A Vow to Cherish (17 page)

J
ohn saw Julia several times in the following weeks. They passed each other in their cars as she was leaving Parkside and he was arriving to visit Ellen. She pretended not to see him, ostensibly adjusting her rearview mirror as their cars met on the narrow drive. But he knew she had recognized him. It hurt that she wouldn’t even acknowledge his presence.

Never in his life had he experienced such deep regret about something he could have changed. If only he’d been honest with Julia from the beginning. They could have been friends if not for his misguided attempts to avoid speaking of Ellen’s existence. He knew he hadn’t done it to protect Julia. If he were honest with himself, he had to admit that he’d been playing with fire. His motives hadn’t been evil—truly they hadn’t. He only wanted their friendship to go as far as propriety would allow.

But that had been terribly unfair to Julia. She was completely innocent in her ignorance of his marriage. He hadn’t considered her feelings at all, hadn’t allowed her to decide if she was comfortable being his friend under the circumstances. If only he could be given a second chance with her. If only…

The following week, John saw Julia at parent-teacher conferences across a crowded corridor at the high school. This time she couldn’t run out on him. But her greeting was cool and distant, and she hurried on down the hallway, obviously anxious to avoid any further conversation.

Twice in the week that followed, he picked up the telephone to call her. To try and explain…to make excuses. But both times he ended up hanging up before he’d dialed the last digits. It was no use. Everything he thought to tell her would only further tangle the web of deceit he’d woven.

So he tried to put her out of his mind. The school bond had finally passed, and there was much work to be done with plans for the new school and reorganization of the other buildings in the district. He was thankful for the busyness that kept his mind off of Julia.

And off of Ellen, too.

Recently, Ellen had taken what John thought of as “a turn for the worse.” Physically, she was much the same. But the quiet, subdued manner that first characterized Alzheimer’s for Ellen had been replaced with one of agitation and frustration, manifesting itself in loud outcries. Ellen’s words were not merely fractured English, but alien, cacophonous babbling that John could hardly bear to listen to.

At times she was so crazed that she beat on him, her thin arms flailing impotently at his chest, as though he were to blame for the ghosts that haunted her. When her tantrums were over, she would sit and weep for hours at a time, as if she understood and felt remorse for what she’d done. Where she got the strength for her frenzied outbursts, John couldn’t imagine. She was a pale skeleton, and her eyes had a sunken, bilious look to them.

It became torture for John to walk through the wide doorways of Parkside each evening. No longer could he come and stay for an evening of reading and quiet companionship with Ellen—the one thing they had left. Now, he brought his offerings of flowers, fresh laundry or a dish of ice cream, then made his escape as quickly as decorum would allow.

John was not the only one who found it difficult to visit Ellen. Many of her friends from church and her fellow teachers at school had come often in the beginning. They sat quietly with Ellen, or they came in twos and threes and visited among themselves, keeping Ellen company with their conversation. But she had inflicted her tirades on them, as well, and one by one they drifted away. Some sent a card now and then, but most had completely abandoned Ellen. And because of this, they avoided John, as well.

John didn’t fault them. He, of all people, knew how difficult it was to be with Ellen now. In reality, he didn’t think Ellen even understood that the visits had stopped. But John knew, and he felt the rejection keenly, as though he were the rejected one.

Even Sandra could no longer stand to see Ellen the way she had become. She called John occasionally to ask about Ellen, but their conversations were strained, and John could hear the guilt in her voice. A part of him wanted to tell her it was okay and that he understood. But another part wanted her to suffer, too, and to feel shamed for forsaking her best friend. John hated the feelings this whole miserable situation forced upon him.

Even the children’s visits had tapered off. Of course they had farther to drive, and they were understandably busy with school and their jobs. But John didn’t miss their veiled excuses. Sometimes he suspected them of using their fancy answering machines and caller-ID service to avoid his calls, as well.

Only Howard and MaryEllen remained completely faithful. They came each week, without fail. The trip was difficult for them, and seeing Ellen deteriorate week after week only increased their pain. But John knew better than to ask them not to come. For them, it would have been unthinkable.

Ellen’s sisters came when they were in the state. Kathy, who lived in Indiana, came fairly often, but Diana and Carol had moved out of state and rarely got back for a visit. It was especially tough on them because they saw great leaps of decline in Ellen each time they came. John knew the sisters carried a measure of guilt because they couldn’t be closer to help out. He didn’t fault them for it, and yet, it would have been nice to have someone else to share the burden.

One particularly difficult evening when Ellen lashed out at John, none of the usual “remedies” seemed to calm her. He’d tried to coax her into a walk. He read to her, then tried to distract her with the television. He had taken her tightly into his arms, only to have her bite him.

In desperation, he fled her room, not knowing anymore how to cope with her outbursts. Shaking, he had the presence of mind to stop off at the nurses’ station and ask them to give her a sedative.

He didn’t wait to see that it was done, but strode on down the hall, away from Ellen’s room.

What good did all his attention do? Most of the time, she didn’t even know who he was; when she did, she seemed to hate him. Was Ellen any better off for the things he did for her? In his heart he knew she wasn’t to blame for her actions. He knew she could no more control them than she could stop the Alzheimer’s itself. But it seemed impossible not to take it personally when the woman he had loved more than half his life behaved with such violence toward him.

These questions besieged him as he pushed open the front doors and breathed in the brisk air of the coming night. More and more it was sheer relief to walk out those doors.

With his head down, he started toward his car in the parking lot. It was chilly even for March, and he pulled the collar of his jacket up around his ears. In the dusky light of evening, he saw a familiar figure leaning over the hood of a car several rows down from where he was parked. He was already headed toward her car ready to offer help, when he realized it was Julia.

She was wrestling with something on the hood of the car, and she seemed distressed.

John approached her, clearing his throat loudly to announce his presence.

“Julia?”

She looked up. Her shoulders slumped as she recognized him.

“Hi! You having car trouble?”

She seemed exasperated and embarrassed. “I think I locked my keys in the car.” She gave a little groan and rummaged in her purse, which was flopped open on the hood of the car. “Stupid keys! They’re not in the ignition, and I’ve dumped my whole purse searching for them, but they’re not here. I must have put them under the seat.”

“Oooh, boy. Do you have a spare set anywhere?”

“At home in my desk. A lot of good they’ll do me there. I kept promising myself I’d get a spare set for my billfold, but I never got around to it.” She straightened and rubbed at her neck. Meeting his eyes for the first time, she gave him a crooked smile. “Of course, with my luck, then I’d probably lock my whole purse in the car.”

He laughed. “I know what you mean. In fact, I did that one time—locked my keys in my car, and thought I was so smart to have a spare in my wallet. Then I looked in the car and there sat my wallet on the console.”

She smiled up at him and sifted halfheartedly through the contents of her purse again.

“Hey, listen…I’d be glad to drive you home to get your extra keys and bring you back here.”

“Oh no. That’s okay. You don’t need to do that. I’ll figure something out.”

“Seriously, Julia. I don’t have a thing going on tonight. It wouldn’t be any trouble at all. Besides, it’s too cold to stand around here for long.”

She hesitated. “Oh, John. I don’t know. I hate to put you out. Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. No problem. Come on, I’m parked over here.”

She quickly stuffed everything back into her purse and followed him to his car. John unlocked the passenger door for her, then came around and got in behind the wheel.

“Let’s see…Sweetbriar Lane, right?”

“Yes, all the way east on Sweetbriar. I think it’s quickest to take Third Street over to Broadway.”

“Okay.”

He turned onto the highway, and they rode in awkward silence for several minutes.

Julia broke the stillness, putting her hand to her mouth with a gasp. “Oh, John. I can’t believe I’m so stupid. My house keys are on the key ring with my car keys. I’m not going to be able to get into the house. Andy is spending the night with a friend, and Sam won’t be home till after supper tonight.” She put her head in her hands. “This is embarrassing. I am so sorry to cause all this trouble.”

“Julia, don’t worry about it.” He started to reach out and touch her arm, then thought better of it and ostensibly adjusted his rearview mirror. “Let me think…Do the boys have keys?”

“Yes. Sam has both house keys and car keys. He’s at Brian Baylor’s house. I’d have you take me there if I knew where Brian lived. Do you know him?”

“I know who he is, but I don’t have any idea where he lives. Can you call him?”

“I don’t have his number, but I could call information. But I don’t have a cell phone. Haven’t moved into the technical world yet,” she joked.

He laughed. “Well, I have, but it doesn’t do much good if you forget to carry your phone. But it’s okay. We can swing by my house, and you can call Sam from there and we can go pick up the keys.”

Julia was nearly squirming with embarrassment. “I should have called from Parkside. Would you mind taking me back there? I’m sorry to make you go so far out of your way.”

“I don’t mind at all, but I live just four blocks from here. It’s a lot closer, and you’ll have a comfortable place to wait.”

“Okay,” she said, resignation plain in her voice. She paused, as if trying to decide whether to say something or not, then she sighed and plunged in.

“John, I am really uncomfortable about this. I wouldn’t blame you at all if you thought it looked like I set this whole thing up. But, honestly, I didn’t.”

“It never crossed my mind. Although if I’d had some time to think about it, it might have.” He grinned at her, teasing, trying to put her at ease.

She didn’t return his smile, a frown wrinkling her forehead.

He turned serious. “Hey, I believe you, Julia. I’m just kidding. Honest. Listen, if anybody needs to do any explaining here, it’s me.”

He was silent for a minute, trying to compose his thoughts. Finally he plunged in. “Julia, I’m sorry for the things I said in the library the other night. I had no right to say what I did. And even more than that, I was very wrong for not telling you up front about Ellen.”

Julia sat with her head down, preoccupied with a hangnail on one of her tightly clasped fingers. But he knew she was listening and he went on.

“I didn’t want to say anything when we first met because I didn’t want it to look like I was after your sympathy. Frankly, it was nice to relate to someone who wasn’t always overcome with pity for me. Then, after we got to know each other, it seemed…well, I had let it go so long without telling you, I was afraid you would avoid me if you found out after all that time that I was married.”

She turned and opened her mouth, but he held up a hand.

“Hear me out…please. I’ve thought about it a lot, Julia. I know I was being very selfish and terribly unfair to you. I needed someone to talk to, and I guess in that way, I used you. I want to be careful how I say this, but…as attractive as you are, and as much as I enjoy talking to you, I wasn’t hitting on you. I promise you that. At this point it probably sounds trite, but I’m really a pretty decent guy.” He smiled in the semidarkness of the car. She didn’t respond, so he went on, determined to convince her.

“I love my wife, Julia, and I intend to stay faithful to her. I believe in the wedding vows…in sickness and in health included.”

Now she turned to him, a gentle smile lighting her face. “Thank you, John. I appreciate your honesty. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain that night at the library. I shouldn’t have run out on you like that. I was angry…and to be honest, I was disappointed in you. It bothered me a great deal that you led me to believe you were single—available. And then out of the blue I find out not only do you have a wife, but she lives at Parkside. It just seems like the subject might have come up once or twice before it did.” She gave him a chastening half smile.

“You’re right,” he said. “I plead guilty.” They were approaching the driveway to his house and he depressed the brake pedal. “Julia, I don’t know if you will believe this, but I’m not usually a liar. I know I was deceitful about Ellen. I realize now how terribly wrong that was, and I’m truly sorry. I’ve asked the Lord’s forgiveness, and if you can forgive me, I’d like to start over.” He got out of the car and went around to open her door.