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Deep in the Heart
Deep in the Heart

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Deep in the Heart

Язык: Английский
Год издания: 2018
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After the confrontation with Sandra, Kate really did worry about her reception at church. Would there be others there who remembered the old, petty, conceited Kate? Who would like to get back at her?

She pushed the thoughts aside and kept walking. She could hardly turn around and go back home now, not when she’d talked Brooke into coming, not when it meant giving in to Sandra’s anger.

When they were half a block from the church, the windows of the youth and children’s Sunday school department peeked through the leaves. Cars turned off the street and into the parking lots or pulled up to park against the curb.

Next, the beautiful stained-glass window of Jesus praying in the garden appeared through a break in the branches.

Finally, as they turned onto the broad sidewalk in the front of the building, she saw the strength and beauty of the church. Built of pale gray limestone quarried from the hills in the area, it looked as if it would stand for eternity. As she entered the front doors, she was struck by a deep yearning for the faith that used to sustain her. Even stronger was regret that she’d lost the assurance of that faith over the past few years in the shuffle of her life, under the layers of what she’d thought was more important.

They were late enough that most of the congregation had settled in the sanctuary except the few who straggled in from the street with her. Through the open doors between the sanctuary and the greeting area, she heard the organist playing the prelude and a low buzz of conversation. No one had ever learned that the prelude was supposed to be a time of quiet meditation, not a meet-and-greet session. Another thing that hadn’t changed in Silver Lake over the years.

She took three more steps until she stood barely inside the sanctuary. A woman she didn’t know handed her an order of worship and Brooke tugged at her hand to pull her down the aisle. Oddly the child headed toward an empty pew while Kate, afraid there were more like Sandra Dolinski inside, wanted to whirl around and run.

Who was she fooling by coming to church after so many years? Certainly not God.

Why was she here? Although she knew most of the people inside would welcome her, she feared the judgment and gossip that might greet her after her time away.

Many years earlier she would have prayed for strength from God, but they weren’t on that good of terms anymore. All her fault, she knew.

The irony that today she needed strength from God before entering His house was not lost on her.

“Come on, Aunt Kate,” Brooke whispered loudly enough for everyone inside to turn around and watch them.

She took a deep breath and followed Brooke toward a pew a few rows behind Rob and his mother and across from Mrs. Oglesby.

“Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered. “What am I doing here?” And yet, as the service began, the music filled and lifted her; the beauty and truth of the scripture inspired her; and the sermon both challenged and comforted her.

After the service, people gathered around her, people who greeted her and were glad to see her. A lovely surprise.

“So nice to have you home,” her grade-school principal said. “We’re proud how you stood up against that crooked congressman.”

“Takes a lot of courage to do that,” Mrs. Watkins, her high school journalism teacher said, and patted her on the shoulder. “Good job.”

Mrs. Watkins had what was called “big Texas hair.” So blond it was almost white, it puffed from her head like a giant dandelion-gone-to-seed, but a very nicely colored and well-coiffed dandelion-gone-to-seed. Like other women with “big Texas hair” she had flawless makeup and her fingers, ears and neck—every square inch possible—glittered with jewelry.

“Thank you.” She’d always loved this teacher. Mrs. Watkins’s enthusiasm and knowledge had been her motivation for getting a degree in journalism.

Grabbing Kate’s hand with her beautifully kept fingers, Mrs. Watkins said, “If you’re looking for something to keep you busy while you’re here, I’ve got a part-time job at the Sentinel. I’m editor there now.”

“You are? Congratulations.” But before she could tell her she was not interested in a job, people surrounded them, chatting.

After more greetings and pats on the back, Kate knew why she was in this place, in Bethany Church.

“Thank you, God,” she whispered as she left with Brooke. “Thank you for bringing me home.” Even if the methods God used seemed circumspect and the road home bumpy, she was grateful. It felt good to be here, to be welcome. To belong.

Now all she had to do was to persuade Sandra Dolinski and her sister to forgive and accept her, too.

Without a lot of guidance and grace from God, there was little chance of that.

Chapter Three

Kate hated hospitals.

Not that she’d ever spent the night in one. She’d spent only a few minutes several times cheering up sick friends.

And not that everyone else in the world loved hospitals. Other than the staff, probably no one even liked hospitals. She guessed every patient tucked into pristine cubicles wished they were someplace else.

In the waiting room, Kate leaned back in a metal chair with a thin cushion upholstered in sticky plastic. Yawning, she shifted in an attempt to find a comfortable place, but a comfortable position didn’t exist.

She’d gotten up at five-thirty that morning to dress and grab a cup of coffee before she awakened Brooke. While Brooke ate, Kate took Coco outside, found a tree with plenty of shade and settled the dog there with a bowl of water and a blanket.

That accomplished, Kate dashed into the house and glanced at the clock. It had been almost six-fifteen. The doctor wanted Abby at the hospital by seven.

Now sitting in the surgery waiting room while Abby was being prepped, Kate began a gradual collapse. She was not a morning person—5:00 a.m. was the earliest she had been up for years, and certainly not since she was a hot new reporter for the morning report on a Houston television station.

As she began to doze, through the fog she heard the approach of footsteps. When they stopped in front of her, she opened her right eye a slit to see Reverend Moreno. With a start, she jumped to her feet and reached out her hand. “Good morning, Reverend. How nice to see you.”

He took her hand and shook it. “And a surprise I believe from your expression.” His English held a slight Spanish accent and an interesting rhythm, almost like a song. “I come to the hospital anytime a member of the congregation is admitted.” He let go of her hand. “Please sit down.”

When she did, he sat next to her.

“Is Abby still a member of the church?” she asked. “From what Brooke said, they don’t attend regularly.”

“No, they don’t, but they are members and may return to us.” He smiled. “After all, we must never give up on the leading of the Holy Spirit.”

Kate nodded and struggled not to yawn.

“You must be tired.”

“I’ve had a busy few days, and I don’t like getting up early.”

“And yet you came to church yesterday. Everyone was glad to see you.” He nodded in a very pastoral manner. “I hope you’ll come again.” Reverend Moreno stood. “Do you want to come with me while I pray with your sister?”

“No, but thank you.”

As the minister headed toward preop, Kate wondered why she hadn’t gone with him. Praying with her sister might open something up between them. That would be good. However, it could also toss up another wall between them if Abby felt Kate had intruded on her private space. Hard to guess Abby’s reaction but more likely the latter.

After several cups of coffee, a couple of walks around the small hospital, reading every page of the Austin newspaper and an ancient People magazine and watching the morning news, a woman dressed in surgical scrubs emerged from the operating suite.

“Miss Wallace?” she called after glancing down at a chart she held.

Kate stood. “I’m Kate Wallace.”

“I’m Dr. Norris. Your sister did fine. The operation should resolve the problem.”

“Good.”

“She’s in recovery now. If you’d like to go to room…” The doctor consulted the chart. “Five-eleven. She’ll be there in a short time.”

“Five-eleven,” she repeated. “Thank you.”

Leaving the waiting room, Kate headed toward the patient wing. Once she found the room, she settled into the reclining chair and, again, closed her eyes.

Abby would be in the hospital for a day or two, then they’d release her to Kate’s care for a convalescence lasting four to six weeks.

If they both survived that long.

There she went again, always thinking about herself. The convalescence would be harder on Abby than on her. Her sister would be in pain. Even worse, she’d have to accept the help from—in fact be completely dependent on—Kate, the sister she’d never particularly liked. Because the entire situation would be difficult for Abby, Kate should—would—have to be nice. Try to be nice. Force herself to be nice.

She’d always worked with the public and, over the years, had developed a method of dealing with difficult, demanding people. But this was her sister, the woman who knew every one of Kate’s hot buttons and loved to push them.

However, this older Kate Wallace knew how to deflect those barbs better than she had as a child. Besides, she really wanted to get along with her sister.

How far would good intentions take her? She closed her eyes and sighed. The four-to-six week thing began to sound longer and longer.

“Excuse me.” An orderly entered. “We need you to leave until we have the patient settled.”

After she stood and left the room, two orderlies wheeled in a gurney with Abby on it and a nurse followed.

In the hall, Kate paced up and down for a few minutes before she saw Rob emerging from the gift shop with a bouquet of yellow roses.

For a moment, she stopped and watched him, the determined gait, broad shoulders covered by a blue knit shirt and the confident lift of his head. Wow. Rob was gorgeous. A real man, he’d draw the interest of any woman in Houston or Miami. Here his good looks and self-assurance filled the narrow corridor with potent and very masculine appeal.

“How’s the patient?” he asked before he glanced at a note in his hand. “She’s in room five-eleven?”

As she fell in step beside him, Kate forced her senses from her sudden and unwelcome interest in Rob and her brain back to her sister’s health. “The doctor says she’s doing well.”

“But?” He glanced at the closed door then back at Kate.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her. She just got out of recovery and they’re getting her settled.” In a flash, the enormity of what lay ahead, weeks of taking care of Abby, overwhelmed her. She leaned on the wall and took a deep breath.

“Worried?”

She glanced into eyes that showed concern. “I thought I knew what I was getting into, but, Rob, I’ve never been a good nurse and Abby and I’ve never gotten along. What if I can’t do this?”

“Hey, you’ll be fine.” He studied her face. “I know how determined you can be. Once you start something, you don’t give up.”

She attempted a smile. “That’s not always true.”

“Often enough,” he added in a voice filled with certainty. “Kate, you can.”

“I hope so.”

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “I saw you in church Sunday. I didn’t get to greet you because I had to pick Lora up from children’s church.”

“I saw you.”

“Kate, I don’t know if you still pray like you did as a kid.” He reached out to touch her arm but it seemed as soon as he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hand. “If you don’t think you can handle things, pray about them. There’s a source of strength outside of us. You used to know that.” His gaze stayed on her face. “I don’t know if you do anymore, but you did. He’s still there.”

“I’m really out of practice.”

“‘Whisper a prayer in the morning,’” Rob sang softly.

The tune took Kate back years, to church camp and the memory of the voices of two hundred high school kids lifted in song. “‘Whisper a prayer at noon,’” she sang back.

“See? You remember.”

How could she forget? The song reminded her of a time she believed God answered prayers. Why had God seemed so close, so present in her life when she was young? How had she lost Him? Well, she hadn’t so much lost God as misplaced Him beneath priorities that no longer seemed so important.

The door to Abby’s room opened. “You can come in,” the orderly said as he left.

Rob held out the bouquet. “Do you want to take these in?”

“No, she’d like to see you.” She pushed the door open and looked inside. Abby lay on the bed closer to the hall. Her right arm was strapped securely across her chest, which would probably make sleeping difficult.

She was pale. With her eyes closed, Abby’s long lashes showed as a dark fringe against her chalky cheeks. Kate moved silently across the few feet that separated the door from the bed. She put her hand on her sister’s left shoulder and whispered, “How are you doing?”

Abby’s eyes opened a slit at the same time her jaw clenched. “Hurt,” she muttered. “What did you think?”

“Did they give you something for pain?”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

“Abby, Rob’s here. Would you like to see him?”

Abby nodded again.

After he entered, Rob placed the flowers on the bedside table then moved next to Abby’s bed. “How’re you doing, slugger?”

Slugger? She couldn’t imagine anyone calling Abby that.

“Okay.” She sighed. “Groggy.”

“I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

Abby nodded only a moment before her eyes closed.

As they moved toward the door, Kate whispered, “Thanks for coming.”

“If I can help you, call.”

After Rob left and with Abby sleeping, Kate headed toward the hospital cafeteria. As she ate her salad, she wondered if Rob remembered what else had happened at church camp or if he’d buried those memories, replaced them with newer ones.

But she’d never forget that it was there on the banks of Silver Lake she’d received her first kiss and fallen in love with Rob.

Did he remember that? Probably not, because she’d left him, he’d married Junie and thoughts of their lives together had replaced the earlier ones. Maybe it was Kate who hadn’t moved on, who was filled with recollections of their years together.

After lunch, the afternoon turned into a boring few hours as Abby slept. At four, Kate stood. “I’m going home to check on Brooke.”

As she walked past the nurses’ station, the head nurse said, “Miss Wallace?”

Kate stopped. “Yes?”

“The physical therapist will be here at eight in the morning to get your sister started on a few exercises.”

“But she just had surgery.”

“It’s better to start right away. Can you be here? You’ll need to help her with the exercises when she goes home.”

“Of course.”

A few hours later, after Kate took Brooke to see her mother, they grabbed a pizza. The child devoured her two-thirds and ran off to do homework while Kate again took her glass of tea to the back porch.

Kate leaned back in the chair and studied the sky while Coco patroled the yard. Without the competing light of a city, the stars shone so much more brightly here. She lifted her head to allow the breeze to cool her cheeks, a breeze that carried the fresh scent of lilac bushes and recently mowed grass from the yard across the fence.

From the Dkanys’ porch came the sound of a show tune. They’d always joked about whether Trixie or Paul had control of the radio dial. She liked oldies; he preferred country.

Surrounded by the familiar sounds and scents and the chirping of locusts, she was filled with peace. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, words which caused her to wonder how she’d been able to pray like that, so easily as if she were used to thanking God.

And how could she feel at home and at rest in a place she’d longed to escape nearly half a lifetime ago? She should be bored, but she wasn’t. She should long for the excitement of a life of running from one reception to another, from a meeting with this official to an interview with the press corp., but she wasn’t. She actually liked sitting alone in the backyard of her childhood home.

Why?

Finding no answers to her questions, she stood and called Coco.

“Come on.” She whistled. The cocker woofed then ambled toward her and sat at the edge of the porch, front paw on the step.

As she picked up Coco and put her on the porch she thought how handy it would be if there were some way Coco could get up on the porch by herself. Maybe some small steps or a lift. As if she could afford either.

Maybe she could put together some steps that would be easier for Coco to climb with rocks and scrap lumber. Rob probably had old wood at a construction site. Although she used to work in the wood shop with her father, putting such a project together was beyond her meager ability now. Besides, how would she get large enough rocks and how could she move them?

No, that wouldn’t work, but if she could build a sloping platform or maybe a ramp…

A ramp. Exactly!

After all, she was going to be here at least four more weeks. During that time, Coco needed to be able to get on the porch by herself.

A ramp would work. But who could she find to build it? Did Rob still like to work with his hands or was he too busy with his practice? She hated to ask him, even though he’d told her to call on him. It felt unsettling to be around him because, well, there was that attraction she couldn’t deny and didn’t want to feel. Being close to him was uncomfortable, which was absolutely absurd. They’d both gone on with their lives successfully.

The whole attraction thing bothered her for many reasons, not the least of which was because she’d just arrived home from a terrible change in her life, an experience which had taught her she couldn’t trust anyone, which had left her wounded and friendless. This was not the time to find any man interesting, especially not Rob.

On top of that, she realized her reaction wasn’t to Rob as the young man she’d been in love with. No, she saw him as the older, more mature and very different Rob. The whole awareness of Rob as a man made her slightly unbalanced and decidedly confused. She, who had dealt with high-ranking politicians, interviewed senators and governors and faced hostile reporters, was flustered being around Rob, whom she’d known all her life. How foolish was that?

But if she didn’t ask Rob, she couldn’t think of anyone else. Would someone at the church be able to help? They’d been awfully nice, but building a ramp for a dog would seem foolish to most people.

No, she’d have to continue to pick Coco up and put her on the porch and hope the cocker didn’t hurt herself trying to do that herself.

Didn’t some company manufacture portable ramps? If they did, she could handle that on her own. Just open it and leave it there while they were in Silver Lake, then fold it up and take it wherever they went.

She’d think about it, but first she’d better get inside and get ready for bed. This had been an early morning. Tomorrow she’d also need to get up early to get Brooke off to school before she headed to the hospital for the PT appointment.

With a yawn, she stretched and turned toward the house. The cocker followed her inside and into Kate’s bedroom. Or, as Coco probably considered it, the room she allowed her person to share.

Chapter Four

Bluebonnets covered the hills with a light purple haze, a shade somewhere between blue and lavender, which could seldom be caught in a photo or description. The sight filled Kate with amazing joy to be home.

Kate had started for the hospital a little earlier than necessary so she could catch the shimmer of the last trace of dew as the petals caught the sunlight. Although the wildflowers were not at their glorious peak, in a few more days the flowers would grow thick along the verge of the road and paint every inch of pasture with their vibrant beauty.

For a moment she pulled off the road to revel at the colorful scene before she stepped on the gas. Abby wouldn’t appreciate her arriving late because she’d been gawking at wildflowers.

After she entered Abby’s room ten minutes later, Roger Davis, the physical therapist, explained the process. “The idea of physical therapy is to teach the body that it’s okay for the joints to move.”

Abby lay flat, arms in the air to accept the cane the physical therapist placed in her hands.

“Don’t force the movement.” The therapist watched his patient before he turned to Kate and said, “You’ll have to make sure she does all six of these exercises five times a day.” He passed Kate several pieces of paper stapled together.

“I can do them myself,” Abby grumbled.

The expected response. Kate knew her sister wouldn’t take kindly to having her younger sister help her. Not in any way.

“You’ll also have to help Mrs. Granger with dressing, showering and getting out of bed,” Roger said.

“I can handle all of those for myself,” Abby repeated.

The therapist turned toward Abby. “Mrs. Granger, if you use that shoulder before it’s healed or don’t complete the PT, you may need surgery again.”

For a moment, Abby shut her eyes. After what looked like an intense internal struggle, she said, “All right,” in a voice that expressed grudging acceptance of the therapist’s warning.

“For the next exercise, you’ll need a pulley attached to a door and a rope with handles.” He handed Kate a diagram.

Kate studied the picture. “I’ll go to the hardware store and look for these.” She put all the information in her purse. “So, four to six weeks for recovery?”

“That’s pushing it a little.” The therapist picked up his clipboard. “More like six to eight. The injury was more complex than the surgeon expected.”

Six to eight? Well, okay. What difference did a few weeks make? Maybe with a few extra days, she’d know where she’d end up after her sister’s recovery.

By ten-thirty, Abby had received her physical therapy, prescriptions and discharge orders with a doctor’s appointment set for a week later. Over her continued protests, she’d been helped into a wheelchair and pushed by an orderly to the front door while Kate brought her car around.

On the trip home, Abby leaned back against the car seat holding her firmly immobilized right arm. Her clenched lips and pallor showed how much the surgery and the physical therapy had worn her out.

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