From the Heart (Sandy Cove Series Book 5) Page 7

  “Then it’s settled,” he said. “I’ll plan on going down. Do you think you’ll be ready to travel this weekend?”

  “I hope so. We’ll see the specialist on Thursday. If he clears her to go, I’d like to get home.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep the weekend open, and you can let me know.”

  “Rick?”

  “Yeah?

  She paused. “I don’t know how to thank you for all this.”

  “It’s my pleasure, sweetheart. Really.”

  Sweetheart. That was the first time he’d used that term when talking to her. I could get used to this, she thought joyfully.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Each day that week, Joan’s pain got more and more manageable and she was able to wean herself from the pain medication. Sheila was a great help to her. Every daily task now required assistance, and Joan was so thankful her daughter was there to meet every need—helping with bathing, toileting, dressing and undressing, meals, as well as packing for their upcoming trip back to Sandy Cove. Sheila even set up an arrangement with Trent to keep an eye on the house and keep up with the yard by doing some watering and mowing.

  What would I do without her, Lord? Joan asked one day as she sat on the porch watching Sheila watering a brown spot on the lawn. You are so faithful to provide for my every need. Phil would be so proud of her if he could see how much she’s helped me this week.

  As she continued to gaze out over the yard, she noticed Thumper lying down in front of the shed. Her first thought was of how she wished she could explain to the dog that Phil was not coming back. Then another thought hit her. The shed! I almost forgot to tell her about the box in the shed!

  “Sheila!”

  Her daughter looked her way. “Yeah?”

  “I almost forgot something very important that we need to take back to Sandy Cove with us,” Joan replied.

  Sheila turned off the hose and walked up onto the porch. “What is it?”

  “It’s in the shed. It’s a box of Christmas gifts your father put together before…before he died,” she said, forcing out the final words.

  “You’re kidding.” Sheila looked stunned.

  “No. I found it a little while back.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” her daughter asked.

  “I wanted to surprise you, just like he surprised me when I found it.”

  “Wow. When did he have time to do that?”

  “I really don’t know, honey, except that he and Trent worked out there for a few weeks before hospice set up his bed in the front room. He never made it back there after that,” she added wistfully. “At the time, I’d asked him what he was working on. But he just said, ‘You’ll find out’ and made me promise not to peek.” Joan paused and looked off into space, Phil’s face and voice visiting her memory with sharp clarity.

  Then she continued. “When I started sorting through things to get ready to pack to move, I remembered the shed. As soon as I opened the door, I saw the box in the middle of the floor. There was a letter on top.”

  “A letter?”

  “Yes. From your father. Do you want to see it?”

  Sheila nodded.

  “It’s on my nightstand.”

  Sheila disappeared and returned a few minutes later. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to read this?”

  “Of course, honey.”

  Sinking into the rocking chair across from Joan, Sheila opened the envelope, pulled out the letter and began reading. As Joan watched her, she could see the tears welling up in her daughter’s eyes. Finally, she lowered the letter to her lap. “That was beautiful, Mom. I could hear Dad’s voice in those words. It was so like him—the way he talks. I’ve always loved that about his letters. He would write just the way he’d say it to you in person.”

  Joan nodded. “Your father had a way with words. That’s for certain.”

  “Well we will definitely find room in the car for that box of things, or else I will take them to UPS and have them mailed up to my place. I’ll discuss it with Rick when he calls tonight, and we’ll figure out what’s the best way to get them there.”

  “Okay. Whatever you two decide is fine with me.”

  Sheila stood and walked over to her, handing her Phil’s letter. “Thanks for sharing this with me, Mom.” She leaned down and gave her a kiss, and Joan reached around with her good arm and hugged her.

  Sheila headed out for the shed to examine the box of gifts and decide the best way to transport them to Sandy Cove. As she pushed open the door of her father’s retreat, a flood of memories propelled her back to her childhood. The shed had been her playhouse at one time. She remembered hosting tea parties there with her father’s lanky form perched on a child-size chair, his knees nudging the tabletop. In addition, there were teddy bears and dolls joining in the festivities, as Sheila served them their imaginary tea and cookies.

  She sank down on her father’s stool and sighed. A little girl’s aching heart replaced her own as she remembered her father’s playful zest for life and his love of surprises. Even now, he was reaching down from heaven with unexpected Christmas gifts for all of them.

  Leaning over, she lifted the flaps of the large box in the middle of the floor. There were quite a few awkwardly wrapped packages inside, each labeled with the name of the intended recipient. As she fingered them, she imagined her dad fumbling with the wrapping paper and tape. She could see the grin on his face as he packed them into this box, knowing the surprises and blessings in each hidden treasure.

  And then she thought back to the days when she’d been a young mother. The excitement he brought to their home each Christmas as he lavished his grandchildren with homemade gifts and taught them about the birth of Christ.

  John had been resistant to that part of their visit, but somehow Sheila had convinced her agnostic husband to allow her father to share his faith with their little ones. How glad she was now. All her father’s gentle spiritual input and patient prayers were coming to fruition.

  Thank you, Dad, she whispered as she closed the lid of the box. Retrieving a roll of masking tape from his workbench, she began securing the flaps.

  Joan’s appointment with the doctor went well. He seemed confident the swelling was down enough for a plaster cast. His follow-up x-ray showed a simple fracture, requiring no surgery. “That’s the good news,” he said. “The bad news is that in people your age, it takes longer for the bone to heal. I’m afraid you are looking at wearing the cast for at least six to eight weeks. If the bone heals well, you’ll be able to avoid surgery. Let’s schedule an appointment for mid November.”

  “I’ll be in Oregon then,” Joan replied. “I probably won’t be back to Mariposa until the first of the year.”

  “Then I’d recommend finding an orthopedic surgeon up there who can monitor your healing process. Where will you be staying?”

  “In Sandy Cove.”

  “Is that near Portland?”

  “A little over an hour,” Sheila interjected. “But we’d be happy to take her there for a follow-up appointment.”

  “Great. I know a good orthopedic there. I’ll have my nurse give you the information and I can send a copy of her chart and x-rays there electronically.”

  Once the cast was in place, they headed home.

  Rick arrived the next day, driving a rental van. He looked a little road weary to Joan, but his eyes lit up when he saw Sheila. Joan watched them embrace and felt almost like a voyeur when they kissed each other tenderly.

  Turning her gaze away, she thanked God once again for bringing this new man into her daughter’s life. Sheila was too young to live the rest of her life as a widow. While Joan knew Phil was the only husband she’d ever hold in her arms, she was equally convinced that this relationship between Sheila and Rick was a blessing from above.

  A moment later, she felt Rick’s hand on her good shoulder as he bent down and kissed her cheek. “How are you feeling, Joan?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

  “Better ever
y day,” she replied, reaching up and patting his hand.

  Sheila cooked the three of them a delicious dinner of pot roast, mashed potatoes, and steamed asparagus. They sat together and visited while they ate, Joan asking Rick about the classes he was currently teaching at the university.

  After they’d chatted about his job and Joan’s wrist injury, the conversation turned to packing and the trip back to Sandy Cove.

  “I’d like to take a look at the things you are planning to take before we decide what to do about the box in the shed,” he said. “That’s probably some pretty precious cargo, right?”

  “Right,” Joan replied. “I’d almost rather send some of my winter clothes through the mail and take that box in the rental van with us if we can fit it.” She turned to Sheila. “Who knows what your father has hidden inside? I’d hate to have anything break in transit.”

  “I agree,” her daughter said. “We’ll take the box, as much of your clothes as we can, and put Thumper in the back seat with you.”

  Rick wanted to look everything over himself, so he and Sheila headed out to the shed. As they walked down the path, Joan noticed Sheila reach for his hand. He pulled her close and she leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment. Seeing these simple expressions of affection warmed Joan’s heart, and she could remember how many times she’d walked the same path just like that with Phil.

  When they returned to the house, Rick told her that there would be plenty of room in the van for the box. “Tomorrow morning, Sheila and I will take your extra clothes to UPS and send them off. Then we’ll pack up the van and head out.”

  “I was hoping to go to church on Sunday morning to say goodbye,” Joan said.

  “Rick’s got to get back for his Monday classes, Mom. We really need to leave tomorrow. But I promise we’ll do the best we can to get to church up there on Sunday morning.”

  Although she was disappointed, Joan relented. “I’ll call Pastor Lawrence and Catherine this evening,” she said.

  After the dishes were done, Sheila said, “Rick and I are going to take Thumper for a walk.”

  Immediately the dog’s ears perked up, and he began turning in circles excitedly.

  “Guess he heard that,” Rick observed with a smile.

  Sheila retrieved the leash and clipped it onto Thumper’s collar, then the three of them headed out the front door.

  “Guess this is as good a time as any to make my phone call,” Joan said aloud. Using her left hand, she retrieved her phone book from the end table, propped it open with her cast, and dialed the Taylor’s home number.

  Pastor Lawrence was almost like family to her. He’d worked under Phil as an assistant pastor before becoming the senior pastor when Phil had to step down from full time ministry. Phil had married Lawrence and Catherine, and Lawrence had presided over Phil’s memorial service, sharing a wealth of memories and accolades about the man who’d meant so much to all of them.

  The thought of moving away was bittersweet. She knew being near Sheila was important now. And she relished the idea of being able to see her granddaughter and great grandchildren. But her church family…well, that was going to be hard to leave. Once she finally moved for good, she knew she’d likely never see any of them this side of heaven.

  Lawrence Taylor was very encouraging about her move. “Being near your daughter will be such a blessing, Joan. I know Phil would want that.”

  And Catherine, who was on the other phone, said, “We’ve been hoping to take a road trip up to Washington to see some of my cousins. If we do, we’ll be sure to stop in Sandy Cove. Besides, you’ll be back to finish packing the house, right?”

  “Yes. Probably in January,” Joan replied. She paused and then added, “I’ll sure miss the Christmas Eve service with all of you.”

  “We’ll miss you, too, Joan,” Catherine said. “Both you and Phil.”

  Lawrence agreed, reflecting, “This will be our first holiday service without him reading the Christmas story in Luke. He will be greatly missed.”

  Joan flashed back to Phil sitting on a stool on the church stage, his Bible resting in one hand as he shared the account of Jesus birth. It was something she and the rest of the congregation looked forward to each year, especially after he’d stepped down as their full time minister. The first year, he’d resisted the idea, saying it was Lawrence’s place now. But after Lawrence insisted and involved some of the elders in the ceremony as well, Phil’s reading from Luke became an annual tradition.

  Maybe it’s best that I won’t be there this year, Joan thought. She cleared her throat. “Lawrence, I’m sure you will do a wonderful job of sharing the account of our Savior’s birth this year. You know, Phil was so very proud of you and your ability to effectively share the word of God.”

  “Thank you, Joan. That means a lot to me,” he replied. “Do you need any help with anything before you leave?”

  “No. Sheila’s friend came down to help us. He’s rented a van and will be taking care of loading everything I’m taking.”

  “How about the house? Is there anything we can do while you are up in Sandy Cove until January?” Catherine asked.

  “I’m just going to lock things up here. The neighbor boy will take care of the yard for me.”

  “Okay. Well, feel free to call us if anything comes up.”

  “I will,” Joan promised. “Thanks again.” She paused and then added, “I mean for everything. Your friendship means the world to me.”

  “We feel the same way, Joan,” Lawrence said. “Let’s pray before we hang up.”

  “That would be great. Thanks,” Joan replied, hearing a little of her husband in her pastor’s voice.

  With a calm and steady voice, Pastor Lawrence lifted Joan and her future to the God they loved so much. He prayed for her safety, peace of mind and heart, special family times, and God’s best for her future. By the end of his prayer, she felt her heart nestled into God’s protective care.

  Almost in a whisper, she said, “Thank you. Thank you so very much.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Joan was exhausted by the time they arrived back in Sandy Cove. Even the slightest jostling of the van was uncomfortable with her cast and sling. Twice Thumper had jumped up on her seat to bark at something he saw out the window, and she had bruises and scratches to show for it. Finally, Rick had rigged up some suitcase barriers to keep him back in the third row seat where he belonged.

  They’d stopped several times for meals and bathroom breaks, but made the entire nine-hour drive in one day, leaving Mariposa at six in the morning and arriving in Sandy Cove at six that night.

  When they got to Sheila’s house, Joan headed for the guest room and carefully lowered herself onto the bed. Although she’d dozed a little on and off in the car, she fell fast asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Around nine o’clock that night, Sheila came in, offering to help her get changed into her nightgown and asking if she’d like a little snack or a cup of warm milk before going to bed for the night.

  Joan felt so groggy that she accepted the help getting undressed. Then she asked for her toiletry bag, brushed her teeth, and climbed back into bed. The next thing she knew, it was morning.

  Wandering out to the kitchen, she found Sheila eating breakfast. “How are you feeling this morning?” her daughter asked.

  “A little stiff,” Joan replied. “But I slept like a log. I think I was in one position all night.”

  “Must be a little hard to move around with that cast on.”

  “Yes. Seems like my back is the only comfortable position.” Joan walked over to the teakettle and asked, “Is the water hot?”

  Sheila joined her at the stove and put her arm around her shoulder. “No. Sorry, Mom. But I did make a fresh pot of coffee. Would you like me to make you some tea?”

  “Coffee’s fine. Maybe I’ll have some tea later on.”

  Opening the dishwasher, Sheila retrieved a clean cup from the top rack and filled it with hot coffee. “Here,” she said, pu
lling a chair out from the table and setting down the coffee. “Have a seat and I’ll make you something to eat.”

  “I can fix something, dear. You don’t need to go to any trouble,” Joan replied.

  “It’s no trouble. And I know it’s difficult for you with that cast. Just sit and relax and let me take care of you for a change.” Sheila’s smile and the tone of her voice communicated the love and patience Joan so desperately needed.

  “Thanks, sweetheart.” She sank into the chair and took a sip of the delicious brew.

  Sheila busied herself toasting some bread and scrambling an egg. When she placed the simple meal before Joan, she felt truly blessed and thankful. “Perfect, honey. Thanks.” She bowed her head and silently prayed before beginning her meal.

  After she’d finished eating, she suddenly remembered Thumper. “Where’s the dog?” she asked.

  “Rick took him over to Michelle’s last night after he unloaded the van. The old boy seemed happy to see the kids and they were equally excited to have him back.”

  Joan nodded. “That’s good. He’s a bit much for me to handle right now.”

  “They’re happy to keep him as long as you want, Mom. For now, you just focus on resting and healing that arm.”

  “Okay, dear. But I don’t want to be a burden to you. I mean it. And don’t adjust your plans around me. I know you and Rick have been spending quite a bit of time together, and I don’t want my being here to interfere with that. You have your own life to live, and I’ll just head right back to Mariposa if I see that you are hovering over me and ignoring him.”

  Sheila laughed. “I promise not to hover. And you’re not a burden. I love having you here. Really. So get that idea out of your head.”

  They chatted some more about the week ahead, and then decided to get ready for the day. “Let me help you get unpacked and dressed,” Sheila said, following her into the guest room.

  Joan hated to have to rely on someone else to help dress her, but the truth was that having her right arm immobilized in the cast and sling made it next to impossible to do it on her own. And hanging up clothes? Well that was out of the question. “I’m sorry to be such a gimp,” she said.