by Rebeca Seitz
Well, almost prayed. She wasn’t quite ready to talk to God about some aspects of this particular detour. His reasons for allowing this to happen eluded her as much as her old happiness. Why did He let this thing slip into the wonderful life she led? She believed what she’d been taught— that nothing happens to God’s children without Him first knowing about it and giving it permission to enter. So why this? What could be learned from this?
The brain-injury support person at Vanderbilt said not to try figuring that out until she had some perspective, some time. But if she could figure out the lesson now, she could learn it and be done with this, right?
The doorbell rang as she took another bite of muffin. Might as well eat, even if no pleasure came from it.
She didn’t get up to go to the door. If it was another well-wisher from church, they could leave the casserole on the doorstep and Jamison would find it when he came home. No sense letting people see her walking with a steel walker because her stupid right leg didn’t cooperate.
She looked down at it and pounded the top of her thigh. The doctors said this, too, would probably heal over time. Oh, goody. Eventually her leg would work again. Would that be before or after her kids graduated from high school, met a wonderful person, and wanted to walk down the aisle? She pictured walking down a white path, Jamison propping her up.
“I hate this!”
“Well, emotion is good.”
Meg jerked her head to the kitchen door, where Tandy stood with Clayton on her hip.
“What are you doing here?” She didn’t mean to sound so snappish, but everything came out with a snarl these days.
Tandy shrugged and entered the kitchen. “I thought you might want some company.”
“You came to babysit the invalid.”
“Oh yeah, that’s definitely it. Can’t trust you alone, you know?”
“Stop patronizing me.”
“Then stop acting like a kid.” Tandy snagged a muffin. Clayton swiped at it, but she pulled it away from his chubby little fingers.
“Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” Tandy bit into the golden top. “Mmm, these are good.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Tandy glanced at the half-eaten muffin on Meg’s plate. “Really?”
“I still can’t taste anything.”
Tandy shoved the plate of muffins away. “Then let me get you some broccoli and spinach for breakfast.”
“This is not funny.”
“No, but you might as well stuff your body with good things until you can taste them again.”
“I may never taste anything ever again.”
“Or you could start tasting things with your very next bite.”
“Are you going to be this chipper the whole time you’re here?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Tandy offered her finger to Clayton, who sucked on the blueberry filling smeared there.
“Then let me decide for you. Stop.”
“You’d rather I be as churlish as you?”
“Churlish? I’m a brain-injury patient, don’t use big words.” She struggled to figure out the meaning of the word.
“Okay, snotty.”
“Thanks, that’s much better.”
Tandy sighed. “Look, I know this is horrible for you right now and I have no idea what all you’re going through, but I’m here until Joy gets done fixing all of Stars Hill’s hair, so we might as well find a pleasant way to spend the day together.”
“So you are babysitting the invalid.”
Tandy threw her free hand up. “You got me. I’m here to babysit.” She looked around. “Where are the kids?”
“Jamison took them to the park. Which I’m sure you know or you wouldn’t have come over. I wondered why he left me alone.”
“Maybe he needed a break from your sunny disposition.”
“He wanted to be away from me?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Meg. I get that things are awful right now, but do you hear yourself?”
“My hearing hasn’t changed, if that’s what you’re implying.”
Tandy stood and went to the refrigerator. Meg tried to get a grip on the anger that threatened to boil over at any second. Why was she so mad? Tandy had only come because she cared. Nothing wrong with that. So she couldn’t do everything she’d done before the surgery. Most of that would come back. She simply needed time. “I’m sorry.”
“No problem. I’ve got thick skin.” Tandy returned to her seat and bounced Clayton on her lap.
Meg rubbed her throbbing head. “I don’t know why I can’t look at the bright side of life anymore.”
“You just had major brain surgery. Guys dug into your gray matter. I think you’re allowed a little time to adjust.”
“Yeah, but I hate this out-of-control feeling. Like I can’t even get a rein in on my own emotions.”
“Did you talk to Ms. Justice about it?”
“Of course I talked to Gigi about it. I even called that brain-injury support line she gave me.”
“And?”
“And was told to give myself ‘room to grieve,’ whatever that means.”
Tandy arched a brow. “What would you be grieving?”
“The loss of the old me, I guess. Did you know they took away my driver’s license?” Meg picked at the browned edges of a muffin. Outside, a whippoorwill sang its tune.
“Scott told us. That’s another reason we’re taking shifts. No sense in leaving you stranded at home.”
“Not that I’m going out in public until my leg starts working.”
“Still giving you fits?”
Meg slapped it as she’d done before. “I don’t understand. I tell it to move, and the stupid thing completely ignores me. As if I have no control at all.”
“That’s twice with the control thing.”
“Well, you try having people mess with your brain and see if you don’t want some semblance of control back in your life.”
“I wish I could get through this for you.”
Meg looked up. She didn’t deserve such good sisters. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
They listened to the music of the birds for a while. Meg considered being grateful for the ability to hear. She could have lost that sense altogether. Instead, sounds somehow seemed amplified. Every bird had its own unique song. Just like the kids, each one expressing individuality—even Hannah, at two years old.
But what happens when someone else changes your tune? When you can’t remember how to sing it or even what it sounded like? Gigi didn’t have a lot of answers for that other than to wait it out, take each day one at a time, blah blah blah. Whether it was the upbeat Gigi or the folks at the other end of the brain-injury support line, the message was always the same. Try to stay positive. Give yourself time. She sighed.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.” Tandy wouldn’t have any more answers than she’d come up with. No one had answers.
“In that case, let’s go sit on the patio. It’s a gorgeous day outside and I’m betting your hyacinths smell wonderful, and Clayton likes to sit in the grass.”
“I wonder if I can still smell them.” She pushed up from the table and took her walker from the chair beside her.
Tandy stood and lifted the plate of muffins. “No time like the present to find out. Head on out there. I’ll put these up and join you in a minute.”
“Okay.”
Meg felt Tandy’s eyes on her shuffling gate as she did her best to walk through the kitchen. “I know you’re watching me.”
“It’s a Mom thing. You grow eyes in the back of your head.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re not doing too bad.”
“Tell that to my self-esteem.”
“Your self-esteem and I will have a chat just as soon as I get these muffins put up.”
Meg smiled and focused on getting out to the patio, anxious to see if hyacinths still smelled right.
* * *<
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JAMISON SAT ON a park bench beneath a giant elm enjoying the slight breeze and sound of his kids’ laughter. Other children ran around the playground, tossing balls and flying down slides or soaring into the air from swings.
He envied their ability to enjoy the moment. Before last week, he hadn’t given much thought to the future other than to put money back in a 401k and plan for retirement. It never once occurred to him that he wouldn’t enter the final years of his life with Meg by his side.
That happened to other people. To other couples. Not to them.
But he’d nearly lost her. The thought stole his breath. A world without Meg. Everything would lose color and meaning. Not that she was his god. Of course not. God was God in both their marriage and their family. But she was the singular romantic love of his life. The one human being he wanted to spend every waking moment with, talking about each day’s occurrence and arguing and laughing and just being.
This new Meg, though … this angry, upset woman who had entered his marriage left him baffled. Where was Meg’s ready smile? She’d always been the one to tell him to let the kids get by with the little things. It was her voice that calmed him when he wanted to yell at them to pick up their toys or eat their dinner. Her cool hand on his had made him dial back his harsh disciplined tendencies more than once.
Yet this past week had left two over-disciplinarians in the house. He tried to compensate. The look on James’s face when Meg yelled that she needed some peace and quiet had been enough to convince him that he’d have to step up while she recovered.
But would she fully recover? He’d called the support line, so he harbored no delusions about the reality facing them. Meg’s personality might be forever altered. She might never be the fun-loving, happy-go-lucky person he married.
He would still love her. Maybe his love could remind her of her old self. In the long run, it didn’t matter. When they said for better or worse, in sickness and in health, they both meant it and he wouldn’t back away from that vow.
For eight years he’d lived with the constant fear that something might happen to James. The fear had increased with each new child’s arrival. He never once thought of worrying that something might happen to Meg. Bad things didn’t hit people like her. They just were. Always there. Always present. Always taking care of the details of life.
He rubbed his eyes and checked on the kids. James had befriended another boy and they stood to the side of the playground, tossing a football back and forth. Savannah swung contentedly, her little face upturned to the sunshine that lit her hair and created a halo of gold. Hannah climbed the ladder to the tiny tot slide.
They were fine. All accounted for and happy. For a brief moment he felt satisfaction with his life.
And then he remembered Meg.
Seven
Honey, we’re home!” Jamison called out through the house.
“Honey, I’m home!” Hannah echoed. Savannah and James ran through the kitchen.
Tandy came through the patio door. “Hey, you’re back!” She picked Hannah up and threw her in the air. “Did you have fun at the park?”
“I went down the swide!”
“Oh, I bet that was fun.”
Hannah bobbed her head. “Now we came home ’cause it’s nap time. I don’t wanna take a nap.”
Tandy tweaked her nose. “But you’ll have more energy when you wake up. That makes it easier to play.”
“I wanna play now.”
“Hannah Rose, that’s enough.” Jamison tried to be firm but kind. Meg was so much better at this stuff. Or, the old Meg was so much better at this stuff. He squelched the fear that the new, angry Meg was here to stay. “How about you go give Mommy hugs while I make you some chicken nuggets?”
“Mommy’s mad.”
His heart twisted. “She’s not mad, sweet girl. She’s just got a boo-boo that hurts really bad.”
“I can kiss it, make it feel better.”
“You go do that.” Tandy sat Hannah on the floor. “Mommy’s outside on the patio.”
They watched Hannah scamper through the doorway and over to Meg, who sat watching Clayton finger blades of grass. Wonder lit the seven-month-old’s eyes.
“How’s she been today?”
“Okay.”
“Really?”
Tandy grimaced. “She’s having a rough time, not that I have to tell you that.”
“Yeah, she’s not exactly sunshine and roses right now.”
“She told me she feels out of control.”
Jamison nodded as he pulled nuggets out of the freezer. “She said the same thing to me. I wish I could fix it for her, but the doctors say she just needs time.”
“I hate it when they say that.”
“I think she hates it more.”
Tandy nodded. “Joy is planning on coming when she gets off work.”
“Y’all don’t have to be here every waking moment. Getting a break this morning was enough to last me a few days.”
“Yeah, but who’s going to take care of the kids when you go back to work this week?”
“I’m going to work from home for a while.”
“Seriously?”
Jamison shrugged and put a plate of nuggets into the microwave. “There’s no reason I can’t be here for a while. I may even find I like it.”
Tandy glanced outside to check on Clayton. He lay in the same spot she’d placed him, running his hands back and forth across the grass. “Yeah, but how will you work with three munchkins running around?”
“James and Savannah are in school all day for another week. All I really have to worry about is Hannah, and I’ve got nap time and VeggieTales for that.”
Tandy stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Sounds like you’ve got it all taken care of.”
“Not really, but it’s a start. I mainly just want to give Meg room to heal so we can get on with our lives.”
“Joy says she may not get back to the normal we knew.”
“I know.” Jamison pulled the plate from the microwave and dumped a container of pears into one of its compartments. “I’m praying otherwise. It’s only been two weeks. Feels like two years, but I keep telling myself it’s only been two weeks and that she can get a whole lot better if I just give her time.”
“Me, too.”
He filled a cup with juice and snapped on its lid. “Can you run this outside to Hannah, please? She’d probably eat better out there than forcing her to come back in here.”
“Sure.” Tandy took the plate and turned toward the door. “Hey, Jamison?”
“Yeah?” He looked up from the second plate of nuggets.
“Thanks for being here for my sister.”
He smiled. “I don’t belong anywhere else.”
Tandy nodded and went onto the patio.
He turned back to preparing James and Savannah’s lunches. Normally Meg took care of this. He hoped he wouldn’t completely kill all nutritional values she’d instilled in them up until this point. Chicken nuggets and pears weren’t exactly a well-rounded meal. His mother had always had something green with every single meal.
But he was tired and wanted a nap himself.
“Just get them fed,” he muttered. How Meg did this all day every day eluded him. He’d so much rather be behind a desk crunching numbers. Numbers didn’t talk back or have meltdowns. They performed consistently with a beautiful elegance he’d admired since learning addition in first grade.
Child-rearing offered so many opportunities for failure that he often wondered—more in the past week than at any time since the birth of their first child—why people attempted it. Because, despite his best efforts, children could still end up criminals. Plenty of people sitting in jail were raised by loving parents.
Although more sat there who didn’t have loving parents, he guessed.
He quickly finished getting the other two lunches ready and carried them into the living room. James and Savannah sat working on the puzzle they’d begun with Meg before
she’d collapsed.
“You guys have made good progress on that.”
Savannah sat with her arms crossed on the table, staring at the pieces. “It was easier with Mom.”
“Well, as soon as Mom is all better, I’m sure she’d be happy to help again.” He set the plates down on the table. “In the meantime, how about a quick break for lunch?”
James picked up a nugget while keeping his eyes on the pieces. “How long is that gonna take?”
“What?”
“For Mom to get better.” Savannah dipped a nugget into ketchup. “For her to not be mad.”
His heart twisted at the lost look on his eldest daughter’s face. She shouldn’t know about things like brain tumors at five years old. Why couldn’t she have been shielded from this? Why couldn’t Meg?
“I don’t know, pumpkin. But I do know that Mom wants to get better as fast as she can.”
Both children munched their food and kept their faces pointed toward the puzzle. He waited to see if any more questions would come, but none did.
“Speaking of Mom, I’m going to go check on her. You guys good for a few minutes?”
“Yeah, Dad. It’s not like we’re babies or anything.” James rolled his eyes.
“Of course.” Jamison hid his smile and turned. Since being faced with the possibility of losing Meg, he found himself wanting to hang on to all the kids every waking second. Like he could keep them from danger if he just didn’t let them out of his sight.
He’d let Meg out of his sight. A lot. He’d spent thousands of hours at the office—hours he could have spent here with her, laughing while they cooked dinner together or sat on the couch. They used to do that before the kids came along.
He thought back to one Sunday morning when they’d awakened to soft drizzle outside and decided to stay home together. Sitting in front of the fireplace, looking into her eyes, he’d gotten lost in her. Hours flew by and before they knew it, their stomachs were growling and they’d talked all the way through lunchtime.
The treasure of those days no longer seemed lost on him.
Overcome with an urge to hold her, he went out onto the patio. “Hey there.” Tiny lines around her eyes told him of the exhaustion the past two weeks had caused. She passed a hand across her brow, and he saw the effort behind her smile. He crossed the flagstone and dropped a kiss onto her upturned face.