“But mother! We thought you were feeling sick and we—” Sean’s voice was so young and confused that the anger drained completely out of his mother.
“Please, all of you listen to me.” Theresa’s eyes moved to each one, Patrick, Sean, Kaitlin and Maureen, holding their gaze for just a moment before going on softly. “I have times when I feel quite good and all of you know that. Just sitting around and waiting for my fever to go up in the afternoon accomplishes nothing. Starting tomorrow I would like to begin going out. I want us to start with a tour of the city if it isn’t raining. We shall take each day as it comes. Now, are you with me?”
“Of course we’re with you, Love,” Patrick spoke as his arms surrounded her slight frame. “Please forgive me for treating you too fragiley. Fragiley? Is that a word?”
Everyone laughed and they all talked about what they wanted to do in the days to come. As Theresa made her way out of the room to lay down for a rest, she gave them some words that would long live in their hearts.
“We need to thank God for this thing He has brought into our lives. It’s a precious gift that He’s given us by allowing us to know what’s wrong with me. So many die without warning. This way we can have special times and you’ll have memories to hold close in the days to come when things look black.
“My prayer is that you’ll know how much I love you and that whatever tomorrow brings God will be your all when you need comfort.”
Theresa left the room then with a pleading prayer in her heart for wisdom and words. It was time to talk to Marcail of the future.
“I started a letter to Loni.”
“May I read it?”
Marcail handed the letter to her mother and awaited her approval. She was in her father’s lap on the settee in the room she shared with Kaitlin, all snuggled into her nightie and robe. Theresa had told her husband of her plans to talk with Marcail at bedtime and he’d wanted to be with them. Now that the moment had come, Theresa was thankful for his presence.
“You did very well. Are you really cold all the time like you said in this letter?”
Marcail nodded almost apologetically and her mother leaned to kiss her cheek. “We’ll have to get you some warmer clothing.”
“But what will I do with the warm clothes when we go back to Hawaii?”
This question from an eight-year-old might have surprised some, but Patrick and Theresa both knew their daughter was very bright.
“Do you miss Hawaii so much?”
“Well, not really Hawaii, just Loni. There’s no one here to play with.”
“We’ll find you some playmates as soon as we can, Marcail, but right now Mother and I have something to tell you.” Patrick took a deep breath and asked God to give him the words.
“You know why we live in Hawaii, don’t you Marcail?”
“Because you work there, preaching and baptizing and helping people in the village.”
“Right. And I do that because I believe that God’s Son died for everyone and I want the people there to know Jesus Christ.” Marcail nodded in complete understanding.
“Marcail, do you remember last year when Loni’s grandfather was very sick and I went and talked with him?”
“He died.”
“Yes he did, but before he died he understood how much he needed a Savior.”
“I remember. He asked Jesus into his heart.” A smile lit the little girl’s face.
“Yes he did, and we know where he is, don’t we?”
“In heaven with Jesus.”
“How do you know that, Honey?” her mother wanted to know.
“Because the Bible says if you believe on the Lord Jesus then when you die, you go to be with Him.”
“And how do we know we can believe what the Bible says?” Theresa pressed her further.
“Because it’s God’s Word.” This statement was made with such confidence that Patrick felt his throat clog. Clearing his throat, he asked his daughter another question.
“Can you tell me a verse that promises us a home in heaven?”
“ ‘I go to prepare a place for you.’ Do you mean that one?”
“That’s a good one from John 14. Verses one through six go like this: ‘Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know. Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way? Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.’ ”
“Those words are very special to me right now, Marcail.” Theresa spoke gently when Patrick stopped. “You see, a doctor was here last week and I told him about how I’ve been coughing and not feeling well and he told me I have tuberculosis. He also told me that people with tuberculosis don’t live very long. So the verses are special to me because I know when I die I’ll be with the Lord.”
It didn’t take very long for the full import of Theresa’s words to hit Marcail. Her parents watched as a single tear slid down their daughter’s cheek. Marcail was the most heartbreaking person to watch cry because she made no sound.
Theresa reached for her and Marcail buried her face in her mother’s neck. Theresa could feel tears against her skin along with the occasional shudder running through her daughter’s small frame. Theresa thought her heart would break.
It was some time before Marcail could speak and when she did, there was a torrent of questions. Patrick and Theresa did their best to explain all that had transpired. For some reason, Marcail’s young mind centered on Doctor Weston.
“I wish he’d never come here.”
“Marcail, Doctor Weston’s visit changed nothing. I’m thankful he was able to tell me what I have and how serious it is. That way my time with you can be extra special.”
The little girl looked unconvinced and Theresa wondered if maybe she needed someone to blame. Marcail needed a little time right now to face all she’d been told. She was usually so grown up and had always been so intelligent that it was easy to forget she was still a little girl. Soon after, Theresa was tucking Marcail into bed and settling down to sit with her until she was deeply asleep.
Patrick let himself out of the bedroom to find Kate in the hall. The rest of the house was very quiet.
“How is she?”
“Pretty shook up. She blames the doctor. I suppose she needs someone to point a finger at and he’s become the center of her blame. I’ll talk to her in the morning.”
They were quiet for a moment and Kate watched her father stare past the door that stood ajar to the bedroom. She knew he was watching his wife as she knelt by Marcail’s bed. Kate’s hands clenched at her sides and she turned away to keep from crying.
What would Father do without her? What would they all do without her? Oh God, her heart prayed, You could do a miracle, You could heal her. But even as the words came they were pushed away by others, Your will, God. Your will, not mine.
This is how Jesus felt at Gethsemane, only worse. With this thought Kate knew an aching desire to read those verses and she moved down the hall to her brother’s door.
“Sean, it’s me,” she said as she opened the door. “Can I borrow your Bible?” Sean nodded toward the nightstand that was lit by an oil lamp. Kate lowered herself to the edge of Sean’s bed where he lay looking at the shadows on the high ceiling.
He heard the rustle of pages for a few minutes and then silence. He broke it with words spoken in a whisper, “Read it to me, Katie.”
“Luke 22:39-42: ‘And he came out, and went, as he was wont, to the Mount of Olives; and his disciples also followed him. And when he was at the place, he said unto them, Pray that ye enter not into temptation. And he was withdrawn from them about a stone’s cast, and kneeled down, and prayed, Saying, Father, if thou be w
illing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.’ ”
Kate turned slightly on the bed to see her brother. His eyes were filled with tears.
“She’s really going to die, isn’t she Kate?”
Kate could only nod and hold the hand that her brother thrust toward her. They stayed together on the bed for a long time, neither one speaking, and both trying to understand their mother’s illness and the thought of life without her.
nine
The day after Theresa made her stern speech to the family and told Marcail of the illness, the entire clan set off to see San Francisco in Aunt Maureen’s open buggy. The morning fog had burned off and, with the sun climbing into the sky, Maureen gave everyone a grand tour of the city.
They drove past mansions with balconies, widow’s walks, columned porches, and towers. A few houses sported windows with beautiful stained glass. Every imaginable style of architecture could be found. The children gaped in awe at the sizes as well as the variations in color. It became very apparent as the day wore on that their aunt’s home, grand as it was, was not the biggest nor the finest San Francisco had to offer.
They sat for a time at the shores of San Francisco Bay and looked across the water to Alcatraz Island. The prison on the island had been holding prisoners from the early 1860’s, so Maureen informed everyone.
They finished their morning with Aunt Maureen treating them to lunch at one of the fine downtown hotels.
The coming weeks brought on a pattern of sorts. Most mornings the family would go on an outing and return home for lunch. Theresa spent the afternoons resting or writing letters. Even though she was taking it easy, she was growing worse. Almost daily now she would find blood on her handkerchief, and, try as she might to hide it, the whole family was aware of it.
But her spirits were buoyant and she was very pleased at how normal everyone was acting. Maureen, who was nearly convinced that the children were perfect, had her first glimpse of real family life one afternoon when she was visiting with Theresa in the bedroom.
“Marcail!” Kate, clearly furious, shouted her sister’s name. Maureen’s eyes grew round as laughter was heard from across the hall and then a furious tirade in a foreign tongue. Maureen, who had been staring at the open door to the hallway, turned to find Theresa’s eyes filled with amusement.
“What is she saying?” Maureen almost gasped.
Theresa listened for a moment. “She’s going to beat Marcail as soon as she catches her, and Sean had better stay hidden because when he comes out she’s going to beat him too.”
“But what language is she speaking?”
“Hawaiian. All the children are fluent. And Kate rarely speaks English when she’s angry or flustered.”
Things quieted down a moment later, and then Patrick let himself into the room. He closed the door and leaned against it, chuckling. The women waited for him to speak.
“Marcail was hiding in the wardrobe wearing a fake beard and a man’s hat. Sean put her up to it and Kaitlin plans to get them both.”
“I gave that beard and hat to Sean. I never dreamed—” Maureen let the sentence hang, obviously feeling like an accomplice.
“It’s not your fault Maureen,” her brother reassured her. “And even though Kaitlin is angry, believe me, the children have never had so much fun.”
The older woman looked greatly relieved and by the time she saw the children, they were once again the best of friends.
Weeks later Father read aloud to the family a letter he’d received from Pastor Graves in Hawaii. The reply had come with remarkable speed after sending word of Theresa’s condition. The letter reported that all was well but the Donovan family was sorely missed. Everyone sent their love and said they were praying for Theresa.
Patrick, his heart filled with regret, wrote back to say that Theresa’s condition was deteriorating swiftly and that he had no idea when they would be returning. Taking his time, he walked slowly and deliberately to post the letter. His heart, although burdened with his wife’s health, trusted God to do His perfect will in their lives.
“This is what Theresa was talking about on the boat.” Patrick uttered the words aloud and came to an abrupt stop on the street. “I promised Pastor Graves I’d come back to Hawaii and I’ll have to do just that after she’s gone, even if only to explain my plans and pack the rest of our belongings.”
He sat on a stone wall that landscaped a neighbor’s yard for a long time, staring at nothing. The afternoon was quiet and no one disturbed him as he faced the promise he had made. He prayed long and hard and, when he knew what he would do, went straight home to talk with his sister and his children. The letter, at least for the moment, was forgotten in his pocket.
“But Father, you were so sick . . . I really think I should go.”
“It’s out of the question, Kaitlin, although I appreciate your offer.”
Kaitlin and Sean looked grief stricken and Father was thankful that Marcail was not here. He knew it was very hard to talk as if their mother were already dead but it was better to know ahead of time what the situation would be. Patrick turned to his sister.
“You’re sure, Maureen? I mean, I can make other arrangements.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Patrick. Of course they can stay here.”
“I’d be happy to go with you, Father.”
Patrick’s eyes filled with tears over the sincerely spoken words from his son. He knew very well how fresh his son’s memory of the trip over was.
“I know that wasn’t an easy offer for you to make, Son, and I thank you, but no, I want you to stay here.
“Now, I’m not going to make a promise to you that I’ll be right back. I’ve prayed about this and right now I don’t think I can go back as a pastor in Hawaii. I’m returning to settle things and gather our possessions. I’ll return to San Francisco as quickly as I can. I want you to understand that I’ll be back as swiftly as God wills. If something deters me, I trust God to care for you. As your Aunt said earlier, this is your home for as long as you need it.”
Everyone went their separate ways when Father was finished. He sat for a long time hurting, but sure in his heart that he’d done the right thing by warning the family of his plans.
Three days later his conviction was confirmed when Theresa Donovan, beloved wife and mother, slipped peacefully and with little pain, from her afternoon nap into the waiting arms of her heavenly Father.
ten
There were few mourners at the funeral and Kaitlin was glad. Never in her life had she wanted privacy more. Not from the family, she was desperate to be near them. But the hardest thing she’d ever lived through was dealing with the undertaker—a stranger coming and taking her mother’s frail body away to prepare for the burial. Every time she thought of it she felt ill.
Without warning, all the duties her mother had performed—the washing and cooking, the teaching and loving—rushed into her heart like a tidal wave. And just as suddenly, the weight of being the eldest daughter crowded in upon her.
I’m not ready to be a mother figure to Sean or Marcail, God. Her heart cried out to her heavenly Father and, even though she was looking into the grave, she was very conscious of Marcail’s little hand seeking comfort within her own. Sean stood to the other side of her, so close that his shoulder brushed her own. Father had knelt down on the far side of Sean as though lessening the distance to his wife’s body might comfort him in some small measure.
Kaitlin watched him rise a few moments later and, out of the corner of her eye, caught the movement of a man approaching.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Donovan,” Dr. Weston spoke quietly as he stepped inside the small family circle.
“Thank you for coming.” Father shook the doctor’s hand and did nothing to hide his tears. Dr. Weston turned and spoke to Sean before moving on to Kate. Kaitlin was thankful for his kindness even as she became aware that Marcail was trying to hide behind her. Kaitlin held tightly to her hand and gave a little wa
rning squeeze. Marcail did remember her manners and thanked the doctor politely when he expressed his sympathy to her but her eyes clearly spoke her distrust. Father had taken time for a long talk with Marcail, as he had planned, but Kate wondered when the nine-year-old would understand that Dr. Weston had nothing to do with their mother’s death.
Dr. Weston spoke at length with Maureen, bringing her tears on afresh. The family watched him move toward his small carriage. It seemed the best time to follow suit. Within minutes the family was aboard their own transportation and headed back to the Kent home.
It was with great pain that the children bade good-bye to their father two weeks later. Kaitlin, already feeling as if something vital had been severed from her with her mother’s death, was so overcome by Father’s leaving that she could not stop crying.
Sean said little, wanting very much to be the man. But his eyes were almost angry, and Father held him tightly in his arms for a long time.
Marcail, having just a week before found out about her father’s departure, was so upset she’d vomited twice. Father held her close and mopped her small face.
His heart toyed with the idea of gathering his children and returning to Hawaii for good, but even as the thought came he pushed it away. He didn’t think he was in any shape to return and minister to the people there. They had only been in California a week before they’d been made aware of the seriousness of Theresa’s illness, so this had not been a restful time as planned.
Father planned to leave very early in the morning so good-byes to his family were conducted at bedtime the night before. No one was asleep the next morning when he left, but everyone stayed in their rooms even as his steps were heard in the hall.
Maureen did her level best to occupy the children for two days before deciding that maybe they didn’t need distraction so much as they needed to let themselves grieve. She planned to allow them a few days to themselves and was feeling very good about her decision when she heard heavy footsteps in the entry way. She was walking the length of the library when a tall figure appeared in the doorway. Maureen rushed forward with a joyous cry and threw her arms around her loved one. Percy was home.