In This Together
Page 9
“What else is going on?”
“It’s just strange stuff.”
“Like what?”
“I feel bloated most all of the time lately. And…and I get this terrible urge to urinate, and I can’t wait.”
“What else?”
“That’s it.”
“No, it’s not,” he said, hounding her as he would a suspect he was interrogating. “You’ve lost weight too. Haven’t you?”
“Some.”
His jaw tightened. His gaze burned into her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want to worry anyone, so I’ve kept it to myself.”
“Well I am worried.” Fear mixed with fury raged in his voice. “Please tell me you’ve called the doctor.”
She nodded. “I have an appointment with Dr. Lydell on Tuesday.”
“No, we have an appointment on Tuesday.”
“There’s no need for you to go.”
Cesar let out a sigh. “I’m your husband. I love you and whether you like it or not, I’m going.”
And for the first time, she started to cry. She was scared half out of her mind, but she no longer had to go through this alone. They were in this together. No matter what.
Chapter Nine
THAT WOULD BE WONDERFUL.” IT WAS EARLY Saturday afternoon, and Anabelle felt as if the kitchen telephone had been permanently cemented to her ear after making one call after another, rounding up donations of ribbon and bolts of fabric to use when they painted the town purple. “Just let me know when the ribbon comes in, and I’ll drop by to pick it up.”
Anabelle put a big check mark next to Country Quilters in Peoria. She’d bought hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars worth of fabric, notions, and patterns from the store over the years. She was sure that was part of the reason Louise Pulver, the owner, hadn’t turned her down when she asked for a big donation.
“When I come by, I’ll bring the Easter Sunrise quilt pattern I’m working on, and the batik fabric a friend of mine brought back for me from Saint Kitts. You’re going to love it.” If only her schedule at work and the hours she was volunteering at the nursery and on the Walk for a Cure could be freed up enough to work on the pattern. “And I’ll let you help me pick out the perfect backing for it.”
They laughed and chatted until Cam walked into the kitchen and tapped the face of his watch. “Hurry up,” he whispered.
Goodness. Where had the time gone? Cameron had been at the nursery since the crack of dawn working with Evan and Maureen on the maze, and she’d told him she’d be ready at three to go over and decorate wheelbarrows. “One second,” she whispered back, and after a promise to e-mail a photo of the batik fabric to Louise so she could drool over it right away, she ended the call.
“Let me grab a sweater and put on my shoes, and I’ll be ready to go.” Anabelle brushed a kiss across her husband’s cheek and then dashed off to the bedroom. Cam, Evan, and Maureen had been working from sunrise to sunset the past few days setting up the maze. Anabelle was not only going to decorate scarecrows and wheelbarrows, but she was also going to help Maureen make a sign to go out at the street, plus placards to go inside the maze to lead and mislead the people inside.
It was all going to be so much fun.
Cam had been in his element driving the tractor, pushing around bales of hay, and filling some of the new pottery that Evan had purchased with mums and other autumn-blooming plants. He’d even been relegated to picking up Jacob from school and Olivia from day care and had taken them to the park to play before taking them home or the nursery, wherever Maureen happened to be at the time.
Being a grandfather suited him well.
“Wait till you see all the things Evan and Maureen have put in the garden center,” Cam said, holding the car door open for Anabelle. Sarge was already in the backseat, his tongue wagging as he anxiously awaited their drive. “It’s enough to make my head spin. I’m sure Evan’s spent far too much money and that he’s overdoing it, but he’s always been industrious. Once the economy picks up, Scott Landscaping and Nursery is going to hit the big time.”
Pride radiated in Cam’s words as they drove the two miles to the nursery. Anabelle had heard little else from her husband since Maureen and Evan had told them their plans on Wednesday night. She was excited for them too, but she was having to weave that excitement in with the work she was doing for the Walk for a Cure events, especially Paint the Town Purple that she and Candace had volunteered to organize.
The holidays were coming too.
Goodness, she was busy.
“My quilting guild is going to make purple flags for Paint the Town Purple,” she told her husband, “but we’re going to need people to hang them on light posts downtown. Do you think you can talk to your Bible study group about helping out?”
“Sure,” Cam said, “not a problem.”
Anabelle rubbed Sarge’s nose when the dog rested his head on the back of her seat. “Oh, I just remembered, have you given any more thought to the two of us making a toy box for Lindsay Belle?”
“The pattern’s already come, I just need to go to the lumber yard and get the materials.”
“We should probably get started on that right away.”
“Christmas is still two months away.”
“I know,” Anabelle said, as Cam drove into the small parking lot at the front of the nursery. “But you know how I hate to procrastinate. You never know when something might come up to keep us from getting it finished in time.”
“Any other projects you want me to work on?” Cam grinned at Anabelle as he pulled to a stop.
“Not at the moment, but I’m sure more will come up before the week’s over.”
“Think fast, Annie. It’s already Saturday. If you don’t get any new requests in before midnight, my list of projects will close down, never to be opened again. Or,” Cameron amended, with a laugh, “until the New Year, when we wipe the slate clean and start all over again.”
Anabelle smiled at her husband. “Is that a challenge?”
“Sure is.” He looked at his watch. “You’ve got a little over eight hours. As I said, think fast.”
What her dear, sweet husband didn’t know was that she already had a list of projects for him, safely tucked away in her sewing studio. What fun it was going to be to see the look on his face when she presented that list to him tonight.
A totally unsuspecting Cameron slipped his hand around hers as they walked across the gravel parking lot to the arched, vine-covered entry leading into the garden center. The green leaves of summer were rapidly turning many shades of amber and red; and with the days growing shorter, the sun was already working its way toward the horizon.
It was beautiful out—a little on the chilly side today, but she didn’t mind. This was one of Anabelle’s favorite times of the year, making her think of quilting projects and the scents of cinnamon and cloves that would soon permeate their home.
She thought of the pale pink princess toy box with tole-painted roses, vines, and hearts she and Cam would spend hours on, even if it meant she had to stay up late in the evenings to work on her portion, which would include a tufted velvet pillow-top, something Lindsay Belle would absolutely love.
She needed to think of something special to make for Olivia and Jacob too. More toy boxes? In the next week or so she’d have to feel Maureen out, see what her little ones wanted and/or needed.
“While we’re here,” Anabelle said, Christmas filling her thoughts, “let’s have Evan place an order for the pine boughs we’ll need to decorate inside and outside the house. We’ll also need four or five big, healthy poinsettias—red ones only.”
“What’s with all the thoughts about Christmas? I would have expected you to be too caught up in the walk and the pumpkin patch to even think about the holidays.”
“I’ve been thinking about Thanksgiving and Christmas for weeks now. It’ll be like old times in the house this year, with Lindsay Belle toddl
ing all over the place and Olivia and Jacob helping me bake and decorate sugar cookies and make homemade decorations for the trees.”
“Trees? As in plural?”
“Of course, trees. Two or three, at least. Have you forgotten that we had them all over the house when our kids were little?”
“That was a good twenty years ago. I’m not sure I have the energy for all that work anymore.”
“Then we’ll have a party and invite friends and family to help decorate them. You can serve eggnog and mulled cider and—”
Cam laughed. “I suppose you’ll want lights all over the house too.”
“Naturally. And you can cut out a few more plywood animals to go with our outdoor Nativity scene.” Anabelle laughed as the to-do list she was compiling for Cameron continued to grow. “I’ll do the painting, of course. That’s never been your specialty.”
“It’s a good thing I’ve still got a strong back.”
With Sarge on a fairly short leash, they walked along the curving paths, stopping to smell the last of the blooms on one of the nursery’s permanently planted roses. As they neared the garden center’s retail building, Cameron brushed away a few brown leaves that had sailed off a maple tree and landed on the needles of a dark green Norway spruce. At the entrance to the building, other potted evergreens were surrounded by barrels and decorative pots overflowing with colorful chrysanthemums and other fall flowers.
Cameron smiled as they meandered along, obviously proud of what their son had accomplished. The nursery was beautiful.
They walked up the steps and into a 1920s building that had once been a house on the verge of destruction. It was the find of a lifetime, Evan had told his mom and dad, when he’d bought the place for a song and dance and had it moved to the nursery. It still needed work, but with all the wind chimes hanging outside and the colorful walls decorated by Maureen’s gentle hand, the place felt homey and welcoming.
Maureen was leaning over a counter, reading a garden book that was wedged in between price lists for their rock, bark, paving stones, and other landscaping supplies, not to mention a few absolutely gorgeous chrysanthemums and a few rolls of ribbon.
“Hi there,” Anabelle said, urging Sarge to sit at her side when she knew the dog wanted to explore.
Maureen jerked up, but smiled when she saw Anabelle and Cameron. She blew at a lock of short sandy hair hanging over her brow. “Did you know,” she said, looking at the gardening book again, “that the chrysanthemum flower symbolizes fidelity, optimism, joy, and long life?”
“Didn’t have a clue,” Cameron said, pinching a dried leaf out of one of the pots containing a purple pom-pom mum.
“I think I’m going to make up a poster with pictures of mums on it, plus that information, and these tidbits. A red chrysanthemum conveys love; a white chrysanthemum symbolizes truth and loyal love; and, well, this is rather dismal, a yellow chrysanthemum symbolizes slighted love.” She glanced up. “I might leave that last one off the poster.”
“Might be a wise idea.” Anabelle picked up a roll of ribbon. “Want me to start tying bows? Or is there something else you’d like me to do?”
“Bows would be great.” Maureen’s eyes brightened. “How do you think our gnomes would look with pretty orange ribbons around their necks?”
“Different,” Anabelle admitted, but she liked the idea. She spun around looking at the nursery center filled with yard ornaments and smaller statuary. “Would you mind if I just walk around and tie ribbons wherever I think they’ll work?”
“I’d love it.” Maureen came out from behind the counter, the soles of her boots crusted with mud, her knees dirty, the way Cam’s shoes and jeans had always looked when he’d come home from work. “Pardon my mess,” she said, brushing the drying dirt off her knees. “We had a shipment of stepping-stones, sundials, and birdbaths come in a week earlier than we’d expected, so I’ve been busy in the garden while Evan’s been working on the maze. It’s pretty cool, isn’t it, Cameron?”
He nodded. “Of course, I hope I don’t have to be the first one to find out just how tough it is to maneuver through it, from beginning to end. I may have the plan cemented permanently in my head, but navigating’s never been one of my strong suits.”
“Hey there!” Evan strolled into the garden center, his jeans, boots, and work shirt littered with straw, his hands a dusty, dirty grayish brown. “We just finished up the maze. Want to take a look?”
“Go on, Cam.” Anabelle handed her husband Sarge’s leash. “I’m going to stay here and play with ribbon.”
“I’m so glad I have you to help me out,” Maureen said, when Cameron, Evan, and Sarge were well on their way to the back of the nursery. “I can tell you the botanical names of just about any plant—well, the most common ones—but I’ve never been a fashion plate. Decorating to make things look pretty isn’t one of my strong suits, and ask me to tie a frilly bow”—she laughed—“I’m all thumbs. Poor Olivia. I’m afraid she’s going to end up like me, living in blue jeans and Tshirts.”
Anabelle hadn’t really noticed. She liked Maureen just the way she was, a bit of a tomboy with a heart of gold. But…Olivia, just like Lindsay Belle, deserved glitter and ruffles and tons and tons of pink. No doubt about it, both little girls would find a whole kit and caboodle of princess paraphernalia under the Christmas tree this year.
“I have to tell you, Maureen, that even though Cam and I have been married for over forty years, even though I spent endless hours helping him plant flowers, I never was the least bit interested in their botanical names. I’m sure he would have loved it if I’d taken more of an interest in the landscape business. Evan’s lucky to have found someone like you.”
“Yep, we’re two peas in a pod. Of course, we don’t always see eye to eye. To be honest, I’m a little worried that we’re going overboard on this pumpkin patch and maze adventure, and he thinks we should do a little more. What if it doesn’t work? What if the whole thing goes belly-up and Evan loses all the money he’s invested in this?”
Anabelle was honored that Maureen would confide in her. She wanted to encourage the young woman. “Then you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.”
“I’ve already done that a time or two. I hope I—we never have to go through it together.”
“It’s a part of life,” Anabelle said. “It’s what often brings people closer together.” She grabbed a pair of scissors and put her arm around Maureen. “How about we put the worrying on hold for a while? Come with me. I’ll show you how to make a bow that’ll knock your customer’s socks off.”
Chapter Ten
JAMES WHISTLED A HAPPY TUNE AS HE PULLED THE minivan away from the curb in front of the Chocolate Garden. He’d put in eight hours of overtime when he really would have rather spent his Saturday with Fern. But if they were going to take a few weekend trips to Chicago and plan a vacation to Greece, plus pay for two kids to go to college, they’d need the extra money.
But right this moment, his mind was on the one-pound, silver box of Fern’s favorite dark chocolate truffles, which had been wrapped with a purple ribbon. He’d ordered a movie they could download from the computer, the latest Oscar winner, which he hoped was as good as the hype. Gideon was no doubt spending the evening with Jenni, and Nelson had asked that morning if he could spend the night with one of the guys in his Boy Scout troop. So after dinner, it was going to be date night, just James and Fern cuddled up on the sofa with popcorn and sodas, a few sizzling logs in the fireplace, and the flick.
If he was lucky, Fern might even let him swipe one of her truffles…or two.
It was going to be a perfect evening, with nothing on his mind but his wife.
Turning into the driveway, James parked the van in the garage that was cluttered with bicycles, gardening tools, and camping equipment. Don’t even think about straightening the place up, he told himself. Just enjoy the days ahead, with Fern in remission and feeling good for the first time in a long time.
Had the boys taken off early? He’d thought they’d be home for dinner.
A slow smile touched his face. Maybe that wasn’t so bad. He didn’t mind having Fern all to himself. He might even turn on some music and dance his pretty wife all around the house.
Once inside, James headed straight for the kitchen, drawn not only by the show tune—something from Oklahoma?—resonating through their stereo system, but by the scent of pork chops, cinnamon, and sugar.
“Smells great,” James said, kissing Fern’s neck. She stood at the kitchen sink, her hands braced on the countertop. Could she be exhausted from fixing dinner? Was she overdoing it?
Don’t make a big deal out of it, he warned himself. Don’t tell her to slow down or take it easy.
“It’s been so long since I’ve fixed dinner all on my own, that I can only hope and pray it tastes as good as it smells.”
James wrapped his arms around Fern’s waist and nuzzled her neck. He felt a slight tremble, as if her body was about to give up on her despite her best efforts to make everyone—including herself—believe she was healed completely.
Just go with the flow, James. Let her feel good about what she’s doing.
James fought the urge to lift her into his arms—as he’d done so many times in the past years—carry her to the sofa, and cover her with an afghan. But she’d made it pretty clear last night that she didn’t want to be coddled, and he was determined to abide by her wishes.
“That wouldn’t be homemade applesauce you’re cooking, would it?”
Fern nodded and flashed a quick smile at James as she pulled away from his embrace and went to the stove. She lifted the lid on the apples that were simmering in sugar, cinnamon, and water, and inhaled the sweet steam rising from the pot. “It’s been ages since I made applesauce from scratch. I remembered how much you loved eating it with pork chops, so I had Gideon pick up some Fuji and Granny Smith apples on the way home from school yesterday.”