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“Stupid law. Thanks to our illustrious mayor and his band of kowtowing commissioners. If the borough wants new sidewalks, let them pay for it. Nobody thinks about seniors trying to live on a fixed income,” she replied, apparently none too happy about the new requirement that all concrete sidewalks and driveways in need of repair had to be fixed, normally by the seller, prior to any sale. She paused. “August third, you said?”
“At ten. Unless you’d like to make it later?”
Jane reached into her apron pocket, pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the perspiration beading on her forehead and above her lip. “If you intend to stay in business, you’d be well-advised to check out the folks you’re bringing to Welleswood. This is a family place. We’ve got no room for somebody like that Sanderson fellow. As a matter of fact…”
Andrea only half listened while Jane offered her usual blend of snide comments and unsolicited advice. She was Jane’s real estate agent. They had a business relationship, not a personal one, thank heavens. Andrea yearned for escape from the uncomfortable heat in the house and from Jane’s company, but she refused to let this woman’s diatribe drain her spirit. As the elderly woman whined on and on, Andrea pictured herself at Jenny’s with her two nieces. Katy and Hannah were still so innocent. So precious. So untouched by the world.
“A pen! Have you got a pen?”
Startled, Andrea blinked. “I’m sorry. Did you say—”
“I said I need a pen.” Jane lifted a craggy brow. “Not one of those common plastic throwaways, either. A fountain pen, if you please.”
Chapter Six
A ndrea could smell the ribs cooking the moment she turned the corner, a block away from the old Victorian house that Jenny and Michael called home. After pulling into the driveway and getting out of her car, she patted her skirt pocket. Madge’s gift was still there.
Still overheated after an hour in Jane’s sweltering house, she ran her fingers through her damp, short-cropped hair and followed the sound of shrieks and giggles along the winding flagstone walkway that ran along one side of the house. She stood under the arbor beneath a crown of glorious honeysuckle and surveyed the scene in the backyard. While Katy and Hannah frolicked under an umbrella sprinkler, Michael stood on the upper deck, tending the ribs sizzling on a gas grill. The picnic table on the lower deck had been set for dinner. Jenny and Madge were sitting on lawn chairs in he yard, shucking corn, with a brown shopping bag between them for the husks.
Andrea watched Michael baste the ribs. He was forty-five, but he looked ten years younger than other men his age. The scrawny adolescent he had once been had matured into a middle-aged adult with scarcely an ounce of fat on his frame. Laugh lines creased his eyes and forehead. His neatly trimmed beard held flecks of gray, finally, but just enough to make him look distinguished. But it was the gentleness in his eyes that marked him as a treasured addition to their family.
Andrea closed her eyes for a moment, slipped back in time and remembered herself standing in her backyard on West Beechwood Avenue. Her husband, Peter, bless his soul, was putting together a water slide. Rachel and David, about the same ages as Katy and Hannah were now, were running under the lawn sprinkler waiting for Daddy to finish. Andrea strained to keep the scene clear, but it vanished as fast as it had appeared.
Swallowing hard, she wiped her forehead. She could scarcely remember Peter’s face anymore or the feel of his arms around her when they’d stood at the foot of their children’s beds to check on them late at night. His goodness and his patience and his love for her and the children: those qualities she remembered clearly; those she treasured…then and now.
“Aunt Andrea! Come and play!” Katy had spotted her and came running, squealing, toward the arbor with little Hannah toddling in pursuit. “Wanna see? I can run around the sprinkler with my eyes closed! Wanna see me? Wanna try?”
“Katy! Leave Aunt Andrea alone. She’s still dressed from work,” Michael called as he waved a welcome.
Andrea laughed out loud. At six-thirty, the temperature was probably still in the low nineties. Definitely a day to sit by the shores of the river with your feet in the water! Or to run under a sprinkler? She was half tempted to accept Katy’s offer, and the moment Hannah tripped forward and wrapped her pudgy little arms around Andrea’s bare legs to break her fall, Andrea made her decision. She grabbed her youngest niece, swung her up to her hip, stepped out of her sandals and grinned at Katy. “We’ll race you to the sprinkler. Ready? Set? Go!”
Andrea took small steps to keep pace with Katy, and the three of them reached the spraying water together. Oh, but the water was cold!
“Tie! Tie!” Katy cried, and started running. “Catch me if you can!”
“Andrea! Have you lost your mind?” Jenny called.
“Oh, no! Andrea! What on earth are you doing?” Madge asked loudly.
Laughing, Andrea ignored both of her sisters, set Hannah down and lifted her face to the spraying water. It felt delicious. Then she quickly stepped out from beneath the water and shook the droplets from her face.
Katy grinned. “I guess Aunt Andrea is too old to play like me.”
“She’s certainly old enough to know better than to run under the sprinkler in her work clothes,” Jenny teased. She handed Katy a towel and wrapped one around Hannah. “I have more towels inside. I’ll send Michael—”
“No. I think I’d rather drip-dry,” Andrea said. “It shouldn’t take long in this heat. Besides, we’re eating outside. It shouldn’t hurt if I drip a little water on the deck.” While she used her hands to ruffle her hair back in place, she spied Madge sitting in her chair, apparently too shocked to do more than stare at her.
Jenny nodded toward the house. “I’m going to take these young ladies inside to change into dry clothes before dinner while Michael finishes up the salad. Why don’t you talk to Madge and see if you can convince her you haven’t taken the final leap into senility?”
Andrea shook the water from her skirt, remembered the present she had tucked into her pocket and grinned. Hopefully, the watch was waterproof. “Hurry back.”
“Start without me. I won’t be long, just in case you need me to perform CPR. Madge is as white as Mother’s azaleas used to be.”
While Jenny and Michael ushered the girls inside, Andrea took a deep breath and sat down next to Madge, who was shucking the last ear of corn without looking at Andrea. “You’re going to get sick, running around under the sprinkler like that,” Madge said.
“I am sick. I had chemo this morning, remember?”
Madge’s hands stilled, and she looked up at Andrea with tear-filled eyes. “Of course, I remember. The question is whether or not you remember that you have to take care of yourself. Did it ever occur to you that you might catch a chill?”
Andrea laughed, stretched out her legs and wriggled her toes. “It’s at least ninety degrees. The humidity is close to one-hundred percent. I seriously doubt I have to worry about getting a chill.”
“Your resistance is down.”
“Not after a single treatment. Later, yes. But not now. As a matter of fact, I feel utterly refreshed. You might want to try it sometime.”
Madge sighed and carefully removed every strand of corn silk from her manicured fingernails. “I prefer air-conditioning, which you have in your home, in your office and in your car, I might add.”
“True. But Jane Huxbaugh doesn’t. Try sitting in her living room for an hour like I just did, and you’d run under a sprinkler, too.” She paused. “Although, maybe, you’d change into your bathing suit, and you’d have your matching cover-up and beach sandals with you, too.”
Madge lowered her eyes. “Go ahead, make fun of me. But even if you’re not going to worry about yourself, that doesn’t mean other people will stop worrying. Or caring,” she whispered.
Andrea’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m sorry. I’m just teasing. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” She let out a long sigh. “I sounded a little like Jane Huxbaugh, didn’t I? I guess I was with her a little too long today.”
Madge chuckled and leaned back in her chair. “That’s okay. Anyone who spends an hour alone with Jane Huxbaugh deserves a medal. I sure wish I knew what made that woman so miserable. Brenna told me just the other day that none of the other volunteers at the thrift store want to work with Jane in the afternoons. Some of the customers have complained about her, too.”
Andrea steepled her hands on her lap. “Disappointment can eat away at a person until there’s nothing left but bitterness that taints everything beautiful in this world. Without faith, there’s nothing. No friends. No hope. Not even any joy.”
“That sums up the Spinster Huxbaugh pretty well,” Madge admitted. “But her fiancé left her at the altar…what? Fifty years ago? I can’t imagine the shame and embarrassment she must have felt at the time. Still, fifty years is a long time to be bitter.”
“Unfortunately, it hasn’t been long enough. Some people still want to know what happened that day, but she’s never told anyone. I can’t recall her fiancé’s name at the moment, but he left town and no one ever heard from him again.” Andrea did a little mental arithmetic. “I do remember Mother saying Jane was supposed to get married right after her fiancé returned from the war in forty-five. Miss Huxbaugh was nineteen. She’s seventy-seven now. That would be almost sixty years ago.”
“That’s a lifetime.”
“Not in our family,” Andrea murmured. She opened her eyes again. She was only a year away from turning fifty-eight herself. “Neither Mother nor Daddy celebrated their fifty-eighth birthdays, not to mention Kathleen or Sandra.” Kathleen had died a week shy of her thirty-fifth birthday. Sandra had been fifty-one.
Andrea cleared her throat. “As short as each of their lives were, I think they all understood something that has eluded Miss Huxbaugh all these years.”
Madge cocked her head. “Such as?”
“They knew how to forgive others, as well as themselves.” Andrea recalled the sermon their pastor had given a few weeks back. “Reverend Staggart said forgiveness stems from faith and the blessings we get from forgiving others is like a warm shawl. It wraps around our hearts to heal the hurts, ease the pain of disappointment and douse the flames of anger.”
A silence rested between them. Then Madge finally spoke. “Speaking of shawls, that reminds me of something I need to talk to you about, but…that can wait.” Her bottom lip trembled. “Can you forgive me for telling Jenny about your cancer? I didn’t mean to interfere or break your confidence, but I just…I just needed to see someone and talk. Russell is still away.…”
Andrea reached over and gave one of Madge’s earrings a gentle tug. “You’re already forgiven. And I have a present for you to prove it.”
Sniffling, Madge looked up, her eyes shining with anticipation. “You do? You have a present for me?”
Andrea leaned to one side and retrieved the soggy package from her skirt pocket. She handed Madge the gift, but did not let go. “Before you open it, you have to make me two promises.”
Madge hesitated. “What kind of promises?”
“First, don’t get offended. Second, you have to promise you’ll wear it every time you’re supposed to take me for my treatments.”
Madge rolled her eyes. “I have a watch, Andrea. I have several, as a matter of fact. Just because I was late one time, one time, taking Sandra for her chemo doesn’t mean I’ll be late again.” She rotated her wrist, and the sunlight danced on the amethysts and diamonds surrounding her gold watch. “This has a brand-new battery and it works perfectly fine.”
Andrea let go of the present. “Not like this one. Go ahead. Open it.”
Madge peeled back the water-soaked wrapping and opened the box. Her eyes widened. “It’s wild! Wherever did you find one the exact color of my convertible?”
“It was easier than you might think.” Chuckling, Andrea pointed to one of the silver buttons on the side of the watch. “Push that one. It’s an alarm. On the days I have to go for chemo, you have to promise me you’ll set it. When it goes off, you’re not allowed to turn it off until you get to my house to pick me up. That way you’ll be on time.”
“I promise.” Madge pushed the button, and the tune began to play.
Andrea held her breath, hoping Madge would appreciate the melody. If not, well, forgiveness was not a one-way street.
Madge’s eyes widened. Her lips curled into a smile that stretched to a grin. When Jenny and the girls returned, Madge gave them a demonstration and they all joined in to sing along as they marched to the picnic table for dinner. “I’m late. I’m late. For a very important date. No time to say hello. Goodbye! I’m late, I’m late, I’m late.”
Forgiveness reigned. Joy abounded.
Alleluia!
Chapter Seven
T he following day, running late after a settlement that nearly did not happen, Andrea waited for the light, crossed the avenue and hurried to meet Madge for lunch. If someday she were to write a book about the ups and downs of real estate, today’s settlement would have to be in the first chapter.
Both buyer and seller had arrived on time at the title company where Andrea and the other principals were waiting in the conference room, ready to proceed, but only the buyer’s wife had come inside. In near panic, she told them her husband was still in their car, suffering from a full-blown panic attack. It had taken Andrea and the couple’s attorney over an hour to calm the man and convince him that buying a home, even for the first time, was eventful, but not threatening. Though the settlement had proceeded smoothly from that point on, Andrea was way behind schedule. If her luck held, Madge would be running late, too.
The moment she entered The Diner and saw Madge in the corner booth, Andrea knew that luck had abandoned her. Madge had already ordered; lunch was on the table. Andrea braced herself for a well-deserved reprimand and slid into the seat across from her sister. “I’m sorry. You wouldn’t believe why I got delayed. I tried to call you. How come your cell phone wasn’t on?”
Grinning, Madge held up her arm, rotated her wrist and flashed her new purple wristwatch. “I had my alarm set so I wouldn’t be late for our lunch date, and I turned off my cell phone so I wouldn’t get distracted. Maybe I should get a watch for you.”
Andrea grimaced.
“I ordered the grilled chicken and walnut salad with low-fat raspberry vinaigrette dressing on the side for you, too,” Madge went on.
Andrea glanced down at her lunch. So much for the BLT, fries and coleslaw she had intended to order, despite the doctor’s advice about the advantages of a low-fat diet. She managed a smile before she squeezed three slices of lemon into her tea and added half an envelope of sweetener. She took one sip, paused and glared over the rim of her glass at her sister.
“It’s caffeine-free. You’ll get a taste for it. It’s better for you, so don’t argue,” Madge said righteously.
Andrea sighed, set down the tea and flagged the closest waitress, who happened to be Caroline, and handed over the glass of tea. “Would you mind terribly…?”
“One regular iced tea it is,” Caroline said, and winked at Madge. “I warned you she’d taste the difference.” She glanced at Andrea. “I’ll bring you a double. Since you’re such a great fan of salads, I’ll bring you a take-home container, too. You should box up half the salad before you add any dressing. Stays fresher, and it won’t get soggy,” she instructed before she left.
“You should eat the whole thing now,” Madge suggested as she cut the chicken strips in her salad into bite-size pieces. “You probably didn’t bother to fix anything for breakfast, and I doubt you’ll take the time to make anything substantial for dinner. The least you can do is eat healthy and well at lunch. Honestly—”
“Since when did you get appointed my personal dietician?” Andrea interrupted, shaking her head and drizzling dressing on a corner of her salad. “You can drive me to the doctor’s office. You can handle my insurance and tend my gardens. But my diet is off-limits.”
Madge laid down her fork. “Somebody has to watch out for you. Eating right is…well, it’s part of recovery. Sandra let me—”
Andrea cut off her words by laying her hand on top of Madge’s. “I know she did. I know you did everything to help Sandra. In fact, you probably helped her more than the rest of us combined.”
Nodding, Madge lowered her gaze. “She said I was the best friend she ever had in the whole wide world, but it didn’t make any difference. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, I…I couldn’t save her. I was her best friend! I should have done more. If I’d done more, maybe…”
Andrea sighed. “You couldn’t save Sandra. You can’t save me, either. That’s not your job. That’s God’s job. It’s His plan, not yours, and certainly not mine. You can’t blame yourself for Sandra’s death.”
Madge laced her fingers together and rested them on the tabletop. She looked into Andrea’s eyes. “About a week before Sandra slipped into a final coma, she…she told me something. I haven’t been able to tell anyone what she said before now. Not even Russell.”
Andrea drew a deep breath. “Do you want to tell me now?”
Madge nodded. “We were alone in her living room. Sandra was stretched out on her couch, and I was sitting on the floor rubbing her feet. She liked that a lot.”
“I remember,” Andrea whispered.
“She was in a lot of pain,” Madge went on. “She spoke so softly, I had to strain just to hear her. She talked about Dan and Frank a lot and told me stories.” Madge shook her head. “I’ll never understand why she married either one of those men, not if I live to be a hundred.”
“She had a one-track mind,” Andrea murmured. “Unfortunately, when it came to men, she always got on the wrong track.”
“She knew that, even before she came back to church,” Madge countered. “Just like she knew she was going to die. She told me she was ready to go Home, but she felt guilty for wanting to leave her children behind and all of us, too. You know why?” She leaned toward Andrea. “She said she wanted to go Home because no one here on earth ever really loved her…and she knew He would.”
Chills coursed through Andrea’s body. Sassy, spirited Sandra. She hadn’t lived life; she’d torn through life on her own terms, practically from the day she had learned how to walk. She had dated young, abandoned the faith her family embraced, married twice and divorced both husbands. A gifted artist, Sandra had been Teacher of the Year at South Jersey Regional High School, and a few years later, she was named Adjunct Faculty of the Year at the nearby community college. She had raised and educated two children, one from each of her marriages. Sandra’s elder daughter, Lindsay, had also become a teacher. She was now serving with the Peace Corps in Africa, and her sister, Samantha, was an Army nurse stationed in Germany.
Surrounded by love and success, but with no faith to guide or sustain her, Sandra had felt alone and unloved. Only months before her illness had been diagnosed, she had rediscovered and reclaimed her faith—an answer to prayer for all of her family. Andrea and Madge and Jenny had stood by Sandra’s side when she was welcomed back into their community of Believers. Little did they all know how soon He would call his prodigal daughter all the way Home.
Madge’s words echoed in Andrea’s mind. She was not sure, but she felt that the experience of facing her own mortality, ever since her first dance with cancer over a year ago, gave her the insight to understand Sandra’s meaning and to help Madge to understand, too. “I think all Sandra wanted to know was love,” she whispered.
Madge leaned back and looked down at her lap. The burden she had carried for nearly a year was etched in her expression. “I thought our love would be enough to make her want to stay—and to fight harder. It wasn’t. It should have been.”
Andrea shook her head. “Our love sustained her to the end of her life. In your heart, you know that. But it was her soul that craved to be reunited with Him for eternity. If you believe He plants the seeds of desire in our hearts, then you also have to believe He called her Home. His voice whispered to her heart so she could go to Him willingly, even eagerly. That doesn’t mean she didn’t love us or want to stay with us. She just loved Him more.”
Madge toyed with one of her earrings. “I never thought of it that way.”
Andrea held silent and watched faith and relief ease the troubles from her sister’s expression. When Madge finally looked up at Andrea, her eyes were clear. “How come you’re so smart and I’m so…not smart?”
Andrea grinned and picked up her fork. If it made Madge happy to see her sister eating a salad, then she might as well do so with a smile on her face. “’Cause I’m the oldest.”
Madge grinned back. “Yes, you are. By twenty-one months. And don’t think for a moment I’ll ever let you forget it.” She glanced down at their salads and back up at Andrea. Her expression was solemn. “You’re not ready to leave us yet, are you?”
Andrea dropped her fork, which bounced on the table and fell to the floor. “No, I’m not ready. Of course not.”
Caroline arrived, set two glasses of iced tea on the table and retrieved the fork. “I’ll be right back with a new one. Oh, I forgot your box. I’ll bring that, too.”
“Hmm. Make it two boxes,” Madge suggested with a sudden twinkle in her eye. “We’re going to take the salads home. Bring us a couple of double bacon cheeseburgers, well-done, fries and a side order of onion rings. That okay with you, Andrea?”
Laughing, Andrea nodded her approval.
“Good. Now, while we’re waiting, I have to tell you about the meeting I had with the pastor and Eleanor Hadley about the Shawl Ministry. We organized the ministry several months ago, but it just hasn’t caught on as quickly as we thought it would.”
Andrea fixed her caffeinated iced tea and drank a full glass while Madge recounted her meeting, in more detail, no doubt, than what was in the official minutes. By the time she stopped talking, the meal was nearly finished.
