Spring Rain (32 page)

“The sand’s cold.”

“Come here.” He took her hands and pulled her onto his lap. She sat sideways to him, her shoulder leaning against his chest. He wrapped his arms about her and pulled her closer. Her head rested against his shoulder.

She sighed, feeling comforted by his closeness, feeling his warmth gradually seep into her, as near to peace as it was possible to be these days. “You’ve been so good to me, David. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She could just make out the faintest of smiles on his face. “I don’t intend that you have a chance to find out.” His voice was soft but firm, full of promises and a future she didn’t know how to deal with right now. Today was hard enough. She said nothing as her thumb fiddled with her wedding ring, but he didn’t seem to expect a response.

They sat quietly for a while, watching the moon over the water, listening to the soft murmur of the waves breaking on the sand. If she angled her head right, she could see the water and the moon without the lights of Atlantic City to distract from them.

“ ‘Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.’ ” Her voice was soft. “I think that will be my verse.”

He nodded. “That’s what it comes down to many times—trust. Nothing more because there
is
nothing more.”

“He looked so—” she hesitated, searching for the words she wanted—“so
not there.”
Her hand went to her heart. “It terrified
me. ‘Not on their birthday, Lord,’ I kept thinking. ‘Not on their birthday!’ ” She gave a sad smile. “As if another day will be better. But I don’t want Clay to have to carry that burden for the rest of his life. It will be bad enough that his twin is gone. To think that he died on their birthday would take so much of the pleasure of future celebrations away.”

David’s arms tightened about her, and he leaned over to kiss her cheek. “You’re an amazing woman, Julia Wharton. And you’re a lot stronger than you think.”

She settled against him and stared at the moon.

L
EIGH HURRIED UP
the steps to Ted’s room. Concerned as she was for both Ted and Julia, her heart was strangely light in both its definitions: light as in freed from a great burden, buoyant, weightless, the heavy chains of her secret unlocked from her soul; and light as in flooded with brilliance, the doors of her self-inflicted prison thrown open to the radiance of sunlight pouring over her spirit.

She wanted to laugh, to sing, to dance, but Ted’s bedroom was hardly the place. Instead, she grabbed hold of her elation and pushed it firmly down to percolate just below the surface of her skin, to bubble through her veins. Later she’d have time and be in the right place to explode with her emancipation.

Clay now knew. She grinned. She had to admit to an all-too-human satisfaction at his despair. If he had brushed off his paternity, she knew she’d have spent the rest of her life struggling to forgive him. Any warmth she’d begun to feel toward him would have been frozen in the winter of his contempt. But it was obvious he ached to the marrow of his being, and that pleased her. Not that she delighted in his pain, for she didn’t. Not at all. But she did rejoice that he took the situation so to heart.

Happy birthday to you, Bucko!

She stopped in the doorway for a minute and just
watched the brothers. Ted was in bed, and Clay was trying to get him out of his clothes. Ted was so limp that it was like undressing a doll except that you couldn’t push and pull the limbs any way you wanted. Every few seconds, Ted would hiss, and Clay would close his eyes in frustration and try again.

Leigh bit back a grin. Julia was right to be concerned about Clay’s nursing skills. She bet that if he took one of those tests for spiritual gifts, his mercy scores would be about zero. Administration, now, that would probably be off the charts.

Her shoulder resting against the jamb, she studied Clay. He was such a commanding presence with his height and strength. He had that same aura of competence that Will had had and that used to mark Ted before his decline. The Wharton men were all leaders, the kind of men people automatically followed, but Clay even more so. Bill showed the same presence, but then why wouldn’t he? He was a Wharton man too.

As Julia often said about the boy, “He’s going to lead somebody someplace. It’s just a matter of who and where.”

Clay must have felt her eyes on him because he looked up. She smiled and was delighted to see his mouth turn up in that half grin she had always loved. That he could smile at all considering the punch he’d taken in his metaphorical gut was a wondrous thing.

“What?” Ted mumbled, aware that he’d lost Clay’s attention. He turned his head.

“Leigh. Help. He’s killing me.”

“Poor baby.” Leigh laughed as she came into the room. She placed a hand on his forehead and felt the heat.

He batted at her weakly, making a noise like a growl. “Don’t baby me. Rescue me.”

“He’s very grumpy,” Clay said in a disapproving voice. “Very.”

“So would you be if you felt like he did,” Leigh said. “Now let’s get these clothes off him.”

In a matter of minutes, Ted was tucked under a sheet and blanket, too weary to even scowl any longer. He was slick with sweat as his fever ate at him, and he tried with feeble kicks to get the covers off.

“They have to stay on to keep you from getting a chill,” Leigh said, laying a restraining arm on his leg.

He muttered something indecipherable though obviously uncomplimentary, but he stopped kicking.

Leigh looked at the chart posted on the wall. “What meds are you due, Ted?” With quick, practiced movements she collected the proper pills from their vials and bottles.

“Lift him up a bit, Clay,” she ordered.

As Clay slid his arm under Ted and raised his shoulders, Leigh poured fresh water. She stuck the angled straw in the glass and handed the medical cocktail to Ted. He stared at the collection of pills for a minute.

“Why bother?” he whispered.

Leigh ignored the tremor those two words caused in the pit of her stomach. “Because you can’t give up. It’s against the rules. Whartons never give up.”

“She’s right,” Clay said. “I’m sure it’s written down somewhere in all that genealogy stuff Grandmom Wharton collected.”

Ted snorted, but when Leigh raised the medicines to his mouth, he swallowed them. Gently Clay lowered him to the pillow.

“Hot,” Ted whispered.

“Get a washcloth, Clay, and a bowl of cool water.”

“Yes, sir,” Clay said, amusement in his voice.

“Watch her,” Ted managed, turning on his side and curling in on himself. “Dictator.”

Laughing, Clay left the room.

Ted grabbed her hand as soon as he was gone. “Are you mad at me?”

She looked at his questioning face. “It was a rotten thing to do, both to me and to Clay.”

He nodded. “But are you mad at me?”

“What if Bill had caught on? He’s got to be told, but not like that.”

“A risk worth taking.” He coughed harshly, his face creased with pain.

Immediately, Leigh reached for the cough medicine. “Take more.”

He swallowed obediently. “Love you both,” he muttered as he closed his eyes.

She gently brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I know, and I’ve got to admit, I’m glad the secret’s out. It’s a relief.”

He smiled blissfully. “Good.”

“But how did you figure it out after all these years? How did your mother?”

“The picture,” he said, nodding to the bureau.

Leigh looked on the cluttered top of the bureau, searching among all the medical paraphernalia for a picture. She spotted it where it had slid between a container of body lotion and a bottle of mouthwash.

She looked at the photo in amazement. “It’s Billy, but it’s not.” She turned it over. “Will Wharton, age 10. I can’t believe the resemblance!”

“It was in the box from the attic,” Ted said with a shiver. His teeth knocked against each other as he tried to curl into an even tighter ball. “How come I’m freezing all of a sudden? How can I be cold and hot at the same time?”

Leigh dropped the picture back onto the counter and didn’t bother to pick it up when it missed and fluttered to the floor. She went quickly to Ted. She climbed onto the bed behind him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing his back to her front. She felt his shudders and the slickness of his sweat and closed her eyes against the tears. How she hated his illness! She rested her forehead against the back of his neck and tried not to cry.

The click-click of toenails on wood announced the entrance of Terror who came zipping into the room with his usual energy. He bounded onto the bed, stopped dead when he saw Ted and Leigh. He stared at them for a heartbeat, then went unerringly to Ted. He licked his face, then settled down against his chest.

Ted sighed. “Wonderful.”

Clay came in, a basin in his hands.

“Go away,” Ted muttered. “I’m happy.”

“I’d be happy like that too,” Clay said. He put the basin on the bureau in a space he made by pushing a dozen medicine containers to the side. He dipped the washcloth into the cool water and wrung it out. He sat in the chair beside the bed, leaned over, and washed his brother’s face, neck and chest, the latter in spite of Terror’s complaints. Then he rinsed the cloth and did Ted’s face again.

Leigh watched from behind Ted, her heart moved by the gentleness of Clay’s movements. Maybe he had the gift of mercy after all.

Oh, Lord, help them!

“I checked on Bill,” Clay said quietly as he sat back in the chair. “He’s watching TV. David must have convinced him Ted was okay because he’s lost that pinched look.”

Leigh nodded, relieved. “How’s your mother?”

“She’s not there. Bill says she went out with David.”

Leigh nodded. “Good. They must still be walking on the beach. David didn’t want her to come up here because she was so upset.”

“Sorry.” Ted sounded resigned. “What I do best.”

“Be quiet and rest,” Leigh whispered softly in his ear.

The three kept a companionable silence for a while. Then Clay asked, his voice tight, “Does she love him?”

Leigh resettled her head more comfortably on one of Ted’s pillows. She still lay spooned against him, offering her warmth, her comfort. She heard uncertainty and something like fear in Clay’s voice. Her heart ached for him. “I don’t know if she loves David. I think he loves her, but I don’t think she knows how she feels yet. There’s so much going on that it’s difficult for her to sort it all out.”

“She loves him,” Ted said and began to cough. “Doesn’t realize it yet,” he managed between gasps.

“You might be right.” Leigh rubbed her hand across his back, patting him gently to help ease the cough.

Silence settled on the room again. Then, cautiously, Clay spoke. “He seems very nice.”

“He is.” Leigh raised herself on one elbow to look across Ted. “I know it’s hard for you to see your mother with someone besides your father, but try to think what’s best for her.”

“Nice man,” Ted mumbled. “Nice for her.” Terror gave a sleepy sigh of agreement.

“It’s so strange,” Clay said. “Things you never in a million years anticipate happen when you’re away, and it takes a while to come to terms with them. You two are used to the idea of David. You’ve seen the whole thing develop.” He sighed. “I’m trying.”

Leigh smiled at him. “You’re a good man, Clay Wharton.”

He smiled uncertainly back and reached absently for the picture on the floor. He looked at it and blinked. He sat up straight and blinked again. He turned it over and read aloud, “Will Wharton, age 10.” He turned the picture face front. “Unbelievable!”

Leigh smiled wryly at his reaction. “That’s how they all figured it out.”

“I brought this down from the attic?” he guessed. He studied the picture, his expression greedy. “I suppose this means he’ll look like Dad when he grows up.” He glanced at Leigh and said hastily, “That wouldn’t be a bad thing. Dad was a good-looking man.”

“That he was. And I think it would be wonderful if he looked like your father.”

“Quiet.” Ted sounded imperious even at a whisper. Terror whuffled agreement.

Leigh thought of Will Wharton bending over her little red Civic. She thought of him saying,
Is there a possibility that you’re pregnant, do you think? Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.
“But I’d rather he has your dad’s character and compassion and godly heart.”

Clay nodded. “He was an extraordinary man.”

“Not many busy doctors would take on a pregnant eighteen-year-old just because his wife said God said they should.”

“Is that how it happened? Mom said God told her?” Clay looked at Ted. “I thought it was you.”

Ted managed a head shake.

“Tapped her on the shoulder in my line at the Acme,” Leigh said.

“That doesn’t sound like Mom.”

Leigh shrugged. “Maybe that’s why Will listened.”

“Downstairs,” Ted muttered. “Go. I need sleep!”

“Sorry,” Leigh whispered. “We’ll be quiet. We don’t want to leave you.” What she really didn’t want all of a sudden was to be alone with Clay. She rested her head against the back of Ted’s because in that position she couldn’t see Clay.

She knew they had to talk because there were so many feelings and issues to sort through. Still, the thought of being that vulnerable and open after years of protecting herself was terrifying. What if he guessed how she felt about him, had always felt about him? All she foresaw was potential humiliation, and it petrified her.

“Go,” Ted ordered. “Won’t die while you’re gone. Promise.”

“Ted!” Leigh gave him the slightest bump, and he gave a little laugh that turned into a deep cough. When he stilled, she kissed his ear.

He batted a hand at her. “Go. I mean it. I’m okay now.”

Clay got up and walked around the bed. He held out a hand to Leigh, and she didn’t know what to do but take it. He helped her to her feet. He kept her hand as they left the room and made their way downstairs. She felt as awkward and shy as she had all those years ago, and she hated it. She took a deep breath and whispered, “I am a new creation in Christ.”

“What?” Clay smiled down at her.