptionist, Nancy, standing behind the sundial.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, but Dr. Newton is ready for you now. I saw your things on the bench. I’ll get them for you and keep them until you’re finished.”
Andrea nodded. Surrounded by His loving angels, she left her fears and anxiety on the bench and went inside. When she came out again half an hour later and returned to the garden, she stopped to offer a prayer. “Thank you, Father, for sending so many angels to help me. From now on, I’ll try harder not to be such a weakling,” she promised.
She left the garden before the doctor’s good news truly sank in: The chemo was working perfectly. The joy in her heart erupted when she reached the parking lot, and she danced her way back to her car. She really did not care what anyone might think if they saw her, either!
Two weeks from now, when she faced chemo, she might be fearful again, but today was nothing but sheer joy. God was so good, even to weaklings like her.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sunday services had been part of Madge’s life for as long as she could remember, and this church held memories of the most important days in her life. She had grown in faith here. She had been married here. Drew and Brett had learned Bible verses here as little boys—Bible verses they still carried in their hearts when they came home last week to meet their new little sister. Mother and Daddy, Kathleen and Sandra had been here to receive one final blessing before being laid to rest. And it was here that Madge would find her way back to the loving marriage she so desperately wanted.
Today’s service, however, was the first time she and Russell and Sarah would appear in public together as a family, although word of the adoption had spread quickly. Madge had had butterflies in her stomach when she woke up this morning. By the time she and Russell walked Sarah down the aisle and took their seats, there were only moments before the service was set to begin. She was half afraid to sing the opening hymn for fear a flock of Monarch butterflies would escape and really give the congregation something to talk about!
Reverend Staggart had been extremely helpful and very supportive when they had all met together several times over the course of the past week, and she kept her attention on him during the entire service. With her heart wrapped around the hope that the congregation would be just as accepting as the pastor had been, she tried to quell the guilt she carried for misleading everyone about how Sarah had come into their lives. It was harder to control the resentment that Russell had put her into this position in the first place.
She would have felt a whole lot easier if the adoption had already gone through and she had a new birth certificate for Sarah stored in their safe-deposit box.
She had seen more than a few shocked faces as the three of them passed down the aisle to their pew at the front of the church. Fortunately, Jenny and Michael and Andrea were already there, and Madge focused only on their smiles of support as they slid over to make more room.
Madge was not surprised to hear a few whispers behind them, either. Who could blame them anyone being surprised or curious? Madge and Russell were both old enough to be grandparents, not the adoptive parents of this little charmer.
She glanced at Sarah. She was sitting quietly. Next week, they might try letting her go to the nursery Sunday School, but not today. Poor little lamb. She still asked for help to find her mommy occasionally, and Madge prayed time would heal this little one’s heart and leave room for Madge to fill the void left by her birth mother’s passing.
As the voices of the congregation rose to sing the closing hymn, Russell reached over and squeezed Madge’s hand. They still had a long, long way to go before they fully reconciled, but he was trying hard to make amends. His show of support now meant the world to her, but it would be her heavenly Father who would carry her through the next half hour after services ended and Sarah became the focus of everyone’s attention.
The hymn ended. Instead of sending his flock back into the world to do the Lord’s work in the coming week, the pastor urged everyone to be seated. “Today we have the pleasure of welcoming a new member into our community of faith. The Stephens have adopted a little girl. Madge and Russell? Would you bring Sarah forward at this time?”
Madge’s heart flip-flopped. Sarah had already been baptized as an infant. What was the pastor doing? He had not mentioned anything about—”
“Madge?” Russell’s voice cut through her panic. “We should take Sarah up now.”
Madge nodded. Hand in hand, with Sarah in the middle, the three of them approached the altar. The pastor met them with a smile. “Relax,” he whispered. “And smile!” he urged as he turned them to face the congregation. He stood behind Sarah to address everyone. “As you all know, we have a new women’s ministry here and they’ve asked for a moment today when everyone was here. Mrs. Hadley?”
Eleanor Hadley and two other women stepped forward and took places to Madge’s right. Madge recognized Millie and Grace Hudson at once. They were carrying a pale pink shawl. She looked to Andrea for an explanation, but only saw a mirror of her own surprise and curiosity.
Eleanor began speaking in a clear but gentle voice. “As some of you know, I’ve been honored to be part of the women’s Shawl Ministry. We’ve been meeting for some time now on Saturday afternoons to pray together and knit together, creating shawls we hope will bring joy and comfort to those who receive them. Together, we decided that our first shawl should be presented today to little Miss Sarah Stevens. Ladies?”
At her invitation, Millie and Grace approached Sarah, who let go of Madge’s hand to cling to Russell’s leg. She did not balk, however, when the two women wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and showed her how to tuck in the ends and hold the shawl in place with her arms. As they worked with Sarah, Eleanor recited a prayer. “With loving hands and giving hearts, we have made this shawl and present it to you, Sarah. We welcome you to our community of faith and promise to help you love and serve the God who has chosen Madge and Russell Stephens to be your loving parents. As you wrap yourself in the shawl, always remember that He is the source of all goodness and comfort and you are never, ever alone. He will stay with you always.”
With one voice, the congregation said, “Amen.”
Madge had not been present when Sarah had been baptized as an infant. The ceremony today and the words Eleanor had spoken went a long way toward easing her disappointment. Still, she wished Sarah had come into the family as a newborn. At three, she was too old for the traditional family ceremony Madge and her sisters used to welcome each of their children.
The spontaneous applause that erupted and the genuine smiles of welcome from the congregation, however, left Madge in tears that quickly turned to laughter when Sarah proceeded to pirouette and show off her shawl. The next few minutes were a blur, and before Madge knew it, she was standing next to the pastor in a receiving line in the church foyer. Russell stood on the other side of her with Sarah in his arms as friends and neighbors passed by to offer their congratulations.
True, there were more than a few raised eyebrows. Madge even overheard a few snide comments about her age, but by and large, most people seemed genuinely happy for her, which only added to her fear of what might happen if anyone discovered the truth. Madge was not Sarah’s adoptive mother yet, and she wouldn’t be for several years.
When Andrea appeared at the end of
the line with Jenny and gave her a hug, Madge whispered in her ear, “You could have warned me what they were going to do today!”
Andrea hugged her back. “I didn’t know a thing about it. I guess the other women were afraid I might have told you and ruined the surprise,” she whispered back before Jenny playfully nudged Andrea aside. “I want a hug, too.”
Madge hugged her baby sister, felt Jenny’s extended tummy press against her and set her back. “Are you sure you’re not due until February?”
“Positive.” She kissed Sarah’s cheek. “I like your shawl.”
Sarah pulled away. “Mine!”
“Yes, sweetie, it sure is,” Jenny assured her. “Uncle Michael went to get your cousins from Sunday School. Would you like to play with Katy and Hannah?”
Sarah buried herself deeper in Russell’s arms.
“She’s still a little shy,” Madge explained.
Russell laughed. “Except when she’s standing in front of the entire congregation!”
“Russell, why don’t you take Sarah with you to find Michael and the girls while we make a quick stop back inside for a minute?”
Russell nodded, and Madge linked her arms with her sisters and ushered them back inside the foyer of the church before either one of them could argue. The church was empty now, but the memory of today’s ceremony was still vivid enough to reignite Madge’s fears. She paused just inside the foyer, forcing her sisters to stop as well, and bowed her head. “I can’t do this. I can’t mislead everyone. I can’t lie like this,” she whispered.
“Lie?” Jenny asked.
“About Russell. About Sarah,” Madge whispered. “It’s going to take a year or two for the adoption to go through and to get Sarah’s birth certificate changed so both of our names are on it, not just Russell’s. Until then, I have to continue to lie and pretend Russell isn’t already her father—”
“That’s not true,” Andrea argued. “The circumstances of Sarah’s birth and her adoption are private, and they should be. You and Russell have decided to raise Sarah together as her parents. That’s all anyone needs to know.”