A Fine Mess (24 page)

Not that anyone minded. Over the course of the past few days Maddie had shown a remarkable improvement, both in her coloring and her energy levels. Not that those things, in themselves, were indicative that the cancer was going away. The longer she was off the chemo, the better she would feel.
At least to a point.
If the cancer wasn’t healed, she would start feeling worse again before too much time passed.

Still, it was hard not to hope that the prayers, the water and protein fast, and the regimen of herbs and vitamins were beginning to work. Then there was the fact that her doctors had convinced her to continue with the heat therapy baths twice a week at the clinic.

“So, anyone up for a cutthroat game of Scrabble after we clean the dinner mess up?” Ian asked after a lengthy period of silence. “Or should we not even bother trying to fight the effects of the tryptophan and kick back in the living room for naps first?”

“I thought it was a law that you had to take a nap after eating turkey anyway,” Paul said seriously.

“Only in our house, Dear,” Maddie told him, patting his arm.

“Well, I’m thinking of making it a law in ours, too. Sound like a winner, Annie?”

“Uh-huh. I’m easy to please. Just elbow me in the side if I start snoring.”

“I’ll be too busy dreaming about hot fudge cake and meatloaf.”

Except no one snored or dreamed about anything. Maddie had brought along the notebook she’d been using to plan the Valentine’s Day reception and they spent the afternoon finalizing the plans.

Actually, all the plans but one
were
finished. So they spent the afternoon arguing amicably over what foods they would serve. The list grew and grew until Annie had to put her foot down.

Just because they couldn’t eat any their favorite things until December sixth didn’t mean that
all
of it was going to be served at the reception.

And so they settled on meat and cheese trays for sandwiches, several salads, chips, veggie trays, gelatins and, of course, the cake.

The only wrench in the planning came when Ian insisted on having the event catered. The four of them were going to enjoy the evening, not work themselves into exhaustion preparing for it. Not to mention cleaning up afterwards.

“But that’s too expensive,” Annie protested. “It would be-”

“Your mother and I have been saving for your wedding for years,” Paul interrupted. “This isn’t going to be that bad.”

“It won’t, either,” Ian agreed.
“Because I’m taking care of it.
It was my idea to elope and do this at a later date, therefore it’s my responsibility.”

The argument that followed wasn’t quite as good-natured as the earlier one but, as often happened, Ian managed to do exactly as he’d intended to from the beginning.

Annie was his wife and
he
was going to be covering all expenses that concerned her from now on.

~~~~

To everyone’s frustration, Maddie flatly refused to go to the clinic for any testing until after Christmas. Even if the cancer was still there, it didn’t matter. The fast had worked a miracle in that she looked and felt better than she had in months. And she had no intention of spoiling another holiday in case the news hadn’t changed.

And so Annie threw herself into baking all manner of holiday cookies and candies, and spending hours helping Ian decorate their house, inside and out.

“My dad never got into this kind of thing too much,” he admitted as they draped greenery on the stairway banister one Saturday afternoon.

“You didn’t decorate much then?”

“We didn’t decorate at all after my mom died. So I always figured when I got married and had my own house, I’d decorate anything that didn’t move,” he told her. They both laughed, because he’d largely succeeded in that goal.

“It does look like a fairyland around here, doesn’t it?”

“Yup.”

“But this should about do it, though.
Right?”

“Don’t tell me you’re a scrooge, Annie McCann. I don’t think my poor heart could bear it.”

“Oh no.
I love Christmas decorations. But I always keep in mind that old saying. What goes up must come down.”

“I don’t know. We could leave it up year round,” he suggested, sounding half serious.

“
Which would be fine if we lived in Frankenmuth.
But we live in Lansing. The neighbors would start talking, maybe even report us to the local funny farm and before you know it, we’d be residing in padded rooms and eating institutional food.”

“Okay. You’ve convinced me. I’ll have to take a pass on institutional food. Let’s take it all down now!” he teased.

“How about New Years Day instead?”
He appeared to consider her suggestion,
then
nodded his head slowly.

“That would probably work. But for now, let’s finish this up so I can scrounge up a snack. You just had to mention food again, didn‘t you?”

“I didn’t mention cookies and candy. I was talking about food you hate.”

“
Which got me thinking about all the goodies in the kitchen.
Get a move on, woman!”

Ian was so much fun to be with, Annie thought for the millionth time. He’d turned what could have been a tedious job into one that sped by quickly because he kept her laughing.

The evening before, he’d convinced her that they really needed to build a snowman in the backyard, which they did, with only the illumination of the small yard light to chase away the darkness. Afterwards they had fudge and popcorn while they watched White Christmas.

This afternoon, after lunch, they were going to go shopping for gifts to donate to a women’s shelter the church helped support, and he was almost more excited over that than he was at being able to eat what he wanted again.

And there were no words to describe how happy Ian was to eat what he wanted again. About all he’d done for the four days since the fast had ended stuff his face. Like a bottomless pit! Annie had teased him that he wasn’t ever going to be able to make up for the three weeks of just meat and water, but it looked like he intended to try anyway.

“There. It’s finished.” They stood on the foyer floor admiring their handiwork. Fresh swags of pine with tiny white beads on clear thread and white lights woven through, all tied every few feet with wide, red velvet bows.

“Very festive,” Annie decided, smiling up at him. Her smile faded at the expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I think we need to talk,” he said softly.

“About what?”

“Let’s sit down first.”

“Uh-oh.
This sounds serious.”

“Come on.” He took her hand and almost dragged her into the living room, pulling her down on the sofa beside him.

He turned to face her but couldn’t quite bring himself to look her in the eye as he rubbed his palms back and forth on his blue jeans.

“Ian? What’s the matter?” she prodded gently, laying a hand on one of his, if for no other reason than to still the movement.

“I’ve been reading the Bible you know, and I keep reading stuff about-something. It’s really starting to worry me.”

“I’d actually need a little more information than that in order to help you figure it out.”

“It’s about marriage,” he said reluctantly.

“What about it?”

“Well, it’s actually more about divorce.”

Any amusement Annie had felt was gone in that instant. The longer they were married, the less she liked thinking about that word.

“Okay. What’s worrying you?”

“It sounds like God will be a little ticked off if we get divorced.
Especially with us both being saved and all.”

“I don’t know about Him being mad, but I know He wouldn’t be too happy about it.”

“Yeah, I know.” He glanced at her, then at the Christmas tree across the room.

“So what do you think you want to do about it?”

He
sighed
a shaky sigh and finally turned to look at her.

“I like you.
A lot.”

“I like you, too, Ian.”

“I- I think I kind of even might be falling in love with you.”

Annie felt tears burn her eyes and she tried to blink them back.
Unsuccessfully, because one rolled down her cheek.

“I think I might be having the same problem.”

“Whew. Good.” He laughed nervously. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

Now they both seemed to have a difficult time meeting the other’s eyes, though Annie was sure her blush was just as bright as his.

“So- I was thinking that maybe we could like, date from now until the reception. And if we really do figure out that love each other, then when we repeat our vows, we could really be, you know, married then.”

“What if we figure out that we don’t? Love each other, I mean.”

“Then we work at it until we do. God doesn’t want us to get divorced. And I don’t really want us to either. I like being married to you, Annie.”

“I do, too. Like being married to you, I mean.”

“Good.” He reached up and stroked her cheek. “So we’ll date?”

“Yes.”

~~~~

Over the next weeks Annie felt like she was floating on air. She knew that when Ian made up his mind to do something, he was totally committed to it. And he was totally committed to dating his wife.

He’d always been wonderful company and a consummate gentleman, but seriously stepped up his efforts now. He made her laugh, he made her feel cared for and protected.

And now he was showing her a romantic side of him that wasn‘t entirely a surprise. Flowers were delivered to the house several times a week.
Every week.
They went out regularly for romantic candlelit dinners, and enjoyed many of them at home. One snowy evening found them taking a sleigh ride, complete with the one horse, open sleigh and jingling bells.

And he really seemed to enjoy cuddling chastely on the sofa, while they watched romantic Cary Grant or Doris Day movies. Or even the weather channel sometimes.

To her dismay, even though he’d begun to kiss her, he limited it to a brief, gentle one at her bedroom door when they said goodnight each evening.

Those kisses were something else. They made her wish their marriage was real.
Now
.
So much so that she wanted to renegotiate their agreement to make their decision at the reception.

But Ian seemed pleased with the status quo and so she waited impatiently as January crawled by.

The only real cloud on her horizon was her mother, who kept putting off going in for blood work. She continued to feel better, and began insisting that Annie need not come over on a daily basis anymore.

“She still hasn’t gone in for testing,” Ian sighed one evening as they played Scrabble. “Your dad would like to wring her neck, I think.”