by Patti Berg
“Maybe we’ll need to have more flags on hand next year,” Elena said, her words slow and easy, hoping she could prolong her news.
“I’ll make a note of that.” Anabelle glanced at her watch. “I hate to eat, hear your news, and run, but the CCU’s really shorthanded today, and I’ve got to get back. Any chance you could tell us what was so important that we had to meet for lunch?”
Elena looked from one friend to the other. She had a horrid lump in her throat and almost decided not to say a word, but she did. And she didn’t beat around the bush. “There’s a possibility that I have ovarian cancer. But right now, it is just a possibility. We don’t know for sure.”
No one said a word. Not even James, and Elena had thought for sure Fern would have told him.
Candace’s eyes filled with tears. Anabelle turned away from Elena and stared out the window, as if she didn’t know what to say or do.
James swallowed hard. “You’ve known for a while, haven’t you?”
Elena nodded. “I’ve known for quite some time that something was wrong, but it was only recently that the oncologist mentioned cancer.”
“Oh, Elena.” Candace wiped her tears away and then reached for Elena’s hand. Anabelle clutched her other hand.
Elena drew in a deep breath. “I’m okay. Really.”
“How can you be? Cancer’s…” Anabelle seemed to be fighting tears, but one slipped down her cheek. “Oh no. Please. Not you, Elena.”
Elena wiped away the pool of tears building up in the corners of her eyes. “I wish I could have found a better time to tell you. I wish I could have thought of a better way to do it too. It’s just—”
“You don’t need to explain anything, Elena,” James said, sadness written plain as day on his face. “There is no good time. There’s no good way, either.”
“We’re here for you,” Candace said. “Whatever you need.”
“Just knowing I can fall back on you, that I can talk to you, is all that I need.”
At long last Anabelle offered Elena a quivering smile. She opened her purse and took out a piece of paper. “I printed this prayer of St. Augustine’s when I got to work this morning. It’s from a devotional I get every day and it seems only fitting right now. Mind if I read it?”
They waited and then listened.
God of our life, there are days when the burdens we carry chafe our shoulders and weigh us down; when the road seems dreary and endless, the skies grey and threatening; when our lives have no music in them, and our hearts are lonely, and our souls have lost their courage. Flood the path with light; run our eyes to where the skies are full of promise; tune our hearts to brave music; give us the sense of comradeship with heroes and saints of every age; and so quicken our spirits that we may be able to encourage the souls of all who journey with us on the road of life, to Thy honor and glory.
“Amen,” James whispered, looking from one friend to another.
“Would you like to keep this?” Anabelle asked. “They’re only words, but they might bring you some measure of comfort.”
Elena took the paper Anabelle held out to her knowing she’d read the prayer again and again as the days went by, all too slowly.
“I love you guys. You know that, don’t you?”
James, Anabelle, and Candace nodded, their eyes filled with tears. Then, one by one, they smiled. “We love you too,” Anabelle said. And then in her no-nonsense fashion, she frowned. “But don’t you ever again keep something like this from us. We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”
Elena smiled. It was so like her friends—especially Anabelle—to give her the kick in the pants that she needed. Suddenly she felt so much better.
As always, her friends were just about the best prescription any doctor could order.
Chapter Twenty-Two
FIRST A FIRE; NOW THE POSSIBILITY OF CANCER. Anabelle sighed as she stood in the middle of the nursery on Saturday afternoon. It didn’t seem fair—first her son and his girlfriend, now one of her dearest friends. Yet, the nursery was already healing. The cleanup was done. Customers were walking about buying pumpkins and mums and ordering pine boughs and custom-made wreaths for Christmas.
It was almost a miracle.
She prayed Elena would be blessed with a miracle too.
The wind picked up a bit; but it was a pleasant breeze, not anything close to a gale. It was cold, but that was typical for the middle of November. It was going to get a lot colder soon, but that meant Christmas was coming—and she had such big plans this year.
With Cam off helping Evan stake up a few new scarecrows Anabelle had made up during the last couple of nights, she walked into the garden center where Maureen was hard at work on the new computer. It was rather stark inside; the walls needed a fresh coat of paint, but that would come after the new roof was put on and the place had a chance to air out.
“The smell around here isn’t getting to you?” Anabelle asked Maureen. “Inhaling all of that smoke residue isn’t good for your lungs—or for you in general.”
“We’ve scrubbed walls and floors and every item in this place several times, and the fumes are diminishing. Still, we’re keeping the kids out of this place, and Evan and I make sure we’re only in here for a little while at a time. I prefer being outside in the fresh air anyway, but the work has to be done. And”—Maureen motioned Anabelle toward the computer, a machine she despised, even though it was a necessary evil—“come look at the online orders we’ve received in the last couple of days.”
Maureen showed her how the ordering system worked and some of the items they already had up for sale, and Anabelle couldn’t have been more impressed by what Maureen and Evan had created. The Web site was beautiful, especially the way they’d taken photos of the vine-covered archway leading into the nursery and used them as the background graphic. Maureen had said she wasn’t creative, but the design had to be hers. Evan was too much like his dad; he knew horticulture, but art wasn’t even a word in his vocabulary.
“This system is going to be so great for keeping track of orders and inventory. And with one click of a button, the money we’ve made and the money we’ve spent will appear on spreadsheets so we can see our bottom line.”
Anabelle ran her finger down a column showing the number of orders they’d received in just the last week and then looked at the nearly bare shelves and walls in the garden center building. “Do you have enough inventory in stock to fill all those orders?”
Maureen nodded. “We knew we wouldn’t have room here to keep most of the stuff we’re offering online. Right now we’re keeping non-plant items in a storage shed we’re renting.”
“That was certainly smart.”
“Fortuitous, I’d say. If we’d kept it here, I don’t know how much we would have been able to salvage after the fire; and I can’t even imagine having to start that part of the business over again.”
They talked about Jacob and Olivia for a few minutes, and Anabelle reminded Maureen that they were all—the whole family—coming for dinner that night; and, no, she didn’t have to bring a dessert or salad or munchies.
“Just bring the little ones,” Anabelle said, smiling at the thought. She couldn’t wait to wrap them in her arms.
Outside they heard the crunch of gravel as a vehicle pulled into the lot.
“Oh boy.” Maureen’s eyes brightened. “Customers.”
Instead it was Candace and Heath, along with Brooke and Howie, the two children pulling an old red wagon containing an angel and cherub, both of which must have stood at least three feet high. They were beautiful—statues Anabelle would love in her own yard.
“What have you got there?” Maureen asked Candace, but Candace put a gentle hand on Brooke’s back and pushed her forward.
“We wanted to give you and Evan a little something.”
“Oh, goodness,” Maureen said in a rush. “Don’t say another word. Let me get Evan to come in.”
“Why don’t we just go out to h
im?” Heath suggested. “He and Cameron were heading this way when we pulled into the parking lot.”
“We’re here now as a matter of fact,” Evan said, stepping through the door with Cameron and Sarge on his heels. Sarge greeted his old friends, kids who’d spent time at Anabelle’s home quite often, rubbing against their legs, before finally settling down by Anabelle’s feet.
Brooke patted Sarge’s head and then looked up at Candace. “Should I start over again?”
Candace nodded.
Brooke took a deep breath, but before she uttered one single word, Howie stepped up beside her and blurted out, “These are for you. They’re guardian angels. We thought you might need them in case lightning strikes again.”
Brooke nudged her brother and frowned. “I had a whole speech prepared and you’ve ruined it.”
“No I didn’t. Besides, you were taking too long.”
“They’re for your garden,” Candace said softly, setting a smaller angel on the counter. “We have a few more in the back of the van.”
“We found them hidden in the corner of a thrift store,” Brooke stated proudly. “I hope you like them.”
“They’re beautiful.” Maureen touched the cherub’s cheek tenderly, almost the same way Anabelle had seen the young woman caress Olivia and Jacob’s sweet little faces.
“Thank you so much,” Evan said, giving Brooke a quick hug, “but you shouldn’t have. This is way too much—”
“It’s okay,” Howie interrupted. “They were cheap. And Heath gaggled with the owner so we could get them even cheaper.”
Anabelle thought her sides would split with laughter, as she pulled Howie against her to give him a big hug.
“I just wish we’d found them sooner,” Brooke offered. “If we had, and if the angels had been out in the nursery, standing guard, the maze might not have been hit by lightning.”
“Then again,” Maureen said, “if we hadn’t been hit by lightning you might not have found the angels at all. I truly believe there’s a reason for everything.”
Oh, how Anabelle loved the young woman who’d come into her son’s life. She was perfect for him. She was wise and wonderful. A great mother and rapidly becoming a friend. Anabelle couldn’t have asked for anyone more special, more endearing.
And Candace too. She was such a dear friend, but giving all these garden statues to Evan was more than she’d ever expected. They were gifts of love, though, and Candace had never skimped on that.
“Come on, you guys,” Evan said, ruffling Howie’s hair before he and Cameron lugged the angel and cherub out of the wagon. “Time’s a wasting. Let’s find the right spot in the garden for these special gifts you’ve given Maureen and me, and then you can pick the perfect pumpkin to take home.”
Howie’s eyes widened. “Does it matter how big it is?”
“Nope,” Evan said, marching out of the smoky garden center building. “You can have any one you want, and you might even be able to talk Maureen into drawing a face on it for you.”
“Me?” Maureen gasped. “I can’t draw.”
Evan turned around and winked. “Then it’s high time you learn. We’re going to have pumpkins here every year, and I think some of them deserve to be decorated. That, my dear, is going to be your job.”
Anabelle smiled and turned to Maureen. “It’s a piece of cake, honey. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how.”
It was nearly six that night when Anabelle sat outside in the waning light, watching Cameron play with Lindsay Belle and Olivia. He held his biological granddaughter in one arm and his soon-to-be-an-official granddaughter—Anabelle hoped!—in the other. The girls giggled and begged him to go faster as he ran around a pile of leaves he and Jacob—soon to be an official grandson, Anabelle hoped!—had raked up an hour before. The leaves were now scattering in the light breeze, but Anabelle didn’t care. This was family, and that’s what she lived for.
“Grandpa says I can help him build two new camels for the Christmas Nativity,” Jacob said, sitting beside Anabelle on a white wrought-iron bench, swinging his legs back and forth, while Sarge ran around in front of them, leaping and barking and trying to catch their attention. “He even said he’ll show me how to use the scroll saw.”
“You’ll have to wear goggles and be extra careful,” Anabelle said, “but after the camels are all cut out, we get to do the fun part, which is painting them.”
Jacob wrinkled his nose. “I’ll be much better at using a saw than I am at painting. Mom says Evan isn’t all that good at art, but I know he’s good at hammering nails and building stuff, and I want to be like him.”
Anabelle fluffed his hair. “You love him, don’t you?”
Jacob threw his arms out wide. “This much.” His eyes twinkled as the last rays of sunlight flashed across the yard. “That’s how much he loves me too.”
Following his lead, Anabelle threw her arms out wide. “I love you this much too. And boy, oh boy, are we going to have fun together. You, me, Olivia, Lindsay Belle, and Grandpa. I have a whole list of plans. Baking cookies. Teaching the girls how to sew.”
Jacob frowned. “What about boy stuff? Do you have plans for that?”
Actually, she didn’t. That had always been Cam’s domain. “I suppose that’s more Grandpa’s department.”
“Good, because even though I love you lots and lots, I’m more into guy stuff.”
Anabelle laughed and watched Jacob run off to be with Cam and the girls, and the rest of her family, who’d all gathered together for a joyous Scott get-together.
“Dinner’s ready,” Maureen shouted, after shoving open the old farmhouse’s patio door. “Come and get it.”
An hour and a half later, after the dishes were done and the children were in front of the television watching an old Disney flick, Anabelle stole a little bit of quiet time, going up to her second-floor sewing studio to read a daily devotional, to say a little prayer of thanksgiving, and maybe to look at that beautiful piece of batik fabric Candace had given her. It had been on the cutting table for weeks now, the sketch of an Easter sunrise service unfinished, waiting for her to return to the sewing room and start again.
For some reason the Easter sunrise with bunnies and chicks was no longer calling to her. Something else had taken its place, a pattern she’d been thinking about since yesterday at noon, when Elena had shared her news.
It was a circle of friends. The best of friends, gathered together to help each other no matter what. The silhouettes of four friends appliquéd on that beautiful batik fabric would look absolutely lovely hanging right here in this room.
And as she’d done several weeks ago, she picked up her sketchpad, opened it to a brand-new page, and started to draw.
Chapter Twenty-Three
SUNDAY MORNING DAWNED BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL, but Elena felt anything but wonderful. In fact, she felt downright awful, especially with the scent of frying bacon and eggs wafting all the way from the kitchen into the bedroom. But she wasn’t going to let that get her down.
No siree.
She stood in front of the full-length mirror, deciding which shoes she should wear with the purple, long-sleeved dress she’d found hidden at the back of the closet—black patent flats or black leather boots? She tried on both, staring at her reflection in the mirror, but a woman she barely knew stared back.
She’d lost too much weight and those dark circles under her eyes were absolutely awful. Stick her in the middle of a cornfield and she could easily scare off crows.
With all her heart, she wished she could speed up time. Never in her life did she ever think she’d be wishing to have surgery. Of course, it was probably wise to get through the walk first. It would be tough running around the course with any kind of stitches.
She could probably walk, but she was a runner. That’s what she liked, and she was going to do it on walk day. Nothing on earth would keep her from showing her support for victims and survivors of cancer.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she to
ok the boots off and put the flats back on again. They really did look good with the dress. She rarely wore makeup, but maybe she’d dab a little concealer beneath her eyes and—
A knifelike pain stabbed at her. It was scalding hot and wouldn’t let up. She bent over, grabbing her stomach, desperately trying to push the pain away, but it didn’t work.
“Elena!” Cesar’s shout echoed around her.
Dear Lord, please make the pain stop.
Cesar dropped down on the floor in front of her and clasped her upper arms. “I’m going to call 911.”
“No. Don’t.”
“I can’t let you go through this any longer.”
Elena dragged in a deep breath. The pain slowly subsided, and at last it was gone.
She swallowed and finally looked into Cesar’s fear-filled eyes.
“I’m okay now.” She fought to breathe easily. It was the only way she could keep from going into some sort of shock. “I just need to sit still for a minute or two.”
“Do you want some water?” Cesar asked. “Anything?”
Elena shook her head. She attempted a smile. “That’s the first pain I’ve had in over a week. I’ve been bloated, but that’s all. I’d hoped the pains were over. I’d hoped that maybe, just maybe, the doctor’s theory that I have a benign tumor pressing on a nerve might have been right. That maybe the tumor had shifted and I wouldn’t feel the pain any longer.”
“Wishful thinking.”
Elena grinned. “Trust me, if you were going through this, you’d be doing a lot of wishful thinking too.”
“You’re laughing now.”
“Well I’m not about to cry. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that anymore. I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired of worrying. I just want to go on with life. Other people do it all the time. People who actually have cancer; and if they can put up with endless amounts of pain, I can put up with the occasional twinge.”
“You don’t have to be that brave. You know that, don’t you?”