Hand-Me-Down Love Read online

  Chapter Five

  In early April, Marla was at an estate sale when Meredith called her cell. Marla walked into a hallway of the massive house she was in to take the call.

  “I’m starting to feel numb on my left side,” Meredith said. “I’ve been ignoring it, but it’s getting too much to ignore now.”

  “How long has this been happening?” Marla asked. She was filled with dread. The past few weeks had been a fantasy with everyone thinking Marla had somehow beaten her cancer. The reality of the situation hit Marla hard.

  “I guess a couple of weeks. It’s gotten worse. I called the doctor and he wants me to come in tomorrow morning. Can you go with me?”

  “Of course,” Marla said. “What does Sean say?”

  “He doesn’t know. He’s been so happy lately, I hate to worry him.”

  Dr. Nelson confirmed Marla’s worst fear. He was a kind man, but he didn’t beat around the bush.

  “Your tumor may have grown and is pressing on nerves that control the left side of your body. We’re going to get a CT scan to see what’s going on. If it has grown, we can do chemo again to try to shrink it. The location of the tumor makes it difficult to treat in any other way.”

  The sisters left the doctor’s office in a state of shock. They didn’t talk for a while as Marla drove them back to Bay Point. When they were half-way home, Marla reached over and squeezed Meredith’s hand.

  “I don’t think I can do chemo again,” Meredith said. “I think I would rather just keep going like I am. At least I have some quality of life like this. Not with chemo.”

  Marla wanted to shout at Meredith, “Please do the chemo! I want you here on this earth no matter what.” She knew that was selfish. She had seen how chemo had sucked the life out of Meredith. But she wanted her big sister around forever and ever. Meredith and Sean’s Craftsman bungalow sat on the top of a hill in the historic district of Oak Point and had a killer view of the bay. The young couple had worked tirelessly on the house when they first took ownership. It had not been updated for decades. Meredith had spent hours of every day researching paint colors and landscaping. While Sean worked every day at the bank, Meredith had overseen the refurbishment of the kitchen, the refinishing of the hardwood floors, the remodeling of the bathrooms, the landscaping around the house with Japanese maples and extra azaleas—the house was already surrounded with vivid magenta and red and white azaleas. The patio was redone with old brick and the back yard was a little forest of hardwoods and magnolias. One bush that Meredith protected during the renovations was a tea olive, its sweet scent wafting through the yard in the spring and fall.

  Marla drove up the driveway and parked in front of the carport. She and Meredith got out of the car and went into the house through the kitchen door. Marla noticed right away that things had gotten messy in the house. The sink was full of dishes and water that was cold and dirty looking.

  “I’ll help you pick up before Sean gets home,” Marla offered, eyeing the encrusted plates that were still on the kitchen table. Meredith didn’t say anything and went back to her bedroom. Marla followed. Meredith lay down on the bed and curled into the fetal position.

  “Are you okay?” Marla asked. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I just need to rest for a little while,” Meredith said without opening her eyes.

  Marla left Meredith in the bedroom and went back to the kitchen. She spent the next half hour cleaning the dirty dishes, wiping down the granite countertops, and sweeping the floors. She went back to the bedroom where Meredith was sound asleep.

  Marla checked over the entire house, picking up dirty laundry, straightening the den, cleaning the bathrooms. She didn’t want to leave Meredith alone. Sean would be home soon, and Marla decided to wait on him. She sat in the den and watched television mindlessly until she heard Sean come in the kitchen door.

  She got up from the couch and went into the kitchen. “Hey,” she said. He looked surprised to see her.

  “Meredith is taking a nap and I didn’t want to leave her alone,” Marla said.

  “Oh,” Sean said. “Why is that? Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine. I just didn’t want to leave while she was asleep in case she woke up and I wasn’t here, that’s all. But I think I’ll go now, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Sure,” he said, his tone perplexed.

  Marla left, knowing that Sean was going to get some more bad news. She hated that. She had come to see that he was a sensitive person, in spite of the corporate life he led. In spite of the suits and ties he wore every day to work. In spite of the public relations work he did all day long. In spite of all of the things Sean did on the surface, he was a deep-feeling person, Marla could tell that.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, Marla lay in bed staring at the ceiling. She had painted all of the ceilings in the apartment a smoky blue shortly after she moved in, and now she stared at it unseeing, thinking about getting up. Lucy had demanded her food a couple of hours earlier, and Marla had stumbled out of bed to feed her. But she had gone back to bed, not ready to face the realities of the day. Lucy was nudged against her legs. The cell phone rang and Marla reached for it.

  “He wants me to do radiation and chemo again,” Meredith said without preamble. “We were up all night arguing about it. I finally agreed.”

  Marla felt relief spread through her. “I’m glad,” she said.

  “I understand what he’s saying,” Meredith said. “But it nearly killed me the last time. If I only have a little time left, I don’t want to spend it like that. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes,” Marla said. “I understand that. But I understand how Sean feels too, because that’s how I feel.”

  Meredith sighed. “I know. I get it. If the results come back that the tumor has grown, I’ll do it.”

  And the tumor had grown. And Meredith had radiation and chemo again. But it didn’t touch the tumor. The tumor was relentless. The chemo ruled Meredith’s life, and she was sick all of the time.

  Marla went to stay with Meredith every afternoon, as she had before. One day when she walked into the spare bedroom, the sick room, Meredith said, “I’m done with this. I talked to Sean last night and he has agreed to let me stop. I was so relieved. But he’s hurting, Marla. He’s really hurting, and I don’t know how to help him.”

  Marla went to the side of Meredith’s bed. “I’m sorry, Merrie,” she said trying not to cry. “I’m sorry.”

  “Just help me get my strength back, okay?” Meredith said. “Help me so I can have some good times before I go.”

  Marla nodded. She was fighting her tears, but they rolled down her cheeks anyway.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go through this, Marla,” Meredith said. “I wish Sean didn’t have to. I wish Mom and Dad didn’t have to. I just don’t know how to stop it.”

  Marla sat on the side of her sister’s bed and held her hand. After a while, Meredith turned on the television that sat in front of the bed in an antique armoire. The sisters watched Jerry Springer and laughed and laughed.

  The week after stopping chemo, Meredith began to improve slowly. She got out of bed every day, and by the second week, she was taking short walks outside or roaming around in the back yard.

  “I never realized how many birds we have back here,” she said one day in the back yard. “I wish I knew the names of them. I’ve had all this time on earth and never bothered to learn what kind of birds they are.” She turned to Marla and laughed. Meredith’s blond hair shone in the sun. Marla laughed with her and refused to cry. She would remember Meredith like that, on that day, forever. She would remember Meredith turning her head, her blond hair swinging in the sunlight, the smile on her face. Forever.

  Before Marla got back to the shop that day, Meredith was calling.

  “Could you go to the store and get some things. I want to show you how to make gumbo. You need to know.”

  Marla got the list from Meredith. It included green bell
peppers and onions, lump crab meat, stewed tomatoes, and okra. “I’ve got some shrimp from that last jubilee, so we’re okay on that,” Meredith said.

  The next afternoon, Meredith greeted Marla at the door. “We’ve got a lot to do, sister,” she said leading Meredith into the kitchen. Marla could see that Meredith was tired and she sat her sister down in a dining chair. “You just tell me what to do,” she said to Meredith. But Meredith insisted on standing up and guiding Marla through the complex gumbo process.

  “I peeled the shrimp earlier,” Meredith said, holding up her hand when Marla protested. “I can still peel shrimp,” Meredith said. “I’ve put the shells on to boil in some water and it’s making a nice fishy broth.”

  Marla could see there was no stopping Meredith.

  “Put the oil and the flour in the Dutch oven,” Meredith instructed. “Now you’re gonna stand there for a while making the roux. It’s got to get to be the color of mahogany.” And Marla stood at the stove scraping the roux with a wooden spoon. It gradually got darker and darker and eventually it became the color of mahogany. Meredith, who was taking a rest in the chair, stood up then and walked to the stove. “Yes,” she said. “That’s it. Okay, now put in the onions and celery and bell pepper and let them soften. That’s what we call the holy trinity, girl.” Marla did as she was told.

  After a few minutes, Meredith told Marla to strain the shrimp broth and pour it into the roux mixture. “We’ll add the shrimp and crab toward the end,” she said. “Go ahead and put in the andouille sausage in a few minutes.”

  Marla added the tomatoes and sliced okra and let the pot simmer. She sat at the table with Meredith and sipped on a glass of wine.

  “I know you’ve been resisting learning how to make gumbo for years,” Meredith said with a laugh. “But the time has come for you to learn it. It’s a tedious process, that’s for sure. But it’s worth it.”

  After the okra was cooked, Meredith told Marla to add the seasoning, which consisted mostly of Old Bay and Cajun seasoning. “Taste it!” Meredith said. “You’ve got to taste it to know it’s right.” Marla tasted it and added some more Old Bay. Meredith said it was time to add the shrimp, which Marla did. “Now add the crab meat,” Meredith said. “And let it simmer for a few minutes.”

  When it was time, Marla put the gumbo into two bowls for herself and Meredith. The sisters ate hungrily, slurping the spicy broth from their spoons.

  “Ya see,” Meredith said when they were finished. “That wasn’t so hard.”

  Marla laughed. “I guess not. Just a lot of steps with it. I think I can do it again.” And she regretted saying that, because she knew that the next time she made gumbo, Meredith probably wouldn’t be there to guide her.

  Marla bought the Peterson’s Guide to North American Birds and the National Geographic guide to birds. She put them in a box and wrapped them as a present for Meredith. Over the next few weeks, Meredith learned the names of the birds in her yard and she marked them in the book as part of her life list of identifying birds. Sean got her some binoculars so she could watch the birds that were high in the trees or from the window in the kitchen. They put up several birdfeeders in the back and kept them filled with sunflower seeds. “They like that the best,” Meredith explained to Marla.

  Gradually, and almost imperceptibly, Meredith began to decline. She got fatigued earlier in the day. She stopped making supper for Sean. She stopped keeping up with the house. And finally, she went to bed and never got up again. Sean and Marla and her parents waited as long as they could before calling in hospice care and setting up a hospital bed in the sick room. But that day did come. They could no longer care for Meredith in the way that was necessary. Meredith needed pain medication and nourishment. It was a medical situation that her family did not know how to do.

  Marla sat with Meredith one early summer afternoon as the television blared some syndicated sitcom. “Turn that off,” Meredith said sternly. Marla took the remote from the bedside table and turned the TV off.

  “I need to talk to you,” Meredith said, pulling herself up a little on her pillow. “I need to ask you something.”

  Marla sat in the wingback chair near Meredith’s bed. “What is it, Merrie?” she asked.

  “I know that you and Mom and Dad will be there for each other after I’m gone. I know that.”

  “Yes,” Marla said. “Of course we will.”

  “But I need to ask you to be there for Sean. You, Marla. You. I need to know he’s going to be taken care of, that you will be there for him after.”

  “I know he’s got his parents and his sister, and I know they’ll be there,” she continued. “But I need to know that you will be there. I think you understand him the same way that I do. He’s going to need you. He might not know that, but I know that he will.”

  “Whatever you want me to do, Meredith, I’ll do it. I will be there for Sean,” Marla said, choking on her words.

  “I know he seems like a company guy and all of that—a suit—but he’s really very sensitive. This is going to hit him very hard. I feel that I can let go if I know that you’ll be looking out for him.”

  “I’ll look out for him, Merrie,” Marla said taking her sister’s hand. “I promise.”

  Meredith lay back on her pillow. “Thank you,” she said wearily. “That makes this so much easier.”

  Marla patted her sister’s arm and reached for the hairbrush. “Want me to brush your hair?” she asked Meredith, who had closed her eyes.

  “Mmmm,” she murmured. Marla raised the bed to a near-sitting position and stood so that she could easily reach Meredith’s hair. Her once-shiny blond tresses were ashy and dull now. Marla gently pulled the brush through Meredith’s hair and felt her sister relax as she supported her head.

  A few days later, the hospice nurse told Sean and Marla that it wouldn’t be much longer. They all kept a vigil by Meredith’s bed. She spoke her last words on a Wednesday afternoon. “It’s been fun,” she said. She never spoke again. She never opened her eyes again. The hospice nurse watched her vitals and urine output over the next several days, and finally said it could be anytime.

  It was the middle of the night, about 3:30 a.m. when Meredith took her last breath. She was twenty-eight years old.

  Sean held her hand and Marla and her parents stood at the other side of the bed, stroking her arm and holding her other hand. Sean leaned his body on the bed, on Meredith. He sat there like that for a long time as Marla and her parents hugged each other and cried. Marla sensed that Sean needed to be left alone in his sorrow.

  Then Sean got up and left the room. Marla and her parents looked at each other but did not follow him. A moment later a roar pierced the still night.

  Chapter Seven

  Sean asked Marla to help him with the funeral arrangements. He was so depressed and unable to connect with anything or anyone, that Marla took the lead, and Sean approved her choices. Meredith had asked to be cremated, but she wanted a viewing. “Make sure I look good, Marla,” she had pleaded one day near the end. “Make sure I’m wearing that blue dress, you know the one.” Marla nodded. “It brings out my eyes,” Meredith said and then erupted in laughter. She had a devilish sense of humor. That might have been the last time she laughed that hard.

  The funeral was held in the little chapel next to the old graveyard. Oak Point residents had been buried there for two hundred years or so. The visitation was the most difficult day of Marla’s life, of everyone’s life. It was so hard to look at Meredith lying in the oak casket in her blue dress, her hair silky and shiny again somehow. It was surreal and no one could grasp it. No one could even imagine how this had happened to their Merrie, to them. Sean stood sentinel by the casket during the entire visitation.

  His parents and sister sat on one side of Sean during the funeral, and Marla and her parents sat on the other. Sean’s mother held her son’s arm and Marla gently put her hand on his other arm. A pianist played “Morning Has Broken,” Meredith’s favorite hymn and one
that had special meaning to her at the end of her life. People stood and spoke about Meredith, about what a great person she was, always smiling, always willing to help people out. Meredith’s husband and family knew all of that about her, but they also knew her so much more, as a wife, a daughter, a sister. Their hurt was deeper than the ocean.

  After the funeral, Sean drew Marla aside. “I don’t think I can go to your parents’,” he said. “I just don’t think I can handle it.”

  “It’s okay,” Marla reassured him. She wanted him there but she didn’t think it would be right to try to persuade him to go. She knew how much pain he was in. “What about your family?” Marla asked. “Do they want to come or are they going back to your house with you?”

  “My sister’s going to go, but my parents want to come back to the house with me,” he said, staring past Marla’s shoulder and into the chapel where people were slowly leaving. “I don’t want to be rude,” he said softly.

  “Everyone understands, Sean. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll come over later, okay?”

  Marla rode to her childhood home with her parents. The white Victorian was on Oak Point’s original street, which was lined with live oaks draped with Spanish moss, and azaleas of every color bloomed profusely every spring. When she walked into the house, Marla was overcome with melancholy. This was where she and Meredith had been sisters. Where they had played hide and seek, where they had built a tree house in the backyard, and, as they got older, where they learned how to use make-up and helped each other get ready for dates. Where they shared secrets as children, then as teenagers. Marla wasn’t sure she was going to be able to handle it.