Season of Blessing (10 page)
“Annie's got the kids,” Tory said, “and she's great with Hannah.”
“She'll be fine,” Brenda added. “You trained her well in León.”
So they headed off to the bookstore on a mission to find the information that could help save Sylvia's life.
Harry's hands
trembled as he sat at his old desk at the back of his clinic and dialed the number for the airline. When they put him on hold, a screaming sense of injustice shivered up inside him. Jeb Anderson, one of the other missionaries who ran the orphanage, stepped into the doorway. Noting the sweat on Harry's brow and the expression on his face, he asked, “Harry, you talked to Sylvia, didn't you?”
Harry nodded quickly, as if he didn't have time to answer.
Jeb stepped closer. “Was it malignant?”
Harry raked his hand through his hair. “Yes, it was. I'm going home tomorrow, Jeb.” He looked up at his friend and saw the dread on his face.
“Of course you are.” Jeb crossed the room and looked into Harry's face. “Harry, don't worry about anything. I've been talking to Carlos Gonzales, and he thinks he can run things here while you're gone. He's been on the phone with some churches back in the States, and he's trying to get some doctors to come here on medical mission trips to fill in while you're gone.”
Harry's eyes widened as he looked up at Jeb. “You were anticipating the worst.”
“We know how bad Sylvia's been feeling.”
“It's not supposed to have anything to do with the cancer. But if they're wrong and it does, then it's more advanced than we think.”
The airline clerk finally answered the phone.
“Le puedo ayudar?”
“Yes. Uhâ¦I need to get the first flight for the United States out of Managua tomorrow morning,” he said in Spanish. He fumbled through his wallet for his credit card.
When the flight was finally booked, he hung up and leaned back.
“Harry, are you all right?” Jeb asked.
Harry evaded the question. “I've just got a lot to do tonight. I need to put things in the clinic in a little better order so that anybody who comes in here can take over. I need to check on Mrs. Hernandez and make sure she has enough antibiotics to get her through her infection. And I'd probably better go by and see baby Maria. She wasn't doing well and I was worried she wouldn't even make it through the week.” His voice broke off and his shoulders began to shake.
“They'll be all right, Harry,” Jeb said. “I'll go see her every day and make sure they're giving her the medicine.”
“They sell it, you know.” Tears began to stream down his face. “They sell it to buy food. And can you blame them? But they don't seem to understand that without it she could die.”
“I'll make sure,” he said. “In fact, if you want me to ration it out and take it daily one dose at a time, I will.”
“Could you do that? That's what I've been doing. It was the only way.”
“Of course. Harry, if you'll make a list of what needs to be done, I'll do everything that doesn't require a doctor. You need to be with Sylvia. You don't have to feel guilty about it.” He came and sat down next to him, put his hand on Harry's back. “The Lord is still in control, you know.”
“I know,” Harry said. “I know he is. I would never want to suggest that he isn't. But my wife⦔
He was going to lose it. He was going to break down right here in front of Jeb. He couldn't handle that, so he got up and headed for the door. “I've got a lot to do, Jeb. I have to get home and pack.”
He took off without another word, walking as fast as he could to the old Fiat parked out beside the clinic. He realized that he had just contradicted himself. He'd said that he needed to organize supplies so that the medical missionaries could come in and take over, then he'd headed off to pack.
Jeb would understand.
He got to his house and went in, looked around at all the things that screamed Sylvia's name. The smell of her lingered on the air, and he suddenly felt a sense of deprivation, as if she'd already been snatched from him and he didn't know why. He went to the bedroom, pulled her pillow out of the bed, lay down and curled up with itâ¦and began to weep. After a while, he got off the bed and knelt beside it to pray.
“Please,” he begged his almighty God, “heal her. Please don't let this be the end. We've tried to be obedient, Lord. We've tried to do everything you've said. Father, please don't take her. I'm begging you. I've never asked you for a lot, not anything really big. This is the first time, Lord. Please save my wife.”
He fell prostrate on the floor, pleading and crying for God's help and mercy.
It was eight-thirty
the following night when darkness began to dominate the sky. Steve had finished mowing just before daylight gave up its ghost. Cathy took a glass of cold lemonade to him in the backyard. His sweaty T-shirt stuck to his chest and back. He grabbed the towel that hung over the lawn mower handle and wiped his face, then took a long swig of the drink.
“I like a wife that brings me lemonade.”
She smiled. “I like a husband who mows the lawn. I haven't done it since you moved in.”
“See? Marriage does have its perks.”
“Lots of them.” She lowered to the chaise lounge chair under the covered patio and looked up at him. Steve touched her neck. “You've been quiet today. Have you talked to Sylvia?”
“No, she made herself scarce, said she wanted to read and think about the decisions she had to make. And I think she's out picking Harry up at the airport now.”
“You didn't sleep much last night.”
“Hope I didn't keep you awake. So many things were going through my mind. Sylvia and Mark⦔
He took another drink. “What about Mark?”
“Well, I've been thinking a lot about this GED thing. We're getting down to the wire. School registration is the end of the week, and I found out that a new GED class is starting up next week. He would have the choice of going nights or mornings.”
“If he went nights, he could work during the day.”
Cathy sighed. “Yeah, but I don't know if I want him doing that. Working all day and going to school at night? That's a lot of stress.”
Steve nodded. “It is, but I thought it might be beneficial for him to work like a dog for a few months, and find out how valuable that college degree is.”
“You have a point,” she said. “Only you realize, don't you, that if he's doing a full-time job with other high school dropouts, he could be influenced by them? I mean, kids usually drop out because they hate the rules, want to party all night, take drugs and drink⦔
“That's true,” Steve said. “But haven't
all
those in the GED classes dropped out of school? Morning or night, it doesn't really matter.”
“You're right.” Cathy rubbed her forehead. “And I know there is something to having him work really hard. I do want him to realize how much he needs his education.”
“Cathy, why not just make him finish school the traditional way?”
“Because I've been trying to put myself in his place. I understand why he doesn't want to go back to high school. That's where he met the kids he started doing drugs with in the first place. And I can understand why he doesn't want to study with Brenda anymore. I think he's insecure and feels stupid, because her kids are so advanced.”
“But that would challenge him. And you know Brenda needs the money.”
“She's done without it for a year. I'm not even sure she wants him back. We haven't really talked about it. And, Steve, he may be able to get his GED
now
, even without the class. I mean, he has gone to school straight through. Brenda put him a few steps ahead, and then he had school at River Ranch. He may very well know enough to pass it.”
Steve finished his glass and set it down next to him. “I don't like it much, Cathy, but if you have peace about it, go ahead and let him. The goal is to get him to go to college, and the GED shouldn't hurt in that area, not if he plans to go to the community college first.”
“All right,” Cathy said, “I'll let him. Now all I have to decide is whether he should go to the morning or night class.”
“And he has to start looking for a job.”
“Right. A job.” Cathy held his gaze for a moment. “Do you really think that making him take the class at night and work during the day is the right choice?”
“Depends on what you want to accomplish.”
Cathy smiled. “I want him to hate the kind of work he can get and go to college.”
“Then let him work his tail off for the next few months,” Steve said. “Guaranteed, he'll be in college by the next semester.”
The moment
Harry stepped off the plane Sylvia felt as if the parallel planes of her life had finally converged. She could get through this now.
He started to cry as he walked toward her, and she took him into her arms and held him as if he were the diseased and she were comforting him. They stood there like that for a long moment, him weeping into her hair, her weeping into his shirt, while the hustle and bustle of the airport life moved around them. Then she took him back to the house he hadn't seen since they'd left it to go to the mission field.
The “For Sale” sign still sat in the front yard. Harry got out of the car, and instead of going toward the door, he headed to the sign.
“Harry, what are you doing?”
“Taking the sign down.” He moved it in the dirt, loosening it so he could pull it up.
“No, don't. We have to sell the house, Harry.”
The sign came up. “Not until this is resolved. Honey, God is obviously working here. He didn't let us sell it because he knew we'd need it. We can put the sign back up when the time is right.”
She watched as he laid it on a shelf in the garageâone more reminder that their plans and dreams had been derailed.
Harry went back to the car and got his suitcase. He carried it into the kitchen and looked around. “Home,” he whispered. “I didn't even know how much I'd missed it. Isn't God good for not letting us sell?”
Sylvia put her arm through his and led him through the house. “The Gonzaleses did a great job of taking care of it. Since they left, Brenda and Tory have come over here every now and then to keep it dusted.”
She led him into the bedroom, and he set the suitcase down and sat on the bed. “Are you tired, Harry? You could rest and we could talk tomorrow.”
“No.” He got up and fixed his eyes on her. “I want to see the pathology report and the X rays. You brought them home, didn't you?”
“Yes,” she said. “They knew you'd want them.”
“And I don't want to waste any time. We need to go for second and third opinions.”
“I've already got the appointments booked,” Sylvia said. “I called today and Dr. Jefferson's secretary set it all up. Monday we see Dr. Thibodeaux.”
Harry nodded. “The oncologist?”
“That's right,” she said. “And before that appointment I've got an appointment with Dr. Simon, the plastic surgeon. Then a second-opinion appointment with Dr. Hartford.”
He stepped into the dining room and saw the breast cancer books spread out across the table. “You've been studying.”
“Yeah, I've learned a lot,” she said. “I at least have a little better understanding than I did yesterday.”
He sat down and read the pathology report. His face betrayed his tension and strain as he flipped through the pages the doctor had sent home for him. Finally he looked up at her.
“Sylvia, I don't want any more talk about a lumpectomy. I want you to have a mastectomy. If it weren't such an aggressive cancer and if the margins of the tumor were more defined, I might not say that. But this report convinced me.”
She closed her eyes. “They'd be cutting off a part of me, Harry. I don't know if I can deal with that.”
“Don't think of it like that.” He took her hand and made her sit down. “Think of it as them cutting out the enemy.”
She met his eyes. “But my body will be different. That will change
us
.”
He leaned forward and looked hard into her eyes. “It's not your breasts I'm in love with. It's you. It's going to be all right, Sylvia. Every time I look at that scar, I'll remember how close I came to losing you. If that scar is what saves your life, it will be beautiful to me.”
“Let's just see what they say in the other opinions,” she said. “I'm not ready to make up my mind just yet.”
“Okay.” He pulled her onto his lap and held her for a long moment. “We need to tell the kids, honey. Sarah and Jeff need to know.”
“Not yet,” she whispered. “Not until we've made some decisions. They'll take it so much better if they know what we're going to do about it. Please, Harry. Let's wait.”
He nodded, his mouth straining to hold back his weary, raw emotions. “Whatever you think.”
They went to bed soon after, Sylvia exhausted from the hours of study she'd put in that day, and Harry wiped out from a sleepless night and the trip home from Nicaragua. He reaffirmed her body and his love of it before falling off to sleep.
Sylvia lay next to him, watching his face in repose. She touched her breast, the offending one, and let her hand cup over the shape of it. In just a few days it would be gone. But if she could exchange it for the peace of mind she lost the day she found out she had cancer, she supposed it would be worth it.
Finally she drifted off into a sweet sleep, curled up warm next to her husband.