"Hungry, Gramma, hungry . . ."
My eyes locked with Bart's. "You have the most beautiful singing voice I have ever heard," I said, backing away and taking the twins with me. "Be your own man, Bart. You don't need Joel. You have found your talent, now use it."
He stood there frozen, as if he had volumes to say, but Joel was tugging on his arm, imploring, just as the twins were crying for lunch.
Heaven Can't Wait
. Jory fell very ill a few days later with a cold that just wouldn't go away. The cold, wet rain and winds had done their work. He lay on his bed with his temperature soaring, his brow glistening with beads of perspiration, writhing and turning his head incessantly from side to side, as he moaned, groaned and called repeatedly for Melodie, I saw Toni wince each time he did that, even as she did her best to nurse him.
As I watched her with him, I saw that she truly did care for Jory; it was clear in every caring thing she did, in her soft, compassionate eyes and her lips that brushed his face whenever she thought I wasn't looking.
She turned to give me a brave smile. "Try not to worry so much, Cathy," she pleaded, bathing Jory's bare chest with cool water. "Most people don't realize that a fever is usually very helpful in burning up viruses. As a doctor's wife I'm sure you already know this and are just worried that he will go into pneumonia. He won't. I'm sure he won't."
"Let's pray he won't . . ." I still worried; she was only a nurse without the medical expertise of Chris. I called him every hour, trying to find him in that huge university lab. Why wasn't Chris responding to my urgent calls? I began to feel not only worried but angry that Chris couldn't be reached. Hadn't he promised to always be here when he was needed?
Two days had passed since Joel preached his sermon, and Chris had not called home.
The sweltering, humid weather and intermittent rain and electrical storms did nothing but create more misery and havoc in my mind Thunder crashed overhead. Lightning flashed, momentarily lighting up dark, forbidding skies. Near my feet the twins were playing and whispering about it being time for lessons in the chapel. "Please, Gramma. Uncle Joel says we must come."
"Deirdre, Darren, I want you to listen to me and forget what your Uncle J
oel and Uncle Bart tell you. Your father wants you to stay with me and Toni, near him. You know your daddy is sick, and the last thing he'd want is for his son and daughter to be visiting that chapel where . . . where . . ." and here I stumbled. For what could I say about Joel that wouldn't somehow rebound later? He was teaching what he believed was right. If only he had not taught them those phrases .. . Devil's issue. Devil's spawn.
Instantly the two of them wailed, as if of one mind "Will Daddy die?" they cried out
simultaneously.
"No, of course he won't die. What do you two know about death, anyway?" I went on to explain that their grandfather was a wonderful doctor and he'd be coming home any second.
They stared at me without comprehension before I realized they often mouthed words they'd learned by rote and had no understanding of what they said. Death--what could they know about that?
Toni turned to give me a strange look. "You know something? As I help those two on and off with their clothes and give them baths, they keep up a constant chatter. They're really very remarkable and bright children. I guess being around adults so much has taught them more swiftly than playing with other children would have. Most of what they say while playing alone is silly gibberish. Then out of this silly gibberty-junk come serious words, adult words. Their eyes widen. They speak in whispers. They look around and seem afraid. It's as if they are expecting to see someone, or something, and in low tones they suddenly warn each other of God and his wrath. It alarms me." She looked from me and the twins back to Jory.
"Toni, listen carefully. Never allow the twins out of your sight. Keep them with you at all times during the day, unless you know positively they are with me or Jory, or my husband. When you're caring for Jory and are too preoccupied to keep an eye on them, call me and I'll take them over. Above all, don't let them go off with Joel," and as much as I hated to, I had to add Bart's name.
She threw me another worried look. "Cathy, I think it was not only that thing that happened in New York with Cindy, and with me, but also what Joel had to say when we came back that made Bart start looking at me as if I were the worst kind of sinner. It hurts to have the man you think you love hurl such ugly accusations."
Again she was bathing Jory's arms and chest. "Jory would never say such ugly things, no matter what I did. Sometimes he looks fierce, but even then he's thoughtful enough to say nothing to damage my ego. I never knew a man so thoughtful and
compassionate."
"Are you saying now that you love Jory?" I asked, wanting to believe she did but afraid her disappointment was rebounding and making Jory only a substitute love.
She blushed and bowed her head. "I've been in this house almost two years, and I've seen and heard a great many things. In this house I found sexual satisfaction with Bart, but it wasn't romantic or sweet, just exciting. Only now am I beginning to feel the romance of a man who tries to understand me and give me what I need. His eyes never condemn. Never do his lips shout out terrible things, when I haven't done anything I think is terrible. My love for Bart was a burning hot fire, kindled to a blaze the first day we met, while my feet stayed in quicksand, never knowing what he wanted, or what he needed, except he wanted someone like you . . ."
"I wish you'd stop saying that, Toni," I objected with discomfort. Bart still disliked himself so much he feared a woman turning away from him first, and to keep that from happening, he discarded Melodie before she had the chance to turn against him. Later, he turned his self-loathing against Toni before she could hate him and leave him. Again I sighed.
Toni agreed never to discuss Bart with me again, and then she began with my help to slip a clean pajama jacket onto Jory. We worked together as a team while the twins played on the floor, shoving little cars and trucks along just like Cory and Carrie had done.
"Just be sure which brother it is you love before you hurt both of them. I'm going to talk to my husband and Jory again, and I'm doing my damndest to see that we move out of this house just as soon as Jory recovers. You can go with us if that is your choice."
Her pretty gray eyes widened. She looked from me back to Jory, who had rolled on his side and was murmuring incoherently in his delirium. "Mel . . . is that our cue?" I think he was saying.
"No, it's Toni, your nurse," she said softly, caressing his hair and brushing it back from his beaded brow. "You have a very bad cold . . . but soon you'll feel just fine."
Jory stared up at her in a disoriented way, as if trying to distinguish this woman from the one he dreamed about every night. During the day he had eyes only for Toni, but in the night, Melodie came back to haunt him. What was there about the human condition that made us hold on to tragedy with such tenacity and easily forgo the happiness we could reach readily?
He began to cough violently, choking and pulling up huge wads of phlegm. Tenderly Toni held his head, then threw away the soiled tissues.