Season of Blessing Read online

  Why had she attacked him in the way she had?

  Die to yourself. Sylvia’s words reeled through her brain. She hadn’t died to herself. Instead, she still clung mercilessly to herself, feeding her own feelings of paranoia and suspicion and anger…but Steve didn’t deserve any of it.

  She went through the garage to the door into the house. She stumbled into the kitchen and saw that Mark was back at the table, studying his job prospect list and scoping them out on a map.

  “Where’s Steve?” she asked.

  Mark looked up at her. “You okay, Mom?”

  She sucked in a sob. “Yes…just…where’s Steve?”

  “In the bedroom, I guess.”

  She headed back to the bedroom and found Steve sitting on the bed staring into space.

  “Oh, Steve!” She stood at the door, her face twisted and red.

  He saw her grief and got up instantly, reached for her. She fell against him, clinging with all her might. “I’m so sorry, Steve,” she wept. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay, baby,” he said. “It wasn’t that bad. Why are you so upset?”

  “Because I’m so stupid,” she said, “and so catty. And Harry and Sylvia are over there struggling for her life. Harry’s so afraid he’s going to lose her, and here I am, picking at you. Just picking, picking, picking.”

  He touched the back of her head and pressed her closer to him. “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.”

  “I promise I’m not going to accuse you anymore. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me or my children.”

  Steve held her and let her cry until her tears subsided. Then together they sat on the bed and prayed for Sylvia.

  CHAPTER

  Forty-Nine

  A week after her sixth treatment, Sylvia lay curled up on the bed, wondering when she would ever get her energy back. Each chemo treatment seemed worse than the one before it, and took longer to recover from. And what if it was futile? What if she was putting herself through these grueling treatments, and the cancer grew in spite of it?

  Harry came and sat on the edge of the bed. “You want to go for a walk?”

  “No, I’m too tired.”

  “But you love the snow. And your favorite place in the world is the woods behind our house. Maybe it would be good for you to get some exercise, breathe some fresh air, get your mind off of how bad you feel.”

  “I can’t, Harry. Not today.”

  But Harry didn’t give up. “Sylvia, I’ve got a surprise out there I want to show you. A late Christmas present.”

  She rubbed her eyes. “I don’t want any surprises. I don’t have the energy for them.”

  “Come on. You’ll love this one.” He pulled her up, helped her to her feet.

  She didn’t want to go. Within a few days, she knew she would be back to herself, except for the debilitating fatigue. But right now…

  He pulled her up, got her coat, pulled it around her shoulders. She didn’t have the energy to fight him as he took her by the hand and led her out into the backyard.

  Harry couldn’t wait to show her his surprise. Ever since Joseph came up with the idea, he’d been looking for a gentle, older horse that would be right for Sylvia. If she had something to take care of, something that needed her, he knew she would feel better sooner after each treatment. He’d found the horse through a friend of a friend. Its owner had died, and the family needed to sell it.

  Before he made an offer, he’d consulted with her oncologist. He’d told him it was okay for her to ride as long as she didn’t overdo it.

  He took her hand and walked patiently beside her, one step at a time. When he put his arm around her, he could feel her body trembling with weakness. He hoped he was doing the right thing.

  “I’ve missed having the horses,” he said as they headed slowly for the barn. “Haven’t you?”

  “Yeah, I really do.”

  He grinned. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have one again?”

  “Sure it would,” she said. “But if we got one, we’d just have to sell it again when we went back to León.”

  That positive proclamation did him good. For the last few weeks, he’d worried that she was giving up.

  “Well, I was thinking that this time if we got a horse, when we left we could just donate it to somebody.”

  She looked at him with dull, distant eyes. “Somebody like who?”

  “Somebody like Joseph.”

  Sylvia stopped and looked up at him.

  “Wouldn’t that be like coming full circle?” Harry asked. “We sold the first horses to raise money for his transplant, and this one we’d give to him because he’s so healthy he can ride.”

  “But Brenda and David could never afford to keep a horse for Joseph.”

  Harry shrugged. “We could work something out.”

  Sylvia smiled. “I like that idea.”

  He laughed and pulled her into the stable, and she heard something over in the corner where Sunshine, her favorite horse, used to live.

  She frowned. “What’s that? I heard—”

  His grin was giving him away. “You’ll see.” He led her to the stall, where a tall, beautiful mare looked over the door.

  She caught her breath. “Oh, Harry, what have you done?”

  He laughed. “I bought you a new horse,” he said. “Isn’t she beautiful? Look at her.” He opened the door and grabbed the horse’s bridle, which he had put on a little while earlier. He pulled her out of the stall so that Sylvia could have a good look.

  She started to cry and stroked the horse’s chocolate coat. “Oh, Harry. I love her.”

  “I’ve been looking all over for just the right horse. I thought it would be good therapy for you to ride again. It’s your favorite thing to do in the whole world, and you haven’t done it in years.”

  The horse nuzzled her neck and she rubbed her face against it. “What a sweetie,” she said. “Oh, Harry. Are you sure we can afford it? We don’t have that much left in savings.”

  Their finances had been drained by their mission work. They’d funneled all of their savings and much of their retirement into medical supplies and food for the people of León.

  “Sure we can,” he said. “I’ve decided to go back to work at the hospital part-time. Joe Simmons wants me to join him in his practice, and I told him that I might be able to do it on nonchemo weeks.”

  Sylvia turned away from the horse and regarded him. “Does he understand that you’re only going to be there a few months?”

  “He understands,” he said. “I’m not planning to take any long-term patients.”

  She hugged the horse as if he were a long-lost member of her family. “Can I ride her?”

  “Of course you can.” He grabbed down the saddle that had hung there for over two years, dressed the horse as Sylvia watched. Already he could see the energy seeping back into her, and her countenance had changed completely.

  “Take it easy now the first time,” he said. “I don’t want you breaking any bones.”

  With his help, she got on the horse, sat for a moment. He saw the perfect peace passing over her face, as if she was finally home.

  Her laughter was like a symphony. “Oh, Harry, you’re a genius,” she said. “I’m already feeling better.”

  “Now take it real, real easy,” he said again as the horse walked out of the barn and into the fresh air. Big snowflakes floated down around them. “Don’t underestimate your weakness.”

  “I won’t,” she said. “We’re just going to get to know each other. What’s her name?”

  “Midnight,” he said.

  She patted the horse’s neck. “Let’s go, Midnight.”

  Then she walked the horse off to her favorite path.

  Harry stood watching, and said a silent prayer that she would not hurt herself. But the surprise had accomplished his goal to get her out of bed and her mind off of her problems. She only had two more treatments. They were sure to get worse and more draining. Then, as she
built her strength back, she would have Midnight to nurture and pamper.

  It was the perfect plan. Harry just hoped God would go along with it.

  CHAPTER

  Fifty

  A week into the new year, Mark got up early to beat the bushes for a job. He went to each business on the list that he and Steve had forged. Some of the managers were not in, and he was only able to fill out applications. When he finally found one that would see him, he felt as if he had hit pay dirt.

  It was a roofing company and paid a little bit more than minimum wage. It sounded like a good job, at least according to Steve, and Steve knew the guy who ran the company.

  The interview was going well until Mark told him what he had done with the last year of his life. The open look on his face closed, and he leaned back in his chair. “You should have told me that up front, Mark.”

  Mark shifted in his seat. “Why? You wouldn’t have even seen me if I had told you that.”

  “Well, I needed to know. It’s kind of pertinent.”

  Mark felt his cheeks burning. “It’s really not. I did a stupid thing a year and a half ago and I paid for it. But I’m different now. I don’t do drugs anymore.”

  “Still, I don’t hire ex-cons.” The man got up and stuck the file back into the file cabinet behind him.

  Mark knew he was being dismissed. He got up, slid his hands into his pockets. “It was River Ranch juvenile delinquent center.” He kept his voice low, steady. “It’s not like I was serving time in the federal penitentiary. Besides, I’m a Christian now. And if the almighty God of the universe can forgive me, then I don’t see why somebody like you can’t.”

  He turned and started back to the door.

  “Wait a minute,” the man said.

  Mark stopped and turned around.

  “Come back in here and sit down.”

  Mark slid his hands into his pockets again and came back.

  The man sat back down and leaned his elbows on his desk. “I’ll tell you what. I can see that you’re a passionate young man, and that maybe you really do have it in you to change. And since you’re Steve’s stepson, I guess I can help out with that a little.”

  Mark started to tell him not to do him any favors, but thought better of it.

  “If you’re here tomorrow morning at seven o’clock, you can start working. Just report here and fill out all the paperwork, and then Myra, my secretary, will tell you where our work site is for the day. You can come over and we’ll put you to work.”

  Mark slowly unfolded from his slump, and a grin crept across his face. Had he heard right? Had the man hired him? The man got up and held out a hand to shake. Mark got to his feet and shook. “Thank you, sir. You won’t regret it.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  CHAPTER

  Fifty-One

  Cathy hadn’t seen Sylvia since her treatment just after Christmas, but one day in early January she spotted her sitting out on her horse, staring out at the hills behind her property. Something was wrong. Sylvia didn’t move, and the horse beneath her stood motionless. Cathy hurried across the yard to see if she needed help.

  As she grew closer, she saw that the color of Sylvia’s skin was a grayish-yellow. She looked sick now, not just weak or frail. The systemic effects of the chemo were taking a terrible toll on her.

  Sylvia didn’t seem to hear as she approached. “Sylvia, are you feeling all right?”

  Sylvia turned slowly and looked down at her. “Hey, Cathy. I was just going to ride, but I think my legs are too weak. Can you help me off?”

  Cathy gave her a hand, and felt Sylvia’s body trembling as she stepped to the ground. “How did you saddle the horse?”

  “Joseph did it, then I sent him back home to study. I didn’t realize I was still so weak.”

  Cathy let her lean on her and led the horse back to the stall. “This last treatment must be hanging on, huh?”

  “Yes, but there are only two more.”

  Cathy wondered if those last two would completely do Sylvia in. It seemed cruel, injecting such a harsh drug into a cancer patient’s veins, when there were no guarantees that it would even work.

  But she supposed the alternative was even more deadly.

  Sylvia took measured steps. The horse walked slowly beside them as if it understood that she was ill and could not hurry. Cathy took the horse into the stall and pulled the saddle off.

  “Poor Midnight,” Sylvia said. “She was all dressed up and ready to go.”

  “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to ride when you’re stronger. Won’t you be glad to get these treatments behind you?”

  “I guess.”

  Cathy set the saddle down and gaped at her. “You guess? What does that mean?”

  Sylvia leaned her face against the horse’s neck. “It’s hard to explain, but I kind of feel like I’m doing something as long as I’m taking the chemo. When it’s over, I won’t be doing anything. What if the cancer’s not gone?”

  “It will be,” Cathy said. “You know it will be. I mean, they probably got it all in the mastectomy. The chemo was just because of the lymph nodes, right? It hadn’t metastasized anywhere.”

  “No.”

  Cathy took off Midnight’s blanket and hung it over a rail. “Sylvia, I just know you’re never going to have to deal with this again. When you finish, you’ll be home free.”

  Sylvia sat down on a tack box and watched as Cathy started to brush the horse.

  “Oh, I’ve got some good news for you,” Cathy said. “Josh called Annie, and they went out on a date. They really seemed to hit it off.”

  Sylvia’s countenance lifted. “We’ve got to help it along. Maybe I could have another dinner party, invite them both over.”

  “Sylvia, I don’t think you can get away with that. Come on. It was weird enough for you to invite them both the first time. I think we should just let God do the rest. I’m not so sure I want Annie in a relationship right now, anyway.”

  “Well, I can understand that,” Sylvia said, “but you know Annie. She’s going to wind up in one before long. I just want to make sure it’s with the right person.”

  “No arguments from me,” Cathy said.

  CHAPTER

  Fifty-Two

  January went by in a blur as Sylvia struggled through her seventh chemo treatment. Sarah came with Breanna to visit, and Jeff was able to come for a long weekend. Though she still had a few good days the week before her treatment, she was too exhausted to ride. Most days, Joseph rode Midnight for her as she sat out on her porch and watched. She carefully taught him how to groom and care for the horse and hired him to clean the stables.

  The child gave her comfort when he was around, and since Brenda was spending so much time in a hunt for a job, she didn’t feel she was taking him away from his schoolwork.

  On the days after her treatment, when she could hardly crawl out of bed, Joseph cared for Midnight without her help. They’d given him permission to ride anytime he wanted without asking, and he kept the horse in shape.

  At last in early February the day of her final treatment arrived. Sylvia was quiet as Harry drove her to the Cancer Center.

  “Eight times,” she whispered. “I can’t believe I did this eight times.”

  “Six months,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I just hope it helped.”

  “It did,” Harry said. “It had to.” He took her hand, squeezed it as he drove. “Are you excited?”

  She hesitated and looked out the window. “I’m a little scared.”

  “Scared? Why?”

  “Because after this treatment, I go for all the scans. That’s when we’ll know for sure if it worked. And they said there was a fifty percent recurrence rate. I hate the chemo, but I hate the cancer worse. And without the chemo, the cancer could take a foothold.”

  “It won’t though. You’re going to be fine. After this treatment, you’ll feel bad for a couple of weeks, but then you’ll start feeling better
, your strength will come back, your hair will grow back, the color will return to your face…” He pulled into the parking lot of the Cancer Center. “And the radiation and hormone therapy will still be battling the cancer.”

  Harry walked her in, and she took her place and waited as they put the needle into her vein.

  An hour into her treatment, her head began to ache, and she dipped some ice chips out of the bowl on her lap and put them in her mouth to keep the sores from forming. Vertigo taunted her, and she felt slightly nauseous.

  She closed her eyes and, quietly, started to sing. “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…”

  A woman’s voice beside her joined in, and she opened her eyes and saw Priscilla, the woman she’d sung with during her first couple of treatments. Priscilla had been finished with her chemo for some time now, and her hair had begun to grow back in. She stood over Sylvia with a smile on her face and a vase of roses. “Hi there,” she said softly.

  Sylvia smiled, though dizziness wobbled over her again. “Priscilla.”

  “I knew this was your last treatment day,” she said. “I wanted to bring you flowers to celebrate.” She put the vase on a tray.

  Sylvia touched her hand. “You’re so sweet. How are you?”

  Priscilla pulled up the rolling stool that the nurses used, and sat down facing Sylvia.

  “I’m great. I seem to be in remission. We’re very optimistic.”

  “You look great. Your hair is wonderful. You should keep it that short.”

  She ran her hand over the inch-long strands. “I’m tempted.”

  A wave of dizziness seemed to turn Sylvia’s stomach, so she closed her eyes again.

  “Sing with me,” Priscilla whispered. “Come on, honey, sing. Just like you made me do those times. Amazing grace…”