Season of Blessing (4 page)

Cathy gaped at her. “Frustrating? Why?”

“Well, the house is different. The renovation changed everything. And you and Steve all chummy and romantic, like two peas in a pod, and before you were just dating…Rick gone and me getting ready for college in the fall…Tracy in your old bedroom. Mark was the youngest in the family when he left, and now Tracy is. The birth order has changed. I read all about that in an article.”

Steve wasn't buying. “Amateur psychology notwithstanding, Mark Flaherty is still only sixteen. And if my parents had let me make my own decisions at sixteen, I'd be a fry cook alcoholic with children in every state.”

Cathy couldn't picture it, but she didn't tell him so. She was getting a headache and didn't want to talk about it anymore.

C
HAPTER

Five

When Cathy
crossed the yard to Sylvia's for the prayer time they had scheduled earlier, Tory and Brenda were already there, leaning against the kitchen counter as Sylvia bustled around making her favorite dip.

Tory, who seemed not to know what to do with her hands since Hannah wasn't on her hip, munched on a carrot. “So she asks me if I want to work there part-time two mornings a week, helping with the six-to nine-year-olds.”

“You going to do it?” Brenda asked.

Cathy came and stood in the doorway, and Tory picked up the vegetable plate and thrust it at her. “Here. Eat.”

Cathy shook her head. “Can't. We just had a family dinner. There were few survivors.”

Sylvia looked up from the dip. “Oh, no. You didn't have a family squabble, did you?”

“Well, yeah…sort of. Long story.”

Brenda slid up onto the counter. “We've got time.”

Cathy grabbed a celery stick and bit into it. “But I want to hear what Tory decided.”

“Haven't decided yet,” she said. “Part of me wants to do it, but the other part feels like I'd be neglecting Hannah. But Mary Ann thought it would be good for me to work with the older kids. She thought it would encourage me about the things that Hannah will eventually be able to do.”

Sylvia opened a jar of salsa and poured it into a bowl. “I think it's a wonderful idea. And you know Hannah will be cared for. She'll be right down the hall.”

“I'm thinking about it.” Tory took the vegetable plate and a bowl of chips to the living room, set them on the coffee table. Cathy followed with the dip, and Brenda brought the glasses.

Cathy plopped wearily down into an easy chair, and Tory and Brenda sat on the floor near the food. Sylvia came in, dusting her hands. “Okay, what am I forgetting?”

“Nothing,” Brenda said. “Come sit down.”

“Drinks!” Sylvia hurried back to the kitchen. “I forgot your drinks. Iced tea okay for everybody?”

The three agreed that it was, and she hurried back with a tray. “Now, that should do it.”

Cathy watched Sylvia as she sat down. Her face looked tight and preoccupied, and dark shadows beneath her eyes spoke of her fatigue. “Sylvia, are you sure you didn't overdo it today?”

“I'm sure.” But as she said it, she averted her eyes.

“So what did you find out at the doctor?”

Sylvia's smile faded. Pink blotches colored her neck. “Just a bad case of anemia. That's what's causing me to be so tired and weak.”

“What do they do for that?” Tory asked.

“Iron and vitamins. I'll be all right in no time.”

Cathy laughed. “Well, what a relief! I was worried it was something more serious.”

Brenda looked as if she didn't quite buy that diagnosis. “Are they sure that's all?”

Sylvia grew quiet and looked down at her fingernails. “Well…not completely.”

Cathy sat up straighter. “What is it, Sylvia?”

Sylvia snapped her face back up, forcing a smile. “Well, you know how doctors are. If they'd stopped at the anemia, it would have been just fine with me. But no, they have to keep looking until they find something else.”

“What did they find?” Dread flattened Cathy's voice.

Sylvia picked up her glass and a napkin, wiped the dampness off of it. “It's probably nothing. I shouldn't have even told you. I'm not worried about it in the least.”

Tory got off of the floor then and looked down at Sylvia. “And?”

“It's just that they found a lump in my breast.”

“Oh, no.” Tory's whispered words voiced what Cathy was thinking. But she told herself that it could be nothing. She'd had lumps in her own breasts, and they'd turned out to be nothing.

“Did you go for a mammogram?” Brenda asked.

“Sure did.” Sylvia sipped her drink. “It's there, all right. I saw it myself.”

“What are they going to do?” Brenda's voice held steady.

“Well, tomorrow I'm going for a biopsy. I'm really optimistic, girls. I mean, just think about it. I've got so much work to do in Nicaragua. The children need me so badly, and Harry…” Her voice broke off, and she swallowed back her emotion. “I don't believe the Lord would afflict me with breast cancer right now, so it's not even something I'm worried about. I'm going to go for the biopsy, find out it's benign, then go on back to my work. I refuse to worry about it until I get the results.”

“I had a lump in my breast once.” Brenda's voice was too quiet to inspire confidence. “It turned out to be just a cyst. No big deal.”

Sylvia nodded. “See? That's exactly what this is. I guarantee you.”

But Cathy wasn't satisfied. “What did the radiologist say?”

Sylvia looked at her as if she'd been caught.

Cathy leaned her elbows on her knees and locked onto Sylvia's face. “I know you talked to the radiologist. Harry knows every doctor in town, and if anyone would get personal attention it would be the wife of a cardiologist who worked in this town for twenty-five years. So what did the radiologist tell you?”

She shrugged. “He just showed me the lump, that's all. There it was, smiling at us, right from the X ray. It was really very creepy.”

Cathy knew from her own experience with breast lumps that the doctor could tell a great deal from the mammogram. Cancer had specific shapes and characteristics…She knew he would have an opinion.

But Sylvia stuck to her story.

“He just set me up for a biopsy and that was it. Now who wants a piece of pie? I'd like to say I made it myself, but I just went by Kroger and picked it up. My sweet tooth was really acting up, and I figured I'd lost enough weight that I could stand to stuff a few calories into me. I also bought some red meat so I could start getting the iron back into my blood. I cooked myself filet mignon for dinner.”

Cathy looked from Tory to Brenda. They each had volumes written on their faces.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Tory said.

“Me, either.” Cathy swallowed.

“Have you told Harry?” Brenda's question mirrored Cathy's thoughts.

Sylvia groaned. “I wish I could hold him off until I've gotten the biopsy back. But I guess there's no chance of that, because he knows I went to the doctor today. I really, really hate to make him worry.”

“He's a doctor,” Cathy said. “He can take it.”

“Trust me. He's not that objective when it's his own family. I'll never forget when Sarah's appendix ruptured. You would have thought it was his fault somehow, that he should have seen it and prevented it. He hovered over her in the hospital for days, worried sick.”

Sylvia got up and hurried to get the pie. “It looks good, girls. Sure you don't want some?” she called from the kitchen.

Cathy looked at Brenda, saw the worry in her eyes.

Tory's hand came up to her heart, and she sent a stricken look to both of them.

Sylvia fluttered back into the room with four slices. “You don't have to eat it. But one bite and you'll be a goner.”

She took a bite and closed her eyes. “Mmm. This is the best thing I've ever put in my mouth,” she said. “You girls don't know what you're missing. Cathy, come on and get a piece. Oh, I've missed American food.”

Cathy took a piece, just to make Sylvia feel better, but as she ate, she couldn't help watching Sylvia and wondering what burden she hid behind her smile, refusing to share with them.

C
HAPTER

Six

It was eight
when they finished praying together. Brenda walked out with Tory and Cathy, and all three seemed lost in thought as they crossed Sylvia's yard.

“She's keeping something from us,” Cathy said. “I'm afraid the radiologist gave her some bad news.”

Brenda locked her eyes on Cathy's face. “Would he really have been able to tell anything?”

“He could tell by the shape of the mass whether it looks like cancer. It's not one hundred percent accurate, of course, and in some cases it's nothing more than a guess, but it's an educated guess, and I know he told her something.”

Brenda looked toward Sylvia's house, wondering if her friend sat in there, struggling with the fear and anxiety that she refused to share with them. “Why wouldn't she tell us?”

“Because she's Sylvia,” Tory said. “She would think more of us than herself, and she wouldn't want to worry us.”

Brenda felt helpless. “Wouldn't you think she'd need to talk?”

“Sure she does,” Cathy said. “But she's not going to. Not if it gets us upset.”

“Well, I hope she tells Harry.”

Cathy shook her head. “She'll probably tell him as much as she told us. We really need to pray for her. And tomorrow, I'm going to close the clinic and go with her.”

Tory nodded. “Good idea. She doesn't need to go through this alone.”

As Cathy headed back to her house and Tory back to hers, Brenda stepped across her yard. David's light shone in the workshop, and she knew he was working late to make up for the time he'd lost working on the limousine. She opened the door and stepped in, smelling the scent of sawdust and lacquer. Her husband, with his red curly hair and freckled skin, stood over the cabinets he worked on, examining them with a critical eye.

“What do you think?” he said. “Is this my best work, or what?”

She ran her hand along the sandy wood. “I think your customer will be delirious.”

“I think so, too. Maybe one of these days I'll make a set for us.”

She laughed. “I'm not holding my breath. You've got too much paying work.”

“Well, I can dream, can't I?”

She sat on one of the counters, watching him crouch down to screw the hardware onto the doors. “I was just over at Sylvia's.”

“Nice having her home, isn't it? Too bad she can't stay. When's she planning to go back?”

“I don't know. She had a little disturbing news.”

He looked up at her. “What was that?”

“They found a lump in her breast.”

David unfolded from his crouch and stood up. “Oh, no.”

“Yes. She's acting all upbeat about it, like she's not worried at all.”

“But you know better.”

“Yeah, I know better.” Brenda slid off her perch. “The doctor says her fatigue and weakness are caused by anemia. But it worries me a little, David.”

“Why?”

“Because if they're wrong, and anemia is not the thing causing her fatigue and weakness, then maybe she does have cancer, and if it's already affecting her that way, it could be really advanced.”

“You're borrowing trouble,” he said. “Who was it that said today has enough trouble of its own?”

She smiled. “Jesus.”

“Oh.” He turned around and fiddled with the tools behind him, got what he needed, and squatted back down. “Never thought you'd hear me quoting the Bible, did you?”

She didn't answer him. There was no point. “Well, I guess I'd better get inside and see if the kids did the dishes.”

He got up and pressed a kiss on her lips. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She laid her face against his chest, and he closed his arms around her. “I'm a little concerned, that's all. But I'll pray for her tonight, heavy-duty prayers. God will listen.”

He didn't respond, just turned back to his work as Brenda left the building and walked across the grass to her house. She whispered a quiet prayer that she knew was familiar to God's ears. “Take the veil from his eyes, Lord. Please help him to see.”

The fact that God did not answer immediately didn't daunt her at all. He hadn't for the many years that she'd been praying for David. She knew one day the prayer would be answered. It had to be, in God's timing. God had promised that anything she asked according to his will would be done. Saving David would glorify the Lord, so how could it not be in his will? There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. She only wished the Lord's timing was more like her own.