Dayna wondered why, if that was all that was wrong, he wanted to see her so badly, and why Tamara felt compelled to call his family. Was he in denial about how aggressively this cancer was attacking him?
“Did you need to see me for a specific reason?”
He reached for her hand, but lowered his when she hesitated.
“Sorry about that. Even in this condition, I’m overstepping my boundaries.”
Dayna wasn’t sure how to respond. His wife was out in the family waiting room dealing with humiliation and heartbreak, and here he was in a hospital bed, flirting with her. At least, that was what it felt like.
This wasn’t the man she remembered loving all those years ago, or the one she was forming a decent friendship with just a few weeks ago. Everyone had two sides, and today Brent’s alter ego was present. This man was selfish. She hated to feel that way about someone who was so ill. Yet even with all he was going through, she had to be real with herself, and with him. Audrey’s experience had taught her that.
“You realize you’ve hurt Tamara by asking me to come here, right?” Dayna couldn’t believe she was sitting here, sticking up for Tamara, of all people, but Brent seemed unfazed.
“I know it must have been tough for her to have me ask for you, but I’m not going to have too much longer to do the things I feel like I want to do or need to do. She has to understand.”
“She doesn’t have to,” Dayna said. “We all know that your time is limited, and we’re all doing our best to help you leave here with dignity, Brent. But you can’t step on everyone in the process, especially not your … wife.”
For the first time, she felt at peace uttering words she knew to be true.
“Tamara loves you, Brent, she really does.”
He nodded and turned his head away, toward a small window that offered a sliver of sunlight.
“I know she does,” he said, with the volume of his voice rising and falling like the waves of the ocean less than fifteen minutes from the hospital. “She’s been a great wife. But loving her hasn’t stopped me from loving you. I’ve told you that before; when are you going to believe me? I never stopped loving you, Dayna, and I never will, and I know that whether you admit it or not, you’ll always love me too. I’ll always be your first love, won’t I?”
Tears formed in Dayna’s eyes, and for a while, she fell silent. She was so angry at him, but how could she argue with a dying man?
“Please stop this, Brent,” she finally said, as gently as she could. “What does it matter what I believe? I’m not in first place anymore, remember? Tamara was your choice. Don’t do this to her, or to yourself, right now.”
“If not now, when?”
Dayna paused and peered at him. Was he hallucinating? Or was he reacting this way because he feared death? She wondered if Tamara had told him his family was on the way or if their visit was going to be a surprise. With nothing left to say that felt comfortable, she waited for him to speak again, praying that he would stay on appropriate subjects.
“One of the reasons I wanted to see you so badly was because I think we need to do whatever we can to speed things up with the foundation. I think I’ll come out of here okay this time, but I want everything squared away as soon as possible. I want this to really happen.”
Dayna sat back in her chair and relaxed. This, she could deal with. She heard his conviction; he was going to do whatever he could to realize this dream.
“Why don’t we see if they’ll let Tamara come in so the three of us can chat for a few minutes and figure out what we need to do to move things along?”
“Before you do that, there’s something else I want to share.”
Dayna’s heart raced again. “Yeah?”
“I’d like you to serve as president of the foundation board, once it’s established.”
Dayna’s jaw fell. “You’re kidding.”
This was her confirmation: he was either heavily medicated or losing his mind. Or maybe he just needed some sense knocked into him. There was no way she’d assume this role over Tamara.
“You were with me when the idea for the foundation was born; you’re the best one to be the face of the organization after I’m gone. It just makes sense. Why wouldn’t you carry through what you helped me imagine?”
“You know what, Brent?” Dayna said. “Just focus on getting well, and the rest will fall into place.”
He shook his head. “Don’t have time for that. I have to plan now. Are you with me or not?”
Could he handle an emphatic “no” right now? Dayna wasn’t sure, but that was her short and sweet answer. She had no desire to be his other woman, whether he was alive or dead.
forty-one
Dayna left Brent’s bedside as quickly as she could without giving him an answer and nearly fainted when she exited his room into Warren’s arms.
“How … when … what are you doing here?”
She felt disoriented, then realized that Warren must have jumped into his SUV and headed to the hospital as soon as she texted him.
“I didn’t want you to be alone, if this was as serious as it appeared,” he said. “I arrived shortly after you.”
Dayna realized she had sagged in Warren’s arms, and he was holding her up, here in the hallway outside of Brent’s room. She gathered her bearings and surmised he must have been on the way into Brent’s room to join her. Or had he been standing there listening for a while?
She stepped back and looked at him. His squared jaw told her he was angry.
“How much of our conversation did you hear?”
“Let’s just say I didn’t hear you deny loving him when he pressed you for an answer, and I didn’t hear you turn him down when he offered you the chairmanship of his foundation board.”
Dayna could hear the anger simmering beneath Warren’s calmly delivered words. Her heart seized. Here she had been worried about Brent’s words destroying Tamara, when it looked like they might derail her own life.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Were you planning on going back inside?” Warren asked.
“I don’t need to see him again,” Dayna managed to utter.
She and Warren headed toward the elevators, but they had to pass the waiting room to get there, and inside, Dayna saw Tamara and her mother talking with a doctor.
“Wait, Warren,” she said. He shrugged and held open the waiting room door for her. Dayna and Warren approached Tamara, but stood a few feet away so they wouldn’t intrude. Tamara noticed them and motioned for them to join her and her mother.
Hearing firsthand from Brent’s physician that his current health crisis didn’t appear to be life-threatening was reassuring.
“Each time he comes, though, he’ll get weaker. Hospice care will become a good alternative,” the doctor told Tamara.
She nodded as if she understood, but in Dayna’s estimation, Tamara appeared to be a million miles away.
“I hope I’m not prying, but have you two considered counseling to deal with Brent’s impending death?” the doctor asked.
Tamara shook her head. “You mentioned it at his last appointment, but Brent insists he’s okay. He doesn’t want to talk about anything — he just wants to get everything in order.”
The doctor didn’t seem surprised. “And you?”
Tamara frowned. “Me?”
“It’s common not only for patients, but also their closest relatives, to go through the stages of grief after a patient receives a terminal diagnosis. They range from denial to anger to acceptance, with a couple of other steps involved as well. Everyone arrives at the stages in their own way and in their own time, but they will go through each of them, and sometimes you can get stuck in one. It’s important as you’re preparing for his death that you talk with someone who can help you work through each stage too.”
Tamara nodded. “Wonder which one I’m in now?”
The doctor peered at her. “I wouldn’t dare try to stand here and tell
you for certain, but a good guess with a woman your age and in your circumstances would be that you’re spending a significant amount of time in the anger stage. That’s quite normal. However, it can be detrimental to your emotional and physical health. Plus, as your husband’s caregiver, you’ve got a lot on your shoulders. It would be wise to get some support for yourself, but also for him, if you can talk him into it.”
Tamara nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Grant. I’ll take all of that into account.”
He patted her arm. “Hang in there, Tamara. I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with this, but Brent is stable for now and should be able to go home tomorrow.”
Dr. Grant turned toward Dayna. “Hello, are you one of Mr. Davidson’s relatives?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a few seconds of pain skip through Tamara’s eyes before Tamara’s mask fell back into place.
Dayna shook her head. “No, just a concerned friend. I came down from Calero to check on Brent. Glad he’s stable. May I …” She paused and looked at Tamara. “Is it okay if I ask a question about Brent’s health?”
Tamara hesitated, then shrugged. “Go ahead.”
“Doctor, is it normal for him to be … he seems to be living in a fantasy world, or acting somewhat selfishly, as if only what he wants matters. Does that make sense, especially for a forty-year-old man?”
The question must have struck a chord. Tamara looked at Dr. Grant expectantly. Warren watched with narrowed eyes, but she hoped he had gotten her implied message: Brent is acting badly, and it’s not my fault.
Dr. Grant nodded. “Absolutely normal. It figures into the stages of grief I mentioned. It sounds like he’s in the bargaining stage right now, where he may have in some ways accepted that he’s dying, but in another sense feels like if he can just have things his way, he’ll feel better and live longer or be able to eventually accept what’s coming his way. I can’t say for sure without having a long talk with him, but what you’re describing is common in terminally ill patients.”
Tamara frowned. “So what do we do with that? Just play along to keep him happy, even though his actions may have a negative impact on everyone around him?”
Dr. Grant cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know that you’ll have a cut-and-dried solution. You’ve got to decide circumstance by circumstance, Tamara. Just because he’s dying doesn’t give him the right to be mean or hurtful, if that’s what you’re asking. Sure, you may let him have his way on certain things to keep the peace or to make him feel special, but boundaries need to stay in place as much as is realistic.”
Tamara seemed to have more questions, but the doctor shifted from one foot to the other, indicating that he needed to move on.
“Get into some counseling, both of you, okay? If you need help finding someone who will be a good fit, call my office, and my receptionist will help you. Take good care.”
He patted Tamara’s shoulder one last time before leaving.
Tamara hugged herself and walked over to the sofa to sit down. Her mother followed and sat next to her. She put an arm around her daughter and kissed her cheek. “We’re going to get through this together, you hear? God is going to see us through.”
Tamara’s dry laugh sounded empty. “God’s in this? Really? No kids, and soon no husband? What will I have left to live for?”
She looked up at Dayna through the blur of tears. “In fact, my husband already seems to have gone back to the wife of his youth. Is that God’s doing too?”
The words pierced Dayna as sharply as if a knife had been thrust in her chest. She was about to protest, but pursed her lips. She knew Warren was standing next to her, likely asking a similar question.
What could she say to change how Brent had made Tamara feel by demanding that she come? And how was Tamara going to handle it if she went into that room and Brent told her of his new plan to leave Dayna in charge of the foundation?
Dayna’s heart swam with confusing emotions. Pity for Tamara washed over her one second, followed by a guilty smugness that this woman was recouping some of the pain she had once inflicted on Dayna, followed by a desire to help Tamara get through this as best as she could.
And that was just with Tamara. Concern over what Warren had heard, and possibly misinterpreted, stirred a whole other wave of feelings. What was God doing? And why?
She wanted to leave the hospital this evening and head home with Warren and make a nice happy life with him and his two sons. Instead, she knew when she got back to Calero, she’d be fighting to keep Warren, while somehow honoring her promise to Brent and Tamara to get the foundation launched and checked off Brent’s list.
The sooner that happened, the sooner she could step back into her familiar routine and let Brent and his wife tie up their loose ends.
forty-two
With no memory of how she’d gotten there, Dayna pulled into her driveway.
Warren had followed her back to Calero to make sure she arrived safely, but he hadn’t called her cell to chat while they drove. He was probably still disturbed by the declarations he’d heard from Brent, so small talk and flirting would have felt out of place. But as he’d told her at the hospital before they parted, a serious discussion would have to wait — he was needed at a school function tonight, and tomorrow he was taking the boys sailing.
She remained lost in her thoughts as she prepared her tea and curled up in a chair. Before studying a passage of Scripture, as she’d begun to do at bedtime most nights, she scrolled through caller ID on her cordless phone. Mama had called three times today; she must need an answer about Easter.
Dayna stared at the phone and wrestled with herself. She had so much going on; was she up for an emotionally draining chat with her parents tonight?
She pressed the talk button and dialed Jessica’s number instead. Her baby sister picked up on the second ring.
“Well, hello, stranger! Let me guess why you’re calling: Mom needs an answer right away about her Easter invitation and you want to know if I’m going before you make your decision?”
Dayna burst into laughter.
“You got it, Miss Motivational Speaker,” Dayna said. “So what are we doing?”
Jessica chuckled. “I guess we’re going. Keith’s coming with me to serve as a buffer. It will be all right for just a weekend. Besides, I haven’t been home in eight months; we spent the holidays here in Indianapolis with his family, remember? Are you going to bring your friend, Warren?”
Dayna leaned back in the chair, which reclined. No need to bring today’s drama into the conversation; she and Warren were going to work through this.
“I was instructed not to, since his lack of pigmentation might upset the congregation at Daddy’s prominent historical African American church,” Dayna said.
“Stop playing.”
“I wish I were. You know Mama. Plus, we’re not married, so she’d have to figure out ‘appropriate’ sleeping arrangements for him.”
“If I were you, I’d bring Warren and tell her to deal,” Jessica said. “He could stay at the hotel downtown if that’s a big issue, but why can’t he come to the house of the Lord on Sunday morning, like anybody else? But you decide what’s most comfortable.”
Dayna raised her eyes to the ceiling. Jessica was right. She was a full-grown woman; why couldn’t she bring her beau home? And besides, she and Warren were on the verge of engagement. Mama and Daddy needed to accept this if they wanted her to visit more often.
Dayna grabbed a pillow from the sofa to hug.
“If you’re game, I am too. And if Warren can make it, I’ll bring him. Have you talked to Shiloh lately?”
“Nah. You know the Second Lady is too busy praying to have a regular conversation with a heathen like me.”
They laughed. Dayna knew she and Jessica should be ashamed for the way they teased their middle sister behind her back, but in their minds, Shiloh had somehow forgotten their crazy-making upbringing. She had morphed into a Stepford daughter and wife, all rolled i
nto one.
While her husband Randy sat in the pulpit next to Daddy, waiting for his turn to become senior pastor, she sat next to Mama on Sunday mornings, wearing her hat and practicing the mannerisms of a proper Southern Baptist pastor’s wife. Forget that she was barely thirty-five; she carried herself like a woman living in the 1960s. If Randy didn’t okay it, she and the children couldn’t do it.
Dayna and Jessica’s personal disdain for their sister stemmed from different reasons, but it was one of the few things that connected them.
“I saw an article in O magazine promoting your speaking engagement at Smith College just before Easter, Miss Lady, so I know you’re busy. When will you arrive in Atchity?”
“That was cool, wasn’t it?” Jessica, who had just turned thirty, sounded as perky on the phone as she had in the magazine article in which she’d been featured. “I think I’m going to fly in on Good Friday. I have an engagement that week on the West Coast, and Keith may be traveling with me so we can stay over a few days. At least I hope he will.”
“Yeah, it was cool seeing your interview,” Dayna said. “I’m proud of ya, sis. I’ll come in Friday evening after the service, or Saturday morning, depending on whether Warren joins me.”
For the first time in a long while, she felt funny about not planning to spend Good Friday in church. Were the morning prayers and Scriptures she’d been meditating on getting to her?
“I hope you bring Warren,” Jessica said. “I’d like to get to know him better. And I can’t wait to get caught up with you. It’s been too long, you know? Our strange family has kept us apart, but we have to do better.”
Dayna was surprised. Was baby sister acknowledging that they could have and should have been closer growing up, and now in adulthood?
Jessica was right, though; all three sisters had left home as soon as they could, the best way they knew how. Shiloh’s path of marriage and family right after high school had kept her in town, closely connected to the dysfunction, but Dayna and Jessica had gone as far as their skill and talent could take them, neither desiring to ever return long-term.
Coming Home Page 17