Читать книгу A Marriage in Middlebury - Anita Higman - Страница 12

Chapter 5

5

Mr. Wilder’s words wrung at Charlotte’s heart like an icy hand crushing her spirit, but the greater unhappiness was knowing that she’d used up some of Sam’s time—time when he should have been saying good-bye to his father. She walked out into the hallway. For one dreadful moment, Charlotte wondered if Sam or Audrey or Lucy could have overheard the conversation, but surely they’d been too far away for them to decipher it.

They all three stared at her when she approached. It was obvious they wondered about the purpose behind Mr. Wilder’s summons, but the matter was too private to share. And it would have been too upsetting for Audrey and Sam to know, considering their impending marriage. When she remained silent, Sam and Audrey went inside the room, leaving Charlotte to stand alone in the hallway with Lucy.

“I think I won’t go in for a bit,” Lucy said. “I’m sure Sam would like to talk to his father without me always being in the room.”

“That’s very thoughtful.”

“I don’t think he has long to live. Perhaps just a day or two at the most, so I don’t want to interfere.” Lucy pulled a rosebud from the pocket of her nurse’s outfit and skimmed it against her cheek. “Did you notice there are no cards or flowers in Mr. Wilder’s room?”

“Not really, but now that you mention it . . . ”

Lucy gestured toward the other end of the hallway. “It’s all been put in the kitchen. Apparently, Mr. Wilder doesn’t like flowers. I’ve never heard of anyone in my life who didn’t like flowers.” Lucy fidgeted with her collar and then scratched the skin on her inner arm.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, but I think the land around my little cabin is infested with chiggers.”

“That’s not good.”

“Or it could be something else. I don’t really want to be here . . . in this house.” Lucy looked up at the stuffed moose head just above her. “It’s so oppressive. Like being in an ancient crypt or something with the walls closing in on you.”

“I know what you mean.”

“I never would have agreed to come, but lately I’ve been taking on some in-home nursing jobs for the extra money.” Lucy picked at the tassel on the bookmark, letting the bits of fluff drift to the floor. “But actually, I’m thinking of quitting nursing altogether.”

Charlotte had wandered off in her thoughts for a second, but she snapped back when she heard the word quitting. “But why? You’re good at it.”

“For the most part, people think I’m a good nurse. That I’ve found my mission in life, but it’s a lie. I never found my calling, Charlotte. Not like you did. You knew exactly what you wanted, and you went after it.”

Well, she hadn’t gotten all she’d wanted out of life, but it wasn’t the time nor the place to speak of her disappointments. “You’ve helped and comforted lots of people in this town.”

“Not really.” Lucy smoothed some of her wild curls back into her hairclip, but they came right back to frame her face. “I had such romantic notions about the medical profession when I went to nursing school. I was going to be this great healer like Florence Nightingale. But after all these years I’ve rarely known that feeling. Too many times patients don’t get well, no matter how much medicine they take. Mostly we just manage their pain and symptoms. We give them drugs, but with all the side effects, we’re forced to give them more pills. You can only take so much failure before it gets to you. At least I can’t. I get weepy all the time.” Lucy dropped the rose in her pocket and pulled out a tissue.

“I’ve never heard anyone talk like that in your line of work. It probably means you have a lot of empathy. Maybe your industry needs fewer pills and more compassion.”

“Yes, that’s true, but it’s slowly killing me. And no guy wants to date me while I’m like this. Guys like Miss Congeniality type girls, and I can’t even remember the last time I really smiled or laughed.” Lucy fastened her fingers together and then wrenched them back and forth as if they couldn’t be undone. “I’ve never told another living soul about any of this, especially not my parents, but I felt I could tell you.”

Charlotte drew Lucy into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

When she released her, Lucy said, “My dad sacrificed a lot for me to go to nursing school. I didn’t feel right telling him I was thinking about walking away from it all. He’d be devastated.” Lucy chewed on her fingernails.

“Perhaps that’s true, but the reason your father sacrificed for you was because he loves you. I’m certain your career doesn’t mean as much to your father as your happiness. You should talk to him.”

“I suppose I should. But it’ll be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You already have . . . just by listening.” Lucy rested against the wall with her palms tucked in behind her. “People aren’t good at that anymore. Too many texts and not enough listening.”

“You’re always welcome to stop by the tearoom. I’ll fix you your favorite . . . raspberry sage. And the next pot will be on the house.”

“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”

“If you don’t love nursing after all, what do you think you’d like to do?”

“Well, remember all those pies we baked in home economics class?”

“Unfortunately, I do. For some reason my crusts came out as tender and flaky as beef jerky.”

“Maybe at the beginning of class, but toward the end, we were watching you like you were some kind of cooking show celebrity. All you lacked were the chef’s apron and the attitude.”

Charlotte chuckled.

“It’s true. Anyway, I loved that class. So much so, I’d always wished I’d opened a café in Middlebury. But honesty, you’re so good at it, I would be afraid to compete with you.”

“But we wouldn’t be in competition. Middlebury has been going through a growth spurt lately, with all those people wanting to retire out here. There’s plenty of need for another café or two.”

“Well, I’ll think about it.” Lucy looked up and down the hallway and lowered her voice. “You know, there’s something about taking care of Mr. Wilder. Well, he’s made me want to tell somebody about how I really feel about my career before I’m too old to change. Mr. Wilder has lived such a sad, pathetic life. I don’t want to end up like him.”

“You’re nothing like Mr. Wilder, I assure you.”

“Thanks.” Lucy bounced against the wall on her hands. “But I’d kill for a smoke about now. If I can make it just five more minutes. That’s sixty seconds times five . . . only three hundred seconds. I play these silly games to encourage myself to quit.” Lucy looked toward the bedroom door. “Say, tell me if I’m out of line for asking this, but doesn’t being here make you uncomfortable? You know, seeing Sam with someone else? I know a long time ago you two were sweethearts.”

“I don’t mind you asking.” Charlotte leaned against the wall next to Lucy and kept an eye on the bedroom doorway in case Sam or Audrey should appear. “I was surprised when Sam came home with a fiancée, but the more I think about it, why wouldn’t he? What we had was a long time ago. It’s good that he should marry and start a family. I know he loves children. We used to talk about it all the time.” She glanced up at the moose head, feeling some peculiar camaraderie with the stuffed beast. She dodged any more of the queries by saying, “I was wondering. Does Doctor Terrell have the results yet on my blood tests?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Now, Charlotte. I had this sneaky feeling you were going to ask me that, but you know it’s unprofessional of me to give you the results early.”

“But you’ll probably just call me later today when I get home. What’s the difference?” Charlotte raised her hand. “Sorry. I know you’re just trying to do your job.”

“It’s all right. I would do the same thing if I were you. I would want to know as soon as possible.” Lucy flicked at the nurse’s pin on her lapel as if it were a pesky gnat. “But what if you have questions only the doctor can answer?”

“Why would I have questions? Is there something wrong with my blood work?” Charlotte nearly laughed at herself at the paranoid sound of her words.

Lucy let out a moan. “Look, I guess it doesn’t really matter if I tell you now. And at this point if I get fired I’ll count it a blessing. Your blood work looks good, except . . . ”

“Except what?”

“Your hormone levels. The doctor said the reason you’re having hot flashes is because you’re going through what’s called primary ovarian insufficiency.”

“That doesn’t sound reassuring.” Charlotte tried not to overreact, but her mouth went as dry as dust. Maybe paranoia was appropriate.

Lucy licked her lips, and Charlotte knew she was debating whether to say any more. But now without more information she felt like a fish dangling on the end of a pole, waiting for the fisherman to decide if she were a throwback or lunch.

“Well, I’ve also heard doctors call it premature menopause.”

“But that’s impossible. I’m only thirty-seven.” Charlotte lowered her voice.

“It can happen. I’ve seen it a couple of other times over the years. That’s why I hate nursing. It’s almost always bad news.”

“You’re right. It is bad news. But how did this happen?” Charlotte clasped her arms around her waist, wishing it were a real hug.

“I knew you’d have questions that only the doctor could answer.” Lucy pulled a packet of gum from her pocket and offered Charlotte a piece.

“No thanks. Look, I’m sorry to pressure you, but what do the books say about it? Surely you can talk to me as a friend. Otherwise, I’ll just scrounge around online when I get home and get such a hodgepodge of information that it’ll keep me awake every night until my appointment.” Charlotte gave Lucy her most convincing smile.

“Doctors might give you a list of reasons, but they just don’t know why.” Lucy unwrapped a piece of gum and slid it in her mouth.

Charlotte thought back on previous months concerning her periods. They had been erratic, which was why she’d gone to the doctor, but she’d no idea the diagnosis would be so bleak. She grabbed Lucy’s arm and then loosened her grip. “But that means I won’t be able to have children . . . ever. I’d always wanted at least one or two. I mean what about medicines for it? Or herbs or exercise or something?”

“I’ve never heard of anything for it.” Lucy covered her hand over Charlotte’s. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m not sure what to say. It’s quite a blow. I feel run over, Lucy. Like I’ve been the front pin at Ramer’s Bowling Alley, and one of those balls has made a perfect strike, right here, against my heart.”

Lucy wrapped her arms around Charlotte. “I wish I could do something. I wish I could fix it.”

“Thanks, Lucy.”

“Now I guess it’s my turn to listen.” Lucy gave her back a few reassuring pats and released her.

Charlotte pondered what Lucy had told her.

In the meantime Lucy pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and rolled it around in her fingers. She looked as though she wanted to say something more but didn’t.

Charlotte appreciated the fact that Lucy gave her some space. She certainly wouldn’t cry now, but later when she was alone, in her special place—her broom closet—there, she planned to cry her eyes out. Seemed so strange to think of life when the man in the next room was dying, and yet it was the absence of life that ripped at her spirit. No children of her own. How could she process such horrible news? Oddly, Mr. Wilder assumed she was fertile, and yet now the opposite appeared to be true. The tragedy, of course, was that she would have had children by now if Mr. Wilder had not stopped her from marrying Sam at eighteen. Now, no matter whom she married, there could be no children of her own. “I guess I do have one more question. What if—”

They were interrupted by Audrey’s laughter as she and Sam came out of Mr. Wilder’s bedroom.

Why would Audrey be laughing?

When Sam and Audrey joined them, Sam said to Lucy, “He’s asking for you. I think it’s time for his morphine.”

“Absolutely.” Lucy gave Charlotte a quick, worried glance and then headed into Mr. Wilder’s bedroom.

Audrey circled Charlotte’s arm. “As gravely ill as Mr. Wilder is, he still remembered my favorite candy. He had a box of it hidden in the nightstand . . . divinity. Can you imagine?”

No, she really couldn’t. “That was thoughtful.”

“Indeed. But what made me giggle was his idea of a family. I was thinking maybe one child, you know. But Mr. Wilder said he hoped we’d have at least four or five. Can you imagine?”

Charlotte doubted that a dull knife to the heart could have pained her more. “It would be quite a happy brood, I’m sure. I would love to have had several children.”

“Well, I hope you get your dream someday,” Audrey said to her.

Lord, help me to get through this day.

Sam looked over at Charlotte. She did not turn away. A world of words passed between them then, but every sentence ended with a question mark.

“It’s just that I don’t know a lot about the care and feeding of children,” Audrey chattered on, “and it’s such a huge responsibility. An impossible task when you really think about it. What if something goes wrong? It’s like those pet owners you see on the evening news who have way too many dogs or cats, and they can’t take care of them all. Of course, in that case they are given over to someone else or to the pound.”

Sam ran his finger along a tear in the wallpaper. “Why don’t we talk about babies later.”

“All right.” Audrey stared at him for a moment, then she ran her finger along the same rip in the wallpaper. “Would you like some coffee from the kitchen . . . either one of you?”

“Maybe later.” Sam gave Audrey’s hand a pat.

“No, thank you,” Charlotte said.

Sam glanced over at Charlotte again. “I think my father has worn Charlotte out. Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Eventually. Charlotte grasped her fingers around her neck and collarbone. “Seeing your father was a shock, though. I’m so sorry, Sam, that he’s so ill. This can’t be easy to watch.”

“It isn’t easy. I just wish my father and I could have been close. I wish for a lot of things now,” Sam said in a murmur as if he were speaking to the air.

Was there meaning in Sam’s words beyond the regrets he had with his father? Even if Sam had meant something more in his words to her—something revealing about his feelings—why would it matter now? As sure as the sun rising in the east, Sam was going to marry Audrey Anderson, and with the full approval of his father. Charlotte shook off the desperate desire to read more into his words. It would do no good, except to prolong the pain.

Audrey rested her head against Sam’s shoulder. “This has been a very hard day on all of us. I wish—”

“Sam,” Lucy hollered down the hallway at them. “Your father. I’m so sorry.” Her chin quivered, and then she broke out into sobs.