The Healing (38 page)

“But what about right here in Southold?” Karen urged.

“Here in Southold I will always be the strange spinster who people can't quite figure out. They knew I was valedictorian of my class in 1956 and I became a nurse. I live in this big old house by myself, I don't even own a car, and I live on a few investments and Social Security. But there is an inner circle at the church, and the people who've been granted—”

“Healing?” Karen finished for her.

Grace nodded. “They know. But over the years I've begged them to keep my name out of their stories. I told them to celebrate their miracle and let the world know the wonders that had been done for them, but I told them I would deny having anything to do with it. It's true some things have happened that can't be explained, but believe me when I tell you it's not something that comes from me. It comes
through
me, so to speak. It's never my choosing.”

Karen's awe was suddenly transformed into unspeakable sadness. Tears welled in her eyes so quickly they spilled down her face before she could try to hold them back. “Is that why you couldn't heal Mike?” she asked, her voice quavering.

Grace squeezed her hand. Her own eyes watered. “It wasn't meant to be, Karen. I can't tell you why. I prayed and prayed for Mike, believe me, but I don't have power over anyone's destiny. Your husband is a very special man, and the afternoons I spent with him were so wonderful and enlightening. While we sat and talked, I would do what I'm doing now—put my hand on his—to see if there was any chance I could be that channel for him. Then I'd go home and get on my knees for hours. I fasted, begged—stormed heaven with his cause. A healing for Mike made perfect sense. And there were times I found I could gain him some temporary relief from his physical pain, like the day I first met him. But then he came down with the pneumonia, and in the end, I came to realize one thing.”

Karen was wiping her eyes, but the tears kept falling. “What is that?”

For the first time, Grace looked like she was bracing herself to speak. “It wasn't Mike who was granted a healing, although it's what we would all expect.” Her eyes bore into Karen's. “Not all healings are physical. Do you understand me?”

“Not really . . .”

“A healing occurred in your life, Karen. It just wasn't necessarily miraculous or conspicuous. But it's a healing just the same, and its impact is even more significant than if Mike had risen up from his wheelchair and lifted you in his arms.”

Karen's heart started beating fast. The first glimmerings of insight shifted the focus away from Mike. “Are you talking about my daughter?”

Grace shook her head slowly. “No, Karen. Lori was healed by the right regimen of medicine, doctors, and the love of good parents.”

All of a sudden Karen felt like she couldn't breathe. She couldn't form any questions or protests. She could only listen. After all, she was the one who had undergone a life-altering transformation. Mike and Lori were alive again because Karen had given them a reason to reach beyond themselves and live. She loved them, and it was their salvation.

Karen's healing was even more significant because it transcended anything physical.

“Oh, God,” Karen sobbed, thinking of the past one last time. “But I want it all back, Grace. I want Mike the way he used to be. I want to play tennis with him, and walk with him, and go out to dinner with him, and make love with him. I don't want to lose him so soon or watch him suffer. I just want back what we had before.”

Grace was ready with the answer, as though it had been planted there all along, waiting for the right moment. “Karen, you may not have what you once had, but you now have something you didn't have before. And it's something most couples never find. You and Mike are truly one spirit and one flesh. It's a promise and a bond that carries you both into eternity. Sickness and death can never touch it.”

Karen stepped out of the van feeling like someone had beaten her with a club. The profound truths revealed at Grace's house weighed on her spirit with sobering intensity. She knew Mike would see the telltale rings around her eyes and realize she had been crying. What was she going to say to him? How could she explain what had changed for her that day?

There would be no more past. There would be no more future. There was only now.

She trudged up the steps to the porch and opened the screen door. She wasn't at all surprised to see Mike sitting by the window. He was waiting for her, watching for her to pull into the driveway. By the look on his face, he had been worried.

“You okay?” he asked.

Karen crouched beside his chair. Her gaze bore into his, conveying what words couldn't. “I wanted a miracle,” she said.

Mike just nodded. It seemed like he had known the truth all along and was waiting for Karen to catch up. “Don't worry, babe,” he said. “The best miracles happen every day.”

She smiled at him. “But I wanted one of those spectacular ones.”

He actually laughed. He looked like he had at nineteen years old, with a glint in his eye. Only now Karen knew it had more to do with an inner light than the blazing sun on a beach. “I had one foot in the grave, but I'm still here,” he reminded her. “That's spectacular enough for me.”

Karen put her head on his lap and let him stroke her hair with his trembling hand. For the first time she didn't feel the need to mourn or shake her fist at the stars. She didn't wish for Mike to carry her up the stairs and prove he loved her with the strength of his body. She just reveled in the touch of his fingers because it was what they had at the moment. If they woke up the next day and he could only love her with his eyes, she would revel in that as well.

No past. No future. Just now.

Grace was right. They might have been traveling a different road than before—a road more treacherous and challenging than they could have imagined—but traveling it alone would have been far worse. They needed each other more than ever to survive, to experience, to live.

Karen closed her eyes. She recalled what Grace had said about the balm of human touch and the warmth it generated. Her cheek burned where it rested on Mike's lap.

Mike must have felt it, too. It was better than all the medicine in the world.

“Love you, babe,” he said.

Her hand stroked the length of his thigh.

“Love you, too.”

epilogue

Labor Day Weekend, 2004

Mike sat in the shade and took it all in. It was a perfect afternoon. The first hint of September vanquished the summer humidity and cooled the midday to a comfortable seventy-eight degrees. The aroma of two barbecued London broils lingered, though Karen had taken them off the grill and was slicing them at the long picnic table. The table itself, covered with a cheerful yellow tablecloth and set with all the bright trimmings of the season, looked like an advertisement from the summer issue of
Better Homes and Gardens.
There was enough salad to feed an army, fresh corn from a local farm, assorted grilled vegetables, homemade pasta salad, potato croquettes, and every condiment that money could buy.

Plus, there was plenty of beer. Mike couldn't drink, but he had a blast watching his friends get buzzed. Some were relaxing on chaise lounges or old beach chairs, some were milling around the table in anticipation of the feast, and some were carrying out Karen's instructions. She was calling out orders like a military commander—even Vinny was scrambling to do her bidding.

Mike watched her with the same infatuation that had seized him when he was nineteen.

She was so good at pulling an appetizing meal together. The house might have been a little untidy, and the landscape might have needed a little more attention, but his Karen always achieved culinary success, even managing to socialize while she did it. On this particular afternoon, she added yet another dimension to her amazing multitasking skills. She stayed connected to Mike the whole time. It seemed like everything she did, she did for him.

Nothing was taken for granted.

Mike couldn't have been happier if he were standing at the grill with a beer in his hand. None of it would have meant as much. If he lived to be a hundred and never knew a sick day in his life, he never would have known how Karen truly felt about him. He never would have appreciated the things he'd done in his life, including the rescues he'd performed as a firefighter. And he never would have met the people who made a career out of compassion. People like Raymond.

He felt blessed.

Mike moved his chair a few feet, until he was in the sun. Even with the brim of his Yankees hat pulled low, it was too bright. But he closed his eyes and turned his face up to bask in its warmth. The voices around him were like a favorite summer song.

He was startled when soft, familiar lips came down on his. His eyes popped open, and he saw Karen's smiling face hovering over him.

“Food's ready,” she said, and gave his shoulders a squeeze.

He closed his eyes again and puckered his lips for another kiss. But the next one felt oddly different, and his eyes opened to see Vinny standing over his chair. The explosion of laughter erupted so suddenly that birds took to the sky from the nearby trees. Mike laughed, too, his wit gearing up for the comeback his body would've tackled years before.

“I had no idea you felt this way,” he said.

Another chorus of laughter.

“Come and eat, you clowns,” Karen said, and everyone swarmed to the table.

“Wait!” Vinny said. Everyone froze. “I'd like to propose a toast.” He lifted his beer bottle and glanced at Mike. “To old friends.”

Mike met his gaze, speaking a thousand words in a silent instant, but Vinny swallowed and looked away.

“Hear, hear!”

Karen hurried to snap the cap off a beer and hand it to Mike for the toast. She closed his fingers around the bottle and helped him hold it up while all of their friends made it a point to clink theirs against it. But Mike noticed how they couldn't directly watch as Karen helped guide it to his mouth for the sip. Then he went back to ginger ale and iced tea in a toddler cup.

As soon as everyone was settled around the table, Mike lost himself in the conversation. Lisa was the first to speak up. “So, Vinny, should I tell them the news?”

Janice groaned. “Oh, God. You're not—”

Mike held his breath along with everyone else.

“Don't even
think
it!” Lisa said. “Go ahead, Vin.”

“Our daughter Melissa is engaged to be married, thank you very much.”

The beer bottles were raised again to a united shout of approval. Mike joined in the cheer.

Karen started passing the plates around when the clamor died down, taking portions for both Mike and herself. “You realize what this means, don't you?” she said.

“What?” Vinny and Lisa replied in unison.

“In another year, you could be grandparents,” Karen said.

Mike grinned. Now, there was an entertaining thought.

“I can live with that,” Vinny admitted. “I started worrying about that ten years ago, when the crib and the high chair would've been in
my
house.”

“I think about that, too,” Joe said. “My kids are older than yours, and they haven't even shown up with any prospects.”

“Don't rush it,” Janice urged. “At least I don't have to deal with in-laws yet.”

“And they don't have to deal with you,” Joe replied.

Mike waited for the laughter to die down. “Don't you want grandkids running around your yard?” he asked.

“We can wait,” they both replied.

Mike glanced at Karen. They would've had eight kids if it had been possible. And they would've given anything to see a grandchild climb the apple tree.

“Face it,” Lisa said. “You guys are coming into ‘Grandpa' mode.”

“Oh, and you ladies are somehow avoiding it,” Vinny replied.

“That's right,” Janice said. “Plastic surgery does wonders.” She had already had a few tucks here and there.

“And at least we still have our hair,” Lisa added. Vinny had been going bald since his mid-twenties, but ribbing him about it never seemed to grow old. Even Richie, the golden playboy, was getting thin on top.

“Mike still has his hair,” Karen said. She reached over and removed Mike's cap, showing off his thick mane. It was matted to his head, but she gave it a good tousle.

“And his boyish good looks,” Vinny said.

“Kiss me again and I'll knock you out,” Mike said, and there was an eruption of laughter around the table.

Karen planted the cap back on his head and pulled the brim down playfully.

He grinned at her. “You, on the other hand, can kiss me anytime,” he said.

As the circle of friends began to eat, there were moans of delight and compliments to the cook. If anybody noticed that Karen was cutting up Mike's food until it was almost minced, they didn't let on.

“Are the vegetables from your garden?” Lisa asked.

“They sure are,” Karen replied.

Mike beamed at her.

“You're turning into your grandmother,” Lisa said.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Karen replied. “But only if you're talking about vegetables.”

“The tomatoes are out of this world,” Vinny remarked, his jaw working eagerly on his most recent bite of salad.

Mike couldn't resist. “My Karen's tomatoes are the best,” he said with obvious innuendo. “They might not be beefsteak, but they're ripe and delicious.”

Karen turned bright red, just like Mike knew she would. And her friends couldn't let it slide. “Look, she still blushes! How cute is
that
?”

“Old enough to be a grandma, and still blushing,” Vinny said.

“Shut up and eat,” she replied, garnering more laughs.

But the laughter dissipated quickly when Karen started feeding Mike. The mood around the table was reduced to a shuffling, uncomfortable silence. Mike was painfully aware of it, but Karen had said it was a matter of introducing their friends to their altered way of doing things. Soon it would become acceptable and routine, as it had become for the two of them.

Mike could only hope so. He wasn't too surprised when Vinny stood up and made an excuse to leave the table. “That beer is going through me,” he said. “I'll be right back.”

As he loped into the house, Mike looked at Karen. He knew that for Vinny, whose memories were threaded through his own life in vivid detail, seeing Mike get fed like a baby had to be a crushing blow.

Lisa tried to make everyone comfortable by airing the tension. “It's hard for Vinny to see Mike like this,” she said. “Sometimes he doesn't know how to handle it. You remember the last time we were at the Jersey shore.”

How could anyone forget? Mike had thought his best friend would never want to see him again.

Karen was sitting beside Lisa, and she put a hand on her arm. “It's okay,” she said. “We understand perfectly.”

Richie chimed in next. “I gotta be honest,” he said, blinking into his plate. “It's hard for all of us.”

Mike knew he had to put their minds at ease. “You guys don't know how much it means to have you here today,” he said. “We've been through so much in the past few years, I never imagined having times like this again. I didn't want to eat for months because I couldn't stand the thought of Karen having to feed me. But the day I let her was the day things started getting better. So don't give it another thought. Janice, you iron Joe's shirts, and Lisa, you make Vinny macaroni on Sundays. And Karen, she feeds me. See?”

Karen looked at him, her eyes glistening. Her arms went around his neck, and she embraced him with a surge of affection that sent ripples around the table.

Mike was sure of it now. He didn't have to apologize anymore or wonder if Karen despised him. He didn't have to worry that she was repulsed by his weakness or his dependence. He was stronger than ever.
They
were stronger than ever.

Raymond appeared at the back door, and Mike seized the opportunity to restore the good mood. “Raymond! Come sit down with us!”

“That's okay, Mr. Donnelly,” the Jamaican replied, too polite to infringe on their company. “I just wanted to see if you needed anything.”

But Mike was adamant. “I want my friends to meet you,” he told his health aide, and indicated he should come on over with a jerk of his head. “This is Raymond. He's the salt of the earth and my right-hand man. Literally.”

Raymond came and stood behind Mike's chair. He nodded to each of the people around the table as they were introduced.

“Sit down and eat with us,” Mike insisted, and Raymond finally pulled a beach chair up beside him.

A few minutes later, Vinny emerged from the house looking more composed. He shook Raymond's hand and sat down. “Hey, Rich,” he called down the length of the table. “Did you tell them about the benefit?”

“Benefit?” Karen echoed.

Richie took a fast swig of beer before making his own announcement. “Yeah. When you asked me about the department's charitable funds, I got to thinking about all those walks and runs and dinners we went to over the years for guys who were hurt or killed on the job. So I set up a fund in Mike's honor and got the ball rolling on a few events to raise money. At the end of September we're having a family day in Bethpage Park—you know, with races and games and all—and next spring we'll do a walk in Manhattan around your old firehouse, maybe finishing off with a baseball game. I wanted to do it in the fall, but getting permits is a hassle. Then there's a benefit dinner dance, but that won't be until the spring, either, because all the good catering halls were booked solid.”

Mike was speechless. He sat perfectly still, fighting tears with all his might.

Karen spoke up for the both of them. And instead of speaking to Richie directly, she addressed her comment to Raymond. “Do you see how lucky we are? How many people have friends who would do this for them?”

Raymond nodded, surveying the small gathering. “Will I be invited?” he asked, restoring the air of relaxation and levity that everyone had been enjoying before Vinny's surrender to emotion.

Mike laughed in a bark of relief. “Well, I can't go without you!”

There was unanimous approval, and then the sound of forks clattering, and softer, more sporadic conversation settled on them for a few moments. Karen continued to feed Mike, and Raymond fixed a plate for himself.

Mike was careful to finish chewing before he spoke. “Hey, Joe,” he said. “How do you like the people who bought our house? Are they good neighbors?”

Joe almost choked, and Janice rolled her eyes. “Oh, no. Here we go.”

“You want to know what kind of neighbors they are? I'll tell you what kind of neighbors they are!”

The profanity started spewing, and Joe was turning colors as he described the yuppie couple who had moved into Karen and Mike's old house three doors down, and how they didn't turn their heads to acknowledge anyone around them except to discuss survey lines, fences, and driveway rights. He gave a few definitive accounts, namely that the young husband actually knocked on the door of his next-door neighbor and told him his kids were making too much noise playing basketball in the driveway.