Where the Wild Rose Blooms

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can,” Ora put in. “In fact, you can tell by the sound of her voice how your mother is feeling.”

  Jackie was shaking her head, but Ora went on, her soft voice compelling.

  “Listen to your mother, Jackie, and tell me if she’s angry.”

  Addy picked up her cue. “I’m right here, Jackie, right here in the room with you.”

  Jackie was still moving fretfully, but she was listening too.

  “Is she angry, Jackie?”

  “No, but I need to touch her.”

  “Does she sound like she’s going to play a trick on you?”

  “No.” Jackie’s movements were calming.

  “No, she isn’t, is she? If your mother tells you she’s right in the room, then you know she’s going to be here.”

  Jackie’s breathing was returning to normal, and her hands now lay still in her lap.

  “Go to her, Addy,” Ora instructed, and when she did, Jackie clung to her in relief. Addy smoothed her hair and nestled Jackie against her. The exercise had been as draining for her as it was for Jackie. She finally looked to Ora.

  “My mother was blind,” the pastor’s wife stated quietly. “I think I can be of help to you.”

  “If you run your right hand along the edge of the plate, Jackie, you will feel your cup.”

  Jackie’s hand came to the table top. She bumped her knife and spoon but found the plate. It was a good thing it was empty, or she’d have put her hand right in the food.

  “You must move slower, dear,” Ora cautioned her. “Slow movements at all times, until you’ve found your way.”

  Jackie’s left hand gripped the edge of the table, and Ora prepared herself for the outburst. They’d been working for two hours every morning for six weeks, and she knew all the signs. The progress had been very slow, but Ora was patient beyond all description.

  “No one is going to clean up any messes you make today, Jackie. If you break another plate, you’ll clean up the glass on your own.”

  At first Jackie was so shocked she couldn’t speak, but a moment later she let out a howl.

  “Mother! Mother!”

  “Listen, Jackie.” Ora’s voice got through when Jackie was taking a breath. “She heard you upstairs. Listen to her footsteps on the stairs.”

  Jackie forgot her earlier irritation until she heard her teacher’s next words.

  “You can see, Jackie; you can see without your eyes.”

  “Don’t say that to me!” she said through gritted teeth.

  “But it’s true,” Ora insisted. “And as soon as you realize it, you’re going to feel set free.”

  Jackie was still breathing heavily with irritation when her mother entered.

  “Did you call me, Jackie?”

  “Yes. I’m through for the day.” She started to rise. “Take me upstairs.”

  “If you want to get upstairs,” Ora cut in, “you’ll have to go on your own.”

  “Mother!” she immediately cried. “Help me, Mother.”

  Ora didn’t look at Addy or Jackie. She sat at the table and let them decide. In the past, Addy had often helped when she shouldn’t have. Ora had told her that in the long run it would make things worse, but too often Addy had not been able to withstand Jackie’s tears.

  “I think,” Addy said softly, “that I’ll let you go on your own today.”

  Jackie sat back down and began to cry. The women did not touch her or speak to her, and soon her tears became sobs. Morgan chose that moment to come in the door.

  “What is it?” he asked immediately, not seeing anyone but Jackie.

  “Oh, Father,” she cried, taking immediate advantage. “I just want to go upstairs.”

  “I’ll take you, honey,” he offered and went right to her.

  So taken was he with Jackie’s fear that he didn’t even notice his wife’s face. Without further word to anyone, he took Jackie to her room.

  Addy and Ora stared at each other before Addy admitted quietly, “Christmas is three-and-a-half-weeks away, and a week after that is Jackie’s birthday. I wish they were already over.”

  “How can I clean it if I can’t see it?” Jackie’s voice was filled with anger, but Addy ignored it.

  “It doesn’t have to be perfect, but you can tell where the polish is. Just try.”

  “No. I don’t want it all over me.”

  Addy worked to tamp down her own anger. If she told Jackie what she was really thinking, that she was a self–centered brat, it would crush her. However, she was not going to take no for an answer.

  “I want you to do this,” Addy said in an even tone. “I want you to at least try to polish this platter. If you don’t, I won’t read to you tonight at bedtime.”

  “You’re treating me like a child,” Jackie whimpered.

  “Because you’re acting like one,” Addy snapped. She stopped herself just short of asking, What would Clayton say? But he was not mentioned anymore. His letters to Jackie were stacked unopened in her room, untouched and unanswered.

  “I’ll try,” Jackie said quietly after a moment of uncomfortable silence. Addy thanked her and moved from the room.

  I must stop this, Lord. I question You at every turn. I want answers as to how I’m going to carry on and how much longer I must struggle, but You have kept silent. I am becoming frustrated and distant with You, and I can’t stand it.

  Addy heard the sound of her own thoughts and knew that she alone must deal with her anger and apathy. She took the first chair she could find and began to pray. Years ago she’d heard a preacher say, “The moment you don’t feel like praying, get on your knees. And the moment you don’t feel like reading your Bible, you’d better get that Book open.”

  The words came to her now, and Addy prayed. She didn’t have the energy to go upstairs for her Bible, but she did pray. She confessed her anger and asked God for the strength to carry on. Jackie called to her a short time later, and she went to her, still praying. She talked to the Lord all the way to bedtime that night when she could finally escape to the quiet of her bedroom and write a letter to Eddie. She needed someone who would listen. Eddie seemed the ideal choice. Addy was tired enough to go to bed and sleep for 12 hours, but she fought the urge, sat down at her desk, and put ink to paper.

  Morgan climbed the stairs to the bedroom late that same night. He was bone tired and told himself that he didn’t really need to be at the store at 6:00. In fact, he had gotten so much done today, he didn’t need to be there until right before opening at 8:00. Morgan was contemplating the loveliness of turning over in the morning and going back to sleep when he opened the door and found Addy slumped over the writing desk.

  The lantern was burning, but she was sound asleep. He nearly shook her awake, but before he could do so, his eye caught some of the words of her letter to Eddie. Morgan carefully slid the paper from under her hand and moved beside her to catch the light.

  Jackie looks like a scarecrow, and so do I. Never has weight control been so little a problem. Jackie actually polished a platter for me today but then threw a fit when I didn’t get the polish off of her hands fast enough. I have prayed more today than I have in weeks, but never have I been so lonely. With Jackie not at the store to help him, Morgan is putting in double the hours, and knowing how much he worked before you can well imagine how little I see of him. When I came upstairs for the night, he wasn’t even home yet. I don’t know if the store needs him that badly or if he is running from this situation. I have been tempted to run myself.

  I long for you, Eddie, as I have never done before. Please pray for me. Elaine in Denver seems a thousand miles away. I haven’t even written to her. Every time I try to sit down and talk with Danny, Jackie screams for something. I know it’s best to make her do things for herself, but most of the time I do not have the fortitude to deny her. She is still too dependent on me. I ask myself when enough is enough but gain no answers. I keep making excuses for her, telling myself that she ne
eds more time, but they are hollow excuses even to my own ears.

  I believe God is sovereign, and I believe He loves me, but I feel so frail. I ask Him to ease this load, but He has said no. I must carry on here, and for this I covet your prayers. I have an 18-year-old infant on my hands, an unsaved husband, and three other daughters who haven’t had my attention since September 27 of last year. I haven’t seen the inside of the church since that day, and even though I praise God for Ora Munroe, at times I think I will break under the strain of it all.

  February is just around the corner, and I am asking God for something special. Maybe the snows won’t be so harsh this late in the winter and spring will come early. This really would uplift my heart, especially if I could take Jackie outside or more folks would visit. Right now no one wants to be around her. At this point, I’d even enjoy working at the store instead of being with Jackie, but she will have no one but me or Morgan, and I’ve already told you where Morgan is most of the time. I ask again, Eddie, please pray for me.

  Morgan set the letter down and saw that his hand was shaking. He put his hand on Addy’s shoulders and cringed at the feel of her bones protruding under her flesh. How long since he’d last touched her?

  “Come on, Addy,” he spoke softly as he tried to lift her. She was like a boneless cat.

  “I’m coming, Jackie,” she mumbled incoherently.

  “Come to bed, honey.”

  Morgan now lifted her and laid her on the bed. He removed her dress but left her in her shift. He divested her of shoes and stockings and then pulled the covers over her. She slept through it all. Morgan undressed himself and joined her, his head going down heavily on his own pillow. He didn’t roll close to Addy, but lay very still. He had been so tired when he’d climbed the stairs, but now he felt wide awake. He saw the words on the letter again, and something terrible squeezed around his heart.

  28

  Robert and Eddie received Addy’s letter on February 17. Eddie was inconsolable for long minutes to follow. Indeed, Robert had been forced to read it to her, and he cried as well. They had certainly known about Jackie’s blindness and been in touch often, but never had Addy unburdened as she’d done this time.

  Robert waited until Eddie had calmed a little and then told her what was on his heart concerning Jackie’s spiritual status. When he was finished she cried yet again, but Robert was patient, his own throat feeling rather tight.

  “I have to do something, Robert,” Eddie sobbed, her face still streaked with tears. “I can’t play God, Robert, but there must be something. Please tell me what to do.”

  Robert smoothed her hair and used his own handkerchief on her face. “I have an idea, Eddie, but I don’t know what you’ll say. As with your mother, the burden would fall mainly on you.”

  Eddie looked at him. “Tell me, Robert,” she whispered. “Whatever it is, tell me.”

  Robert’s voice was even and well modulated as he told Eddie what was in his heart, but it was not easy. Eddie cried some more, but in the end she put her arms around him and held him tight. A plan—they had a plan—and that was better than aimlessly waiting. With that in mind she could wait for the spring.

  “Write it, Lexa,” Jackie ordered her miserable sister. “Write it now.”

  “Why, Jackie, why me?”

  “Because your handwriting is the most like mine. Now, write what I tell you.”

  “But what about all of his letters? Don’t you at least want to hear what he has to say?”

  “Tell me, Lexa,” Jackie said, her voice biting, low and furious. “Will you marry a blind man someday? Wouldn’t it be exciting to marry a man who could never see you? You could guide him around like a stumbling child for the rest of your life. Now wouldn’t that be fun?”

  Lexa was openly sobbing now, but Jackie’s heart hardened to the sound.

  “Write, Lexa.”

  Still sniffing, Lexa adjusted the paper. Jackie heard the rustle and began.

  “Clay.”

  “Just ‘Clay,’ not ‘Dear Clay’?”

  “Clay!” Jackie spoke firmly. The younger girl tried to keep her hand from shaking. Why, she begged silently, is this my Sunday to sit with Jackie?

  “Okay, what now?” she managed.

  “I have met someone else,” Jackie recited in a cold voice, “and fallen in love.” She waited a moment, listening to the pen. “I never wish to see or hear from you again. Jackie.”

  “Oh, Jackie,” Lexa began.

  “Write it!”

  Lexa was dying inside. She didn’t know when she had been so upset. The whole house had been turned upside down last year, and they’d all walked around in a stupor until just a few weeks ago when their father got them all involved in Jackie’s care. It wasn’t that they hadn’t tried before, but Jackie never wanted it. Now, in order to ease Addy’s load, Father had them all on a schedule that included himself.

  At first Jackie fought it, but the first time he’d stayed with Jackie himself and went so far as to take Addy from the house was a breakthrough. Jackie was out of control at the beginning, but now they’d developed a bit of a pattern. Today was Sunday. The rest of the family was at church, and Lexa had been put in charge. Not only was she to keep an eye on Jackie, she was to start lunch. Until this new schedule had begun, none of them had realized the stress their mother had been under.

  “Don’t forget to date it,” Jackie added, breaking Lexa from her thoughts.

  “I won’t.” Lexa was still so shaken she could hardly think.

  “What is the date today?” Jackie demanded.

  “March 12.”

  Jackie didn’t speak, but bitterness coiled like a snake inside of her. Not even six months since her fall, but it felt like years. It felt like forever and always would. Blackness surrounded her, and that would never change. Clayton would go on. He would read the letter and hurt for a time, but then he’d find someone new, marry her, and live forever in happiness. He’d probably become a father. The thought so pained Jackie that she gasped.

  “What is it?” Lexa asked.

  “Nothing. Have you got it ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dated?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now tomorrow, right after school, you take it and post it. No one is to know, do you hear me, Lexa? No one! And don’t get any ideas in your head about writing to Clay.”

  “Don’t you think he already knows, Jackie? Eddie or someone must have told him.”

  “No,” Jackie said with confidence. “He doesn’t know. I’m sure of it.”

  “How can you be?”

  “Because he’s still writing to me. If he knew I was blind, I’d never hear from him again. This way is best. He’ll hate me, and that’ll be the end of it.”

  Lexa couldn’t find anything to say to this. She wanted nothing to do with this horrid scheme, but she felt trapped. For just an instant she wanted to strike her sister. She wanted to lash out, call her names, and rail at her for climbing that ladder, but when she looked up, Jackie wore such a look of utter hopelessness and despair that Lexa was crushed. She prayed as she’d been doing for the past five months. What are we going to do, Lord? What are we going to do?

  Denver

  Clayton’s hands shook as he opened the letter. Even without seeing the contents, he knew Jackie’s hand. She hadn’t written in six months, and he’d about given up hope. He laughed at his own reaction to a simple letter, but still his hand shook.

  “Clay,” it began, and ended with “Jackie.” Clayton read it over twice and then one more time. He stared at the words but couldn’t take them in. He sat slowly on his chair. On his desk lay her last letter, dated in September. He’d read it so many times that it was torn and smudged. How could this happen? The letter from the fall was filled with happiness and love—love for him.

  Oh, Jackie, his heart cried. How could you do this to us? We love each other. The flow of Clayton’s heart stopped. We did love each other. Now it’s just me. Clayton realized
how true it was. Jackie might have fallen for someone else, but Clayton would never. The pain squeezing his heart was like a steel band. He looked down in front of him and spotted the letters he’d been writing. He was applying to three different positions he’d read about in the Denver newspaper. The one on top was addressed to the school board in Georgetown.

  Clayton lay his hand on it and crumpled it into a ball. He might not hate Jackie or believe he could ever love again, but neither could he move there, teach school, and live near her and her new love. Again pain tore through him, and a sob broke from his throat. His mother, who came to tell him dinner was ready, found him crying at his desk. He told her the whole story but felt no relief. She cried with him but urged him to eat. He wasn’t hungry. Right now he didn’t think he’d ever be hungry again.

  Robert and Eddie had prayed for an opening in the weather, and God gave them a time. They arrived in Georgetown on April 27. It was a surprise to all, but mostly to Addy. She never dreamed they’d come when there was still such a strong chance of snow, but she was thrilled to have them. As she stood in the kitchen with them, however, a strained look crossed her face.

  “Father told us how bad she is,” Eddie said quietly and before her mother could speak. “He’s in the stable now, putting the horses in for the night.”

  “Your father’s here?” Addy was amazed. “It’s only 2:00, and no one else is with him today. The girls aren’t even home from school yet.”

  “He closed the store for the day and brought us in the wagon,” Robert put in. “We told him we can’t stay long, and he said he didn’t want to miss any time with us.”

  “Why are you here?” Addy was completely confused.

  “To take Jackie back to Boulder with us,” Robert stated.

  Addy began to shake her head, but Eddie spoke up, “No, Mother. Don’t try to get used to the idea right now. Just let it sink in.”

  “Eddie, you don’t know what you’re saying. You’ve never seen her like—” Robert stopped her with a hand to her arm.