Amalia listened to the comforting sounds Merit made brushing his teeth. When he came to bed, she relaxed against the warmth and weight of him next to her on the mattress. His soothing hand stroked her forehead and temple. She fell asleep with the debate about the announcement still battling in her mind.
* * *
Amalia woke alone again. She reached out to feel the coolness of Merit’s side of the bed. She pulled on a robe and slowly went downstairs. Prudence bustled in the kitchen, fixing breakfast for the kids and Justice.
“Good morning. Justice said you weren’t feeling well last night, so I thought I’d come here, make everyone a nice breakfast. How’s French toast?”
Sweat prickled at her hairline, and her heart raced. She tried to swallow rising acid and barely made it the bathroom before being sick.
Pru waited with cold cloth and dry crackers. “No, no one told me. I’ve had two, so I recognize the symptoms and guessed out loud. Justice did mention that so far only your former boyfriend, and we in-laws share your joy.”
Amalia breathed in and out through her nose. “I just found out for sure.”
“So, when are you going to tell him?”
“Pru, don’t push,” Justice warned from the kitchen. Amalia let Pru guide her to a chair.
“Aunt Amalia, are you sick?” Tricia asked.
“Aunt Amalia’s fine,” Pru answered for her.
“Whad do you hafta tell Uncle Merit?” Lawrence wanted to know.
Prudence threw back her hands. “You see what you’re getting yourself into? And wipe that smirk off your face, Justice. You’re in it deep enough.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Finish eating, go outside, and play with Portia,” Prudence commanded her offspring. To Amalia she said: “You, eat a cracker. Slowly.”
Amalia mimicked her brother-in-law. “Yes, ma’am.”
When Pru had shooed the kids out the door, she plunked some ginger tea in front of Amalia and sat. “Now, talk to me.”
Justice pursed his lips and got up. “I think I’ll check on the kids.” He walked outside, whistling.
Prudence would not like what Amalia had to say. Did her sister-in-law really believe that she would complain about her brother to her face?
“It’s wedding season. Merit’s up to his ears in ceremonies. When we can sit down alone together, I’ll tell him. He’ll be…he’ll be so…” Amalia covered her eyes with both hands.
“Happy. I know. Merit gives one hundred and fifty percent of himself to everyone who asks. Always been that way. Have you talked to him?”
“He acted different for a while. After Tom, he…” She sniffed and held her hand against her lips.
“So. Well, we’re not helping at all, either, staying here, soaking up more precious time.”
“Oh, no. Pru, really, it’s been such a blessing having you here. I think it’s been good for all of us. Lawrence looks great, and Tricia’s grown so much. I worried about you.”
“I worried about me, too. It’s time to go home. I want to return the favor, you know. Before too much longer, promise you’ll come to visit. Merit must have some vacation.”
“Yes.”
“Make him take it.” Pru went to fill the dishwasher and call the kids. Before she left, she said, “He’s a good man, Amalia.”
“I know. And that’s the trouble. He’s too good.”
* * *
After Prudence and the kids went home to Missouri, Amalia cleaned her little cottage. She had refused Pru’s offer to return things to order.
Amalia wandered through the rooms, putting clean sheets on the beds, picking up pictures and knick-knacks to look at, then setting them down. She took a photo album of her baby years to the sofa to page through. Her back bothered her again tonight. She felt heavy, bloated. Maybe leaning on a heating pad would help.
She wanted to talk to someone, but didn’t feel right calling Jordyn. Her friend had finally called to ask about a girls’ night out, but Amalia begged off. She couldn’t stand hearing about how happy Jordyn was with Angus, and didn’t want to be a wet blanket. It hurt Jordyn’s feelings, but she’d make it up—she promised she would.
Amalia flipped on a light as dusk blanketed the house. Perhaps Cherie had some sage advice and decided to telephone. Amalia nearly cried in relief when she answered, delighted to have a chance to talk. When they had given themselves time to catch up, Cherie began to ask pointed questions. Amalia apologized over and over for complaining.
“We minister’s wives need a support group. I’m serious, Amalia. You need to talk with some of the others. Have you tried Mercy Tipton at Salem? She and I used to get together often. Oh, that’s right. She just had a baby. I have the announcement here somewhere. Anyway, sounds like Merit could use some mentoring. I recall when Pete first came to New Life. We were still wet from seminary, and we had a new baby. He was gone virtually all of the time, and I thought I couldn’t stand it. Pete had to learn how to balance his time. With so many meetings, and that, he had to learn to take other time off for himself and for us. I’m pretty independent, but it’s still hard with three kids.”
Amalia choked back tears. “So you know how I feel? I’m not bad for wishing he’d be here more often? What do I do? I love him, I want to support him, but I have needs, too. I can’t continue like this.” Amalia took a breath and blew her nose. “I left Hudson so quickly. What if I should have taken longer to jump into marriage?”
“Oh, honey, give it more time. The first year is always the hardest. Believe me. Please, find someone to talk to. It helps.”
“I just don’t think I can go on feeling so alone. I know I can’t raise a child in a relationship like this.”
“A child? Are you and Merit thinking about having children? You really have to consider that carefully, talk it out first. Amalia, know that we love you. One thing I’m sure of is that you are a woman of great strength. You are capable of much more than you realize.”
“Thank you, my friend. And I love you, too.” Amalia hung up and hunched as a sudden sharp poker twisted in her gut. A presence loomed in front of her. Amalia lifted her head to see Merit, white-faced, leaning toward her.
The pain suddenly went to stabbing, ripping across her pelvis. “No… Merit, please, help.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Merit swayed in the doorway. He closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the frame for support, thoughts whirling. Whom had she been speaking to? What did she mean? Was she leaving him?
“I came home early to spend time—” He approached her, leaned in, as he became aware of her pain. “Amalia? What is it?” He reached for her shaking cold hand, noting how she held her stomach with the other. The sight and copper tangy whiff of blood dropped him to his knees beside her on the sofa. “Oh, my love. We’ll get you help. I’ll call right now.”
He left her only to admit the emergency medical personnel a few minutes later. She kept trying to curl into fetal position in the ambulance, and bat at the IV line the paramedic started before they left the house.
“Hey, Amalia.” He grabbed her hand to keep her away from the line, panicking, waiting for the oblivion of medical objectivity to kick in. He could not separate from her pain and physically bit back the groans. “Look at me. We’ll get through this. Amalia, please.”
Her eyelids fluttered as she lost consciousness.
At the hospital the physician on call asked Merit all the questions to which he could supply few answers. His heart raced and breathing became labored as he struggled to say he didn’t know if even his wife suspected she had been pregnant, let alone how far along she might be. Thinking back, clues popped to mind. He had to shake off this feeling of being stuck in twilight zone mode after hearing her tell someone “I love you” on the phone. There, too, she had said “I can’t raise a child in a relationship like this.” Her voice echoed in his head.
Relief flooded when the admissions nurse pulled him away from the doctor to sign paperwork. Dr. Bader, Amalia�
�s physician, hurried past, pulling on a coat. He paced the waiting room he knew well from accompanying members of his congregation while they waited for news of their own loved ones. The room echoed with chill emptiness. He had no one to answer his rhetorical questions, to comfort him and pray.
Down the hall he knew a tiny chapel had been stuffed as an afterthought between a utility closet and a public restroom. He should go there. But what if they tried to find him? What if Amalia needed him? Dr. Bader solved his immediate dilemma.
“Reverend? Let’s talk.” She drew him onto a not-quite-comfortable chairs. “I want to update you on your wife’s condition. She’s hemorrhaging, as you probably knew. I’m sorry, but we weren’t able to save the baby. The bleeding has slowed. I’ll go in shortly to check things out.”
Merit had the feeling the doctor knew about Amalia’s pregnancy. “Doctor, did my wife see you about her pregnancy?”
Bader’s eyelids twitched before she smoothly regained her professional demeanor. “I couldn’t have predicted this. You know as well as I do that this happens usually for better reasons than we can understand.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. I appreciate everything you’ve done. When can I see her?”
The woman patted his arm in a way that made him clench his jaw. “Not for a while. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable? Get some rest. I’d tell you to go home, but I know husbands.” Her pager went off and she got up.
“Doctor? Do you know…how far along?”
“About seven weeks. If you leave, make sure Jessica at the desk has your number.”
Merit paid no attention to the comings and goings of people behind him. The hospital seemed unusually busy tonight. His mind would not turn off the knowledge that he had taken Amalia for granted, that he had learned nothing from all the other losses in his life. Why had Justice been there to help her when she had been sick, and he had not even known…. Had Amalia tried to call like she had the night of Tom’s death, and he’d been too selfish to answer?
But he had taken this evening off on purpose to be with her.
Eventually Merit could no longer take the accusations and questions tormenting his mind and went to the chapel. He pushed the door inward and stopped at the sight of all six pews crammed with people. They lined the back wall and sides, too. Angus Craig twisted in his seat and got up.
“We’re here for you, Pastor,” he whispered. Several heads had turned at his entrance and now went back to their various means of silent petition. “We got the whole prayer chain here, and lots of others. Don’t you worry, we’ll pray our girl back. As long as it takes. Whatever we can do, tell us.”
“How did you know?”
Angus squinted. “Your brother called, said you needed us. I got on the horn, sounded up the troops, and here we are.” Stunned, blessed, and humbled, Merit numbly accepted Angus’s brief, stiff, embrace. Merit went to shake hands with his many friends, including Naomi from the diner, who did not even attend his church, and whisper thanks before escaping. He needed to get away from the memory of blood and being out of control. Justice—why had he stepped in? How had he known? He hadn’t bothered to ask for help when he needed it, so what was with playing macho man all of a sudden? Pretending he could step in and help them out now. Now when it was too late. What gave him the right? Merit’s breath came hard.
He walked the evening streets of Fox Falls aimlessly until his feet stopped. Merit looked up to see a light on in the Kennedy bungalow. Perhaps he had forgotten to turn it off when they left in such a hurry. He had better make sure the door was locked. Maybe he should clean so when Amalia came home she would not have to look at the stains.
Inside, Merit felt as though his feet stuck to the floor at the sight of Justice in Amalia’s living room, doing his job. Rage choked him. He clenched his fists.
“What are you doing?” Shouting the words felt so good. “How dare you insert yourself into this family, as if you’d never left? This is my business—mine! You have no right to be here, you have no right to call my church, to take care of my wife!”
Justice stopped scrubbing and wiped his hands before he stood to face Merit.
Merit had the satisfaction of seeing his brother’s face white and shocked.
“That night, that night you took her home, she told you, didn’t she? That we were going to have a baby? Or did you know before that? She wasn’t surprised when you first showed up here. Have you been meeting her secretly all along?”
The terrible words rushed out of his mouth. Merit was completely out of control and could not stop. “I heard her, on the phone tonight, saying she loved someone. Was that you? Whose baby was she carrying?” He set his feet, ready to launch fists first into his brother, his nemesis.
Justice took a step back. “Merit, stop it. Amalia—”
“Don’t say her name! Don’t you dare—” He leaped and met the solid bone of Justice’s cheek with his knuckles. The shocking pain added to his fury. They rolled together on the floor between the living room and kitchen. Merit reared back for another blow when the harsh ring of the telephone broke his concentration. They both turned to stare in the direction of the sound. Merit checked his pager and let it fall to the carpet before rising slowly, shaking his head and flexing his hand, to answer the ninth ring.
“Yes?”
“Merit? What are you doing there?”
“Who is this?”
“Cherie Thompson. Amalia’s been on my mind. She didn’t sound too good when we spoke earlier, and I had a nagging feeling I had to check up on her. What’s going on?”
Merit closed his eyes and used his other hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “When did you talk to her?”
“A few hours ago, I guess. I just got the kids to bed, and…Merit, what’s wrong? Are you guys all right? Please, listen, it’s not really my place, here, but I feel I need to tell you to cut yourself some slack. Pace yourself with church and your other duties, make time for Amalia and your relationship.”
Merit felt the blood drain to his ankles and reached a hand for a kitchen chair. He gratefully slid onto a seat that miraculously nudged the backs of his knees. “Cherie, Amalia’s in the hospital. She—we—had a miscarriage.” He heard the tap running behind him, and a glass being filled.
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize that you guys were already pregnant when we were talking. Why aren’t you with her? Is she all right?”
His voice came out in a whisper. “I don’t know.”
“Merit?”
Justice picked up the phone and thrust a glass in front of him. “Hi, this is Justice Campbell. You’re Cherie, is that right? Can we talk later?”
“But you—she—”
“I know. It’s a long story. Really, I promise someone will call you back, maybe tomorrow. I have to go.”
Merit reached his arms over the kitchen table. He let his forehead rest on his crossed wrists. He heard the freezer door opening, then rummaging in the cupboards. After a moment a chair across from him slid back. Something cold settled on his knuckles, creating a burning sensation on the grazed skin. He raised his head to see his brother sitting there, holding another ice pack against his cheek.
Justice stared at him with an expression of caution Merit remembered from their first toboggan runs, their first bike rides. He bore the bewildered pain of a man who’d once trusted him but lost more than Merit imagined.
“I guess I had this coming,” Justice said.
“You’re kidding. I accuse you of incredible things, and you apologize.” Merit squeezed his eyes shut. “This whole situation is a nightmare. What is happening?”
“The main thing is that Amalia is going to be all right. You know that, don’t you?”
Merit opened his eyes on his younger brother. “What did you hear?”
He shook his head. “I just know.”
Merit let his head fall forward again, feeling the anger seep from his pores, leaving him exhausted. “I don’t know anything. I c
an’t go back there yet. What if she dies? It happens.”
“Yes.”
“You ran when it happened to you. Is that what I should do?”
Silence. Merit could only lift his head far enough to let his chin rest on his wrists. “How could you leave us like that? Didn’t you know how we would feel?”
Justice apparently accepted his leap back in time. “I was seventeen, scared. I didn’t have my father telling me what to do, my mother to tell me everything would be all right. The way Mary’s parents reacted…man, I didn’t want that to happen to me. I wanted her…I wanted to marry her. I was only seventeen. Stupid. She wouldn’t. Made me feel like the biggest loser on the planet.”
“We thought you were dead. I moved on. Now you come waltzing back in like nothing ever happened. Everyone loves you, jumps to do what you say.”
Justice shifted restlessly. “Like the Prodigal Son. The parallel didn’t escape my notice, brother.”
“I failed everyone. I should have dropped everything until I found you. Instead, I barely tried. I dedicated my life to God. I never wanted to get married at all. Now I’ve failed to protect my wife. Isn’t that rich?”
“You forget, Merit. God blessed you in ways you didn’t expect. Amalia’s a wonderful woman, a good wife to you, from what I can see. I treated Mary badly and lost her. Don’t let that happen to you.”
“Your child lives. Mine is dead. I should have seen the signs, figured out earlier what to do.”
Justice leaned back in the chair. He set the ice pack on the table. Merit stared at the red mark on his brother’s cheek.
“You can blame yourself if it makes you feel better,” Justice said. “I suspect it doesn’t. I can’t make up for all the lost years. I can’t tell you what to do, but if my wife was in the hospital, I’d be there with her.” The chair scraped the floor as he slid back. “I’ll drive you.”
He dropped Merit off at the front door of Fox Falls Community Medical Center and refused Merit’s invitation to go inside. “Call me later,” he said, and drove off.
The Last Detail Page 26