“No hurry. Relax and enjoy your tea,” he said, cupping his coffee in both hands. “We did a pretty good job on that cheesecake, but there’s one bite left,” he added, scooting the plate closer to her.
Sheila smiled and shook her head. “It’s all yours. I haven’t eaten this much in a long time.”
“Okay. If you insist.” He reached his fork across the table and took the last bite. “Next time we’ll try the tiramisu,” he said with a grin.
Next time? Sheila felt another surge of joy. Why does this feel so right? Aren’t I too old to be dating again?
“There will be a next time, right?” he asked, looking her in the eye.
“If you say so,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant in her tone.
He smiled. “I do.”
As they walked out to the car a few minutes later, a cool breeze caused Sheila to hug her sweater tight.
“Cold?” he asked, draping an arm over her shoulder and pulling her close.
The warmth of his body felt good, and she leaned into him. What would Michelle say if she could see me now? Her daughter’s face appeared in her mind, guarded caution written across it. But she quickly dismissed the thought.
As soon as they were in the car, Rick turned the heater on. “Want your seat heated?” he asked, reaching to the button for the passenger side.
“The seats heat up?” she asked.
“Yep. Here, I’ll show you.” He punched the button and within seconds her seat was toasty warm.
“Now that’s nice,” she said approvingly. “We’ve never had anything like that in our cars before.”
“You probably don’t need them down in Southern California. But they come in handy up here.”
When they pulled up in front of her house, Sheila realized she didn’t want the night to end. “It’s so nice and warm in here, I hate to get out.”
Rick smiled. “We could sit here for a while if you’d like.”
She looked at him and replied, “It’s tempting, but I’d better get inside and let you go home.”
“Okay, but only on the condition you promise we can do this again later in the week.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Okay,” he said. “How’s Friday?”
“Friday’s good, she replied with a smile.
“It’s a date, then.” He opened the door and walked around to her side.
As they walked up to the house, she hoped he would put his arm around her again. But he just stayed close beside her, reaching out once to support her elbow as they climbed the steps to the door.
“I had a wonderful evening tonight,” she said.
“Me, too,” he replied. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “See you Friday.”
Her heart was racing so fast she could barely reply. Nodding, she managed, “Friday.” Then she opened the door and walked inside, feeling as light as air. Although she would usually be heading for bed at this time of night, she was wide awake.
“I think I’ll do some unpacking,” she said aloud. Standing in the middle of the living room, she looked around at all the boxes. Spotting the one marked Albums, she scooted it over to the foot of the couch and sat down to peel back the tape they’d used to seal its flaps. This one should be easy to empty quickly. She knew exactly where she planned to keep her photo albums. All she’d need to do was to place them on the built in bookshelf beside the fireplace.
Within minutes, most of the albums were standing upright in their new home. Then she lifted the last one out. Her wedding album. She stopped and sank back into the soft cushions of the couch, propping her feet on the coffee table and resting the album on her lap. She gazed at the front with its framed photo of her and John right after they’d kissed at the altar and had turned to face the congregation.
As if it had happened yesterday, she was transported back in time. Suddenly she was that twenty-two year old bride in her grandmother’s antique lace gown facing an exciting new chapter of life—marriage to a man who’d swept her off her feet.
She stared into her husband’s eyes and felt like he was looking right back at her from the cover of the album. Her heart ached for just one more chance to see him face-to-face, to feel his embrace, and to share the memories of a lifetime spent together.
Carefully opening the cover, she began paging through the photos of that very special day. Her parents looked so young! They’d been ten years younger than she was now. Wow. Time was slipping away.
Her eyes lit on her favorite photo of the bunch — a close up of her and John as rice was flying through the air in their direction. The camera captured the playful smile John displayed so often when courting her. When did he lose that smile?
She thought back over their years of marriage—the good times and the bad. And then the worst—the day he’d tried to take his own life over a false allegation of embezzlement. She could see clearly with her mind’s eye his comatose body lying so still in the ICU. A shudder coursed through her body as she recalled those endless days of watching, waiting, and wondering.
Slumping down in the couch, she allowed the tears to come one more time. Tears for all the years they almost lost. Tears for the time they’d spent trying to live their lives independent of God. And tears for the day she’d finally laid him to rest last year. Was she really ready to move on and begin a new relationship at this point in her life?
Carrying the album over to the bookcase, she slid it in place beside the others. Feeling an overwhelming sense of fatigue, she turned out the lights and was heading for the bedroom when the phone rang.
I wonder who would be calling me this late. “Hello?” she said.
Rick’s voice greeted her from the other end. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sheila. But I wanted to let you know you left your cell phone in my car.”
“I did?” She reached over and picked up her purse and began digging through it. The phone was not there. “I guess it must have fallen out when my purse tipped over.”
“Probably. I didn’t want you to go crazy looking for it,” he replied. “Plus, it gave me an excuse to talk to you one more time today.”
She could picture his smile as he spoke. The heavy sadness that was weighing her down just a few minutes ago lifted like a mist and evaporated completely. “Thanks, Rick. I really appreciate your call.”
“No problem. I’ll drop it by tomorrow on my way over to the college. See you then.”
Sheila smiled to herself. “See you then.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Joan studied her husband’s face as they ate their breakfast. His skin looked almost yellow, and so did the whites of his eyes. He ate half his oatmeal and pushed the rest away.
“Honey, you’ve got to eat,” she urged. It had been several days since his surgical scan, and he seemed weaker than ever. Today they’d be meeting with the doctor to go over all the test results and find out the prognosis.
“My stomach’s just not right,” he replied, grimacing a little as he shifted in his chair.
She glanced at the wall clock. “Okay, I’d better get myself together and get ready to go to the appointment with you.” She stood and cleared the breakfast dishes, carefully rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher.
“You don’t need to go,” Phil said without looking up from his morning paper.
“We’ve been over this a dozen times. I’m going. I want to hear what the doctor says for myself.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“Suit myself? What’s wrong with you, Phil?” she asked. “You never talk to me like that.”
He folded the newspaper and placed it on the table. “You’re right, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” Pausing, he reached for her hand. “You know I don’t like doctors, and I don’t like not feeling well. I’m not a good patient, and I’ve been worried about what will happen to my ministry at the Alzheimer’s facility.”
“I know this is tough for you, but you need to take care of yourself first or you’ll be
no good to those people.” She studied his face and saw the resignation in his eyes. “Let’s just get this appointment over with and start whatever treatment the doctor recommends. Okay?”
“Okay.” He pulled her down into his lap and wrapped his arms around her.
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, trying to sound annoyed but feeling her spirit lift a little.
“Just hugging my bride.”
“Oh, you old fool,” she replied with a chuckle. She kissed the top of his head and stood up. “I’m going to make the bed and get my face on.”
“Good idea,” he teased, winking at her.
She grabbed the newspaper and swatted him in the arm. “You’re still as ornery as ever, ‘Pastor’ Phil.”
Sheila and Michelle were unpacking the last of the boxes at Sheila’s house when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it, Mom,” Michelle said, pushing herself up from the floor where she’d been sitting sifting through some family vacation memorabilia.
Brushing her hair back from her face with her hand, she peeked out the peephole of the front door. Rick Chambers was standing on her mother’s front porch, his hands in his pockets and looking almost nervous.
Michelle cleared her throat and opened the door. “Dr. Chambers. What a surprise!” She stepped aside and gestured toward the living room. “Come in.”
“Hi Michelle. This is a pleasant surprise. Is your mother here?” he asked.
“Yeah. She’s in the back room. Just a minute. I’ll go get her.” She turned and was leaving the room when she remembered her manners. “Have a seat,” she offered.
He sat down on the edge of the couch. “Thanks.”
“Who was it, dear?” her mother’s voice called from the other room.
Michelle hurried back to where she’d left her. “It’s Dr. Chambers,” she said. “What’s he doing here?”
Sheila was on her feet instantly, checking her image in the mirrored doors of the closet. “He’s dropping off my cell phone,” she replied. “I left it in his car last night.”
This is too strange. What is going on with her? She didn’t know if she should go out and join them or stay hidden in the guest room. Finally, her curiosity got the best of her, and she ventured out.
She found them standing at the front door saying goodbye. The both looked a little awkward and nervous.
“Well, I’ll see you Friday, then,” Rick said.
“Yeah. And thanks again for bringing this by,” Sheila replied, holding up her cell phone.
“My pleasure.”
Michelle cleared her throat so they would be aware of her presence.
Dr. Chambers looked at her and smiled. “Good to see you again, Michelle.”
“You, too,” she answered.
After he’d left, she turned to her mother. “What is going on here, Mom?”
“What do you mean, dear?”
“I mean, what’s up with you and Dr. Chambers?”
Sheila smiled and blushed.
“Mom?” Michelle couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mother blush about anything.
“It’s nothing, honey.” She gazed out the window and watched his car driving away.
Michelle took her mother’s hand and led her to the couch. “Sit. I want to hear everything.”
“There’s really not that much to tell. At least not yet.”
“Not yet?” Michelle studied her mother’s face. Something had changed. The gray cloud that had been resting there since her father died was gone. Mom looked happy.
“You know, Michelle, I will always love and miss your father,” she began. “But Rick and I… we… well, we seem to be kind of dating.” She looked at her and grinned.
“Dating?”
“I mean, we’re just friends. At least I think we are. But… well…” her mother paused, and then added, “he makes me feel special. I know this is going to sound crazy, but it’s like I’m a teenager again inside.” She squeezed Michelle’s hand. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Wow. I’m speechless.”
“Rick’s not the same man you knew as your anthropology professor, honey. He’s a gentleman who is seeking God for the first time in his life. He’s lonely and so am I.”
“But you have us,” Michelle replied.
Sheila nodded. “And I’m very thankful for that. And for all you and Steve and the kids have done to make this new phase of my life less painful. But you have your own lives, too. And that’s how it should be. Right?”
“I guess. I just never expected you to be with another man, other than Dad.”
“I know. Me neither,” she replied. “But let’s not make a big deal of this. I’m not running off to get married or anything. Rick and I are just enjoying spending some time together.”
Michelle studied her mother’s face. “You know I want you to be happy, right?”
Sheila smiled. “Yes. And for now, he makes me happy. Just having a dinner date to look forward to is something I never expected at this stage of the game.”
“Okay. If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Michelle replied. “Just be careful, Mom, okay? Like I said before, take things slowly.”
Her mother gave her a hug. “I will dear. Promise.”
Phil and Joan sat across from Dr. Bevins in his private office. A middle-aged man with graying hair and a few extra pounds, he had a face of compassion and a manner that evoked confidence and trust.
“I’ve been through all your tests and scans with my associates,” he began, “and we’re looking at some serious stuff ahead.”
Phil squeezed Joan’s hand. She looked very pale and fragile as he nodded to the doctor to continue.
“Your cancer is stage three.” He paused as if to let it sink in. “That means the cancer has spread to nearby blood vessels and nerves.”
Phil turned to Joan. He could see the tears swimming in her eyes. Pulling her close he held tight while she wept on his shoulder.
Dr. Bevins held a box of tissues to Phil, and he retrieved one for his wife. After a few moments she pulled herself together and used the tissue to dab her eyes and blow her nose.
“What’s the prognosis?” Phil asked.
The doctor sighed. Sitting back in his chair, he replied, “At best, I’d say you have a twenty-five percent survival rate. It’s not hopeless, but there are no guarantees. Most likely, we are talking about extending your life for a short time, not curing you of the disease. And I wouldn’t be doing you any favors if I didn’t warn you that the treatment is pretty grueling.
“At your age, your risk factors are greatly increased. We’ll want to get started right away with chemotherapy and radiation treatments.” He leaned forward. “I know this is a lot to process. I’d recommend you two go home and talk it over. Then call my office in the morning, and we’ll get you going with a panel of doctors, including an endocrinologist and an oncologist.”
“Okay, doctor,” Phil replied. He stood up, helping Joan to her feet as well. “Thank you.”
Dr. Bevins stood and shook his hand. “I wish I had better news for you, Phil.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “We’ll be in touch,” he said as he wrapped his arm around his wife and led her out of the office.
They rode home silently in the senior shuttle van that had driven them to the appointment. Once they were inside the house, Joan turned to him. “What are we going to do?” she asked, her eyes pleading for reassurance.
“We are going to pray and see what God has in store.”
They sat down together at the kitchen table, their golden retriever curling up on the floor beside Phil’s chair. Grasping each other’s hands, they prayed for wisdom and guidance for the days, weeks, and months ahead.
As they prayed aloud, Phil added his own silent prayer for his bride and for the wisdom to know whether to fight this battle or prepare her for his journey home to Jesus.
Later that afternoon, while Phil was taking a nap, Joan walked out to her rose garden,
basket in hand. All the bushes were in full bloom, a rainbow of colors against the pale blue sky. She inhaled their fragrances and carefully clipped a variety of blossoms for a bouquet. Her basket was overflowing by the time she returned to the kitchen.
Carefully cutting off the thorns and arranging them in a vase of fresh water, she admired their beauty. Vibrant reds and pinks mingled with soft yellows and whites, created a feast for the eyes. She carried the display to the kitchen counter and placed it in the center. Then she made herself a cup of tea and sat down to look over a couple of brochures they’d been given by Dr. Bevins’ nurse.
As she perused the material, she tried to picture her gentle husband enduring the treatment described. Her mind journeyed back in time to her own father’s battle with cancer, a battle that ended his life. He’d wasted away from a towering six-foot height and two hundred pounds to a withered shell of a man barely weighing in at 125. She’d watched him age decades in a few short months. And the side effects of the chemo had been heart wrenching to observe.
She thought about her sixty-five years with Phil. It really didn’t seem possible that so many decades had passed between their early years of courting and today. She could remember how nervous he’d been when he’d asked her father for her hand in marriage. And how excited he was when they bought their first house — a tiny two-bedroom cottage that cost a grand total of $11,300.
As she sipped her tea, she was journeyed back to the small community hospital where Sheila had been born. What a happy day that was! And how proud her husband looked as he held up their tiny new babe.
Oh, Phil. I can’t lose you now. How would I go on? How would I manage life without you after all these years together?
On the other hand, how could she sit by and watch him suffer through chemotherapy and radiation, knowing he had only a small chance of survival? Would he end up looking like her father with his sunken cheeks and hollow eyes, barely able to speak to those he dearly loved?
She found herself praying for something she would never have dreamed she was capable of expressing. She asked God to give her peace in her heart, whatever His plan might be, and to do whatever would spare her husband suffering, especially needless suffering that would not result in his healing.
Around the Bend (Sandy Cove Series Book 4) Page 16