September Love Page 7

  “Oh, Mrs. Bennett— I mean, Mrs. Colby. Thank you so much for coming. We can go right in.” And she pushed the door open.

  “Here’s Mrs. Colby, Daddy,” she said as they entered. “Do you want anything else? Or shall I wait outside?”

  “Take a break, Stell. Get yourself a cup of something. Beth, my dear. Thank you for coming.” Cyrus’s voice was rasping, with small pauses for breath that hadn’t been in his speech before. Beth hurried to his side. There was that monitor thing with the little lines and blips; a drip stood beside the high bed, with its needle in Cyrus’s gnarled old hand, more bony now with the knuckles rising sharply. There was the faint hiss of oxygen from the small plastic tubes and, over and under and through everything, the constant hospital noises.

  “How are you feeling today?” she asked, sitting down and taking his free hand in both of hers. Oh, dear friend, please hang on. For my sake. For all our sakes.

  “Not too badly, Beth. I’ve never had so much attention in my life, which is nice. I seem to have attained star status just because my body is conking out. Congestive heart failure, they call it.”

  “What do they say, the doctors?”

  “What do doctors ever actually say? I think one of the first things they learn in med school is how to never actually say anything. Luckily, I’m good at reading between the lines. It’s been part of my job description. But let’s not talk about me, Beth. I’ve got no complaints. I’ve had a good run. What I really want to do today is ask you a couple of questions. You’ve got one of the levelest heads I know of when it comes to level heads.”

  “Ask away.” She pressed his hand. It felt so frail.

  “We don’t have a whole lot of time, you see. Privacy is something I don’t get much of. Everybody is standing by. Good people. One of the Elders is always here. Sentry duty, I guess. Anyhow, thing number one is this. That young Pastor Cooper wasn’t my choice at first, and I insisted on talking with him myself when I was told that the Elders thought he was the best applicant for the job—mainly because of his school experience, I think.”

  “To tell the truth, Cyrus, yesterday I wasn’t too impressed—he seemed too young, I guess. But today, after his sermon, I felt differently. And if he has had school experience…” She let it rest there. This wasn’t the time to distress Cyrus with any lingering doubts about Flip Cooper.

  He sighed. “He’s sound, Beth. I talked with him a long time. I should be elated, I suppose, and I feel guilty because I’m sure that some of my doubts about him were probably just my ego—reluctance to hand over my baton to anybody. And ego shouldn’t have any place in my line of work.”

  “Don’t worry about your ego,” Beth said firmly. “And Pastor Cooper really looked good this morning. Very pastorlike. And his sermon held considerable insight. It was good, thoughtful.”

  From Cyrus there was something like a chuckle, which ended in a gasp. She felt his hand shake.

  “Don’t reach for the bell,” he said. “I have these little tremors now and again.”

  “And then,” Beth continued, “he was talking to Doug about new ninth grade science texts.”

  “Good sign,” Cyrus agreed. “Science changes faster than, say, grammar, so he’s got his priorities right.”

  His eyes closed and he lay silent for a time, visibly gathering strength. She wondered if she should leave.

  “Now, about thing number two,” he said, opening his eyes. “Having people constantly hovering tires me out, but the flip side is it keeps me plugged into the church grapevine.”

  Beth couldn’t help but smile. Same old Cyrus. Always the underlying droll humor. “What’s the latest on the grapevine?”

  “You. And your new little grandson. How’s that going?” Cyrus never missed any need. He was always there to help.

  “Okay,” she said, and told him as briefly as she could about Kayla and Adam. She knew she wasn’t quite hiding her own dismay at the situation, but she had always been honest with Cyrus.

  He was quiet for a time when she finished. Then he spoke slowly. “I believe that God may have blessed you with a special assignment, did you know that? You must have a very reliable record. It won’t be easy, you know. Two of His most vulnerable children are in your and Doug’s care. Especially the little boy.”

  Beth knew her voice quavered but she couldn’t help it. “Both Doug and I know that. He’s so— I mean, he can’t understand the why of anything.”

  “I know.” She felt him press her hand. “Fortunately, there are also some instructions for this task, so you’ll know, sort of. At least a reason to succeed, to give it your best shot.”

  “What is the reason?” she asked. What possible reason could there be for Kayla’s intrusion into her perfect life now?

  “Quote. ‘When you do it for the least of these, you do it for Me.’ Unquote. And that’s a capital M on the Me, so you know who said it.”

  She was silent for a time, dread lapping at the edges of her mind. Had God sent Kayla and her angry, confused little boy into her life? Why now? At this late date? She was fifty years old—and her life was so good.

  “Thank you, Cyrus,” she said hollowly. “I think. You do sum things up very well.”

  “Comes of writing sermons for fifty years. Did you know that both my kids are here? That’s a real treat. And since I’m sick I don’t get any argument when I tell them to do something, which is a first. And Beth, don’t be discouraged. I think I hear discouragement in your voice. We go back a long way, girl. But you may have the life of that little person in your hands.”

  Beth left shortly afterward with Cyrus’s words in her mind. “Remember, Beth, your best shot, your very best.” She made it clear across the street into the parking garage and was seated behind the steering wheel before she started to cry. Was she crying for Cyrus? Or for the burden he had just handed her? The garage, somewhat dim and with few cars in it today, offered a sort of privacy, so she let herself sob, balling up one tissue after another to put into the litter bag. Finally she was able to stop.

  Maybe, if she dumped the litter bag and took her time driving home, by the time she got there Doug wouldn’t know she had cried. She reached for her handbag and flipped on the overhead light to repair her makeup. “When you do it for the least of these, you do it for Me” echoed dimly in her mind, like a chant.

  Doug knew the moment he saw her that she had been crying and held out his arms. He held her for a long time, finally asking, “Would a cup of tea help?”

  “Yes, it would. And,” she added in surprise, “I think I’m hungry. How odd. Quite hungry.”

  They were in the bed-sitter, and Adam, who was sitting on the window seat, was staring at them soberly.

  “How about a muffin, too? Would that help?”

  “Perfect.”

  “You stay here with Adam. I’ll go fix it,” Doug said.

  Beth sat down on the sofa bed. Adam was looking at her steadily with his usual serious expression. “When you do it for the least of these, you do it for Me.” She felt an odd sort of yearning and couldn’t help holding out her hand to the sober little boy. He started clambering down from the window seat. At first she thought he was coming to her, but instead he ducked in behind the sofa bed. He came out almost immediately. What an odd little child he was. He came to her now, one small hand extended.

  “You c’n have dis,” he said. “You’re hungry.” He was holding a broken piece of sugar cookie. One of his hidden scraps, so carefully hoarded against tomorrow’s hunger. Looking into his wide, worried blue eyes she felt her resistance melting away. Somehow, some way, she must help this child.

  “Thank you,” she said steadily, taking the piece of cookie. Carefully, she brushed from it a piece of lint or dust. Nothing on God’s green earth can keep me from eating this broken bit of stale cookie. “Thank you, Adam. This is exactly what I needed.”

  Chapter Five

  The 5:00 a.m. alarm blasted both Beth and Doug out of sleep. The child-monitor intercom had d
isturbed them several times during the night. Both testy from lack of sleep, they nearly had an argument about it.

  “Greg set the sound too loud,” Beth complained.

  “No. We set it together. We just have to get used to it,” Doug objected. They glared at each other.

  It made a bad start to the morning, as both were tired from the repeated wakings. They had heard every time Adam sighed, coughed, murmured or rustled his covers. Together or separately they had made five trips downstairs to check on him. They both apologized immediately, both speaking at once. Then they had to laugh at themselves—and suddenly the world was right again. Showering and dressing as quickly as they could, they hurried downstairs to start the guests’ breakfast. This daily rush took their minds off domestic problems for the moment.

  Beth was watching the scrambled eggs and lifting sizzling sausages out of the cooker, and Doug was setting the table and noticing the salt shakers hadn’t been filled, when Adam wandered into the kitchen. He was wearing only his pajama top and was barefoot.

  Doug came in after him. “Where’re your pants, Adam?” There was laughter in his tone.

  “Wet,” Adam answered, and went over to Beth. Not expecting any help, he must have tried to go to the potty by himself. The results hadn’t been good. He’d probably left his wet pants in the downstairs bath.

  “I’ll get ’em,” Doug said quickly, picking Adam up.

  Mentally Beth added a child’s potty-chair to her list of things-to-buy-for-Adam, as she heard Doug head for the bathroom. At least no guest who used it later would find Adam’s wet pants. An unpredictable little child didn’t fit too well in a B and B.

  At breakfast, Beth found she didn’t have time to sit with the guests and enjoy breakfast. When they started coming down, she was still piecing together the table settings and saying things like, “I’m so sorry, I’ll get you a napkin.” Or, “Let me get you a full salt shaker.” Doug had simply disappeared to get Adam bathed and dressed.

  When he finally came back, he said with a sigh, “I guess we’re going to have to rearrange a little. How did you manage before I came into your life?”

  “Come to think of it,” Beth said distractedly, “I used to set the table at night. I guess we’d better go back to that.”

  “Looks that way,” he said as he put Adam at the table.

  Beth set down a slice of cold bacon she had picked up. “Everything’s cold,” she said, “I’ll fix something for us.” And she went into the kitchen. “You didn’t hear that Mrs. Reese-Talbot say she thought Adam was too thin, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t,” he said, coming to the kitchen door. “But now that you mention it, he is kind of skinny. You think we should get him checked out?”

  After they had finished breakfast, Beth called Kate for the name of her pediatrician. Then she made an appointment for Wednesday afternoon for Adam’s physical exam. She wanted to do what she could until Kayla took him and left, and they certainly must maintain some sort of watch on his well-being. She wondered how Doug would persuade Kayla to remain in Seattle. Well, Doug could handle that.

  The morning had gotten off to a slow start and she seemed to take forever making the beds. She was only in the second bedroom when Adam peeked in the door. He had followed her upstairs and he was carrying a large, flat book from his toy box. She felt a quick rush of warmth. Maybe he was beginning to bond with them. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? What would he think when he and Kayla had to leave his bed-sitter?

  Then, somehow or other, it was after eleven and she was sitting in a big easy chair beside a half-made bed with Adam cuddled beside her, listening to her raptly as she read of the adventures of Doctor Seuss’s little creatures. Oh, Kayla, please learn to be a good mother. Adam needs so much.

  Doug wandered in and sat on the vanity bench, and as she finished the story, Adam laughed. She and Doug glanced at each other. Neither spoke. It was the first time they had heard Adam laugh, and it must not be the last time. The phone rang three times before either of them realized it.

  Doug dashed out into the hall to pick up the extension. Beth closed the book and got back to the bed-making, with Adam watching her soberly from the depths of the big chair. She smoothed the spread over the plump pillows and stood up, stretching a little. Doug stood in the doorway. Something in his face alerted her.

  “What?” She couldn’t keep the alarm from her tone, and Adam frowned.

  “That was Bessie, down at the church,” Doug said, and added, “I’m so sorry, love.”

  “Cyrus?” Oh, no—not yet!

  Doug nodded. “Yes, he died. Quietly. In his sleep. The floor nurse knew right away, of course, because of that little blip screen. He apparently went…peacefully. Do you want a minute?”

  I must not break down in front of Adam. It will make him afraid. She nodded and turned away, hearing Doug with the boy.

  “Okay, sport. It’s time to go downstairs again.”

  In their own bedroom Beth gave way to an onslaught of grief, longing for Doug to be with her but knowing somebody had to tend to Adam.

  She recovered as quickly as she could. Oh, Cyrus, you were so good to us. Did I ever really thank you? Yet Cyrus wouldn’t have wanted or needed thanks. He had just been doing his job. “Part of my job description,” he would have said.

  When she was more in control, she called Bessie at the church, but had to try three times to get through. Bessie, thick-voiced, brought her up to date. Cyrus’s son and daughter were making plans. The funeral would be Wednesday afternoon, which allowed time for Cyrus’s sister to get here from another state. Beth hung up the phone, feeling desolate.

  Suddenly she recalled that Wednesday afternoon was Adam’s appointment with Dr. Fletcher for his exam. She quickly dialed Jill’s number. Jill and Greg lived on the other side of Seattle and went to a different church. Jill might not be planning to attend Cyrus’s funeral.

  Yes, Jill would be glad to leave her smallest daughter with a friend and take Adam to his appointment. Good. She thanked Jill and hung up, realizing that she had a very bad headache.

  “You okay?” Doug stuck his head in the doorway.

  “Where’s Adam?”

  “Sitting in his favorite place, the window seat, observing the world go by.”

  “I’ve got a headache.” And she had the comfort of Doug fetching aspirin and water for her, and another crying spell as he held her close in his arms. Then Doug had to check on Adam again and the beds weren’t finished yet and she must call Kate. Get a grip, Beth. Do what you have to do.

  She got in a hurried call to Kate, assured herself that her older daughter was all right, so Finish the beds, Beth.

  Somehow or other she got through the rest of the day. By the time the evening’s guests arrived, the bedrooms were ready and all appeared serene. Travel itself was stressful enough and guests didn’t appreciate extra confusion.

  In the middle of her hard-won calm she suddenly recalled that Doug hadn’t done any painting for several days. He had accepted a commission for a landscape painting of Shilshole Bay for the local bank to hang in its entryway, and didn’t seem concerned about it. They almost snapped at each other again.

  “But you know you don’t like to hurry with a painting,” she reminded him.

  “Quite right, my love, but as they say in books, events have overtaken us and I just haven’t had the time.”

  Don’t say, ‘The sky will not fall,’ Doug. He hated it when he had to hurry with his painting but sometimes he would procrastinate.

  “Listen up, Beth, the sky will not fall today.”

  Almost gritting her teeth, Beth stopped herself from answering back.

  Tuesday wasn’t much better. It was cleaning service day, which meant four young men came in with all their special high-powered noisy equipment as soon after eleven as they could. They went through the house like a hurricane, scrubbing, vacuuming, flipping cushions over and back, dusting, and polishing, their various machines roaring. Adam hated them
on sight, and stood guard at the bed-sitter door. He seemed to view them as some sort of invasion. It exasperated Beth, even though she understood that Adam’s uncertain life so far had made him always see anything new as a threat.

  “Leave the bed-sitter today, Keith,” Beth told the one in charge.

  “Okay, whatever, but I can’t take it off the bill. I mean, I would if I could but I’m not the boss, you understand?”

  “Yes, of course. That’ll be fine, Keith. Just carry on with the rest.” So the house, except for the bed-sitter, was immaculate again. Except that the bed-sitter should have been cleaned. There had been that dust lint on that broken cookie from behind the sofa bed. At this recollection, Beth’s exasperation with Adam melted and she had to pick him up and hug him.

  “See? It’s all right. The men are almost finished.”

  On Wednesday Jill arrived about noon to pick up Adam for his medical appointment. After an initial tantrum, Jill persuaded him to come with her, and they left. Beth and Doug looked at each other in relief as soon as the door was shut behind them.

  “Do you hear something strange?” Doug whispered.

  “No, what?”

  “Silence. Quiet. Peace. No crisis. Just for this one moment in time, no crisis. Let’s concentrate on appreciating.”

  Beth had to laugh, and it eased the tension a little.

  Later, at the familiar old redbrick church where she had worshiped for so many years, sadness pervaded her. She looked around, picking out all those she knew and loved. There was Kate with Ian and their children, all in their Gilmartin Academy uniforms. And there were the frail, gray Gilmartins, in whose son’s memory the school had been named. Beside them was dear old Mrs. Hyslop without the gentle, confused husband she had cared for so faithfully until his death. And there was Bessie, the church secretary.

  A single spray of bright spring flowers lay on top of the casket. How many people had Bessie called, saying, “No flowers, Pastor Ledbetter’s request. Any offering should go to the school sports fund.” How like Cyrus. She could almost hear him. “Look, if the kids are willing to sweat out the math and science, they should have some of the fun stuff, too. And nothing but the best, mind you, and for that we need money.”