From the Heart (Sandy Cove Series Book 5) Page 3

  He scratched the door and whimpered again.

  “Okay, okay. Make it quick.” She opened the door, and he flew out, immediately running to his favorite tree to relieve himself. “I’d better get some towels,” she said, heading for the laundry room. Phil kept a stack of old ones in there for just such a purpose. She found them on the far corner of the counter, grabbed a couple, and went back into the kitchen to spread one on the floor and have the other ready to dry the dog off as much as she could.

  Thumper was a water dog, and he came bounding back inside fully energized by his run in the rain. Before she could get the towel on him, he shook himself vigorously, spraying Joan and the room. “Oh my word! Settle down, now. You hear?”

  She tried to wrestle the towel over him, but he took off running through the house and rolling on the living room floor. By the time she got in there, he’d left a wet and muddy mess on the tan carpet.

  “Thumper! Bad dog!” she exclaimed. Sinking down on the couch, the towel still clutched in her hands, she started to cry. Phil always knew how to handle their dog. And, as much as she loved the beast, he’d never responded to her authority with the same respect as he did to Phil’s.

  She wept for several minutes, her sniffling attempts to steady herself blending with the steady sound of the rain. Suddenly she felt very old and tired. The energy she’d rallied to pack up Phil’s clothes vanished and the very thought of trying to clean the carpet—well, it was more than she could fathom.

  Stretching out on the couch, she rested her head on a throw pillow and continued to clutch the unused towel to her chest. Soon she drifted off to sleep.

  And then she was in the kitchen, making one of her famous lemon meringue pies. The screen door slapped against the jamb. “I’m home, dear,” Phil’s familiar voice called out.

  “In here,” she called back.

  He came and stood beside her, dipping his finger into the gooey lemon mixture.

  “Philip Walker, get your hands out of the pie filling,” she scolded. Turning to look him in the eye, she saw a playful smile light up his face.

  “I love you, Jo,” he replied with a wink, sticking his lemony finger into his mouth and murmuring his appreciation of its sweet flavor.

  The phone rang and she turned to answer it, but it wasn’t on the counter in its usual place. “Where’s the phone?” she asked.

  But no one answered.

  The ringing continued, and she spun to face Phil. He was gone.

  “Phil?” she called out over the persistent ringing.

  Something cold pressed against her face. Opening her eyes, she saw Thumper staring at her, just inches away. Struggling to sit up on the couch, she realized she’d fallen asleep. Another ring of the phone let her know the call was real. She reached for the phone on the end table.

  “Hello?”

  “Grandma? Are you okay? I noticed you’d called earlier, so I thought I’d better call back. The phone’s been ringing for a long time.”

  “Sorry dear, but I fell asleep.”

  “Oh, no. I didn’t mean to wake you. I almost hung up after half a dozen rings, but then I started getting worried. Are you home alone?”

  Joan flashed back to her dream about Phil. It had been so real. She wanted nothing more than to resume it.

  “Grandma?”

  “Oh. Yeah. I was just thinking about a dream I had while I was asleep. Your grandfather was with me in the kitchen, and I was baking a lemon pie.”

  After a pause, her granddaughter said, “You must be missing him terribly.”

  Joan nodded her head and sighed. “It’s a little rough. But don’t you go worrying about me, sweetheart. Thumper’s here to keep me company, and I’ve been pretty busy getting things accomplished around here. Speaking of which, I’ve been cleaning out Grandpa’s side of the closet, and I was wondering if Steve could use any of his shirts or jackets.”

  “It’s sweet of you to think of him, Grandma, but his closet is pretty full already with button down shirts for work. Pick a couple of your favorites, and I’m sure he’d love to have them. Maybe you could think about donating the rest to the Alzheimer’s Home where he ministered. Some of the residents might appreciate them, or they could sell them in their thrift store.”

  “Good idea. Okay, I’ll save a few for Steve and donate the rest.” She tried to sound cheerful and upbeat, but her brain was feeling a little fuzzy from her nap, and her heart was wishing she were back in the kitchen with Phil. Snap out of it. Time to focus on your granddaughter, she silently chided herself. “How are things with you and your family?” she asked.

  “We’re all doing fine. Getting back in the swing of school. We started classes on Monday. The kids are excited to be with their friends again, and I’m trying to learn 180 new names of students in my English classes.”

  “That must be quite a chore, Michelle,” Joan replied. “Your grandfather was so proud of all you do at that middle school. Me, too.”

  “Thanks, Grandma.”

  “Well, say hi to Madison and Caleb for me. And thanks for calling.”

  After they’d hung up, Joan examined the muddy spot on the carpet. Better get to this, she thought as she forced her tired body to a standing position. A clap of thunder reminded her of the slapping sound of the screen door in her dream. Heading for the laundry room, she began searching for the spot cleaner for the carpet.

  Scrubbing the chemicals into the rug brought a spasm to her lower back. It was difficult for her to right herself and stand up again. She carefully shuffled back to the laundry room, replaced the bottle of cleaning solution, and then made her way to the kitchen to see if she could find something simple for dinner.

  Pulling a can of soup out of the pantry, she emptied it contents into a pan. Then placing it on the burner to heat, she tried to figure out how she’d feed the dog without bending over. Her back was so tight, and sharp pain shot through it if she moved the wrong way.

  The box of dog biscuits was at eye level, and she decided Thumper would have to make do with them for his dinner. She dropped several on the floor and the big dog gobbled them up instantly then looked back at her for more. “Okay, big boy. Just a few more and then that’s it for tonight.” She took another handful from the box and let them fall to the floor at her feet.

  A bubbly sound caught her attention just in time to see her soup boiling over and spilling onto the stovetop. Although the bottom of the soup was burned, she was able to salvage enough to fill a bowl. Adding a few saltine crackers to her meal, she eased herself into a chair and gradually consumed her dinner, while her back continued to tighten.

  By the time she was finished eating, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand up. Bracing herself by placing her hands on the table, she slowly eased her way out of the chair. She knew she needed help, but whom could she call?

  Then her pastor’s words came back to her. “Call me anytime. I mean it, Joan. Day or night.” As the wife of a pastor herself, she knew the many calls that came in at all hours, and the countless nights Phil had found himself assisting one of the church members in distress. Sometimes he’d even taken her along, especially if the caller were a woman.

  Joan knew Lawrence and Catherine had multiple demands on their time. And she hated to call them out on a wet night like this. But she couldn’t think of anyone else to call except Trent or his parents, and she hated to bother them after all they’d done to help her since Phil’s illness.

  She shuffled over to the phone and dialed the Taylor’s number. Catherine picked up on the second ring. “Joan, is that you?” she asked.

  “Yes. I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’ve hurt my back.”

  “We’ll be right over,” Catherine replied. Joan could hear her explaining the situation to Lawrence. “Now you just stay put, Joan. Don’t try to move around. We can be there in fifteen minutes.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Joan stood leaning against the counter. Even a walk back to the table seemed a challenge, and making it
to the couch was out of the question. Thankfully, she’d left the door unlocked after letting Thumper back in. She was still standing there staring out the window when Lawrence’s car pulled into the driveway.

  They spotted her in the window, and she gestured to the back door. The rain had stopped, but the driveway was slick, and she could see Catherine carefully navigating around several puddles. Soon they were by her side, and Lawrence took her by the elbow to help her gradually make her way to the couch.

  “I’ve brought an ice pack,” Catherine said. “Larry will help you lay down on it. After we ice it for about fifteen minutes, we’ll see how you’re doing. We can take you to the E.R. if it doesn’t feel better.”

  Joan nodded, happy to have someone else take charge. An ice pack sounded a little strange to her. Seemed her mother always brought out the hot water bottle for any muscle aches, so that’s what she and Phil usually used. But Catherine explained that it would help with the inflammation and that heat was for later, after the first twenty-four hours.

  Once they’d gotten her stretched out on the couch, Catherine grabbed a blanket and placed it over her. “This will help the rest of you keep warm,” she explained with a caring smile.

  “Thank you both so much,” Joan said, tears beginning to fill her eyes.

  “We’re happy to help,” Lawrence replied. “Now that we’ve got you on ice, let’s pray.”

  Joan nodded. She loved the sound of his words. It reminded her so much of her sweet Phil. She soaked in the blessing of the prayer and began to feel the tight grip of loneliness loosening from her heart.

  Other than Lawrence carrying her luggage to the bedroom when he brought her home from the airport, Catherine helping her in with groceries, and Trent’s quick entrance to place her mail on the table, there hadn’t been another human being in the house but her for the past three weeks. If it weren’t for Sunday’s worship services and occasional errands, she’d be living a very solitary existence.

  Even at church, standing amongst her friends, she often felt alone without Phil by her side. Was this how life was supposed to end? She didn’t want to be a burden to anyone, and all of her alternatives seemed to point in that direction.

  After fifteen minutes, Lawrence helped her swing her feet to the floor and sit up. Her back felt a little better, but she still needed to be very careful how she moved. “Have you eaten anything tonight?” Catherine asked.

  “A little soup and some crackers.”

  “Let’s get something more substantial into your stomach, and then I’d suggest you take some aspirin. Are you okay to take aspirin?”

  “Yes. I take it for my arthritis.”

  “Okay. I’ll go wrestle something up in the kitchen, and after you eat we’ll get the aspirin.” She disappeared into the kitchen, and then poked her head back out. “Your dog is crying at the door. Should I let him out?”

  “That would be great, Catherine. Thank you,” Joan replied, trying to push herself to a standing position.

  “What are you doing?” Lawrence asked.

  “I’ve got to take a towel into the kitchen for Thumper. He’ll be a muddy mess when he comes back in.”

  “You let me handle that,” he replied. “Where are the towels?”

  She pointed to the one she’d gotten out to use before. It was resting on the arm of a nearby chair.

  “Okay. Now you just sit still. Don’t try to get up.”

  She nodded. “When Catherine has a minute, I need to use the ladies’ room,” she said, feeling like a helpless fool.

  “I’ll tell her,” he replied.

  A minute later, Catherine reappeared. “Let’s get you to the bathroom,” she said, offering Joan her hand. With the help of her friend, Joan was able to stand. They slowly moved in the direction of their destination.

  Joan felt so embarrassed to have to ask Catherine to help her with such a personal need, but sitting and standing required assistance. Catherine functioned with ease and compassion. It was clear this was not her first time helping someone navigate a bathroom.

  After eating the eggs and toast prepared for her, Joan took a couple of aspirins.

  “You can ice it again now for fifteen more minutes. We’ll do that a couple of times before you go to bed.”

  “I think I can manage now,” Joan replied, trying to convince herself as much as them.

  “If you don’t mind, we’ll just stay here with you and make sure you are okay,” Lawrence said.

  They ended up watching an old movie on television, and after icing her back three times, Joan was able to walk on her own. Catherine helped her get ready for bed and then she and Lawrence headed for home, leaving a promise behind that they would check on her in the morning.

  As Joan began to fall asleep, she hoped she’d dream about Phil again. But a dreamless night soon became morning, and she awoke to the sound of the phone ringing on the nightstand.

  Reaching over carefully, she picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mom. It’s Sheila. Catherine Taylor called me this morning and told me about your back. How are you feeling?”

  Joan pushed herself up to a sitting position. Her back was still very stiff, but the pain was manageable. “I’m doing a little better, honey.”

  “I’m glad they were able to come over and help you out last night. But, Mom, you really need to think about moving up here.”

  “I know. Believe me, I’m thinking about it,” she heard herself saying. “I’ve been going through your father’s things and trying to get things organized here. Then I can figure out what’s next.”

  “So you’re seriously considering moving here?” Sheila’s voice sounded hopeful. It warmed Joan’s heart to feel so wanted and welcome in her daughter’s life. Especially now, when Sheila was seriously dating someone.

  “I’m taking it under consideration, dear. But I haven’t made any decisions yet. Leaving our home will be difficult. There are just so many memories here…” her voice faded off as she thought about how much her surroundings helped her feel close to Phil.

  “I know, Mom. I still miss our place in Seal Beach. But there’s nothing like being close to family. And the kids would love to have you and Thumper back up here. Caleb asks about ‘his’ dog all the time.”

  Joan smiled. In her mind’s eye, she could see Caleb’s romps with Thumper from her recent stay in Sandy Cove after Phil’s death. And it was awfully hard for her to keep up with the dog and his antics. Maybe Sheila was right.

  Her daughter’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Michelle said she called yesterday, but you didn’t mention anything about your back acting up.”

  “No, I hurt it after our conversation. I was trying to clean up some mud Thumper trailed in from the backyard.”

  “Well, take it easy today. Don’t try to do anything physical. Promise?”

  “I promise, honey.”

  After they’d hung up, she carefully got up from the bed, slipped out of her nightgown and into a housecoat. “No need to get dressed today,” she said to the air. “I guess I’ll just relax and write some letters and watch a little TV today.”

  Thumper stood at the door watching her.

  “I’m coming, boy. Hopefully I can bend down to get your food for breakfast.”

  He wagged his tail and followed her to the kitchen.

  By gripping the counter’s edge and carefully bending her knees, she managed to scoop some food out of Thumper’s bin. Rather than picking up the bowl, she just aimed carefully and poured. Most of it hit the target, and Thumper happily cleaned up the rest.

  Catherine dropped by later that morning with a basket of food. A hearty turkey sandwich and salad for lunch, and a thick stew for her dinner. “Now you, rest. And keep the phone nearby to call us if you need us,” she said.

  Joan could imagine the sacrifice this meant to Catherine. With the women’s ministry to run, and all the other demands of being a pastor’s wife, she knew full well that time was in short supply.

  “Tha
nk you so much,” she replied, grasping her friend’s hand and looking her in the eye. “Please don’t worry about me. I’m not alone.” She pointed heavenward and gave Catherine her best smile.

  The day dragged by as she tried to rest her back. Thumper slept on the floor beside the couch—her constant companion—and she found herself talking to him about the things on her mind. Occasionally he’d lift his head and study her face, then plop back down and drift off to sleep.

  Joan prayed a lot that day. But her prayers seemed to fall back to earth before reaching the throne room.

  By the following day, she could feel her back loosening its grip on her. She took a gentle walk down to the mailbox at the end of their long driveway and was delighted to find a letter from her great granddaughter, Madison.

  Michelle’s younger child, Caleb, had begun corresponding with his birthmother, and twelve year old Madison seemed to be looking for a pen pal herself. Apparently Michelle had suggested Joan.

  The letter was actually rather lengthy, filled with tales of Maddie’s family and friends, with special mention of Luke—a boy her age, who was the son of Michelle and Steve’s close friends Ben and Kelly. Ben had actually started a church in Sandy Cove, and Phil was quite impressed with his preaching. It was the church Michelle’s family and Sheila now attended.

  Joan and her daughter had noticed a special bond developing between Madison and Luke. Puppy love, Joan thought.

  As she devoured the letter, handwritten on notebook paper, she pictured her loved ones and their busy lives in Sandy Cove. It was so sweet to get a peek at their world through Madison’s eyes.

  The letter ended with a plea to seriously consider moving. “We all miss you, Grandma! And Caleb talks about Thumper all the time.”

  Joan smiled. What a gift to know her great grandchildren like this. Maybe she’s right. After all, how much longer do I have?

  CHAPTER SIX

  A week later, Joan made her decision. She’d pack up the old house and move to Sandy Cove.