Under a Summer Sky, page 8
Noah shook his dad’s hand and then pulled him into a hug. “Make sure you go to the eye doctor—if that’s what you think it is.”
“I will,” Asa replied with a smile. “You two have done such a great job with those boys—they’re all keepers! I can’t believe Asher memorized that whole poem.... And Chloe—she’s a keeper too . . . reciting ‘Jabberwocky’!”
Laney laughed and gave her father-in-law a long hug. “Thanks, Dad,” she said softly. She pulled back and searched his eyes. “You take care of yourself.”
“I will . . . and I’ll let you know what the doctor says.”
“Okay. We’re gonna hold you to that,” Noah said, eyeing him. He turned to his mom. “Make sure he does.”
Maddie smiled. “I will.”
Noah and Laney waved as they pulled away, and as they walked up the driveway, Noah put his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “Sometimes people have a hard time facing what’s really going on.”
Noah nodded, praying it wasn’t anything serious.
14
Laney was so caught up in the end-of-the-school-year activities she barely had time to sit down—never mind worry. Her in-laws had headed back to New Hampshire on Monday, and her father-in-law had promised to go to the eye doctor. E had driven Chloe home on Sunday night and been late getting back. She was trying very hard to give him space—after all, he was in college. But it didn’t make her worry less. Noah had tried calling Jillian Laughlin, but her phone didn’t seem to be working. And Mennie seemed to be ignoring them—was he going deaf or was he still put out by the new puppy? The week had flown by, and before she knew it, it was Friday again, and her six-year-old charges were lining up with their backpacks over their shoulders, ready to head home for the weekend.
She stood by the door. “Don’t forget to do your reading. Reading logs are due Monday!”
“Have a good weekend, Mrs. Coleman!” they sang as they filed out of the room. “Don’t forget to do your reading,” Charlie Lathrop teased with a grin that revealed his newly missing tooth.
“I will, Mr. Lathrop,” she said, ruffling his hair. “You too. And make sure you leave that tooth under your pillow tonight.”
“I will. And I’m going to read about dinosaurs.”
Laney loved teaching first grade. It made her feel as if she was actually making a difference. Six-year-olds were still sweet and innocent, and first grade was such a critical year—especially for reading. She watched them weave down the busy hallway and remembered how young they’d seemed in September—a lifetime ago! She smiled and whispered a prayer that their lives would always be full of blessings.
She went back in her classroom, picked up the pencils and crayons that had fallen on the floor, erased the blackboard, looked up at the clock, shuffled through the papers on her desk, and slid a manila envelope of report cards into her canvas bag—she hoped to get started on them over the weekend. She turned off the lights, remembered she needed to send a text, pulled her phone out of her bag, and typed a quick note to Noah, reminding him she had a doctor’s appointment.
As she reached her car, her phone vibrated, and she stopped to read his response.
THANKS FOR THE REMINDER. WANT ME TO PICK UP PIZZA?
She smiled in wonder—after nearly thirty years of marriage, he was finally getting the hang of reading her mind.
SOUNDS GOOD!
WHAT SHOULD I GET?
1 BACON, 1 HAWAIIAN, AND 1 PLAIN—ALL LARGE! AND MAYBE A SALAD?!
YOU GOT IT. CULTR. <3
She slipped her phone back in her bag, thankful to have one less thing to think about.
Ten minutes later, she was signing the clipboard at the window in her doctor’s office. “Hi, Etty,” she said, waving through the glass. Etty was an old friend—she’d been working for Dr. Jamison forever—and Laney, the prolific reproducer of five, was one of their best customers.
Etty rolled her chair over and slid the window open. “Hi, Laney! How’re the boys?”
Laney smiled. “They’re fine.”
“Are E and Gabe home for the summer?”
“Yup—both lifeguarding again.”
“Well, make sure they use sunblock, or they’ll end up with wrinkles like me.”
“I’ll try,” Laney said with a weary smile.
“And how are you? You look tired.”
“I am a little tired, but I didn’t think it showed.” She’d always wondered when someone voiced this observation. Usually, it happened on a day when she’d really tried to pull herself together, but then some thoughtless cur always came along and said, “Is something the matter? You look really tired.” She knew, deep down, it was a message of sympathy: You deserve a break. You shouldn’t be working so hard. But on days when she actually felt good or had really tried to be conscientious when she applied her makeup, it felt like a backhanded compliment. And on those days, the only response she could come up with was a somewhat sarcastic, “Thanks a lot!”
But that afternoon, when Etty said it, she was tired. She’d actually felt out of sorts for weeks, but she’d attributed it to the growing need for summer vacation. At fifty-two, she wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. In fact, at the moment, she felt like an old hen!
She settled into one of the chairs in the empty waiting room and sifted through the magazines on the table. A headline on the cover of one of the parenting magazines caught her eye: “What To Do When Your Child Is Bullied.” She picked it up and leafed through the pages, looking for the article, and when she found it, the accompanying photo startled her. It was a close-up of a boy, and his face was filled with despair. The single tear trickling down his cheek had left a glistening trail on his smooth skin. In the background, there was a computer screen, and on it was a mock Facebook page, symbolizing the prevalence of cyberbullying among today’s youth. Laney shuddered at the thought. Asher wasn’t even on the Internet yet, but he would be. Was this what his future held?
Laney had just started reading the article when Dr. Jamison’s PA, Martha, opened the door. “Hi, Laney.”
“Hi, Martha,” Laney said with a smile before stopping at the window with the magazine. “Etty, can you copy this for me?”
“Sure thing, hon. It’ll be ready when you come out.”
Laney followed Martha down the hall. “How’ve you been?” Martha asked over her shoulder.
“Pretty good. You?”
“Bus y . . .”
“Too busy, I’ll bet,” Laney commiserated.
“Always too busy!” Martha said with a grin. “Will we ever learn?”
“I doubt it,” Laney said with a laugh. “We haven’t learned yet.”
Martha stopped in front of a scale, and Laney eyed it skeptically. “Do I have to?”
Martha laughed and nodded. “It can’t be that bad. Look at you. There’s nothing to you!”
Laney shook her head and stepped on the scale. “Is that why I have to walk around with the top of my slacks unbuttoned all the time . . .and why I can’t wait to get home to my baggy sweatpants?”
Martha slowly moved the leveling weight on the scale to 120, but the bar didn’t budge. She slid it to 130, and it rose a tad; 140 sank it, so she slid it back to 130, and Laney exhaled and held it. The bar leveled at 134, and Laney breathed in. “Maybe you could take a couple pounds off for shoes and clothes,” she suggested hopefully.
“That sounds fair,” Martha said marking her chart and then measuring her height.
“Didn’t I weigh one twenty-nine last year?”
Martha flipped back a page and shook her head. “One thirty-one.”
Laney shook her head in dismay. “I watch what I eat. I exercise. But it just doesn’t seem to matter . . . so why bother?”
Martha smiled. “It’s perfectly normal. Once you hit fifty or go through menopause, it gets harder and harder to keep the weight off.” She marked Laney’s height. “Still five feet two inches though,” she said with a grin. “Did you have a bone density test last year?”
“I think so.”
Martha flipped through her chart. “If you did, we’ll have it. We’re converting all of our records over to the computer this summer. Next year when you come, I’ll have a laptop and hopefully I’ll know how to use it.”
“I know what you mean.” Laney nodded in agreement. “The school’s doing the same thing with report cards. It’s supposed to be simple and user-friendly, but I’m pretty clueless when it comes to technology. I can barely figure out my iPhone, but Asher uses it like a pro.”
Martha chuckled. “My grandson is the same way! I think babies are born knowing how to use iPhones. When they come out of the womb, their little fingers just naturally know how to sweep across the screen.”
Laney laughed, knowing it was true.
They went into an exam room, and Martha took her blood pressure, pulse, and temperature, reviewed her meds and daily supplements, and handed her a soft, cotton robe and a paper skirt. “You know the drill—open in front, everything but your socks.”
“No more paper robes?” Laney asked, feigning dismay.
“Nope.” Martha smiled. “Everyone hated ’em!”
“Are you kidding? I loved those crinkly, stark-white, gaping-open fashion statements!”
As Martha closed the door she said, “Dr. Jamison will be right in. You’re her last patient.”
Laney undressed, slipped on the robe, and scooted awkwardly onto the paper-covered exam table while trying to keep the robe closed. She wondered why they even bothered with a robe? Everything ended up exposed anyway. She sat on the end of the table, feeling chilled, and eyed the metal stirrups. This was definitely her least favorite appointment of the year. She dreaded it—it was worse than getting a tooth pulled. At least then, you were dressed! You’d think she’d be used to it after five pregnancies. But no, she wasn’t. The sooner it was over, the better!
There was a soft knock, and Dr. Jamison peered around the door. “Hey, Laney.”
“Hi, Dr, Jamison.” Laney said. She couldn’t help but smile. Johanna Jamison was one of her favorite people . . . and a wonderful doctor. Her bedside manner was kind and caring, and she had completely mastered the art of chatting during an exam, keeping her patients’ minds off what was really happening.
She swept into the room. “How are my handsome young men?”
“They’re all fine,” Laney said with a smile. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that E’s twenty-one.”
“Nooo! Has it been that long? He was one of my very first deliveries. In fact, he was so easy he made me think I’d wasted a lot of money on medical school!”
Laney laughed as Dr. Jamison motioned for her to lie back. Laney closed her eyes and focused on the funny story Dr. Jamison was telling about the new rooster they had who thought dawn was at three in the morning, and before she knew it, the worst was over.
“Are you doing regular exams?”
Laney nodded, moving her arm over her head and watching Dr. Jamison’s expression as she methodically checked her breasts. Without saying anything, she stepped away to look at Laney’s recent mammogram, and then gently touched a spot on the outer curve of her right breast again. “You’ve always had dense breast tissue, Laney,” she said, “and that makes exams a bit more challenging. I think I’d like you to have an ultrasound this year.”
“Is something wrong?”
Dr. Jamison covered her up and smiled reassuringly. “It’s just a precaution. Lots of women have dense breast tissue. You can sit up.” She consulted her chart. “Martha said you’ve been feeling tired . . .”
Laney nodded. “I don’t seem to have the same energy I once had, but I’ve been so busy at school . . . and with the boys. I just attributed it to getting older.”
Dr. Jamison nodded. “You are getting older, my dear. But you’re far from old, so I’d like to get some blood work too.” She scribbled out some prescriptions and handed them to her. “Etty can set everything up for you.” She searched Laney’s anxious eyes. “Now, don’t start worrying! I want you to go home, relax, enjoy the weekend, and I’ll be in touch next week after I get the results.”
“Okay,” Laney said with a nod, knowing full well she was going to worry.
Twenty minutes later, as she walked up toward the house, Laney stopped to look at the brightly lit windows welcoming her home. Noah’s car was in the driveway, so she knew he was already home with the pizzas, and she could hear laughter and giggling drifting through the open windows. She stood still, listening, savoring the lovely sound. Then she remembered the concern she’d seen on her doctor’s face, and a wave of anxiety swept over her. What if something is wrong? What if there’s a day when I’m no longer here to hear these wonderful sounds? What if my boys have to carry on without me? She pictured her six handsome men lined up tearfully at her graveside, and the image broke her heart. “Oh, God,” she whispered, “please don’t let anything happen to me—not until I’m really old and they’re ready to let me go. . . .” She shook her head, trying to push the heartbreaking image from her mind. “I can’t think like this,” she admonished. “Even if something is wrong, I have to stay positive.”
She shifted her bag to her other shoulder and resigned to be strong. Noah didn’t need to know yet. There was nothing to tell. It was just a routine follow-up. Lots of women had them. She forced a smile and pulled opened the door.
“Mom’s home!” announced a chorus of happy voices.
“Hi, Mom!” Asher gushed, rushing over to wrap his arms around her.
“Pizza’s still hot,” Noah said with a smile. “Want a slice of Hawaiian?”
15
Asa tried to focus on the illuminated chart at the far end of the room. “E, A, Z. Hmm . . . that last one might actually be a two. . . .” He shook his head, as if shaking it would rattle his eyes into alignment.
The young optometrist switched on the light. “Mr. Coleman,” he began slowly, “I think you already know. It’s not your eyes.” He jotted something on a piece of paper. “This is the name of a neurologist in Boston. I’d like you to make an appointment as soon as possible.”
Asa nodded.
“I don’t mean to alarm you. It could be any number of things, but you shouldn’t wait.”
Asa nodded again, wondering why his unsettling symptoms couldn’t be caused by a simple astigmatism or cataract, even glaucoma—something a new pair of glasses or a quick in-office surgery would resolve.
He returned to the waiting room, and Maddie looked up from her book and smiled. “I was looking at some frames I thought you might like. . . .”
Asa pressed his lips together, shook his head, and headed for the door. Maddie got up to follow. “Thank you,” she said, smiling at the receptionist as she walked past.
Once they were outside and he could breathe again, Asa handed the slip of paper to her. “There’s something putting pressure on my optic nerves. Possibly a tumor.”
Maddie felt her heart race as she looked at the paper.
“That’s the name of a neurologist in Boston. He said I shouldn’t wait.”
She nodded. “We’ll make an appointment as soon as we get home.”
The following week was a blur of appointments and tests. Asa endured each and every one—from blood draw to CT scan to MRI—all while feeling increasingly like a lamb being led to slaughter. And although Maddie was beside him every step of the way, he also became increasingly withdrawn and reticent. Maddie expected it. Throughout their married life—and even before—when something weighed heavily on her husband’s mind, this was his way of dealing with it, so she gave him his space and tried to be strong. Even though, deep down, she was terrified.
On Monday morning, they were both up early for yet another appointment. Maddie gazed out at the dull, gray sky. It looked like it might rain any minute, and she realized she hadn’t seen a forecast in days. She turned on the kitchen TV, and the weatherman’s cheerful voice sounded oddly comforting . . . and normal. Oh, if we could just have our normal lives back, she thought as she reached for the coffee, I would never ask for anything again. She heard the shower come on in the upstairs bathroom and wondered if Asa would want any breakfast; he hadn’t had much of an appetite lately. She’d just started to open a new can of coffee when she heard a loud thud. She literally dropped what she was doing, spilling coffee grounds everywhere, and rushed up the stairs.
“Asa?” she cried, pushing on the bathroom door. “Asa!” She put all her weight against it and was finally able to pry it open just far enough to see her husband’s naked, shuddering body slumped against it. “Oh, God! Asa!”
16
“Ash, are you up?”
Asher opened his eyes and felt a warm body curled up next to him. He stroked Halle’s soft fur, and remembering what day it was, leaned over and whispered, “Rabbit, rabbit.” Halle opened her eyes and yawned, her thumping tail caught under the sheet, making it flop up and down.
“How’d she do?” Laney asked, peering in his room.
Asher put on his glasses, inspected the floor, and felt his sheets. “Good . . . I told you she could do it.”
Laney looked skeptical. “Well, take her outside before she has the chance to prove you wrong.”
“C’mon, Halle,” Asher said, scooping the puppy into his arms—he wasn’t taking any chances. He went downstairs, saw Mennie dozing in a sunny spot, and gave him plenty of room. Then he put Halle down by the door, clicked on her leash, and followed her outside in his pajamas. The warm, damp grass tickled his bare feet as he wandered around the yard. He breathed in the fresh morning air. It looked and smelled like summer, and he couldn’t wait until it really was summer.
When he came back in, Laney was putting his lunch in his backpack. Ben and Seth had already left for school. And Gabe and E were still in bed since they didn’t have to be at work until ten, so it was just the two of them. Laney glanced at the clock. “You need to get a wiggle on, hon. The bus will be here in twenty minutes.”
