Until Angels Close My Eyes (12 page)

“I have only worked on my father’s farm. I do not have this number.”

Neil leaned back in his chair. “The Amish don’t pay social security taxes,” he said. “I remember now. They’re exempt by congressional order because they don’t accept any of the benefits. They take care of their own and have no need of government handouts.”

Leah hadn’t known this, but it didn’t surprise her.

“It is our way to care for one another,” Ethan explained.

“Take the job,” Neil advised. “We’ll apply for a social security card and tell the doc
it’s coming.” He drummed his fingers on the table, a thoughtful look on his face. “This gives me an idea about finding your brother. If he’s working, he has to have a social security card, too. That might be a way to track him down.”

As long as Neil was in a problem-solving mood, Leah thought she’d bring up Ethan’s need for transportation. “He can use my car,” she added, “but he’ll have to take me to school every day.”

“No need for that,” Neil said. “He can use my old pickup. You do have a license, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then it’s settled. You can go to work.”

“You are too generous. I will not forget all you are doing for me.”

Neil dismissed Ethan’s thanks with a wave of his hand. “You just pay your insurance and gas. The old truck will need a tune-up before you can drive it, however. I’ll take it into a garage tomorrow. There was a time when I could tune that baby up myself, but not now.” Neil sounded sad about it. “I could teach you, Ethan, but I
guess you don’t want to learn how to be a mechanic.”

“I would learn—for you. But animals are more to my liking.”

Once the truck was mechanically sound, Leah and Ethan went their separate ways each day. Leah missed being with him when she returned home from school, but she made herself do her homework then so that she could have free time with him during the evenings.

Leah arrived home one afternoon to find her mother crying at the kitchen table. “What’s wrong?” Leah dumped her books on the floor and hurried to her mother’s side.

“Neil’s white count is up,” her mother said between sniffs. “More than up. It’s very high. His doctor wants to put him back on chemo.”

Leah felt her stomach sinking. An elevated white blood cell count was ominous in Neil’s case.

“It’s an experimental drug, part of a test program,” Leah’s mother said. “They want Neil to try it, although Dr. Nguyen warned
us that there may be some adverse side effects.”

“What kind of side effects?”

“Nausea, vomiting—there’s a whole list. But she wouldn’t have recommended him for the program if the other therapy was working.”

Leah’s stomach churned. She was afraid she might throw up. “When will he start?”

“They’ll reinsert the infusion pump tomorrow. He’ll have to go for weekly testing, and if he can’t tolerate the drug at all, he’ll have to go off it.” Roberta’s gaze flew to Leah’s face. “I don’t know what I’ll do if anything happens to Neil.”

Leah was at a loss for words. Her mother was begging her for reassurance, but Leah didn’t know how to give it to her. “We’ll just have to hope the new drug works,” she said lamely. “How’s Neil taking the news?”

“He’s trying to act cheerful, but he’s devastated. I can tell. We both had such hope that the other chemo had worked. Leah, it’s been less than three months since he was in remission. I never dreamed he’d have a relapse. And so soon!”

Leah trembled over the note of desperation in her mother’s voice. “Where is he?”

“He walked out to the barn. The news has really shaken him up.”

A raw February wind whipped Leah’s hair as she hurried to the barn. She found Neil inside, seated on the hood of an old Desoto, his head bowed and his elbows propped on his knees. He looked up when Leah came inside. She said, “Mom told me.”

Neil managed a crooked grin. “So now I’m a guinea pig.” Tears slid down Leah’s cheeks. Neil fumbled for a tissue in the pocket of his jacket. “You girls, honestly. You cry like babies, but you never have a tissue handy.”

Leah wiped her eyes. “Yeah … Imagine crying about you relapsing and going into a high-risk drug program. Go figure.” She blew her nose.

He offered a wry smile. “Point taken. Listen, kiddo, these next few months are going to be tough sledding. I don’t have any false illusions about this new stuff helping me a whole lot.”

“You talk like you don’t expect this to work.”

Neil sighed. “It’s a long shot, honey. A real long shot.”

Leah’s chin trembled and fresh tears pooled in her eyes. “I don’t want you to die.”

“I’ll stick around as long as the good Lord lets me. I want to live. And I want to stay out of the hospital.”

“What can I do to help?”

“You may have to let your mother lean on you a bit.”

“Her lean on me?” Leah thought the idea preposterous.

“You know how she sometimes lapses into denial: ‘If I don’t think about it, then maybe it isn’t happening,’ ” Neil said. “She doesn’t mean anything bad by it. It’s just the way she copes. You know?”

Leah sniffed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just be sensitive. Help her adjust.” Neil shifted on the hood of the car and lightly slapped the fender beside him. “Hop up.”

Leah settled next to him.

“She loves you, Leah. She depends on you.”

Leah was skeptical. “Mom’s always had someone else in her life to lean on. I sometimes thought she’d be better off if she’d never even had me. I felt in the way.”

Neil shook his head. “Not true. Everything she did, every marriage she entered into, was with you in mind.”

“Well, except for you, she had bad taste.”

Neil chuckled. “Thanks for that.” He patted Leah’s hand. “Did you know that she never finished high school?”

“She never told me that!”

“She’s never told you a lot of things.”

Leah was irritated that Neil knew things about her mother that she didn’t. “Did she ever tell you why she dumped my father? Or why she hated my grandmother?”

Neil didn’t answer right away. When he did, his tone was serious. “Your father suffered from paranoia. Do you know what that is?”

Leah had heard the word used loosely but couldn’t remember what it really meant. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s a kind of mental illness. The victim often suffers from delusions of persecution. He thinks someone’s out to get him, that he’s the focus of a conspiracy. He hears voices that tell him to do bizarre things. Often the victim seems perfectly normal and completely functional. Then something happens that triggers an episode and he turns into some sort of deranged person.”

Leah stared at Neil, stunned by what he was telling her, unable to fully absorb it.
“My
father? You’re talking about
my
father? He—He was crazy?”

“He was sick, Leah,” Neil corrected.

“Didn’t he go to a doctor?”

“Back then there wasn’t much that could be done for a person with paranoia. Over time your father got worse, and your mother was afraid. She divorced him because she was afraid he might harm her. Or you.”

“And Grandma Hall? What about her? What did Mom say about her?” Leah was shaking. She felt angry and defensive. Parts of her universe were fragmenting in front of her eyes. She’d known that something
had been wrong between her parents, but she’d never suspected this. Why hadn’t her mother told her?

“Your grandmother had a blind spot when it came to her son. Mothers sometimes do, you know. She refused to accept her son’s illness. She blamed your mother. When your father took off, your grandmother tried to get custody of you and failed. It left your mother bitter. She married the first guy who came along out of self-preservation.”

Neil took Leah’s hand. His hand felt warm; hers was icy cold. “I’ve begged your mother to tell you all this, but she keeps saying, ‘I’ll tell Leah someday … when she’s older.’ I think you’re old enough, and I’m telling you because she’s going to need you to help her through whatever happens to me. I’m also telling you because I didn’t confide in you about my previous cancer. I saw how much that upset you.”

Leah felt as if she had heard a story about somebody else. It was as if Neil were telling her something he’d read or seen on television. It couldn’t really be her life they were discussing. “I—I’m glad you told me,”
she said, numb from the weight of the information.

Neil said, “I know I’ve dumped a lot on you, Leah, but you need to start seeing your mother through new eyes, to begin to understand her life and the choices she’s made. Most everything she did was for you. Even marrying me.”

Leah whipped around to face him.

“Don’t be shocked,” Neil said. “I’ve always known, and it’s never bothered me.”

“But she loves you.” Leah’s voice sounded small, childlike. “She’s told me so.”

“I know.” Neil smiled. “That’s the best part of all. That’s how I know she’ll be here for me no matter what happens. No matter how bad it gets. We’re a family, Leah. For better or worse, we are a family.”

N
eil went into the hospital the next morning and straight into surgery for the reinsertion of the infusion pump. At Neil’s insistence, Ethan went on to his job, but Leah skipped school so that she could hang around the waiting room with her mother. Leah had hardly slept the night before. Her mind spun. Not only was Neil facing medical uncertainty, but also, she wondered what the failure of his chemo protocol might mean for her. If she relapsed, would she also have to endure an experimental drug program?

The revelations about her father, mother and grandmother haunted her. How could
she have never known the truth? Why hadn’t anyone told her until now?

Leah and her mother sat together in an empty waiting room. Her mother sipped coffee and stared out the window at the bleak February landscape. Leah fidgeted, wanting to talk to her mother and not knowing how to begin.

Her mother relieved her of her dilemma when she said, “Neil told me he talked to you yesterday in the barn. He told me everything the two of you talked about.”

“You should have been the one to tell me,” Leah said, knowing she sounded hurt. “Why am I always the last to know about everything in this family?”

“It isn’t a conspiracy, Leah. I was going to tell you about your father. I just never knew how.”

“The same way you told Neil. You just say it.” Leah paused as another thought occurred to her. “You’re not mad at Neil, are you? Because if you are—”

“I’m not mad at Neil,” her mother said. “He wouldn’t do anything to hurt either of us.”

Leah stood, unable to sit still one more
minute. “I know what Neil told me, but I’m mixed up.
You
once told me that the reason you wouldn’t let me see Grandma Hall was because you were mad at Dad for not being able to take care of us. You said that you were bitter and that you took it out on her.” Leah recalled as if it had been yesterday the conversation she’d had with her mother when she’d been hospitalized. “So which is it?”

“I also told you that your father wasn’t well psychologically. That’s the closest I ever got to telling you about how sick he really was. I should have told you everything then, but I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

Her mother shrugged. “If you could have seen the look that crossed your face when I told you as much as I did, you’d know why. You looked horrified. And then hostile, as if you’d never accept anything negative about him from me. You had him built up in your mind to godlike status. You were also being told at the same time by your doctors that you had cancer and that you might lose your leg. I couldn’t trash your father to you.
It wouldn’t have been right. You needed to concentrate on the future, not the past.”

“Why is everybody always trying to protect me instead of being honest with me? Neil said you divorced Dad because you were afraid for our safety. Is that true? Did you think Dad would have hurt us?” It pained Leah deeply to think such things about her father.

“You idolized your father, Leah. You were Daddy’s little girl from the time you were born. In spite of everything that happened, I wanted you to have that illusion.”

“But it was all a lie!”