A Man's Heart (16 page)

It was close to noon before the doctor came in and Sophie made her request to cancel treatments. No more nasogastric suction. No more antibiotics. No more tubes or noisy machines hooked to her.

The doctor shook his head. “We can beat this, Sophie. I know that you're discouraged, and the complications are worrisome, but you can't give up.”

“Will I ever be any better than I am today?”

“We can give you a few weeks, maybe months …”

“Can you make me comfortable?”

“We're doing all we can; I can't up your dosage much more —”

“Then let me go. At best, the cancer will take me soon and my quality of life will be nonexistent. Send me home with hospice and let's get this over with. I want to spend my last days with my children.”

Cruz snagged Jules's arm and as they stepped into the hallway, where he turned her to face him. His distorted features pained her. “I don't believe you!”

“What!”

“You
refuse
Sophie her last request, to take care of the children?”

“If I agree she'll die tomorrow, Cruz. I know her. She's given up and it's too soon to give up.”

“Children.” Adan stepped out of the patient's room to intervene. “Knock it off. This is the last thing Sophie needs. For once, put aside your petty feelings and do what she wants.”

Whirling to face him, Cruz seethed. “You want
her
to raffle off which one of us gets our own flesh and blood?”

Adan nodded. “If that's what Sophie wants.”

Jules intervened. “You just berated me for not doing what Sophie wants!”

“Stay out of this, Jules.”

“I don't have to stay out of this! You just said—”

“Stop!” Adan ended the ruckus. “Promise Sophie the moon, if that's what she wants! We'll sort it out later.”

“She can give up all that she wants; it doesn't matter,” Cruz stated. “She's not leaving this earth until God says she does.” He stalked off, leaving Jules and Adan standing.

“You knew he'd be resentful about the situation,” Adan reminded as they watched him walk away.

Jules focused on Cruz's tall, achingly familiar form stride down the hospital corridor. “I never thought it would come to this.”

Settling his hat on his head, Adan nodded. “Sophie was right about one thing.”

“What?”

“He loves you, Jules, and it's eating the man's heart out.”

“And I love him, but he
refuses
to acknowledge that I'm still here. What am I supposed to do? Club him down and make him marry me?”

Adan settled his hat, jaw muscle flexing. “If that's what it takes. Have at it.”

T
he book club was the last thing on Jules's mind when she pulled into the farm yard later. One glance at her watch and she knew she didn't have time to cancel the event, but she was still reeling from Sophie's numbing announcement that morning.

God, help me accept her wishes—but please don't take her. I know that you can work miracles, and we're all in bad need of one right now.

God could do all things and be all things, yet she'd also come to believe that his ways were not always her ways, and she could only trust that he knew best though it was unimaginable to think of taking two small children's mother.

The aroma of baking brownies greeted her when she entered the kitchen. Olivia and Ethan ate their dinner, a nice grilled cheese instead of something they could stir or dump.

Crystal glanced up with a smile. “Hi. Want a grilled cheese?”

“Thanks, I'm not hungry.” Jules headed toward the bathroom medicine cabinet. A splitting headache was getting worse by the minute.

“How's Sophie?”

Jules sagged against the sink and relived the awful day. How was Sophie? She'd just sealed her death sentence. “I'll be in there in a minute.” She popped the top off the ibuprofen bottle and dropped two capsules into her mouth. When she returned to the kitchen, Crystal had poured her a cold glass of lemonade. “Sure I can't fix you anything?”

“Nothing. Thanks.” She sat down, her glance grazing Livvy and Ethan. Right now their innocent lives were untouched, but not for long. Would they even remember their mother, the impish grin that popped out at the most inopportune moments? The way her nose turned up funny-like when she laughed, or got all red and puffy when she cried.

Dropping her head to the table, Jules fought back the urge to wail and beat her chest. Sophie couldn't give up. Jules couldn't imagine her life without her best friend.

Crystal's voice drew her back. “What's wrong, Jules? Is Sophie worse?”

Biting her lower lip, Jules's eyes indicated the children, and Crystal changed the subject. “Want more milk, Livvy?”

The child turned her palms up and wiggled her fingers.

Jules reached for the lemonade in an attempt to loosen the tight knot in her throat. The tart liquid couldn't alter the painful emotion. “Has anyone called to cancel yet?”

“I haven't had a cancellation.” Crystal wet a washcloth and wiped the toddler's hands. “You have time for a hot shower.”

“Thanks.” Jules pushed back from the table. The questions in Crystal's eyes would have to wait. The book club was due to arrive in thirty minutes. Her gaze quickly assessed the kitchen. Everything was in place. “The house looks good, Crystal.”

“Thanks. I've worked hard on it.” She smiled. “Don't worry. Everything will go nicely.”

Could Crystal suddenly read her thoughts? Admittedly, she was worried about the evening. She was new to the club, and Crystal could be such a space cadet …

By seven-ten, the den was filled with chatting women. Crystal served coffee and brownies and visited with each member. Jules caught sketches of conversation, and there was nothing wrong with her sister's hosting skills, but it wasn't etiquette that worried Jules. Mom had been a stickler on etiquette; that much she could remember, so it was only genes for Crystal to acquire those skills. But the constant referral to Florida, sun and white sand grated on Jules's nerves. She inspected lingering dirt under her fingernails. They should all have sunny days and warm surf.

The leader called for quiet, and the women settled down, opening their fiction study book. For the first ten minutes general discussion revolved around the main character and the author's perception of God.

A brunette raised her hand. “I feel the author's perceptions overpowered the real principle of the book, that of love and forgiveness.”

“How so?”

“In
chapter 3
where the protagonist must choose between his belief and those of his wife's, I think too much of the author's personal opinions came through. I've written various things, and I try to keep my private observations on neutral ground, while this author shoves his convictions in my face.”

“I didn't see that,” a woman exclaimed. “I thought he explained very convincingly why he could not tolerate their situation.”

Jules listened, but her heart was in the hospital room where she longed to be. How long? Without the treatments, how long could Sophie last? A week? A month? Cruz was right; Sophie wasn't going anywhere until God said she was. Her thoughts focused on the verse in Ecclesiastes, when God says it's time, my time to go, your time, we all will keep that appointment. Did the verse contain “amen,” the sealer?
So let it be.
Jules turned in her Bible to locate the passage, but she glanced up when Crystal lifted her hand to speak.

She mentally groaned.

The moderator nodded. “Yes, Crystal?”

“Sometimes I feel that we can tolerate anything that God sends our way. Doesn't he promise that he will never send more than we can bear?”

The leader cleared her throat. “He does make that promise.”

Jules closed her eyes. They were discussing a fiction book, not Scripture. While she learned more than she dreamed in fiction, it was still fiction soundly based on Scripture. And they weren't talking about bearing burdens; they were talking about a man's inability to accept.

A woman lifted her hand. “I don't question God or his Word, but sometimes the burdens that are placed upon us are nearly more than we can bear.”

“But a loving God offers to carry the grief for us,” Jules offered, hoping to move on before Crystal could pursue the subject. But Crystal was like a pit bull with a juicy bone, and Sophie's dilemma too raw in her thoughts.

“I will never understand tragedy or why God permits it.”

Jules shifted in her chair, then cleared her throat. “If anyone understood God's ways, trust would become less important.”
The women would think that Crystal wasn't a believer when Jules knew that she was.

“Yes, that would make sense,” a blonde agreed.

Crystal shook her head. “Still, if I were doing it, I would erase all wars, human suffering and disease.”

“But God is doing it,” Jules softly reminded her. “Now shall we move on to the book?”

Close to ten o'clock, the meeting broke up. Jules said good night to the last one, and closed the door, her mind still on Sophie's bizarre request. Of course she was discouraged. Anyone would be under the circumstances, but the doctors couldn't allow her to give up. Crystal was in the kitchen stacking cups and glasses in the dishwasher.

Yawning, Jules tidied the den and then walked into the kitchen. “Need any help?”

“No, I'm through.” Her sister folded a dishtowel and hung it on the hook.

“I'm beat. I'm going to bed.” Jules reached for the last brownie and headed to her bedroom.

Crystal's voice stopped her. “You're ashamed of me, aren't you?”

Closing her eyes, Jules experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Why would you ask that?”

“I may not view life in the same way you do, but I'm not stupid, Jules.”

“I've never said that you were stupid.”

“Yes. You have. Every day your expressions and your eyes say it.”

Jules turned to face her, then sighed. “It's late, Crystal. Let's not pick an argument tonight.”

“I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“For embarrassing you at the meeting. I didn't intend to — I intended to guard my every word, but I forgot where I was and what we were discussing. If that makes me stupid, then I am, but I didn't mean to embarrass you.”

“Forget it. It was nothing. I don't know those women anyway.”

“That's not the point. The point is that I embarrassed you. And that seems to be a pattern lately.”

“You don't think before you speak, Crystal. We were talking about a fiction book. How do you go from fiction to being God?”

“I wasn't ‘being' God. I was only offering an observation. I spoke before I thought.”

“I've wished I could take back my words a million times,” Jules admitted. Her life would be different now if she could rein back all the times she'd refused Cruz's wishes. She'd be married to him; they'd be fighting old equipment, lack of sufficient rain and potato infestations together. But idle words couldn't be taken back. “I just wish …”

“That I was Sophie.”

“No …” Even Jules knew that was cold. “I wish that you would think before you speak.”

Crystal sighed. “Don't you think I wish the same thing?” She brushed past her and walked to the doorway. “I'm taking Lucille a cake in the morning. I'll give her your best wishes.”

“Crystal.”

She turned. “Yes?”

“Sophie asked to be taken off the treatments this morning.”

“She can't survive without them, can she?”

“No.”

Her sister's features softened. “I'm sorry, Jules. I know what Sophie means to you. And this makes my thoughts and observations that much more hurtful.”

Blinking back hot tears, Jules swallowed. “God's still in control. He'll have the final say about Sophie's life.”