So Alone Part 15

"I... I'm sorry about that."

With his free hand, he lifted an errant curl and tucked it behind her ear. Goose b.u.mps skittered to her toes. "I missed you, Carolyn. Didn't you know I would?"

"No. Yes. I... I don't know what I thought."

"That's what I was afraid of. So I came find you in this big city of yours, to make very sure you knew that I missed you, missed seeing you, talking to you, and hearing your lovely laugh."

"I... I missed you too," she whispered without thinking and knew immediately that she shouldn't have. It wasn't fair to him. "But..."

He placed his finger across her mouth to stem the flow of her words. His chest rose as he lungs filled with a deep breath. "Carolyn?" Peter suddenly took her hands and held them in his against his chest. "I don't want you to tell me you don't think my visit is a good idea."

Carrie looked surprised. He'd guessed her thoughts.

Peter laughed softly. "We'll just have to have faith that we'll work out whatever G.o.d has planned for us."

"I wish I had your faith about so many things. It makes your life seem so easy to live."

"You can have the 'easy' life as you put it. All you have to do is accept G.o.d's will for you."

Accept G.o.d's will? She couldn't even tell what G.o.d's will for her was, and she had too many problems already in her life for her to take on figuring out another one. "You make it sound so simple and my life has been anything but simple for the past five years. But I don't want to talk about the past, Peter."

He nodded slowly and looked at her hands. "I know. I'd just like to see you give G.o.d a chance." He squeezed her fingers once before he let them go and pulled the dish towel from the handle on the refrigerator door. "Come on. You wash and I'll dry."

Carrie felt relieved that he accepted her reluctance to talk about her past. She just wanted to enjoy the present. Nodding, she turned to the sink and ran water for was.h.i.+ng the dishes.

Peter walked over to the window while he waited for her to put clean dishes on the rack. "You have a nice view of the Red River. How do you like living here? Your neighbors friendly?"

"I like the apartment, and it's handy to work. I don't know my neighbors well though. I've lived here longer than most of them. They come and go so fast that I've never gotten to know some of them at all."

He studied her as if he were trying to understand. "That must be lonely."

Carrie nodded. "A little," she hedged. He was studying her face and it made her feel uncomfortable. "Come on, Peter. You volunteered. Let's see how well you dry dishes."

"Hey, what can I say? I'm an expert. I took 'Dish Was.h.i.+ng and Drying 101' in seminary. If there's one thing we do a lot of in church, it's was.h.i.+ng and drying dishes."

"You always manage to make me laugh, Peter. Thank you." She swiped the cloth over a soup bowl.

"A smile belongs on your face. It hurts me to think you're unhappy. I've said before I'm too emotionally involved to be the best one to help you, but talking out your problems with someone like Don Hoag might help you discover that G.o.d has a happy life planned for you."

"A happy life." She hadn't known what that was or could be until she'd met Peter and began to see what was missing in her life. Struggling to find the right words, Carrie pressed her lips together, but finally tried to explain. "I manage to be as happy as the next person, I think. I've got a job that could lead to doing what I want someday. That would make me happy. And I guess after I get my career established, I would like to get married and have children someday. And if I'm never that lucky, I'll still have my career." She rinsed the bowl and handed it to Peter. He started to say something, but she went right on. "I have to succeed on my own before I can share a life with someone else, so I guess that means I want to have it all," she concluded as she washed a gla.s.s.

Peter listened and looked down at the dish towel he'd been twisting in his hands. For the first time since she'd known him, he seemed at a loss for words.

"Don't look so worried, Peter. Some days I'm so confused I don't know what I want." She'd meant it to be halfway funny, but she looked up at him meekly, afraid of what she would see in his face.

"But you're not so dead-set in a career track that excludes getting married and having kids?"

"No, no, not when the right time comes, or the right person." When I find a city man who's like you, she added to herself.

She could hear the rush of Peter's breath when he exhaled. She absently rinsed the gla.s.s and held it out toward him. The water sloshed out on his s.h.i.+rt. "Oh, you're all wet."

"That's what I love about you, Carolyn Whitmore. You're not afraid to tell me I'm all wet."

Carrie was stunned mute. It almost sounded as if he'd said he loved her. He laughed and mopped his s.h.i.+rt with a paper towel.

"Well, come on, woman. Let's get these dishes done. I can only stay a few more hours before I have to drive off into the sunset." He laughed and dried a gla.s.s from the rack. He set it beside the other one on the table and returned to the sink.

Carrie's heart beating audibly, she rinsed the bread dish and handed it to him. Would she ever figure Peter out? She knew he'd expended a great deal of personal energy to help her and support her with Maddie being ill on top of the work with the kids play.

That was it! He'd come to Fargo to see that his pastoral work had not been in vain. And when he'd said he loved her? Carrie understood that he loved her just as he loved every member of his congregation. He certainly couldn't love her as a man loves just one special woman. She couldn't let him.

When the dishes were done, Carrie needed to escape the small confines of her apartment. She asked, "How would you like to walk down to the Red River? There's a path that runs along the edge for a couple blocks. It's always fun to watch a river that defies nature and flows north."

Peter agreed and they walked together, their shoulders sometimes brus.h.i.+ng together. He held her hand as she jumped over a downed tree and then let it go. She chided herself for wis.h.i.+ng he'd kept her hand in his.

Never had Carrie laughed as much as she did that afternoon. She and Peter talked about a thousand things. She loved having someone here she could talk to so easily. If only he lived in Fargo.

They walked along the jogging path and Peter related the wonderful plans he had for the Sunville Community Church. "I've found everything I ever wanted in Sunville except a wife--a helpmate. That would make my life complete."

"I can tell you truly care for the people in the congregation. They're very lucky to have you, Peter. But whoever married you would always have to be very strong and willing to share you with the congregation."

"You think that would be tough?"

"She would have to be very sure of her position in your life to be able to share you with others."

"It might take a while to convince her."

Carrie looked down at the path and kicked a stone to the side. When she pictured the devout loving woman who would marry Peter some day, she didn't look anything like herself, nor would his wife have a reputation or past like hers. And she would never create scenes in a parking lot. The thoughts left her sadder, but hopefully wiser.

Carrie and Peter returned to her apartment for a late supper before he left to return to Sunville.

"I haven't got anything fancy," she warned.

"Got any eggs?"

"Sure. How about scrambled with toasted fresh bread?"

"Sounds great," he agreed, using his favorite adjective.

"That's the way I like them, too, but I think it's because I kept breaking them when I tried to fry them easy-over. They're safer scrambled the way I fix them anyway. I can be sure they're thoroughly cooked and bacteria-free."

"I'll have to remember that. By the way, I love fresh bread toast," he said in an exaggerated manner, making her laugh.

"Coming up!" She washed her hands in the sink and stepped aside when he came over to do the same.

"You'll have to call me when you make bread again, and I'll invite myself for supper again."

The thought of his driving hours to taste her homemade bread... Shaking her head, she got out the carton of eggs and a bowl. Peter beat the eggs and then supervised cooking them while she made toast from the bread he'd sliced and set the table.

When supper was ready, she sat down opposite him and rested her arms on the table, this time waiting for him to offer his hands to hold hers during grace.

After dinner they did the dishes together again, but eventually they had stalled all they could. The

moment had come when Peter had to leave for Sunville. "Then we're agreed. If your boss won't let you off before then," Peter summarized, "you'll at least come to Sunville over the long July 4th weekend. That's just three weeks away." "Yes, that's one Monday I know I get off." "The church summer picnic has always been that weekend." "I don't imagine Maddie has gone in years." "The Sunday School Committee has been thinking about moving it to some weekend in late August, closer to when school starts." "The picnic would be a good chance to get to know any new kids who moved in over the summer. I'll have to see how Maddie is then. I can never predict from one day to the next." Peter said he understood and Carrie knew that he did. "Well, thanks," Peter said as he stood inside her front door with his jacket over his arm. "I'm glad I came." Carrie stared at him and knew she wouldn't be seeing much of him any more. "Me too," she managed. Holding his jacket so it didn't slip from his arm, he leaned down and softly kissed her. "See you on the fourth," he said with a smile, and then he turned and left to drive home. Carrie felt lonely again, but somehow not quite so alone.

Chapter Thirteen.

"I'm sorry to wake you with bad news, Carrie," Doctor Bolton said. "But your grandmother has had a ma.s.sive stroke. I think you should come home right away. I would love to be proved wrong, but I don't think Maddie has long."

When Doctor Bolton called Carrie the last week in June, he called so early in the morning that she knew from the first ring, it had to be bad news. "When did Grandma have the stroke?"

"Last night. Late. Joyce was getting ready for bed and thought she heard something downstairs through the intercom. She always checked on Maddie anyway before she went to bed, but the sounds sent her down right away."

Carolyn grabbed a tissue and tried to clear away the tears filling her eyes.

"She said Maddie's breathing was shallow and her covers were pushed back like maybe she'd tried to get up. When she couldn't rouse her, she called an ambulance. We stabilized her, but she's in a coma. Maddie hasn't responded to anything, or anyone."

"Thank you, doctor. It won't take long to throw a few things in a suitcase and then I'll drive directly to the hospital."

Carrie ended the call and hurried to get dressed. When she was packed and all set to leave, it was still well before business hours. She called her boss at home to let her know she wouldn't be in. Though Carrie had explained what happened, her boss was angry and didn't hesitate saying so.

"This just isn't going to work out. The company is so short-staffed with the budget cuts that there's no one else to put in your place when you take off. Maybe the best plan would be to get someone to replace you permanently. I have to have an a.s.sistant that I can count on, not one who's gone at the drop of a hat."

"My grandmother's ma.s.sive stroke is hardly the drop of a hat," she responded much more sharply than she should have.

The conversation deteriorated from there and when Carrie hung up she didn't think her job would be waiting for her when she got back. Good thing that after writing the check for her rent and buying food, she had saved most of what was left each month from her paychecks. That left her some savings to live on for a while until she found another job.

The anger and frustration that she felt about her job, however, helped spur her on. She was even able to keep the tears at bay. She couldn't be any help to Maddie or hope to drive safely if she couldn't see through her tears.

There's a time for everything, and now I have to drive, she told herself. Thinking about the possibility of seeing Peter again calmed her, and she welcomed the sensation even though it was accompanied with guilt for selfishly leaning on him.

In record time and after only one close call at a speeding ticket on the Interstate just outside of West Fargo, a relieved Carrie arrived at the hospital. She knew her way to the Intensive Care Unit. She'd traveled the same route through the corridors after her parents' accident. At the nurses' desk she asked about talking to the doctor. He wasn't there, but he'd left instructions that she could go in to see Maddie.

"The doctor said you could stay as long as you like," the nurse said with an understanding smile, walking with her to Maddie's room. Carrie knew that wasn't a good sign and probably meant the doctor still didn't expect Maddie to pull through. The nurse pulled up a chair right beside the bed so Carrie could sit close. She murmured her thanks as the nurse left the room.

Carrie sat down and laid Maddie's right hand over her palm and stroked it. "Grandma, it's Carrie. Carolyn. Doctor Bolton called me early this morning to tell me you were ill. I left as fast as I could to come see you. How are you feeling?"

Maddie didn't move or even blink an eye. The only sound was the machine beside the bed where the lighted wavy line pulsed with a quiet steady beep.

"Please, Grandma, wake up and talk to me."

Carrie searched her grandmother's face for some sign of a reaction to her voice or her presence beside the bed. There was none. She leaned back wearily against the back of the chair.

A bag of clear liquid hung near the head of the bed. The steady drip from it led into the tube that traveled down through another machine with two rows of blue-lighted numbers and on down to Maddie's arm. The white tape holding it in place pinched and pulled her thin skin. It looked painful.

Carrie looked back at Maddie's pale face. She showed no signs of feeling the pain or anything. "Don't leave me now, Grandma." She sniffled and wiped away her tears. Tears are not doing Maddie any good, she resolved, trying to get comfortable in the plastic-covered chair.

Carrie had read about talking to people in a coma and the good it seemed to do in some cases. If there was a chance it would help, she was willing to give it a try.

"I have so much to tell you," she told her grandmother, hopefully sounding more cheerful. "Peter came to see me at my apartment in Fargo. He shouldn't have taken the time from his busy schedule, but he did. He said he just wanted to see me. I never imagined he'd do that and he shouldn't have. But wasn't that sweet?"

The wavy line on the heart monitor moved erratically for the s.p.a.ce of a few arcs and then settled back to the same pattern. A few seconds of hope vanished.

"At work, I finished the last of the plays the company is publis.h.i.+ng. You know, the ones like the show the youth group produced at your church. The one Joyce took you to see. Joyce enjoyed it and she said you did, too. I'm glad to hear the kids did a good job. I wish I could have stayed for it, but I just couldn't. It isn't good for Peter if I'm around, but I'm glad I got a chance to help the youth group." She did her best to remain cheerful and went on to talk about the youth group, more about Peter's visit, and all about his wonderful plans for the church that he'd shared with her.

At that point the line on the heart monitor jumped a little erratically again, but when Carrie called the nurse, she said it could have been anything. "She's an old woman and her heart just flutters sometimes."

Carrie settled back in the chair and went on to describe to Maddie how the fields ripening under the hot sun had looked as she drove into town. She talked most of the time for hours, stopping for a few minutes at noon to talk to the doctor and to call Joyce at Maddie's house.

Late that afternoon, when the nurses changed s.h.i.+fts, the new one came to look in on Maddie. It was about Carrie, however, that she voiced her concerns. "Honey, they told me you've been sitting here most of the day without moving an inch. That's not good. Have your eaten anything at all today?"

Startled by the question because she'd forgotten about food, Carrie had to think about the last time she'd eaten. "No, nothing today."

The nurse shook her head and marched to Carrie's side. "That does it. Come on. Up you go. You go on down to the cafeteria and get yourself a cup of tea and a sandwich or something." She urged Carrie out of the chair and ushered her to the door. "The cafeteria's on the second floor. If there's any change in Mrs. Whitmore, I promise I'll send someone to find you right away."

Realizing she should take better care of herself, Carrie left. She would have to be strong to help care for Maddie when she came home from the hospital. She slid her purse strap over her shoulder and walked down the corridor. A bell chimed by the elevators as the car arrived and the doors clanged opened. Aides exited the cars with the carts carrying the patients' dinners. The strident rattle of the trays on the metal cart a.s.saulted the hushed atmosphere.

She was barely aware of other people around her as she waited. She almost missed hearing her name called. She looked down the hall after the baritone voice called, "Carolyn," a second time. She saw Peter striding toward her. She stepped into his inviting open arms and took warm comfort from his hug.

When they stepped apart, he took her hands in his. "Is it Maddie? She's here?" he asked frowning.

Carrie nodded wearily. "She had a stroke last night. She's been in a coma ever since. Dr. Bolton..." She inhaled deeply to control her tremulous voice. "The doctor doesn't think she's going to make it, Peter. I've been talking to her all day and there's not a flicker of response."

"Aw, honey, I'm so sorry." He slipped his arm around her shoulders and led her to the side of the corridor away from the other people. "I stopped over Sunday before I went home after church because she hadn't come to the service, but she seemed well. She was getting along fine with Joyce. In fact, Maddie was teaching her some new crocheting patterns."

Carrie smiled weakly. Peter was a rock. Here she stood, feeling miserable, and he could make her feel better, telling her good news. Maddie had been happy with Joyce. How caring Peter was.

"Are you on your way to dinner?" Peter asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"I'm going to get something at the cafeteria. I want to spend the evening with Maddie, too."

"What about Joyce? Won't she be fixing dinner for you?"