Writing Free

Chapter 60

     Libby was frosting Tank’s birthday cake when Stormy number four, or maybe it was five, came back to the house without Tank. Libby rang the bell for Will and Jake. Two hours later, they came back with his blanket-wrapped body draped across Stormy’s back.

Now, out of all of us, only I remained. “Who’d have thought I’d be the last one?” I asked Jake as we came back up from the family cemetery.

     “Stay with us a while, Aunt Peaches,” he said, his arm steadying me on the path.

     Born during one war, growing up in a crushing economic depression, and beginning our adult lives on the brink of yet another war, we’d survived... seen dreams and and four of our children die, make our share of mistakes...but we’d done it together. Now, though, I was alone—really alone.

     Libby insisted on celebrating my ninetieth birthday. Everyone down to the last great-grandchild came home, and the walls of the old house nearly burst at the seams. Later, when I’d already gone to bed, Ned knocked on my door. “Just thought I’d check on you,” he said.

     “You’re always checking on me.”

     He sat down on the side of the bed and took my blood pressure, then listened to my heart.

     “What’s the verdict this time?”

     He smiled Edward’s smile. “I’ll tell you later.”

     “Don’t send me a bill for these visits when I didn’t call you.”

     “I wouldn’t think of it.” He turned off the light as he left.

     I sat in the bell cart on a bright, crisp autumn day, the kind of day I wouldn’t melt beneath my brilliantly crafted bobcat suit. Down a piece, Francie and Peggy, wearing the moth-eaten pep leader uniforms I’d mended half a dozen times, shook their pompoms and jumped around with Anna Lee and Pauline in front of the enthusiastic if shabby pep squad. From the stands, the Hardegree twins smirked at me. One more time they’d successfully pulled my bell cart—and me—onto the field without dumping me. Once more, the gizzards Anna Lee had threatened to cut out were safe.

     On the field, Bix threw a long pass that whomped into Vic’s chest, but he grabbed it and headed for the goalpost. Tank charged along, removing everyone and everything in his way. Reaching that magic line, he plowed headlong across it, turned, and lifted the ball high.

     While the stands erupted in cheers, the band played, and I rang the old school bell wildly. We’d done it again. We were on our way to the state championship.

     Had those been the best years of our lives? Maybe, but I doubted it. Though the years to follow had been mixed with joy and sorrow—and, in my case, rock-bottom shame and a long painful climb back up—we wouldn’t have traded love and the lessons learned.

     In a blinding flash, I transitioned from the football field to the piano bench in the Danford Baptist Church. I was filling in for our regular pianist who had gone to Dallas to see her son on his return from the Pacific.

     Brother Baxter spoke about the war being over at long last and of those who hadn’t made it home: Jobe Law, our drum major back in the day, who could strut with the best of them; he’d strutted onto Iwo Jima and died there. Harry Friedman, Milt’s brother, who died in the Huertgen Forest where Vic had been wounded. Cary Hardegree, the twins’ older brother, who’d been among the first to hit the silk on D-Day, and lived only long enough to reach the outskirts of St. Mere Elise before being shot.

     Then he talked about those who would be coming home: Vic, who’d left a leg behind in Germany but was now learning to walk again with a prosthesis in a VA hospital; Tank, who’d never gotten off his ship except for R&R but who’d been through Guadalcanal; Milt, who’d been on Okinawa and seen things he wanted to forget but never would. The list went on interminably.

     Finally, he said he didn’t want us to sing our usual benediction: God Be with You ‘Til We Meet Again. “We already know that,” he said, his voice not as steady as it had been. “Here or in Heaven, we’ll all meet again. Rather, I’d like us to sing a song that reminds us of how we’ve all stood together during this unspeakably terrible time.”

     We sang all four verses of Blest Be the Tie. The words rang true...I could hear them now. We’d loved each other, hurt with and for each other, and our hearts were joined...forever.

     “Goodnight, Francie, you bossy boots,” I said as she crawled into bed in front of me. “Watch those bony knees in my back, Krolik,” I added as Peggy slipped in on my other side.

     From the door, Mrs. Walinsky smiled. “Sleep good. Dream nice.”

     I smiled, knowing I would.

Chapter 59

     It had been all but hopeless from the beginning, but Bix fought until I begged him to stop. We didn’t go to the ranch at Thanksgiving. Instead, he and John spent several nights closeted in his study finishing business and tying up loose ends. On the last night John came out carrying a large box. He didn’t have to tell me what was inside, but when I mouthed, “Friedman’s,” and he nodded.

     Button became my rock even though she was grieving, too, but not for the lost years. She and Bix had made up for those. She mourned the years she would never have.

     Francie called the day after Thanksgiving. “Come home for Christmas,” she said. “We’ll have everything Bix needs right here.”

     As we walked out the front door on the twenty-second, Bix stopped and took a long look around, knowing he wouldn’t be coming back. When John and Button put us on the plane to San Angelo,Bix held her for a long moment. “Thank you for being my daughter,” he murmured.

     Children and grandchildren holidayed elsewhere that year to give the six of us that last time together. At night, Tank, Francie, Vic, Peggy, Bix, and I sat in the old parlor after supper, laughing and reminiscing.

     Aaron, who had retired from surgery but still took care of a few long-time patients, came out one morning and took Peggy aside. When he left, I found her sitting on the stairs crying. “He asked if I could handle things,” she sobbed.

     “Can you?”

     She nodded and held up a small white pharmaceutical box. “He said I didn’t have to watch the clock.

     A hospital bed had replaced our double bed in the room Dutch had built for me before I came home from the psych ward. I slept on a small daybed nearby. Though Bix had lapsed into a coma the day after Christmas, I was sure he knew I was with him and never strayed far from his side.

     Rosie, who worked part-time at the hospital, came from town to relieve her mother. Though I hadn’t thought of it in years, I found it ironic that she would never know she was caring for her biological father.

     On New Year’s Eve, I held Bix’s hand and told him it was all right to let go. He did. Milt Friedman, no longer active in the business, came with the hearse to get Bix. He put his arms around me and held me for a long time. “You came for Mary Nelle, remember?” I whispered. “You carried her out of the hospital in your arms and promised me she’d never be alone.”

     “I remember, Peaches honey.”

     “Don’t bring him out in a body bag.”

     “I’ll make sure of it.”

     He looked like he was sleeping, hands folded on top of his pajamas, his face relaxed from the pain, as they rolled him out. I walked as far as the porch and stood in the door until the hearse had disappeared in the caliche dust from the road.

     I’d told Button and John not to come until it was over. “You’ve said your goodbyes,” I said. “You’ve got your good memories.” They arrived on New Year’s Day after Tank’s call. John told me that he’d given the box directly to Bix. “And I’ve arranged an honor guard from the base in San Angelo. He wanted that if at all possible.”

     It was a short graveside ceremony. A bugler blew Taps, and the uniformed young men folded the flag from Bix’s simple metal soldier’s casket and presented it to me. I asked Button and John to leave me sitting alone for a few minutes. Finally, I laid a single rose on the casket and stepped away, knowing I was starting over—again.

     I stayed in Houston only long enough to put the house on the market and clear out. “Find a family to love it the way we did,” I told the realtor. “It’s not just a house—it’s a home.”

     Then I went back to the house in Danford which Bix had suggested I keep. “We might want to retire there someday,” he’d said. It hadn’t sat empty all the time. Rosie and her husband had lived in it for a few years, then Chrissy and Ned when they’d decided, after Valerie died, that they didn’t want to stay in the old Kroll house. The rest of the time, Jake and Will had seen to keeping it up.

     If I had to leave the home Bix and I had loved in Houston, it was comforting to be back in familiar territory. John, Button, and Alexa visited regularly, and either Francie, Peggy, or Sue Friedman knocked on my back door every single day.

     I found activities to occupy my time: filling in for the church pianist when she needed a break, reading aloud and doing crafts in the children’s section of the new library, and, of course, spending time at the ranch. But without Bix, part of me was gone forever.

     Francie went first after Bix, then Peggy. As I left Peggy for what I was sure would be the last time, she called my name. “Peaches.”

I turned back toward her. “What is it, little krolik?”

     “Thank you.”

     My mouth went dry. She knew, but how? Did Vic know? Did Rosie?

     She gave me her sweet smile, too weak to say more.

     “Sure,” I managed. “Any time.”

     I knew Vic wouldn’t last long without Peggy. They’d been like a pair of scissors since they were fifteen years old. Peggy used to laugh and say he’d been her father, mother, and best friend long before he became her husband. “And when you and Francie twitted me about not knowing what they were talking about when something came up about sex, I just told them to hush up, and I’d asked Vic.”

     “She did, too,” he said. “The problem was, I didn’t know a whole lot more than she did.”

     I still laughed when I thought about that.

     One Sunday afternoon a few months after we’d lost Peggy, he, Tank, and I were sitting on the front porch when he said, “Peaches, you remember the time we were all still in college and I sent you five dollars and asked you to buy my sweet girl some fancy silk underwear?”

     Tank almost choked on his cigar smoke.

     “I remember. I went down to Russell’s on the Square and bought three pairs of pink silk panties. You still owe me the thirty-five cents I had to come up with.”

     He chuckled. “I’m still good for it. I sure didn’t want to go buy them myself. With my luck, the whole Longhorn football team would’ve walked through the lingerie department about the time I checked out.” He smiled a little. “She only wore them on Sunday for at least the next ten years.”

     A few months later, Vic died in his sleep. Tank said his broken heart had finally given out.

     With just the two of us left, I sold the house in town and moved permanently to the ranch. Will’s wife Libby said she was glad to have some company in the kitchen. “I’m pretty useless,” I said. “Miss Grace used to keep me busy shelling peas, snapping beans, and cutting up all kinds of other things.”

     She laughed. “I can keep you busy, too.”

Chapter 58

     After Christmas at the ranch, Bix, Button, and I drove to Houston so Button could see the house. Valerie had brightened it up with fresh paint and flooring. New kitchen and laundry appliances were next on the list.

     Button loved everything—especially the pool. A visit to the paint store to pour over samples came next, and she chose a pale blue for the walls and cream for the woodwork in her new room. The trip was good for all of us, and she and Bix both made an effort at getting to know each other for the first time.

     In the summer, after she had left for her camp job, the movers came and packed us up for Houston. While I had regrets about leaving everyone at the ranch, the new chapter of my life beckoned enticingly.

     Pam brought Carmen into our lives—a strikingly beautiful young widow whose husband had been killed in Viet Nam while she was pregnant with their son Javier, now three. She and her mother-in-law got by on her late father-in-law’s small pension and what Carmen earned keeping house for the elder Mrs. Fordham and for Pam. Now, Pam said, if I could use Carmen two days a week, the law firm could put her on the payroll as a corporate employee with benefits.

     As it happened, there was more than enough for Carmen to help me with. Not only was she efficient, she was pleasant company, too. We were unpacked and settled in record time. Bix, saying he felt totally superfluous in the presence of two determined women, took himself off to the office and left us to our business.

     The pool proved to be wonderful therapy, but I’d agreed with Bix that I wouldn’t swim alone. I enticed Carmen to keep her swimsuit at our house and to bring Javier who loved the morning swims. After lunch, we’d tuck him up on the sofa with cartoons playing on television, and he’d take a long nap. I missed having him around when he started preschool in the fall.

     I volunteered one morning a week to read to children at a branch library which turned out to be in a less-than-savory part of town. “Well, those children need you more than most,” Bix said when I broached the idea. “Why don’t you let Carmen drive you? She can run errands for you and for herself while you’re busy,” he said. “Besides, she’s younger and savvier.” Then he laughed when I made a face at him.

     Life was good. Bix admitted that, for the first time, he was practicing law for the love it, not to make money and a name for himself. He bought season tickets for the symphony, and we entertained informally—the neighbors we’d gotten to know, others we’d met along the way, and also Pam and Phil who was giving up his grudges when he realized our new beginning was real.

     I spent time in my custom music room and in the art studio I came to love almost better than any other room in the house. My first project a portrait of Bix’s father from an old photograph which he had colorized by a professional photographer. He hung it in his home office.

     Button flew home on holidays, and we’d drive to the ranch for Thanskgiving and Christmas. Everyone from the ranch visited us, too, as well as Valerie and Ned who was now in high school.

And, by chance—Bix said chance had nothing to do with it—we became involved in establishing a mission church sponsored by the larger one we attended, and again I found myself sitting at the piano every Sunday.

     Sometimes I felt a long moment of terror because my life was, for the first time, fulfilled in a way I’d always dreamed of but never dared to hope would happen. Then I’d take refuge in Bix’s arms and know life was what we’d made it in spite of ourselves and our past circumstances.

     Button soon caught young John Fordham’s eye. He was a dozen years older, so I had a few misgivings, but they were gone by the time Bix walked her down the aisle in the Danford Baptist Church a year after she graduated from TWU with her degree in occupational therapy. She had no trouble finding work in a hospital in Houston and even kept on part time after Alexa’s birth just after their second anniversary.

     Carmen stayed with us until Javier started fifth grade. Then she was able to fulfill a lifelong dream of nursing school. We missed her, but she and Javier and her mother-in-law, Mrs. Zamarippa, visited when they could. We liked her replacement, Angelica, a middle-aged woman who did everything right, but change wasn’t one of my strong points any more.

     We lost Dutch first—not in the saddle as he’d always said would probably happen, but sitting on the front porch reading the newspaper. Miss Grace said he’d expect me to play for his service because I knew what he liked. I didn’t argue with her, but I barely kept it together. Bix said he’d never heard me play so beautifully.

     A year later, Miss Grace didn’t come to breakfast one morning, and Francie found her still in bed clutching Dutch’s stained hat to her still breast. The morning after the funeral, Tank, Vic, and Bix found Francie, Peggy, and me huddled together in Miss Grace’s bed. We’d wandered into her room separately during the night and cried ourselves to sleep.

Life went on, of course. Chrissy, being the youngest, married last, but we were all happy when she married Ned—by now, Dr. Ned Kroll, MD, and surgeon. Valerie lived to see two grandchildren before, at long last, she joined Edward.

 Bix and I had twenty-five years of pure happiness. Then he was diagnosed with the same vicious leukemia which had taken his mother Jo.

Chapter 57

     We caught sight of Francie sitting in the patio swing as we returned from choir practice on Wednesday night. I was out of the car and beside her before Bix turned off the car. “It’s chilly outside,” I told her. “Come inside before catch your death, as Miss Grace would say.”

     She followed me through the kitchen door which Bix held for us. “I’m sorry,” she said as soon as we were inside. “I didn’t want you to die. I'm glad the brace is gone and everything else.”

     “I know that, Francie.”

     “I don’t know why I acted the way I did.”

     “It’s all right. You’re here now.”

     She turned to Bix and met his eyes without flinching. “I owe you an apology, too.”

     “You owe me nothing, Francie,” he said in a gentle voice. “We do what we do. I did.”

     He made coffee while we settled in the living room and brought in a tray. “I’m not bad at this,” he said. Then he took his cup to the recliner since Francie and I sat together on the sofa.

     We drank our coffee in silence until Francie said, “Matka would be so ashamed of me.”

     “She loved you, Francie,” I said. “The two of you had something special. I envied you.”

     “She was only sixteen when I was born. In some ways, we were more like sisters than mother and daughter.”

     “You raised each other,” I said.

     “Pretty close.”

     “But she was a strong woman, and she made you strong,” I went on.

     She shrugged.

     “Did I ever tell you how I’d ask Grover to drive her home from the hospital the times I got there to sit with Peggy, and she was there with that big bottle of liniment somebody made for some animal?”

     She smiled a little. “The cow.”

     “She used to rub my leg whenever I got a cramp when I’d sleep over at your place, and I guess she snuck it by Doc and used it on Peggy, too. But two or three times, when I’d find here there, I’d ask Grover to take her home, and then I’d watch from the window of Peggy’s room as he opened the back door for her and helped her in. It gave me a wicked satisfaction to see her riding in style like my mother, because she was really the one who deserved it.”

     Francie’s eyes glistened with tears. “She deserved so much more than a mass grave in one of those horrible concentration camps.” She looked at Bix. “Did you ever see one?”

     “No, thank God. I didn’t see anything from the air. I’m not sure I could’ve lived with myself if I’d seen what some of the other boys  did.”

     “She never did anything to anyone and worked so hard to provide for the two of us. I begged her not to go to Poland, but she said she had to try to get her cousin’s children out.”

     “That’s who she was,” I said.

     “I’d see other people going on with their lives and think they didn’t deserve it…” Her voice trailed off.

     “Like me. It’s all right, Francie. I didn’t deserve all the chances to turn things around, but I finally did. Sometimes we don’t get what we really deserve.”

     She turned to Bix again. “And I always knew your father didn’t have anything to do with that money disappearing...the money old Mr. Cambaugh put in the bank for Matka and me after my father died. Everybody said so. Dutch said so. That should’ve been enough, but…”

     “But I was so high and mighty in high school that it was hard to look at me and forget.”

     She nodded. “I...I couldn’t stand the idea of you coming back into Peaches’ life after all this time.”

     “Believe me, Francie, I had many, many doubts about doing it.”

     “Are we all right now?” I asked, slipping my hand into hers. “I want us to be all right, Francie. We’re family. Sisters.”

     She opened her mouth to reply but closed it.

     “Francie, we’ve picked at each other for years, ever since high school. We yell and say nasty things, but we always make it up. Please say we can make it up now.”

     “If you want to,” she finally said. “You have every right to cut me off completely now, both of you.”

     Bix set down his cup and leaned forward. “No, Francie, we don’t have any right to turn our backs on anyone, because no one turned their backs on us. Right after I came back into Mari’s life, when I finally saw myself for who I was, I had to swallow my insufferable pride and ask her to forgive me. She said she’d forgiven me right after she’d forgiven herself. Forgive yourself, Francie. I know I’ll never be your favorite person. I never was. But we can accept each other where we are now.”

     Thanksgiving Day at the ranch was one I’d remember all my life.

Chapter 56

     We did work it out. We talked and laughed, and sometimes we all cried unashamedly. We dredged up the past one more time, grieved over it, and then put it to rest. I’d never been so proud of Button as I was when she said, “Maybe sometimes things have to be broken apart to be put back together the right way. Like us. Like this family.”

     “Tank and Vic have been your fathers,” Bix told Button. “I don’t have a right to push them out, and I won’t try.”

     “They were there when I needed them,” she said, “and I’ll always need them to be Uncle Tank and Uncle Vic. But I’d like to try being your daughter, too.”

     When we told her about the house in Houston, she exploded with excitement over the pool. “I can’t wait to tell Shelley! We’ll have so much fun next summer!”

     “We could drive down to Houston during the Christmas holidays,” Bix said. “You could see what your mother thought you’d like to have as your room and think about how you want to decorate it. We picked out paint for the rest of the bedrooms and the kitchen, but we left the largest bedroom alone.”

     Button plainly liked that idea. “But we’ll have Christmas here, won’t we? I mean, it will be our last one in this house.”

     “Of course, we will,” I assured her. “And it will be the most special one we’ve ever had.”

     By Saturday evening, eating the supper Bix had brought in from Burger Barn, the reality of what she’d done by leaving school without permission began to sink into Button’s consciousness. “I’m going to be in so much trouble.”

     “Your dorm mother did say she’d have to report it to the Dean of Women,” I said.

     “And she’ll ground me until I graduate!”

     “Maybe not quite that long.”

     “I know her, Mother. She’s really tough. She doesn’t put up with anything from anybody.”

     “Isn’t that a good thing?” Bix asked. “You seem to be on a very safe campus compared to some these days.”

     “Oh, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, but...oh, Mother, how am I going to get out of this?”

     “You’re going to face the music and dance to the consequences.”

     She frowned at me. “Oh, Mother.”

     “Would you like for me to drive you back?” Bix asked. “Face the music and dance with you?”

     Button giggled. “She’ll eat you alive, too.”

     “Maybe not.”

     “Do you mind? I mean, you were just there, and it’s a long drive.”

     “I don’t mind at all. Do you want to come with us, Mari?”

     “I managed to stay under the radar for four years, and believe me, things were even stricter when I was there. So, no, thank you, I’ll go to work and let the two of you do whatever has to be done.”

     Button shook her head. “You may not have a daughter when the Dean gets through with me.”

     “I’ll just have to take my chances.”

     They left on Sunday after church which Button didn’t attend. “Too many questions if I show my face,” she said. I knew she was right.

Bix arrived home on Monday night with a smile on his face. “It was an interesting session,” he said when I hit him with a barrage of questions.

We ate a delayed dinner of Miss Grace’s chicken and dumplings while he told me how things had played out.

     “When I delivered her back to the dorm, I met her dorm mother who said Button should be in the Dean’s office by nine o’clock on Monday morning. We were ushered into the majestic presence of the Dean who didn’t look quite as forbidding as Button described her. She thanked me for bringing the prodigal back and then asked...more like demanded...an explanation from Button. Button stuttered around, but the best she could come up with was that it just seemed to be the right thing to do at the time. Then she turned those puppy dog eyes on me and said, ‘You tell her, Daddy.’ So, I did.”

     “Did you use your most persuasive courtroom argument?”

     “I just told her the simple facts and that, while Button had been wrong to just up and leave school, that the weekend had gone a long way toward healing all of us. She seemed to accept that. But then she told Button that there would be consequences for what she’d done and asked if she was prepared to accept them. Button looked at me again for an answer, so I asked her if she was asking me as her father or her attorney. She said Both, I guess.

     “I think the Dean almost laughed—but not quite. So, I said, as your father, I sympathize. As your attorney I advise you to throw yourself on the mercy of the court. The Dean did laugh then.”

     “So what did she get?”

     “An apology to her dorm mother, a month of confinement to campus, and she has to be in her room every night by eight o’clock every night unless she’s at the library.”

     “That seems rather harsh for a first-time infraction,” I said.

     “Are you being Mamma Bear?”

     “She was never in trouble in school here,” I said, lifting my chin defiantly.

     “Well, be that as it may, she took the punishment like a responsible young woman. I asked for and was granted permission to take her to lunch off campus. We ate downtown and stopped in at Russell’s Department Store where she found a sweater.”

     “Oh, Bix, you didn’t!”

     “It was my idea to go in, and she didn’t ask for the sweater, but I could tell she was in love with it. I had the feeling she’d been longing for it a while.”

     “It was expensive, and so you bought it for her."

     “It was, and I did.”

     I sighed. “Somehow I think you may undo all the non-spoiling I’ve worked at so hard for so many years.”

     He nodded. “I just might.”

     Miss Grace and Dutch turned up a few evenings later, and we told them about Button. “I’ve been praying for a long time,” Miss Grace said. “Now, about Thanksgiving…”

     When I shook my head, Bix spoke up. “I can easily go to Houston.”

     Miss Grace put her lips together in a fine line. “Absolutely not. We’re a family.”

     “We’ve let this go on too long, gal,” Dutch said. “You and Francie need to make things up.”

     “I didn’t unmake them!” I snapped and was immediately sorry.

     “Someone has to reach out first,” Dutch said, ignoring my irritation.

     “Dutch, I don’t know what to say to her. This isn’t about Bix, not all of it anyway.”

     “No, it’s not,” he said. “Even Tank can’t get through to her, so he says he’s not going to try anymore.”

     “I don’t want trouble between the two of them. They’ve loved each other since they were six years old.”

     “You think about it,” Dutch said. “You’ll do the right thing.”

     “Are you sure?”

     “You and Bix had the courage to get married despite Button’s opposition, because you knew it was the right thing to do,” Miss Grace said as she rose. “We need to be going, Dutch.”

     I got up, too, and went to hug her. “You’ll never know how much your support has meant to Bix and me.”

     “Families take care of each other,” she said firmly. “We’re going to take care of this, too.”

     Dutch’s words about reaching out haunted me for the rest of the week. He wasn’t just making a suggestion. He meant for me to take the first step in repairing the relationship, and he knew I knew that. Bix and I didn’t talk about it, but he was struggling with guilt he didn’t deserve. Like I’d told Dutch and Miss Grace, the situation with Francie wasn’t all about Bix.

     On Saturday afternoon, we made a quick run to Piggly Wiggly for tomatoes when Bix said he thought bacon, tomato, and lettuce sandwiches would hit the spot for supper. As we were walking across the parking lot, Francie appeared pushing a half-full basket. She paused, then proceeded to walk by us without speaking.

     “Francie,” I called.

     She paused again, then kept walking toward the station wagon.

      “Francie,” I called again. “Please. This is tearing the family apart.”

     She whirled, her face a mask of rage I’d never seen before. “Family! We took you in! We were always there for you, but that wasn’t enough. We weren’t enough. You had to have him back in your life. Bix Matthews, the one who caused all the trouble to begin with.”

     I swayed with shock, and Bix steadied me with his arm around my shoulders. “That’s not true, Francie. You know I was drinking and taking pills long before Bix and I got married the first time.”

     Her words spewed out incoherently. “You were nothing but a selfish little rich girl then, and that’s all you are now! But after everything you’ve done, there you stand on top of the world, and you don’t deserve any of it. You’re alive, and Matka, who never hurt anyone in her life, is…”

     Her face paled as her own words sank into her consciousness. I heard her mumble something...in Polish, I thought...and then she turned and ran for her car. When I started after her, Bix caught my arm. “Let her go, Mari. It’s an opening anyway.”

     Neither of us had any appetite for supper, but we went through the motions as Miss Grace always said. I played for church the next morning, but Francie wasn’t there. While I was packing up my music, Tank came over. “Peaches, honey, all I could get out of Francie was that she ran into you in the parking lot at the grocery store, and it took almost all night to get that much. I found her curled up by her mother’s headstone down the hill crying like her heart would break.”

     When we all definitely knew that Mrs. Walinski wasn’t coming home after the war, Dutch had put up a marker for her in the family cemetery down the hill. Milt Friedman had advised him on the Hebrew protocols. It had seemed to comfort Francie, at least for a time, and Peggy said they often went down there together because Dutch had brought her mother, Irene Bailey, over from the hospital cemetery at Carlsbad, when she and Vic had returned from Brazil just before the war.

     “Help me out, honey,” Tank said.

     The three of us sat in the front pew by the piano while I tried to repeat accurately what Francie had said.

     “She sees us alive and happy and undeserving of either,” Bix said slowly. “Her mother, who deserved a lifetime of happiness, didn’t get it.”

     “So that’s it,” Tank said.

     “I guess it is,” I said. “I’m so sorry, Tank.”

     “Don’t be sorry. It’s been festering for a long time. I know she was honestly worried about you when you were so sick in the hospital in Houston, but then when you came back better than before, she seemed to close up.”

     “She wanted me to die as some sort of justice for her mother? I don’t believe that. Francie never wanted anything but good for anyone.”

     “I don’t know,” Tank said, “but now I know how to talk to her again.”

     “I’ll...we’ll do anything,” I said, glancing at Bix, who nodded.

     “I know you will.” Tank kissed the top of my head and rested his hand briefly on Bix’s shoulder. “I know you will.”

     “I felt guilty for being alive after Tom died,” I said as we drove away from the church. “I felt guilty that I was alive when Edward never lived to hold his son.”

     “Do you feel guilty now?”

     “I don’t know. Dr. Comer would say I shouldn’t. How do you feel?”

     “I wish I could put it into words. I just hope this is a turning point for Francie...for all of us.”

Chapter 55

     Though Bix had cleared out before Button came home from camp, I resented the necessity for it. He said he hoped things would get back to normal for the two of us after she went back to college, and in some ways, it did. We shopped for clothes in San Angelo and enjoyed packing up for her milestone second year. She called weekly, never mentioning her father, so neither did I.

     Being back in the mainstream was exciting after being jerked out so abruptly. Bix found a small recliner for my office in the high school library, and with my lunch and planning period back to back, I was able to stretch out during the day if I needed a break. The City Cafe was still churning out blue plate specials, so he picked up our lunch everyday and brought it to school. Without having to cook at night, we could enjoy sandwiches or soup, Perry Mason, and just being together.

     By the end of September, I was playing for the Glee Club again and also the church. As tempted as he might have been to ask if I was trying to do too much, Bix never questioned me. He always asked about my day and drove me to choir practice on Wednesday nights.

Tank, bearing my favorite Martinez Doughnuts, still came by on Saturday mornings as he’d done for years. We saw Vic and Peggy and the Friedmans regularly. Miss Grace always managed to get in once a week, but I missed not spending time with her in the kitchen at the ranch. Those quiet times had been good for long talks. Francie remained silent as a tomb, but she did let Chrissy continue her once-a-week housecleaning. Bix reminded me he could do it, but I didn’t want to deny Chrissy the money she counted on.

     The one person we didn’t hear from—besides Francie—was Aaron Barnes. After the threatening-non-threatening letter Bix had sent in his official capacity as my attorney—and after the various doctors had sent my Houston records to him—I didn’t expect him to darken my door again. Then one night in late September, he turned up.

     Bix and I were finishing some of Miss Grace’s homemade tomato soup and discussing whether to leave the concrete floor of my blossoming art studio or cover it over when Aaron knocked at the back door loudly enough to be heard in the living room. Bix let him in.

     “How are you, Marian?” he asked as he came through the swinging door from the kitchen.

     “I’m quite well, Aaron. Life is pretty much back to normal.”

     He shifted from one foot to the other.

     “Would you like to sit down?”

     He dropped onto the sofa. Bix sat on the arm of my recliner, whether to protect me or to keep from sitting by Aaron, I wasn’t sure.      “The doctors in Houston sent me all your records, but I’m not sure if that means I’m still your local doctor or not.”

     “If I need you, I’ll call you,” I said in a neutral voice.

     His eyes shifted to Bix. “And I’m not sure if you’re going to actually sue me for malpractice. You more or less left the door open.”

     “I’m not going to sue you,” Bix said. “The damage is done. But another attorney might have pushed things.”

     “I met with the orthopedist in San Angelo. Since I recommended him, I wanted to show him what the orthopedist in Houston said about the tumor not being detected earlier. I think he knows he fouled up.”

     Bix and I waited for him to go on.

     “I fouled up, too. I let my personal feelings get in the way of good medical practice where you were concerned. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

     “I know you are, Aaron. You’re a good doctor...a top-notch surgeon. Danford is lucky to have you.”

     He glanced around the room as if searching for more to say. “I understand the two of you are married again and will be moving to Houston.”

     “The house we bought needs a lot of work,” Bix said. “It will be a while until it’s ready for us. Besides, I’m sure you know Mari went back to her old position at the school.”

     “Is that a good idea?” Aaron asked, sounding more like himself in a bad way.

     “I think so,” I said. “I don’t like leaving things unfinished.”

     Aaron shrugged. “Well, I guess it was your decision.”

     “It was,” Bix spoke up. “Mari knows what she can do...how much she can do...and most of all, what she wants to do. And I have her back.”

     “You never did before.”

     I felt Bix tense, then deliberately relax. “No, I didn’t, Aaron. I fouled up just like you did. People make mistakes, very bad ones unfortunately, and they hurt other people. But that was then, and this is now.” His arm slipped from the top of the chair to my shoulders.

     “What about Button?” Aaron asked.

     I almost told him that Button wasn’t any of his business, but he’d brought her into the world and kept her alive. “She’s a work in progress,” I said.

     He rose from the sofa. “Well, I’ve said what I came to say, so I’ll go.”

     “Why did you feel you needed to say it, Aaron? Despite whatever you didn’t do, I’m alive and healthier than I’ve ever been before. I don’t have time to be angry with you or anyone else.”

     He stared at me for a long minute before he left the same way he’d come.

     In late October, Phil Fordham called to tell Bix that a client in Dallas needed an urgent in-person consult and asked him to drive up. “I don’t like leaving you alone,” he said as I helped him pack.

     “I’ll be fine.”

     “Who’ll bring you lunch at school?”

     “I’ll brown-bag it. That’s what I used to do.”

     “What if something happens at night?”

     “I promise not to leave the back door open for any lurking lovers.”

     He stared at me, then burst out laughing. “You’re outrageous.”

     “You knew that before you married me for the second time.”

     He folded me in his arms. “I shouldn’t be but a day or two. I’ll call.”

     He took care of business in two days. “I’ve been thinking,” he said when he called to say he was coming home. “I’m so close to Denton...what if I dropped in on Button…maybe took her out to dinner...talked a little?”

     “If you can convince her to listen, you don’t need my permission.” I spent all the next day praying that she’d be receptive.

     Unfortunately, she wasn’t. Bix, looking defeated, arrived about the time I got home from school. “She let me take her to dinner. I even let her pick the place. I didn’t make any excuses for myself, but I told her I wanted her to understand what turned me into an arrogant you-know-what.”

     “I never told her about your father, and no one around here really remembers what happened. If they do, they don’t talk about it.”

     “I just laid it all out and asked her to forgive me for ignoring her—and especially for even entertaining the idea that she wasn’t my biological child. I think it embarrassed her, so I moved on.”

     “I deliberately didn’t tell you that she threw that in my face when we talked on the phone in Houston one day. I was so angry with her, even if I didn’t have a right to be, but I managed to control myself and just tell her very firmly that she was never again to question my morals.”

     “Do you think she really believes she’s not mine?”

     “No.”

     “Well, I tried anyway. I’m sorry I failed.”

     “You didn’t fail, Bix. We’ve just got to keep trying.”

     At eleven-thirty that night, the telephone by the bed jerked us both from a deep sleep. It was Button’s dorm mother. “Button wasn’t in her room when we checked rooms at eleven, and her roommate says she doesn’t know where she is. It’s not like Button to break rules.”

     I held the phone out so Bix could hear both ends of the conversation. “When was the last time anyone saw her?”

     “Her roommate said they ate an early supper in the cafeteria. Button came back to the dormitory, but Susan went to the library to study. ”

     Suddenly I understood. “I know where she is,” I said. “Thank you for calling, and please don’t worry. She’s all right. I’ll call you in the morning.”

     “If you’re sure…”

     “I’m sure.”

     “I’ll have to report this to the Dean of Women.”

     “I understand.”

     Bix threw his feet over the side of the bed. “Just where is she?”

     “She caught the six-thirty bus home, and right now she’s sitting in the bus station afraid to call me to come get her.”

     “Why…”

     “She’s had her moment of reckoning just like I did and like you did. Let’s go bring her home.”

     Button huddled in the dim light flickering over an empty bench outside the closed bus station. Her shoulders, hunched in shame and hopelessness, broke my heart. “Button.”

     Her head came up, and tears gushed from her eyes—Bix’s blue eyes. “Oh, Mother!”

     I enveloped her in my arms and let her sob. Then she looked past me at Bix standing uncertainly in the shadows. Breaking away, she approached him and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, Daddy! I’m so sorry! I didn’t want to understand!”

     All three of us were a soggy mess by the time we got home. “Take a warm shower and go to bed,” I told Button. “We’ll talk in the morning. Thank goodness it’s Saturday, and I don’t have to go to work.”

     Bix carried her suitcase into her room and set it down at the foot of the bed. “Get a good night’s sleep, Button,” he said softly. “We’ll work everything out tomorrow.”

Chapter 54

     We lay together in silence, lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Bix said, “Do you want me to make an offer on the house?”

     “What about this condo?”

     “Rhonda says she can sell it in two days because of it’s prime location.”

     “Then do it. Make the offer.”

     “The house isn’t going anywhere soon, but you’re going back to Danford at the end of the summer...aren’t you?”

     “Just until Button goes back to school.”

     “Then what?”

     “Then I don’t know.” I relished the warmth of his body even more, remembering all the nights I’d recently spent without him.

     “This may be an odd question, Mari, but what do you want? I need to know.”

     “First, tell me what you want. You started all this.” I rested my fingers against his cheek, and he turned to kiss them.

     “I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I want to be able to come home from the office and find you waiting like you’ve done...to fall asleep with you beside me...to rebuild—no, to build a new life and share it together completely. At the same time, I don’t want to take away what you’ve already built for yourself—a family with Button and the ranch, a satisfying career, friends… So I need to know what you want and how I can be part of that—or not. Tell me honestly what you want.”

     “I don’t have to. You said it all.”

     “You have a good life in Danford, and with Button’s opposition to me, I’m at an impasse as to how we’re going to be together.”

     “Maybe we need to ease into it,” I said.

     “How?”

     “I could go back to Danford and keep Button’s home for her, say for a year to give her some time, but I don’t want to be separated from you.”

     “If that’s what you want, I’ve been thinking I could come with you and work from there...fly back if I have to meet with a client or be in court...and certainly make myself scarce on holidays whenever Button’s home. But I’m not sure that a year will negate the lifetime I neglected her. She may never accept the idea of our being together. And, you have a reputation to think of. A man living in your house would raise some eyebrows.”

     “It might liven things up a bit,” I said and laughed. When he didn’t reply, I went on. “O the other hand, she’ll probably spend the entire year working on keeping the status quo, but if it’s a fait accommpli…”

     “What do you mean?”

     “I mean, if we’re already married, the deed is done. She won’t have any choice but to accept it. Knowing Button and the close relationship we’ve had, I don’t see her giving up on me anyway.”

     “I hope you’re right.”

     "There’s just one problem.”

     “I see quite a few.”

     “No, the biggest problem is that you haven’t asked me to marry you—unless, of course, you don’t intend to make an honest woman of me.”

     He braced himself on one elbow and looked at me in the faint glow of the lamp on the dressing table. “Do I have to get out of bed and go down on one knee?”

     “I suppose not.” I traced his lips with the tip of one finger. “But don’t do it like you did before?”

     “How did I propose before? I’m ashamed to admit I don’t remember.”

     “One evening you just casually said, Well, I think we should get married.”

     “That sounds like me back then.”

     “I wasn’t much better. I said, That sounds like a good idea.”

     He shook his head. “Then, will you marry me, my love? Will you stay with me forever?” His lips brushed mine.

     “I’ll marry you, Bix, and this time it really is ‘til death us do part and everything else we promised without understanding and never thought about again.”

     Two weeks later, we were married in the hospital chapel with a standing room only crowd that spilled out the door. Dr. Comer said everyone had come to celebrate getting me permanently off their hands. Valerie and Ned provided the music, and Dutch and Miss Grace gave me away. When Bix placed a plain gold band on my finger and murmured, “With this ring I thee wed,” I cried a little.

     I’d called Button at the camp to tell her about the wedding and ask her to fly in from Kerrville. Not unexpectedly, she declined. “I hope you’ll be very happy, Mother,” she said before hanging up. But there was a hint of wistfulness in her tone, and I clung to that.

     Later, we took Dutch and Miss Grace on a tour of what we hoped would be our future home. Their enthusiasm and approval warmed us both. Valerie came back for her own tour after dropping Ned at his usual summer camp and said she’d wouldn’t take no for an answer about being our decorator. “Edward would have loved this house for you, Marian,” she said. “It’s going to be a real home.”

     At the end of July, after Bix listed the condo with his client Rhonda, we drove to Danford followed by a small van carrying Bix’s files and other office equipment. Tank had seen to having a separate phone line installed for him in the guestroom which would serve as his office for the duration.

     We hadn’t been home a week before Steve came by to tell me he’d been unable to find a librarian willing to relocate. “I’m desperate,” he said. “Will you consider coming back?”

     I glanced at Bix. “What do you think?”

     “I think it’s completely up to you.”

     I turned back to Steve. “Let me think about it a day or two, all right?”

     “Think hard,” he said as he rose to leave. “I’ll give you the sun, moon, and stars...the best schedule, an aide every period, anything you want.” He winked. “Except for a raise.”

     Later, snuggled against Bix, I said, “What do you really think?”

     “Back in March, when I was watching you hooked up to all those machines, no one thought you’d walk out of that hospital. I more or less vowed to take care of you forever if you did.”

     “You wanted to hover, like Francie.”

     “Something like that, I guess. But you’re a new person physically. The brace is gone, your blood pressure is normal for the first time in your adult life, and you’re enjoying life to the fullest. If going back to work again adds to that, I think you should. You’re the only one who knows what you can and want to do.”

     “Thank you for that.”

     “I’m not going to hover, Mari. We promised to be partners in life, not one person making the decisions for both of us. And to tell you the truth, I’ve been concerned about you rattling around the house everyday while I’m holed up in my temporary office or on the road like I’ll have to be occasionally. What kind of life is that?”

     “Then I’m going to do it.”

     “Good for you.”

Chapter 53

     By the end of the first week in the condo, Bix and I were settling into a comfortable routine. I thought he was going to the office less grudgingly every morning. His doctor had given him a clean bill of health except for the advice to stress less, enjoy life more, and gain back the ten pounds he’d lost while I was in the hospital.

     While he worked, I puttered, writing long letters to Miss Grace and Babbie with whom I’d kept in touch through the years. In the afternoons I stretched out to read before preparing the simple dinner we enjoyed on his veranda eight stories above the city street. Often we sat outside until after dark.

     Pam called daily, and we ventured out to boutiques, tea rooms, and even the Galleria. Thanks to Bix’s foresight in renting the wheelchair, I was free to do as I pleased.

     Button called twice a week without acknowledging her father. One night she asked me if I’d be home when the school term ended.          “That’s next week, isn’t it?”

    “Yes, and I’ll have three weeks before I have to go to my job at camp.”

     “Of course, I’ll be there, Button.”

     She didn’t answer right away. “I thought you might not ever be there again.”

     “I explained that I have follow-up appointments with all my doctors in June, and I’ll double check the dates. If there’s a conflict, I’ll   reschedule so I can be at home until you leave for camp.”

     “But then you’ll go back.”

     “For my appointments.”

     “And stay.”

     “I haven’t thought that far, Button. Let’s just take things as they come.”

     “I haven’t changed my mind about him.”

     “Him is your father, the reason you’re alive,” I told her, reminding myself that she was struggling with this new turn of events in ways I couldn’t completely understand.

     “Are you sure?”

     My fingers tightened around the phone as anger almost boiled over. I waited until I could be sure of my voice before I said, “I’m going to believe you said that without thinking how it sounded, Button, but do not ever...ever question my moral standards again.”

     She burst into tears and hung up. I didn’t sleep well that night, but I didn’t tell Bix what she’d said.

     Bix put me on a plane two days before Button’s arrival in Danford. Tank met me in San Angelo and wrapped me in a huge bear hug. “Sure have missed you, Peaches honey. You’re a lot of trouble, but we wouldn’t trade you.”

     On the way home, he asked about Bix. “Sissy was almost as worried about him as she was about you.”

     “We’re healing,” I said. “I more ways than one.”

     “I’m glad. We’re all glad.”

     “Except for Francie.”

     He gripped the wheel of the truck until his knuckles whitened. “She has some healing to do, too, Peaches. Try to be patient with her.”

     “I know that, Tank. I’m not angry with her. Francie and I have chewed on each other since high school, but I’ll always love her.”

     “It’ll work out,” he said. I wondered if he was talking about Button, too.

     As we had during spring break, Button and I ignored the elephant in the room and enjoyed being together. She bounced between the Friedman’s, the ranch, and home. Sue and Valerie were regular visitors, and Anna Lee always managed to drop by just to check on you just at suppertime. Peggy had already checked on me during the day, but I gave up my arm again to Anna Lee’s steth and cuff. Both were amazed by my totally normal blood pressure. Miss Grace always called ahead before she came to be sure we’d have private time to talk, and I treasured having her all to myself.

     The one person who didn’t show himself was Aaron, and I was both relieved and ashamed of not wanting to see him. Bix had written a scathing letter couched in legalese. I hoped it had shaken up both Aaron and the young orthopedist in San Angelo.

     Bix called every night. Like two teenagers, we’d developed a code. He’d let the phone ring three times. If I didn’t pick it up, he knew Button was home and called back later. It would have been amusing if it hadn’t been so sad. We were sneaking around like guiltybadolescents, but I didn’t feel guilty. Not much anyway.

     At the end of three weeks, Jake drove Button to her job at the camp for special needs children. “Will you be here when I get back?” she asked me through the open window of Jake’s truck. “I’ll be here when you get back, Button,” I said, blowing her a last kiss. I reasoned that she hadn’t asked where I’d be until then.

     The next morning, Tank put me on the plane back to Houston.

     Once he turned loose of me, Bix said he’d taken the day off and treated me to lunch at my favorite Mexican restaurant. Over dessert, I said, “You look like the cat who stole the cream.”

     “I didn’t steal it...yet.”

     “Oh, Bix, what have you done?"

     “One day a client, who happens to be one of the top real estate agents in Houston, came by. The first thing she said was that I looked totally miserable—which I was, without you. I just dumped on her. She asked about you—what you like and so on, and then she said she wanted to show me a house. I didn’t have another appointment, so we just took off.”

     “A house?”

     He seemed to be searching my face for something.

     “Are you going to tell me about it?”

     “She gave me a key, which she’s not supposed to do, but when I told her you were coming back today, she contacted the owners for permission. It’s an older house in West University that’s been empty for several years. The four adult children who were raised in it haven’t been able to let go until nw. It needs work. Nothing structural, just paint flooring, new appliances, and things like that.”

     He reached across the table for my hand. “It just...just sort of called my name when I walked in. I don’t know how to explain it.”

     “If you take me to see it, you won’t have to.”

     After a leisurely tour, I sat in my wheelchair in the middle of the empty family room and felt the house call my name, too. The formal rooms in front had bay windows, I could see my grand piano sitting in front of one and Bix’s desk in front of the one in the room across the foyer. Four bedrooms, each with its own bath, would accommodate Button and the company I envisioned—Miss Grace and Dutch, Peggy and Vic, Valerie, the Friedmans,Pauline and Buck, Anna Lee, and perhaps even Tank and Francie

     Beyond the bedrooms at the end of a closet-lined hall, lay a room that might have been anything, but with the overhead skylights, it would be my art studio. No more lugging things from closet to kitchen or just foregoing the joy of painting altogether. At the other end of the house, a master suite which included a cozy sitting room with glass French doors opening onto a private patio, a spacious bedroom, and a large double bath with a walk-in shower, would be Bix’s and my space.

     The family room boasted a huge rock fireplace and flowed into a kitchen with a two-level breakfast bar. What had been a servants’ quarters, Bix said, could be a workout room for him, a place for me to get regular massages which were already helping ease the stiffness in my permanently curved back, and perhaps even a hot tub. The three-car garage had a four-room apartment over it. And in the backyard, a full-sized swimming pool surrounded by a flagstone patio promised more than I could fathom.

     Bix, leaning on the rock fireplace, finally asked what I thought. “Shhhh,” I said. “I’m listening to this house call my name, too.”

He crossed the room and wrapped me in his arms.

Chapter 52

     The days that followed were an endless parade of doctors and other medical personnel, including the physical therapist who said my rehab would begin soon. I’d questioned the idea of rehab until an orthopedist came in and told me he’d consigned my brace to the junk pile.

     “You’ve what?”

     “Not literally, Mrs. Matthews, but you shouldn’t be wearing that brace. It should’ve been gone years ago. It’s responsible for your back and a lot more.”

     “But I can’t…”

     “That’s what the rehab is for. You’re going to need a cane for balance and safety, but the brace is gone. It was never adjusted regularly as you grew up, was it?”

     “No, but I’ve had it looked at several times in the last few years.”

     “Unfortunately, that was way past too late. It needs to be gone. Permanently.”

     The next time he made a quick appearance, I handed him a piece of notepaper on which I’d sketched the hated brace. “You can burn this in an ashtray somewhere. The brace itself would probably stink up the entire hospital.”

     “This is very good. Are you sure you want me to burn it?”

     “Do a ceremonial burning—chants and incantations optional. And chunk the brace itself.”

     He put the sketch in the pocket of his lab coat. “Something tells me you’re going to liven up the rehab wing.”

     The surgeon who’d picked pieces of who knows what out of my spine spent a long time explaining that the tumor should have been diagnosed years before. “It’s probably been there since you were a child. But any competent orthopedist could have located it with the tests we have these days. Your symptoms should have alerted him.”

     “Apparently, I didn’t have a competent orthopedist,” I said.

     “Having it this long nearly killed you. But I’ve done three other similar surgeries, and once that kind of tumor is gone and the remains removed, it’s a one in a million chance that it will come back. I want to keep you awhile for a lot of reasons, but I did a good job on you, no braggadocio intended, and you’re going to be a lot better off than you ever were before.”

     The cardiologist brought both good and bad news. “I’ve been over your records, and your sister-in-law sent me your brother’s medical records at your friend Peggy’s request. Today, I think he could have had more time.”

     “He didn’t.” The bitterness in my voice sent the doctor’s eyebrows up.

     “I’m sorry. You arrested twice during the surgery, and they almost didn’t get you back the second time. I wanted to double check that you didn’t have your brother’s condition, and you don’t have a single sign or symptom of it. Neither does his son, I understand.”

     “No, thank God. Edward was actually my half-brother. We didn’t share the same father.”

     “I see. Did his father die of heart disease?”

     “My mother bashed his skull in with a marble bust before she blew her brains out.”

     His mouth fell open.

     “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was a dysfunctional family, to say the least, but Edward was the kindest, most gentle man. He was always there for me.”

     “I’m sure you miss him.”

     I took a deep breath. “He should’ve lived to see his son...to raise him to be a man like himself.”

     “As I said, he might have benefited from the new information we have these days. I’m sorry he didn’t. I can’t find any reason why you nearly died twice during the surgery, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a cardiac checkup every six months for a while. And I’d like to do a few more tests while you’re here. Your records indicate you’ve had very high blood pressure for no known reason. My personal opinion is that the tumor had something to do with it, so I’m going to wean you off your meds and see what happens.” I

     “All right.”

     “I understand you and Mr. Matthews—I’ve met him by the way—are divorced, so I can’t share any medical information. None of the doctors can. “

     “I tell him everything any of you tell me. He’s...we’re...we’re working on things.”

     “That’s good to hear. You both seem like nice people. I’ll check on you regularly while you’re here, and if you want me to send any information to your personal physician, I’ll be glad to do that, too.”

     “I’ll talk to Bix about it.”

     Bix was livid about the tumor being missed for so many years, as well as my lifetime struggle with the unnecessary brace.

     “I’ve given permission for my medical records to be sent to Aaron. Let him stew over it.”

     “I ought to…”

     “I don’t want to sue him or that orthopedist in San Angelo.”

     “I don’t do things like that, but I may write him a letter that leaves him wondering if I’m going to.” Bix made a second turn at the foot of my bed.

     “Stop pacing, Bix.”

     He dropped into a chair. “It goes without saying that I won’t do anything without your permission.”

     “Write the letter. It might do them both some good.” I held out my hand. “You forgot to kiss me when you came in.”

     Peggy went home at the end of the week after one last, long visit. “Vic says he misses me, and the county nurse filling in for me at the school has other responsibilities.”

     “I’m surprised Vic let you stay so long.”

     She hopped up on the foot of my bed. “We were all so worried about you, Peaches.”

     “Your being here made the difference for both Bix and me, little krolik. Thank you for everything.”

     “I know you’re hearing regularly from everyone at the ranch.”

     “Everyone but Francie.” I held her eyes with mine, daring her to make excuses for Francie.

     “She loves you, Peaches.”

     “But she hates Bix, and so long as he’s around, she’s going to punish me.”

     “She’s not punishing you.”

     “Of course, she is. She’s never forgiven me for the mess I made of my life. She thinks I’m going to do it again.”

     “We all make mistakes. Vic and I messed up pretty good, you know.”

     “Francie knows Bix’s father didn’t take that money the chemical company put in the bank for her mother and her. Sometimes I wonder if she’s just angry that Bix is still alive while her mother isn’t.”

     Peggy fidgeted with the think blanket over my legs. “You need a warmer blanket.”

     “Don’t change the subject.”

     She sighed. “Francie is one of the best people I’ve ever known—and that you’ve ever known. She’s like her mother in that respect. She’d give anything or do anything...but she hasn’t been able to let go of hurts the way you and Vic and I have.”

     “I still hate Daniel Kroll and my mother.”

     “No, you don’t. Not really. They don’t affect your life now. You’re not destroying yourself to destroy them.”

     “I guess not.”

     She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I overheard one of the doctors, I think it was the cardiologist, tell the head nurse that you’d probably be here for another three or four weeks.”

     “Rehab to get me walking without that damned brace.”

     “Lye soap,” Peggy said and giggled.

     “The damage it did is already done, but it would be nice not to have to lug it around.”

     “Just be nice and cooperate, even if it kills you.” She scooted up on the bed and hugged me. “Or I might come back and turn into the Tiny Terror.”

     I laughed. She’d earned that moniker by donning a uniform and helping out a seriously understaffed VA hospital when Vic first came home from the war. Vic liked to tell the story about how even the biggest patients cowered when they saw her coming. “She didn’t take any nonsense from anybody.” And I knew that better than most.

     With Peggy gone, Bix announced he’d be sleeping in my room every night, and I left no doubt in his mind that he would be sleeping in his own bed in his condo. “You can call during the day—once--and come up when you finish work, but I’ll be busy with rehab and tests and who knows what. You’ll just be in the way.”

     He looked like I’d slapped him, but then he took a deep breath. “You’re right. As usual.”

     “Yes, I am.”

     He began to unpack the Chinese food I’d requested. The hospital food wasn’t terrible, but now that I could eat again, I was starving for real food. “I’ve come up with an idea for Button to call as often as she wants to and to talk as long as she wants to. You said they were moving you down to the rehab floor on Monday, so I checked to see if I could have a private phone line put in your room for a few weeks. It took a while to get an answer, but whoever calls the shots down there finally told me I could. So, you’ll have a private number, and Button can reverse the charges like she did when she called you in Danford.”

     “That’s brilliant!”

     He pretended to pat himself on the back. “Of course.”

     Once in my new room, I found the promised phone and immediately called the dorm and left all the information for Button. When Bix came that evening, Pam was with him Both were laden down with packages. “I’ve spent all afternoon washing everything,” Pam said as she and Bix traded hospital white for silk pillowcases in a blue floral pattern and a matching comforter over a fleece blanket.

“I also shopped for gowns and robes and some gym clothes for your PT sessions since you got here practically naked.”

     Bix winced.

     “Peggy said she’d go to your house and pack up some things for you, too.”

     “I need makeup. I don’t even want to look in the mirror these days.”

     Pam smiled smugly. “Not to worry. I called Miss Grace, who sent your friend Sue to the house to nose around in your dressing table. She called me back with a list, I shopped.” She whipped out a makeup kit. “If there’s anything missing, I’ll get it tomorrow.”

     She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Make yourself beautiful for Bix,” she whispered.

     Button didn’t ask how I came by the private phone line, but she used it nightly. The makeup kit—and an appointment with the hospital beauty shop—did wonders for my morale. At night, after Bix left, I snuggled under the new bed covers and considered he had me wrapped in his arms.

     The cardiologist’s tests turned up nothing. The surgeon congratulated himself—and me-- for unusually quick healing. “And if nothing changes, the blood pressure meds are gone when you’re discharged. Too much of a good thing can be bad.” The orthopedist visited several of my therapy sessions and enjoyed saying, “I told you so,” as I progressed to walking steady and alone with the use of a three-pronged cane. Freedom from the cumbersome brace was a double blessing.

     Dr. Comer dropped in unannounced a few times a week, and then he started coming in the evening when Bix was there. “Marriage counselor, father confessor, friend,” he described himself as he walked with us through the looming decisions in our lives. Somehow they didn’t seem as formidable after our conversations.

     Miss Grace and Peggy phoned regularly as did Sue Friedman. “I’m the town gossip when it comes to you,” Sue told me. “Everyone wants to know how you are.”

     Steve, my principal, called to tell me that students and faculty alike missed me. “Don’t worry about the library. You trained your aides so well that the substitute librarian, even though she doesn’t have a degree in library science, has kept things running smoothly.  We’re all looking forward to you being back in September.” I didn’t tell him that was still up in the air, but I had the feeling he knew.

     At the end of four weeks, not counting the additional two I’d spent in ICU, all of the doctors signed off on my discharge. I wasn’t sorry they all wanted to follow up in six weeks, because that necessitated my staying in Houston with Bix.

     His condo left me breathless and not in a good way. Stark white leather furniture and area rugs, modern paintings, and just enough bric-a-brac to look fashionable sucked me down a long tunnel of blinding light. “I know,” he said, reading my mind. “I had a decorator, and I thought I liked it, but…”

     Peggy had overseen packing my clothes and other personal items in Danford, and Tank made sure they shipped before I was discharged. Bix told me he’d cleared out one of his chest-of-drawers and a closet.

     The bedroom wasn’t quite as colorless, for which I was thankful. He told me he had two bedrooms and offered to sleep in the other one if I’d be more comfortable. When I got through telling him what I thought of that idea, he was laughing. It was good to fall asleep in his arms that night. 

     We spent the weekend unpacking and putting away my things. When he stumbled on a cache of paperbacks, he commented, “These look like they should be banned.”

     “They probably should be,” I said. “I go through at least one a week, so you’ll have to buy me more.”

     “I’m not taking anything like this to the checkout,” he said, tossing them aside.

     “You’re an old poop.”

When I called Button and gave her the newest phone number, she said, “You’re with him, aren’t you?”

“I have to stay for six more weeks until I follow up with all the doctors, Button. I told you that.”

“I thought you might stay with Aunt Pam and Uncle Phil.”

“No, Button, I’m staying here with your father because that’s where I want to be.”

Our conversation went south from there, but before hanging up, when I told her I loved her, she said she loved me, too, and I had to be satisfied with that.

After I was settled in, Bix suggested I make a grocery list. “We can order in, and there’s a deli downstairs that delivers, but you’ll want some things on hand.”

“Monday,” I said, “after I finish snooping in your pantry. You do have one of those, don’t you? You have everything else.”

He rolled his eyes at me.

“Pam and I will probably get out while you’re at the office.”

“I have an office here, so I can work from home.”

I’d known what he had in mind and was prepared. “Bix, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?”

“Only when I shave.”

“You’ve probably lost as much weight as I have, and you’re haggard.”

“Haggard?”

“You look exhausted. Your color is poor.”

“I’m all right.”

“You’re not all right. I am, but you’re not.”

“I almost lost you, Mari.”

“You didn’t, and I don’t want to watch you drop dead from a stress-induced heart attack. If we’re going to get our lives back together, we have to do it individually first. That means going to the office for you—regularly starting on Monday morning…”

“I’ve been going…”

“And rushing up to the hospital at night. Now all you have to do is come home at night and relax.”

He shook his head.

“And Monday morning, I want you to…” I paused. “I’d like for you to make an appointment with your doctor for a complete physical. If almost losing me has done this to you, what do you think losing you would do to me?”

     On Monday morning, he left somewhat grudgingly after bringing me coffee, toast, and my few remaining meds required. “Don’t get used to this,” he said. “Breakfast in bed, I mean.”

     “Oh, I will, I will.”

     He kissed me. “Be careful. Use that cane in the house, and I rented a small wheelchair for you to use when you go out with Pam. It’s in the hall closet.”

     I hadn’t thought of needing a wheelchair, but walking long distances was still out of my comfort zone. “You think of everything. Thank you, Bix.”

     “I’m going under duress.”

     “You’ll survive the day.”

     “I hope you will, too.”

     I was tired but not exhausted after Pam and I shopped at a grocery store that certainly didn’t resemble the Piggly Wiggly in Danford. After we put away the groceries, she flopped down on one of the white leather sofas across from me and took a long swig of one of the soft drinks I’d stocked up on. “I’d go mad with this white furniture,” she muttered.

     “It’s comfortable.”

     “It’s that, but…” She regarded me thoughtfully. “So what are you and Bix going to do?”

     “I don’t know,” I admitted, “but we’re going to be parents together and put our child first.”

     “I can’t argue with that, but the two of you deserve to be together.”

     “We have time to make some decisions.”

     “Make the right ones, Marian. He and Phil won’t ever be the same, but…”

     “What do you mean?”

     “He hasn’t told you?”

     “He hasn’t said a word.” A mild feeling of dread stirred inside me.

     “Phil was so angry at Bix over the terms of the divorce that it began to affect their working relationship. Finally, Mr. Fordham called them both in and said that he hadn’t spent a lifetime building up one of the top law firms in Houston to have petty personal differences tear it apart. He said they’d either figure it out, or one of them would leave.”

     “Not Phil surely! Not his own son!”

     “He meant whichever one couldn’t put his personal feelings aside and work as a team.”

     “Oh, Pam, I didn’t know all that!”

     “You didn’t need to, at least at the time. Suffice it to say, they worked things out. They’re both top notch attorneys, and Fordham, Fordham, and Matthews is a name that has defendants shaking in their boots if there’s a lawsuit. Our son John is still clerking part-time and learning the ropes in court, but he’ll be the fourth partner eventually.”

     I felt deflated. “I caused more trouble than I ever imagined.”

     “You didn’t do anything, Marian, except to yourself. I’ve never seen such a change in a person as I’ve seen with Bix Matthews, and I care about both of you. We’ll always be friends even if Bix and Phil don’t meld except in the office.”

     We ordered up lunch from the deli, and I took a nap after she left. But what should have been peaceful dreams were instead a confused kaleidoscope of Bix’s and Phil’s angry faces and voices while I cowered in a corner, and Button smiled with satisfaction.

Chapter 51

      A nurse came in and told me she was giving me a sedative. It knocked me out immediately. Sometime later, I became vaguely aware of someone feeding me more warm broth, but I didn’t care who it was. I didn’t care about anything, even living. I’d lost the daughter I loved with all my heart, just like I’d lost Tom, Mary Nelle, my tiny baby boy, and Edward. I hadn’t lost Bix before because we’d never had each other. But now we did, and and I was going to lose him, too.

     I just want to die. Why didn’t I die years ago? Why did I let myself believe I could be happy? Blackness closed in around me once again, and I hoped it was death.

     When I opened my eyes again, Dr. Comer was sitting beside the bed. “Hey,” he said. “Long time no see.”

     “Why are you here?” I realized my throat didn’t hurt anymore.

     “Bix thought you might need to talk.”

     “I need to die.”

     “Why?”

     “I’ve lost everything, and this time it’s not coming back.”

     “Why?”

     “Is that all you can say?”

     He chuckled. “Marian Matthews, you were one of my success stories a dozen years again, and you still are. You don’t want to die. You never did. You just want to hide from life.”

     The words that came out of my mouth shocked even me, but he laughed. “That’s more like it.” He pulled the chair closer to my bed.   “I know what happened with your daughter. What she said to both of you. While she needs to be put across someone’s knee and whacked a few times, it’s perfectly normal reaction to this new scenario. I mean, how do you expect her to react after all these years?”

     “Like she did, I suppose.”

     “You suppose right. Oh, she’s mad as hornet, but about now I bet there’s some guilt kicking in. She wasn’t raised to strike like a coiled snake, was she?”

     “No.”

     “As for Bix Matthews.I’ve had some really good sessions with him. Apparently, he was an arrogant you-know-what, but when he had his come-to-Jesus moment, he came.”

     “You’re Jewish,” I spat. “Why are you talking about Jesus?”

      He laughed again. “I’ve read the New Testament as well as the Old. I like what he says.”

     “Maybe you fixed me years ago, but maybe you shouldn’t have. I blew it again.”

     “How did you blow it?”

     “I always do.”

     “Oh, spare me the pity party. Listen, I have it on good authority that the team of doctors who worked on you didn’t give you a snowball’s chance in July of coming through this, but here you are. Everyone’s rallied around you, and Jim—Bix--would have driven off a bridge if you hadn’t made it. Oh, yes, I know what he almost did in the middle of the old football field. He told me. I know what you’ve done, because you told me years ago. Second chances don’t always come along, but you’ve got a third one or maybe a fourth. That man loves you completely, and I have a feeling you love him. You’ve got another lifetime ahead.”

     “Without my daughter?”

     “I don’t see her staying gone forever.” He got up. “I sent Bix downstairs to eat and walk around. He’ll be back to say goodnight before your tenacious little nurse friend Peggy kicks him out for the night. You sleep on all this, and when you wake up in the morning, you tell G_D thank you that you did. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon to hassle you again.”

     Bix came back shortly after Dr. Comer left. “Was he your idea?”

     “Yes.” He sat down and took my hand. I considered jerking it away, but he’d been hurt enough. “I almost lost you from the surgery,    Mari, and now I feel like I’m losing you again.”

     “You’re free to get lost.”

     “I’d rather not.”

     “You’ve got your life back. Go live it.”

     “I don’t have a life without you.”

     We stared at each other for a long time before I said, “I wish you could hold me.”

     He smiled. “I wish I could, too.”

      The next day, Bix had helped me with my lunch—such as it was—and gone to his office to meet with a new client when Button called. I could have borne her anger better than the sad resignation in her voice.

     “I love you,” she said immediately. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

     “It’s all right, Button. You’ve been through a great deal these last few weeks.”

     “Not like you.”

     “Yes, but I didn’t know I was going through it.”

     Her giggle brightened my spirits.

     “Are you going to be able to catch up with your classes?”

     “Oh, yes. The profs have been super nice about everything. I’m having to really work overtime, but I’ll catch up. I might not make the Dean’s List again this semester, but I’ll get my credits.”

     “I want you to go back next year. I’ll have Valerie and everyone at the ranch looking after me.” Not that I want looking after so much.

     “What...what about him?”

     “I don’t know what to tell you, Button, except that we’re going to think like parents and do the best thing for you.”

     “I want you to be happy, but...but I can’t accept him back in my life...not after all this time and everything…”

     “I understand. So does he.”

     “I’m sorry.”

     “I know.”

     “I’m going to call Aunt Peggy this afternoon.”

     “She’ll be glad to hear from you. What she said to you has really bothered her.”

     “I deserved it.”

     “Maybe you did, but Peggy doesn’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings, especially those of someone she loves.”

     “Mother, how long are you going to be in the hospital?”

     “I have no idea.”

     “I’ll call you every night...if that’s okay.”

     “How will you make the call? How did you make this one? You can’t reverse the charges from the pay phone in the dorm to here like you do when I’m at home.”

     “I’m calling from the dorm mother’s private phone.”

     “You need to pay her for the call.”

     “I told her I would. She’ll let me know when her bill comes. She’s been so nice and understanding.”

     “Well, don’t call again until we figure something out. I don’t know what that will be, but I’ll ask…” I almost said I’d ask Bix but caught myself in time. “I’ll ask someone here at the hospital.”

     “All right, Mother. I love you.”

     “I love you, too. Study hard and catch up.”

     Dr. Comer came in almost as soon I’d hung up. “Button called,” I said.

     “So are you two all right?”

     “Yes. She was honest though. She said she can’t accept her father back into her life.”

     He sat down. “At least you look and sound better.”

     “I feel better.”

     “Do you want to remarry Bix Matthews?”

     “Yes, but I want my daughter, too.”

     “You want it all.”

     “I suppose I do.”

     “Well, Marian, I’m inclined to believe you’re going to get everything you want.”

     “Do you have a magic fortune-telling ball?”

     “No, but I believe people who truly love each other can work things out.”

     “I hope so.”

     “No more pity party?”

     I shook my head.

     “Good. But I’ll be checking in on you every few days just in case.”

     “Are you...is Bix still…”

     “I’m checking on him, too.

     “He...he needs that as much as I do, maybe even more. I’ve never seen him beaten down the way he is now.”

     “He’s hidden from reality for a long time, and for a proud man, it’s not easy to admit you were wrong.”

      "I understand what he did for so long."

      “Because you were a frightened, lonely little girl.”

     “Yes.”

     He rose and patted my hand on his way to the door. “I’m right here for both of you as long as you need me. The two of you are strong people, and I don’t think you need my psychiatric mumbo-jumbo, just someone to listen and fight back.”

     I couldn’t help laughing. “Fight back?”

     “I don’t roll over and play dead the way some of the people around you do.” He winked and made his exit.

     Bix didn’t seem encouraged by Button’s call except to say he was glad things were all right between the two of us again.

     “We have to take what we can get and hope for more,” I said. “Now let’s talk about something else. Tell me about your meeting this afternoon.”

     “You know I can’t talk about a client.”

     “Then tell me something else. Anything. I feel completely cut off from the world.”

     He brushed my lips. “I love you.”

      "I suppose that’s allowed.”

Chapter 50

     I woke to the blurred vision of Bix’s haggard face with a two-day growth of beard, but when I tried to call his name, my throat felt on fire.

     “It’s all right, love. Don’t try to talk. You’ve been intubated for almost two weeks, but the doctor took the tube out this morning, and you’re being moved out of ICU to a regular room any minute now.”

     I frowned. Where the hell was I? And where had I been for the two weeks Bix was talking about?

     Two more nurses and an orderly came in then. Terror overwhelmed me as the bed began to roll, but I was too weak to even raise my hand to protest. Even Bix’s hand holding mine, and Peggy’s soft, encouraging voice at my head didn’t help as white walls flashed by. I caught a glimpse of two or three metal poles on either side of me.

     Finally, the movement stopped, and I watched the poles positioned, not missing how Peggy’s eyes darted around them. Bix smoothed my hair back from my forehead. “You’re all right, love,” he whispered. “Peggy’s been here all along, so you know she’s had her eye on everything.”

     “You’re in Houston, Peaches,” Peggy said as she finished her surveillance.

     I glanced from her to Bix.

     “I know you don’t remember anything,” she went on. “Button is here, too. Vic went to Denton for her himself. He’s back at the ranch, but Button is staying with the Fordhams. She’ll be here to see you later this afternoon. And if you’re wondering why Bix looks so bad, he didn’t leave this hospital except to shower and change clothes occasionally for the whole ten days you were in ICU.”

     I managed to mouth, “What happened?” and just forming the words exhausted me.

     I watched Peggy and Bix exchange glances. “You explain it to her,” Bix said.

     “Only if you go home and get some rest before I have to call a code on you.” I couldn’t see all of Peggy, but I could visualize her little feet planted defiantly, daring him to oppose her.

     He shook his head. “No, I can’t leave…”

     Peggy jerked her head toward the door. “She’s fine, but you’re not. Go. Don’t come back until tomorrow morning. The nurses have already promised me a cot in here, so I’ll be here all night. Go, Bix.”

     He looked down at me. “Mari, I…”

     “Go,” I mouthed and closed my eyes.

     When he’d gone, Peggy cranked up the bed slightly and held a straw for me to sip some water. It eased the burning in my throat only slightly. Then she pulled a chair close to the bed and began to talk. I didn’t understand all of it, only that some sort of tumor on my spine had virtually exploded in an instant. “Dr. Best was picking out the pieces for seven hours,” she said.

     “And you arrested twice, which is why you spent all that time on life support in ICU. You must have collapsed after Button left on Sunday. Bix told me he’d planned to come back to Danford on Tuesday, but he woke up Sunday night in a panic and got up and started packing. He got to Danford about sun-up on Monday morning and found you on the floor of your bedroom having one seizure after another. He called Aaron, who got you to the hospital and realized you needed more than our hospital could provide, so he arranged for you to be airlifted to Houston. I came in the plane with you, and Bix followed in his car. When Dr. Best figured out what was going on, Vic drove to Denton for Button and brought her here. And that’s it in a nutshell, except that you’re going to be just fine. It’ll take a while, but Dr. Best says that tumor had probably been growing since you were a child, You’re going to see a big difference in your health now that it’s gone.”

     She gave me more water, and I fell asleep mid-sip.

     When I woke again—I had no idea whether it was morning or evening—it was to the sound of Button’s angry voice at the foot of my bed. Bix stood the other side of the room, and Peggy had taken a position between the both of them.

     “You did this! You’re responsible for everything, so just get out. We don’t need you. We never did!”

     “Button,” I managed to croak.

     She turned. “Oh, Mother, you’re awake! Well, don’t you worry about a thing. I’m going to take care of you from now on. I’ve quit school, and next year, if you’re better, I’ll think about commuting to San Angelo.”

     “No,” I heard myself say. “Bix…”

     He started for the bed.

     “Get away from her!” Button screeched. “Don’t you dare touch her! This is all your fault.”

     “Button Matthews, you close your mouth!” Peggy said.

     “And you get out, too, if you’re going to take his side,” Button went on.

     Peggy flinched as if Button had struck her. “You listen to me, Button. Your mother would be dead if it hadn’t been for Bix. If he’d waited to come back until Tuesday as he planned, she’d have lain there seizing for who knows how long...the big seizures that can kill you...until she died right there.” She grabbed both of Button’s arms and propelled her toward the door. “Pam is out there in the hall and probably heard all of this. You ought to be ashamed. You leave this room and tell her I said to take you home until you’re ready to apologize to all of us—your mother, your father, and me, too. Don’t you dare come back until you’re ready to do that!”

     “Peggy, don’t,” I heard Bix say. “I’ll go. Button should be with her mother.”

     But Peggy, once on a mission, never quit, and Button disappeared through the door. I heard raised voices in the hall which fell silent abruptly. Bix, his face much like the once I’d seen in the middle of the old football field that night when he’d held a gun to his head, came to my bed and took my hand. “Mari...oh, Mari…”

     Tears rolled down Peggy’s cheeks as she came back. “I’ve never shamed Button or any of the children like that. But I wasn’t going to let her stand here and…” She scrubbed at her eyes and busied herself checking various tubings and monitors before she said, “I’m sorry, Peaches. You know I love Button to pieces. I was there when she was born.” She laid her face gently on my hair. “I wouldn’t hurt her for the world.”

     “Thirsty,” I said to stop the words tumbling out of her. We’d all marveled at how the scared little rabbit of high school days had turned into a tough nurse who got things done and a nurturing mother whose children rarely stepped out of line for fear of hurting her. But her tender feelings still bubbled up, and she was the krolik again.

     She held the straw to my lips. “I think they’re bringing you some broth a little later. That will go a long way getting you up and going again.” Her forced smile told me she’d be a long time forgetting what she’d said to Button even if Button needed to be silenced.

     “Pam is waiting for me in the car with Button. I’ll be back tonight, Bix. You look a lot better after being out of here for a few hours—even if you called up here half a dozen times to check on Mari.”

     He leaned over and kissed me again.

     “Just help her with the broth when it comes, and don’t forget to go down for something to eat yourself.” She leaned across the bed toward him. “I know what Button said hurt you, but she’s wrong. Mari does need you.” She kissed my cheek. “Be good, Peaches. I know that’s really hard for you, but do it anyway—for me.”

     I managed all the warm chicken broth that Bix spooned into me and actually felt slightly human. Button’s words echoed in my mind. She hadn’t actually told me to make a choice, but she’d almost dared me to do it. But how could I? As I’d said, she was my reason to live—but without Bix, I’d only be existing. For a brief moment, I was angry he’d come back into my life.

     The phone beside the bed rang then. Bix listened, then held it to my ear. “Button,” he said.

     “I’m sorry I said what I did,” Button said in a voice that told me she wasn’t sorry at all. “I’m going back to school, so I’ll be out of your way. Out of his way, too.” Then she hung up.

     One look at Bix told me he’d heard everything she said. He held me around all the tubes running into me as best he could while we both wept hopelessly.

     A nurse came in and told me she was giving me a sedative. It knocked me out immediately. Sometime later, I became vaguely aware of someone feeding me more warm broth, but I didn’t care who it was. I didn’t care about anything, even living. I’d lost the daughter I loved with all my heart, just like I’d lost Tom, Mary Nelle, my tiny baby boy, and Edward. I hadn’t lost Bix before because we’d never had each other. But now we did, and and I was going to lose him, too.

I just want to die. Why didn’t I die years ago? Why did I let myself believe I could be happy?

Blackness closed in around me once again, and I hoped it was death.

     When I opened my eyes again, Dr. Comer was sitting beside the bed. “Hey,” he said. “Long time no see.”

     “Why are you here?” I realized my throat didn’t hurt anymore.

     “Jim thought you might need to talk.”

     “I need to die.”

     “Why?”

     “I’ve lost everything, and this time it’s not coming back.”

     “Why?”

     “Is that all you can say?”

     He chuckled. “Marian Matthews, you were one of my success stories a dozen years again, and you still are. You don’t want to die. You never did. You just want to hide from life.”

     The words that came out of my mouth shocked even me, but he laughed. “That’s more like it.” He pulled the chair closer to my bed. “I know what happened with your daughter. What she said to both of you. While she needs to be put across someone’s knee and whacked a few times, it’s perfectly normal reaction to this new scenario. I mean, how do you expect her to react after all these years?”

     “Like she did, I suppose.”

     “You suppose right. Oh, she’s mad as hornet, but about now I bet there’s some guilt kicking in. She wasn’t raised to strike like a coiled snake, was she?”

     “No.”

“     As for Jim Matthews—or Bix, whichever you prefer—I’ve had some really good sessions with him. Apparently he was an arrogant you-know-what, but when he had his come-to-Jesus moment, he came.”

     “You’re Jewish,” I spat. “Why are you talking about Jesus?”

     He laughed again. “I’ve read the New Testament as well as the Old. I like what it says.”

     “Maybe you fixed me years ago, but maybe you shouldn’t have. I blew it again.”

     “How did you blow it?”

     “I always do.”

     “Oh, spare me the pity party. Listen, I have it on good authority that the team of doctors who worked on you didn’t give you a snowball’s chance in July of coming through this, but here you are. Everyone’s rallied around you, and Jim—Bix--would have driven off a bridge if you hadn’t made it. Oh, yes, I know what he almost did in the middle of the old football field. He told me. I know what you’ve done, because you told me years ago. Second chances don’t always come along, but you’ve got a third one or maybe a fourth. That man loves you completely, and I have a feeling you love him. You’ve got another lifetime ahead.”

     “Without my daughter?”

     “I don’t see her staying gone forever.” He got up. “I sent Bix downstairs to eat and walk around. He’ll be back to say goodnight before your tenacious little nurse friend Peggy kicks him out for the night. You sleep on all this, and when you wake up in the morning, you tell G_D thank you that you did. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon to hassle you again.”

     Bix came back shortly after Dr. Comer left. “Was he your idea?”

     “Yes.” He sat down and took my hand. I considered jerking it away, but he’d been hurt enough. “I almost lost you from the surgery, Mari, and now I’m losing you again. I was grasping at straws, I guess."

     “You’re free to get lost.”

     “I’d rather not.”

      “You’ve got your life back. Go live it.”

     “I don’t have a life without you.”

     We stared at each other for a long time before I said, “I wish you could hold me.”

     He smiled slightly. “I wish I could, too.”