Читать книгу The Magic of a Family Christmas - SUSAN MEIER, Susan Meier - Страница 6

“I’VE hired a nurse.”

“Really?” Wendy Winston tried to sound surprised by her next-door neighbor’s announcement, but she wasn’t. Betsy’s cancer hadn’t responded to treatment. Wendy had been able to help Betsy struggle through the aftereffects of the initial round of chemotherapy, but her friend needed real care now. Care beyond what a neighbor could provide.

“I appreciate all the help you’ve given me over the past few weeks, but I’ll bet you’ll be glad for the break.”

Fluffing the fat pillow before she slid it under Betsy’s head, Wendy laughed. “You think I’ll be glad to go back to an empty house?”

Betsy frowned. “I’ve always wondered why you didn’t move back to your family in Ohio after your husband died.”

She shrugged. “Memories mostly. It seemed too abrupt just to leave when he died. I needed time to process everything.”

“It’s been two years.”

“I also have a job.”

“No one stays away from family for a job.”

She grinned at Betsy. “Would you believe I can’t sell that monstrosity I call a house?”

Betsy laughed.

“One of these days I’ll have the kitchen and bathrooms remodeled and then I can put it on the market and go.”

Even Wendy heard the wistfulness in her own voice so she wasn’t surprised when Betsy said, “It makes you sad to think of leaving.”

“Four years ago I settled here with the assumption that Barrington would be my home. I can’t shake the feeling that this is where I belong. No matter how alone I am.”

“Why didn’t you and Greg ever have kids?”

“He wanted to be done with his residency before we even tried.”

“Makes sense.”

Wendy smiled sadly.

“But it didn’t make you happy.”

“If we’d done what I wanted and had a child I wouldn’t be alone right now.” She sighed. “Not that I only wanted a child to keep from being lonely. It was more than that. My whole life I longed to be a mom. But what Greg wanted always came first. Some days I struggle with that.”

“That’s one of those tough choices that happens in a marriage. Nobody’s fault.”

Wendy turned away. “Yeah.” She wouldn’t burden Betsy with stories of how her late husband had been so focused and determined that he frequently didn’t even listen when she talked. She didn’t want to give Betsy any more to worry about or the wrong idea. She had loved Greg and missed him so much after he died that she had genuinely believed she would never be happy again. But because he was so selfabsorbed, their marriage was far from perfect.

Silence stretched out in Betsy’s sunny bedroom as Wendy walked around the room tidying the dresser and bedside tables.

“You know, it won’t be the nurse’s job to read Harry a story or tuck him in at night,” Betsy said, referring to her six-year-old son.

Wendy turned from the dresser.

“So if you want to keep coming over to do that, I know it would make Harry happy. He loves it when you read to him.”

Wendy smiled. “I love it, too.”