Chapter 1 : Part 5

A Sundog Moment
by Sharon Baldacci

(Page 5 of 6)

She glanced at the window and bit her lip. The normalcy that was framed by the small window beckoned. She realized the sun was still shining, the sky still blue and cloudless, and suddenly this constancy was enough to steady her. She instinctively knew they simply could not make sense out of this now; there was simply too much coming at both of them from all sides. Too much, too fast. She looked to her husband and realized that "reality" was her love for this man and his for her.

Their life together was much too real to be held hostage by the confusion in this room. Instinctively, she pushed it as far away from them both as she could, and by doing that felt her spirits lift.

It occurred to her she had not looked into a mirror in God knew how long. It was almost an electric shock that her outward appearance had been left to the hands of strangers.

She wanted her clothes and her makeup, and she wanted them now. She knew if she looked good, she would feel good. Hope swelled as she thought that it could very well be that simple. She gave Michael a smile that was like catching the sun. He blinked.

"Michael, go home and get my makeup-everything I left on the vanity in our bathroom. And please get some decent clothes. I'm sick to death of hospital gowns."

Irrationally, his own spirits brightened at the sight of his brave wife and an answering smile met hers. She looked as beautiful as the day they had married. But more than that, the sparkle was back in her eyes.

"What are you grinning at, Mr. Whittaker?" She took his hand and squeezed it.

"Oh, just thinking about going home and having to take the trash out," he teased, hearing the sarcasm dripping from her voice as she said, "Oh you . . . you . . . hopeless romantic."

His relieved arms wrapped around her. "In truth, I was thinking how nice it is to have you back. I've been damn worried. I still am, frankly." Her hand touched his mouth to still those words and then she began to stroke his face.

"You worry too much. Stop it immediately," she commanded, and then her face became serious. "I'm going to be just fine. Perfect. I promise." She tweaked his nose just before she pulled him closer.

They were interrupted by the door swinging open and there stood her mother, Virginia Mae Bartlette, wearing a fluid mauve dress with rows of double buttons down the front and a darker gauzy scarf tied around the neck. Her white hair was styled to perfection, and there were matching dark mauve hoops in her ears. A determined smile was pasted on her face.

The couple on the bed jerked apart like teenagers caught necking on the couch. "Mother?" Elizabeth didn't sound too pleased.

"Virginia Mae, you said you weren't going to stop by today." Michael frowned and tightened his grip on Elizabeth's hand. He did not want her upset.

"I know, I know; I changed my mind. A mother's prerogative." Virginia Mae sniffed. "I decided my place at a time like this should be with my daughter." With stoic demeanor and squared shoulders, she walked over to the bed and looked down at Elizabeth.

The composure lasted for a few brief moments before it began, inevitably, to crumble. The lips began to quiver and eyes started to glisten and then tears began to fall. She threw her hands over her face and dropped like a stone to the side of the bed. "Shoot! I wasn't going to cry."

Elizabeth looked helplessly at Michael, who dutifully went over to put a comforting arm around his mother-in-law. Michael had known the instant she entered the room it was a sure bet that exactly this would happen.

How many times had he done this over the years, even before old Mr. Bartlette passed away? Even though it was what she always expected, Virginia Mae did not take bad news well at all. Despite being a woman whose life had been comfortable, nothing was ever as right as it should be, and for that she was always personally affronted. It was a dichotomy that grated on everyone who knew her at one time or another.

"It's all right, Mother. I'm doing so much better. Please don't worry so," Elizabeth begged, hoping to quell those tears. Michael remained there, gently patting his mother-in-law's back, tight-lipped as he watched while his wife consoled her mother.

When the tears stopped and she had blown her nose, Virginia Mae looked at her daughter. "I know you're just putting on a brave front for me. You always do, just like your father. Mercy, Elizabeth, I miss him so." The sadness settled on the older woman's face like a veil, revealing at the same time a vulnerability Virginia Mae tried hard not to display.

Copyright © 2004 by Sharon Baldacci

About the Author

Sharon Baldacci was diagnosed with MS twenty-one years ago. An award-winning journalist, she lives in Virginia with her husband and two sons.