Carry the Light (13 page)

When her mother finished taking a small serving of everything, she set down her fork and wrinkled her nose. “Supper doesn't look any more appetizing tonight than last night, I'm afraid.”

“It's nutritious and it's hot,” Ellie replied, thinking about how she might be up until midnight grading papers due to the hours spent on the errand to her mother's house for clothes, and then in the kitchen preparing the meal.

“This flounder has no flavor at all.” Her mother frowned as she chewed it. “Frying it in a bit of garlic butter might have helped.”

Ellie slid a saucer of fresh lemon wedges toward her mother. “Butter is off your diet, remember?”

“You remind me so often, I'm not likely to forget,” her mother snapped. “I suppose I'm not allowed to have any cream sauce for my peas or gravy for the rice. It looks dry.”

Ellie flinched. “I sprinkled some seasoning on the peas and some paprika on top of the flounder to add a little zip, but you might try squeezing a little lemon juice on them,” she suggested and helped herself to a serving of all the dishes. She tasted each and reached for some lemon. “You're right. This way of cooking is going to take some getting used to, but I'm only trying to help you follow your doctors' orders,” she added.

She tried to remain positive and not whine about following the diet herself. In all likelihood, if her mother had not been here she would not have bothered to cook for herself tonight and would simply have nibbled on cheese and crackers while she graded her papers.

“I wonder what those doctors are having for dinner tonight,” her mother grumbled, ignoring the lemon slices as she tried another bite of fish.

“I have no idea, but they don't have heart trouble, as far as I know,” Ellie countered, struggling to hold on to a little patience.

“Maybe not, but it seems to me that if I don't have all that much time left, like they seem to think, I'd rather not spend it eating food that may as well be cardboard for all the flavor it has. I know you might have to cook a bit differently for me, but you might think about stopping and asking me what I'd like to have for lunch or supper once in a while. I had also hoped you might at least have taken a few days off to spend at home with me, since it's very clear you're far too selfish to consider retiring. Instead, you just insist on planning everything around your schedule and what you want, including what I should or shouldn't do.”

Stung, Ellie put down her fork and blinked back tears. Being called selfish hurt. A lot. Between working all day, seeing to her mother's needs at home and meeting all her other obligations, the forty minutes she spent walking in the morning with Charlene was the only time Ellie made for herself anymore.

Granted, she did plan the meals without consulting her mother, and she did have to make time at night to do her work, but given that there were only twenty-four hours in a day, Ellie had to be extremely organized to make everything work.

“We've talked about this before. I'm just not ready to retire yet, but I'm trying to help you the best I can,” she managed. “I've taken off more time in the past month to help you when you were in the hospital than I took off in the past five years. I can't be away because I feel like it. My students need me in the classroom, and I have responsibilities to my colleagues,” she explained, relieved that she still hadn't told her mother about her hopes to become the next language-arts supervisor.

Her mother took the napkin from her lap, laid it on the table and rose from her seat. “That you're always so worried about work should tell you something.”

“It tells me I'm trying to be conscientious about my career. At the same time, I'm trying to be conscientious about my responsibilities to you,” Ellie said, defending herself.

“No, Ellie. You're putting your students and your friends at work ahead of me. Ahead of family. But I have to admit, I'm not surprised. You did the same thing to your husband and your children when you decided your career was more important than they were, when you didn't really have to work at all. Now that I've gotten sick, you won't stay home, either. But then, I'm only your mother,” she whispered sadly. She turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving her words to echo deep in Ellie's troubled heart.

B
right and early on Wednesday, Charlene handed the nickel she had found lying in the street to Ellie, who was waiting for her on the corner for their morning walk. “I'm sorry I'm a few minutes late. Here. Add this to your funny money.”

Ellie smiled and slipped the coin into her pocket, but her gaze was as cloudy as the sky overhead, which offered little hope of spring sunshine today. “Thanks. Would you mind if we just followed the walking path in the park today instead of taking our usual route along the avenue? I've got so much on my mind, I'm bound to miss a curb or something and trip.”

“Sure,” Charlene replied, and nodded toward her right. “I think I know the way, but just holler if I make a wrong turn.”

“Welles Park is smack in the middle of the town. Unless you walk around in circles, you can't help but find it.”

“I've gone round and round in circles without getting anywhere more often in the past few weeks than I care to admit,” Charlene chuckled. “I no sooner fill all the orders for Easter gift baskets before I've got twice as many new orders to fill. Ginger King is helping out nearly full-time, and I've hired a couple of high school girls to work after school, too. They wait on the customers while Ginger and I focus on making up the baskets, but I'm still way behind.”

She paused while they waited for a utility truck to rumble by. “I'm either going to have to stop taking orders, or risk disappointing my customers later when I have to call and explain I just don't have the time to fill their orders. Unless I can grow a couple of extra arms—”

“Like an octopus?” Ellie teased. “I know the feeling, remember?”

Charlene grinned as they followed a curve to where the street forked. “I've been searching for an octopus mold in supply catalogues. I haven't found one yet, but don't be surprised if you see a chocolate octopus in Sweet Stuff the next time you come in to replenish your stash.”

This time, Ellie's smile reached her eyes. “Would that be before or after you've filled all those gift-basket orders?”

“Funny, funny,” Charlene said. She spied a penny and snatched it up. “Here.” She handed over the coin. “A penny for your thoughts. You're the most organized woman I know. Have you got any brilliant ideas about how I can survive the Easter crush and not disappoint my customers? Keep in mind that it's too late to hire anyone who I would trust to work on the baskets and that I have to be careful not to work too many hours away from Aunt Dorothy, plus I really don't want to abandon my husband the entire weekend since that's the only time he's here.” She didn't mention how she was enjoying spending time working with Daniel to clear out Aunt Dorothy's backyard. Their reconnection was too new, fragile and private to discuss.

At Park Avenue, Charlene turned right.

“Correct street, wrong direction,” Ellie said as she walked left.

Charlene turned and hurried her pace to catch up. “I thought you said I couldn't help but find the park unless I walked in circles.”

“You'll find the park that way, too, but only after you reach the dead end at Lady's Creek Drive and realize you've made a wrong turn.”

“I've been doing a lot of that lately, too,” Charlene admitted, surprised that she was able to keep up with Ellie without panting now that they'd been walking together for a few weeks.

“You're not alone,” Ellie replied. “Making wrong turns has become a frequent occurrence in my life lately, too.”

Charlene glanced at Ellie and saw the same frustration that stared back at Charlene in the mirror every morning. “How's your mother doing?” she asked.

Ellie didn't answer right away, but her pace slacked off a bit. “Physically, she's about the same. The incision on her arm is healing well, but I'm having a hard time trying to balance how much I should do for her against what she should do for herself.”

She paused to tug up the hood on her jacket. “Like you said, I've always been pretty organized, but now, trying to care for my mother means I have to be more organized than ever. Just making it from one day to the next, meeting my obligations at work and seeing that all my mother's needs are met is overwhelming.”

She turned to look at Charlene. “Maybe I could ask you a question. Your aunt must have a special diet she has to follow, doesn't she?”

Charlene almost snorted. “She's diabetic and she has chronic heart failure. Her diet is pretty rigid, not that she follows it faithfully every day,” she admitted and shared the jelly donut story as they entered the park and started walking along the asphalt path around the perimeter.

Ellie furrowed her brow. “So you pretty much try to get her to follow her diet, but let her cheat whenever she wants to? Aren't you afraid she'll get sick again…or she'll…she'll…”

“That she'll die?” Charlene finished the sentence without hesitation.

She stopped walking and Ellie halted, too.

Charlene shoved her hands in her pockets to keep them warm while she and Ellie were standing still. “I've had to think about Aunt Dorothy dying for weeks now. Every time I see her sleeping late in the morning or taking a nap on the sofa, I have to check to make sure she's still breathing. I'm scared to death that I'll find her one day…gone.”

Ellie glanced down at the path. “I do that, too.”

“It's probably pretty normal,” Charlene said. “I used to do the same thing when I had my babies. It's just odd now, because of the reversal of roles with my aunt.”

“So true,” Ellie whispered before she started them walking again.

Charlene let out a sigh. “I know it's hard for me and you, but I can only imagine how difficult it must be for my aunt and your mother to know that they have a terminal illness and their time here on earth is about to end. But I'm trying to look at it this way—we're all born to die. We just don't know when that will be. How we live each day we're given here is what's important. It's not when we die that matters—not as much as how we approach our death.” She was grateful for the opportunity to give voice to her thoughts with someone who might truly understand them.

“My father and my husband both died very suddenly and unexpectedly,” Ellie said. “Watching my mother face an illness that could last for days or weeks or months before she dies is much different, and I'm struggling with what's right to do. And she seems confused. Most of the time, she's making plans or talking about what she'd like to do when she's back in her own home again. Other times, all she talks about is how she wants to spend her last days with me.”

“I'm struggling, too,” Charlene replied, “but Aunt Dorothy is teaching me that if we live each day like it's our last, then we can embrace our death. We don't have to be afraid because we know there's a glorious eternal life waiting for us.”

Ellie nodded. “So if that means your aunt wants a jelly donut today, you'll buy her one and watch her enjoy it without a single morsel of guilt?”

“No, I'm not saying that. I'd argue with her. To eat recklessly or to stop taking her medications is dangerous. I'm just saying that I have to remind myself that she isn't a child. As an adult, she should be able to control how she lives until the final moment. I know I'd feel pretty awful if I denied her request for a simple treat and found her gone the next day.”

“Which is how I'd feel if my mother passed away and I hadn't fixed her that special meal she wanted or let her have her say over what she did or didn't do,” Ellie said and looked up at the sky. “This is so, so hard for me.”

Charlene put her arm around Ellie as they walked. “I know. But you're not alone—”

The rest of her words were lost as she tripped over something lying on the path and pitched forward. She tried to pull her arm off Ellie's shoulder, but ended up yanking her friend off balance, too.

Somehow, Ellie managed to plant her feet and brace herself, keeping Charlene on her feet as well. “Hey! We were walking here in the park so I wouldn't trip.”

Charlene pressed her hand to her heart and felt it pounding. “It's a good thing you're steady on your feet, or I'd have pulled you down with me. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. How about you?”

“Just feeling pretty clumsy.” She looked behind her, saw a small branch lying on the path and shook her head. “As long as we're both okay. I guess we'd better finish our walk, or you're going to be late for work.”

Ellie shrugged. “I've got time to go on a little farther.” She pulled out the penny Charlene had given her earlier and grinned. “I also owe you my thoughts on how to help get you through the Easter rush. Otherwise, I have to give this back to you.”

Charlene grinned. “Shall we try walking just a little slower so I can walk, talk and listen at the same time?”

Ellie put the penny back into her pocket. “Sure. It's probably safer that way.”

Together, they started down the path again, but at a slower pace. “From what you told me, you and Ginger are the only ones who are working on the gift baskets,” Ellie prompted.

“That's right. I'm pretty fussy about how they're done. Ginger is good at it, but I'd rather keep the high school girls working the counter.”

“You did post a deadline for customers to place their orders, didn't you?” Ellie asked as the path curved toward the center of the park.

“Oops. No, I didn't think of that.”

Ellie laughed. “Post one today. Since you're already backed up, you might want to make the deadline for this Friday. That way you'll have the weekend and all of next week to get them done.”

“Actually, I plan to close the store next Wednesday. I know that most of the other candy stores in the area will be operating straight through the day before Easter, but I found in the past that working that close to Easter really distracted me from the holiness of the holiday. This year, I especially want to have those days at home with Aunt Dorothy.”

“All the more reason to make the deadline this Friday,” Ellie said. “I'll be able to come in on Saturday for a few hours early in the morning to help you before you open up at noon. I'm pretty good with making bows and stuff.”

Charlene shook her head. “Absolutely not. You have enough to do as it is. Aunt Dorothy offered to help me, too, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. She wouldn't be able to handle the cellophane or tie the bows.”

“What about your husband? Would he help?”

Charlene looked at Ellie and grimaced. “Daniel? You're kidding, right?”

“Not really,” Ellie replied with a laugh. “If you set up some kind of assembly line, maybe he and Aunt Dorothy could fill the baskets while we add the finishing touches. As a matter of fact, my mother has been telling me she'd like to get out of the house for a few hours this weekend. She could certainly sit and fill baskets with chocolates or stuffed animals just as easily as she sits at home knitting. Besides, it might do her good to visit with your aunt for a little while. They grew up here together, you know.”

“No, I didn't, but—”

Ellie hooked her arm with Charlene's. “But what? You're too proud to let people help you?”

“Maybe,” Charlene murmured.

“Then get over it,” Ellie ordered. “We're friends now, right?”

“Right,” Charlene replied with a smile that came straight from her heart.

“Friends and family help one another, so instead of arguing with me, let's talk about how we can make this work. Oh, but you should know that I happened to mention your incredible hot chocolate to my mother, and I have a feeling she'll want some herself.”

“So will Aunt Dorothy. I'm afraid it's a bit heavy in sugar and fat for their diets, but I could make something else for them.”

“Why don't we let them both choose?” Ellie replied.

Charlene chuckled. “Sure, although I think we both know what they'll pick. Is eight o'clock too early?”