The Secret to Hummingbird Cake (24 page)

I couldn't fix this. Ever. I had no control over this situation with Laine. I'd never had any control of it. She'd orchestrated
everything about her death right down to this minute. This was the first time in my life there was literally nothing left to do except sit by this bed and wait for her to die. It was hot in here, hot enough that I was sweating, although Ella Rae had a light sweater on. Every time I looked at Laine, it seemed like her color was worse, a strange grayish color that no human ever needed to be.

Why didn't God just take her if he wanted her? What was his deal? Is this how he got his kicks? I didn't want to look at her again, but every time I looked away, the room was tinier. I tried to breathe in deep, but the air never seemed to reach the bottom of my chest.

I didn't want to do this any more. I wanted to run out of this room and down the road and never look back. I wanted to go back to a time where my most difficult decision of the day was which jeans made my butt look better. I wanted my life to be fun again, and I wanted this awful, horrible nightmare to end. I didn't want to be around death and dying and tears and pain. Not another second.

The thought made me so ashamed of myself, I buried my face in my hands. How could I be wishing anything for myself while Laine was lying in bed with oxygen crammed up her nose, an IV shoved in her arm, and her skin a pasty grayish white? She was dying. Dying! And I felt anxious?

I hated myself at that moment and wanted to claw my own skin, again, like I had from Day One. She loved me, and I didn't deserve that. How could she possibly love me? How could anyone? I was selfish and hateful and mean. I didn't
deserve anything, not Jack, and not the baby. And my baby certainly didn't deserve me.

I stood up, suddenly unable to stay in this death chamber another second. I felt like someone was holding a pillow across my face and I had the urge to swing wildly until I connected with whatever held me captive. But there was nothing and no one to swing at. I had to get out of here. Now. I wanted to run, and so I did. I knew I was failing her with every step I took, but I couldn't help it. Besides, I failed everybody.

“Carrigan,” Ella Rae said, “what are you doing? Where are you going? You can't leave.”

“I . . . I'll be right back.” I groped the door handle that seemed stuck and unyielding. “I just have to . . . I'm gonna . . . I'll be back.”

“Carrigan, you can't go too far.”

“I
know
!” I snapped. “I said I'd be back.”

Her brows creased in question, but she didn't answer, tucked Laine's hand back into hers, and lay down on her recliner. Ella Rae was dependable. Unlike me.

I slipped quickly out of the bedroom door and past Debra, sitting in her ever-present chair doing cross-stitch or needlepoint or some such crap. Did she ever move? She was always here, with some kind of needle, one for Laine or one for fabric. Her eyes met mine briefly, but I didn't hang around long enough to talk. God, what a depressing life. Always living in somebody else's tragedy. How could she live like this? How could anybody?

I could feel her eyes on me as I picked up speed, but I didn't
care. Let her think whatever she wanted to think. I ran into the living room, where Tommy was asleep on the sofa. I could hear low voices from the kitchen and changed direction again. Dear God, was there not a place where I could be alone? I ran out the front door and right into Jack's chest.

“Carrigan, what is it?” He grabbed me by the shoulders. “Laine?”

“No.” I pulled away from him. “She's breathing . . . dying . . . then breathing. I can't stay here.” I backed away from him off the porch.

He took a step toward me.

“Don't!” I shouted. “Stay away from me.” I ran toward the barn, lightning all over the sky and rain stinging me everywhere it touched. I expected to see angels arriving with Laine's chariot any second.

Jack was close on my heels. “Carrigan! What are you doing?”

I ran in one direction and then the other, zigzagging, trying to bypass his touch, but he caught me when I flung the barn door open.

“Carrigan,” he said, “what's the matter?”

I backed away from him. “What's the matter?”

“I mean, what happened?”

I spun around so I didn't have to look at him. I was so ashamed of the things I had been thinking, of what I was still thinking. I was so ashamed of the things I had done. I was sure he could read them all over my face if he looked at me. Then he'd know for sure what kind of person I was.

“Tell me.”

I shook my head. “I can't.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I was just sitting there . . . waiting,” I stammered. “Just waiting, and I started thinking . . . I can't . . .” I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut.

He laid his hand on my shoulder. “Carrigan, this is me you're talking to.”

That sentence broke the dam. I began to cry. I sobbed the way I had in the rose garden the day Doctor Rougeau had told us Laine was going to die so you better get used to it because we sure can't stop it, thank you very much. I cried from the pit of my soul. Why? Why Laine? Dear God, why did it have to be Laine? When I caught my breath, I bawled, yelled, and roared everything I had kept trapped inside me the past year. The words tumbled out of me on top of each other, sometimes coherent, sometimes not. I was powerless to stop them.

“I'm so mad at her!” I marveled at how good it felt to scream. “Why didn't she just take the treatment? Maybe it would've made a difference. She didn't know. She just quit! Who just quits?” I kicked dirt and threw whatever I could get my hands on. “She didn't even
try.
It makes no sense. Her God gives out miracles every day. Surely he would've given her one . . . surely. But no. She just lay there.” I gestured to the house. “She just lay there and withered up, and now she's gonna die. I'm so mad at her! She didn't care about us. It was all about her and how she wanted to do this. Screw Carrigan and Ella Rae. They'll get over it. Well, I won't get over it. Ever!”

I kicked a water bucket and scared the horses. “Nobody just
quits. Nobody. I can't even . . .” I plopped down on a bale of hay, put my hands over my face, and then jerked them away again.

Jack moved toward me, but I put my hand out to stop him. “No,” I said. “No, there's more. Don't you touch me. There's more. Did you hear all the stuff I just said? About my best friend? The one who is dying while I am out here screaming about how mad I am? How selfish is that? Who does that, Jack?”

A new flood of self-loathing spilled over me. “I am an awful, horrible person. You don't know it, but I am. I really am. You can say it. I don't deserve her. I don't deserve you. And Elle? She
surely
doesn't deserve me. I'm not fit to be a mother. Any one of these cows is a better mother than I am. Would you want me to be your mother? Of course not. A mother is supposed to be stable. I feel crazy. Crazy! I am not a good person, Jack. You just don't know everything about me. I'm not a good person at all.”

I jumped up again to throw something, but this time he caught me in his arms and held me there. I twisted and turned to remove myself from his grip, but he wouldn't let me go, so I stopped fighting, slumped against him, and began to cry again.

Jack held me against him while I wailed into his chest. “Just get it out.”

I let myself go limp in his arms. I was exhausted, so tired of being strong. I couldn't hold up another second.

Finally there were no tears left to cry. “I'm sorry,” I said.

“Sorry for what?”

“For everything,” I said. I felt too guilty even to look up at him.

He pushed me away from him gently and curled his finger under my chin. “Carrigan, I'm gonna tell you something,” he said slowly, “and I want you to listen to me very carefully, okay?”

I shook my head and swiped at the tears.

He cradled my face in his hands and said, “I don't know another person who loves people any deeper than you do.” He paused and searched my face. “So I don't wanna hear what a bad person you are. You are the mother of my child, and I wouldn't want anybody else on earth to have that job. And I hope she turns out just like you. Full of grit and spirit and life.”

He sat on a bale of hay and pulled me down into his lap. “I wish Laine would've tried the treatment too,” he said. “But, Carri, it doesn't matter how I feel or how you feel. She's the one in the bed. You can't want something
for
somebody. You forget she doesn't have the will or the fight in her that you have. She can't pick up that pitchfork and take on the world. Not five years ago or ten years ago. You can't expect her to now.”

I didn't answer him, but I knew he was right. Laine wasn't physically strong, in any sense of the word. She was delicate and gentle and fragile. She always had been. We were as different as daylight and dark.

“Besides,” he said, “you aren't really mad at her about the chemo. You're mad at her for dying.”

I looked at him. His words punched me in the gut and nearly sucked the air out of me. It sounded like such an . . . insult. “That's not her fault.”

“Exactly.”

I let that sink in a moment. How could you be mad at
someone for dying? Laine couldn't help it. She hadn't chosen it. She'd done nothing to give herself cancer. The truth was the harsh and high dose of chemotherapy needed to treat her type of cancer would have made her a lot sicker, a lot faster. Laine wasn't physically strong. She never had been. It would have been awful for her. I didn't really blame her for not taking it. It was purely for selfish purposes I had insisted she should. I was horrified of losing her. Jack was right. I was mad at Laine because she was leaving me. Not for a little vacation or a week on the beach. She wasn't coming back. She was such a huge and important part of my life, and her absence would leave a hole impossible to fill. How would Ella Rae and I live without our other piece? The puzzle would be forever broken, and it was Ella Rae and I who'd have to stare at the pieces forever.

We were going to Ireland one day. We were going to Hawaii one day. We were supposed to build houses together and have babies together and have lives together. She was supposed to be here for those things, and now we had to do them all without her.

I was scared to death. But that wasn't her fault. She'd never leave us by choice. Never. She'd actually given us a gift by not drinking their poison. Until this week had come, most of our days had been really happy ones, filled with laughter and joy. Not marred by vomit festivals or a mouth full of ulcers or a myriad of other side effects. She had known what she was doing all along. Little by little, I felt the anger begin to fade, and I began to feel a tiny bud of gratitude for the insight she'd shown. I clung to that bud and to Jack.

Jack tugged on my thick braid of hair. “You're so tired, baby,” he said. “You haven't slept in days. You pick at your food. I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner.”

I relaxed against him. Just his presence calmed me, but his words tonight had begun to cure me. The heaviness I had carried inside me for so long felt different now, lighter. I'd become so accustomed to it, I barely noticed it any more. The anger had become as much a part of me as my arms and legs. Maybe it would never go away entirely, but tonight I even felt physically lighter. I felt my spirit filling up again like water pouring into a reservoir. I held him close to me. “You are such a good man and I love you.”

“You are a remarkable woman and I love you too,” he said.

I caught his hand and headed toward the door. I could help her do this now. I could help her finish it.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

Ella Rae was waiting when I got back to Laine's room. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” I said. “How is she?”

Ella Rae shook her head. “Not sleeping well.”

I got into my recliner and reached for Laine's hand.

“Move over,” Jack said.

“Jack,” I said, “you are going to be so uncomfortable. You don't have to—”

“I been uncomfortable before.”

I moved over in the chair and Jack eased his six-foot-plus frame down behind me. I was grateful he was here. I looked at Laine and my heart softened. I could see her through different eyes now. I wasn't mad at her any more. Of course she would never leave us if she had a choice. She went along with every stupid idea I had ever come up with. She fought for my marriage when I hadn't. She pushed and pulled and pleaded for Ella Rae and me to be better people. She had my back so
many times, I'd never remember them all, and now she was leaving me. She loved me and I was losing her, and it was that I had been mad about all along.

I still had no idea how it would feel when she was gone, but I felt surrounded by a very unfamiliar and welcome peace. I closed my eyes and let it wash over me. What a sweet relief it was to put an end to the constant turmoil that had boiled inside me the past year. I pulled Jack's arm closer around me and held Laine's hand a little tighter.

“Close your eyes and try to rest,” Jack whispered.

I squeezed his hand but didn't answer. I brushed a strand of hair away from Laine's face and smiled. She had been so happy the past few days while Mitch had been here. She was clearly and absolutely in love with him. I still couldn't believe we hadn't picked up on it. Guys asked her out all the time. Sometimes she would go. But after a couple of dates, she never went out with them again. Ella Rae and I said her standards were too high. She said we had none. But never once did I think her lack of dating had anything to do with a love affair that never really ended. A love affair so fierce and consuming that anything else paled in comparison. A perfect love, indeed.