That Certain Spark (21 page)

Twenty

T
he tang of terror filled Enoch’s mouth. His wife looked up at him, her eyes huge with worry. Smiling to lend a reassurance he was far from feeling, he adjusted his coat he’d draped over her delicate shoulders. Mr. Richardson hadn’t wanted to leave town with Bethany laid up, so Enoch had offered to check out for him a bull located several hours away. He’d taken Mercy along for the ride, and they’d made a vacation of the two-day trip. “Are you warm enough now, sweet pea?”

A full mile must have passed by the train’s window before she responded. “Yes, thank you.” Beneath his coat, her posture straightened, showing strength and gumption. A smile flitted across her features, as did a beguiling wash of pink. “Enoch.” She cast a shy look at the open doorway. Though they were alone in their Pullman compartment, the door to the narrow hallway traversing the train car was open.

He lifted her left hand and kissed the back of her fingers, paying special attention to her wedding band. Pitching his voice low, he professed, “I’m proud you’re my wife.” He heard the small tearful gasp and turned her hand over, pressing a kiss to her palm. “You’ve blessed my life with love, and—”

“Enoch.” Anguish tainted her voice.

“Shhh.” He looked up at her and manufactured a scamp’s smile. “I’m trying to be romantic.”

“You’ve been very romantic.”

“Mmm. Good.” He winked. “Now where was I? Let me see. Right about here . . .” Dipping his head, he brushed his lips on the inside of her wrist. The pulse there fluttered. “Sweet pea, sweet pea, sweet pea,” he murmured in time with the thrum of his own heartbeat. He turned her hand over and kissed the back of it. “Sweet pea.” Kissed her fingers and wedding band. “Sweet pea.” And last, the tips of her fingers, looking deep into her eyes, willing her to see the love in his eyes, hear it in his voice, feel it in his touch.

“Oh my.”

He tucked her close to his side once again. For a few moments, he’d helped her push away the fear and enjoy being a woman—his woman. “We’ve a ways to go. Rest your head here and take a nap.” He didn’t give her an opportunity to demure. Instead, he slid his hand along the far side of her face and drew her head down. He had no answers for her, no honest reassurance. He’d do anything he could, though, to make this easier on her. Easier? Immediately revising that to be truthful, he corrected himself. Less hard.

Overwhelmed, she snuggled up next to him.

Short as the trip was, every minute had seemed to last an hour. Enoch knew he’d bought only a few minutes at best. Those moments counted, though.
If you’re only going to give us a short time together, Lord, help me make every second count. You know my heart, though. I’ve waited for this woman, and if you’d grant me a long lifetime with her, I’d count it a great blessing. Bowing to your will . . .

Mercy’s hand came up and rested over his heart. “Could we do something?”

Anything. “What, darling?”

“Let’s get off one stop early and sneak into Gooding.”

“Sure.” Until this matter was settled, no one else needed to know anything. Even afterward, no one else needed to know. Never before had he been more thankful for Taylor’s unsurpassed medical talent and her incredible tact and discretion.

“Especially with it being so late, we’d probably be able to ride horses through the woods and sneak over to see—”

“Our sister,” he inserted, trying to keep her from having to say doctor.

Mercy tilted her head up and gave him a startled look.

“Just because Taylor’s my twin doesn’t mean she’s not your sister now.”

Tears glossed Mercy’s remarkable eyes. “Yes, that’s right. I’d like to see our sister, and I don’t want to scare Heidi.”

“Of course not.”

He kissed her nose. “It could be nothing. Let’s not borrow any worries from tomorrow.” His soul told him his assertion was true; his medical mind jangled alarms.

“I’ve performed several of these surgeries before.” Taylor set aside the tablet of paper with the quick sketches she’d drawn and looked directly into her sister-in-law’s fright-filled eyes.
She needs my confidence and strength. So does Enoch.
Resisting the temptation to downplay the gravity of the situation, Taylor curled her hand around Mercy’s and reached for Enoch’s. “The most important thing is, we’re going to go through this together, and God is with us. I trust Him to guide my hands during the operation and to bring you through recovery.”

“If it’s not just a cyst . . .” Mercy stared at her lap. “If you have to . . . well . . .”

“I’ll do whatever is necessary to remove the threat to your life.” As a rule, cysts were smooth and regular in shape; cancerous tumors grew in irregular shapes with uneven edges. Her examination revealed a walnut-sized lump in Mercy’s breast—and the jagged outline presaged bad news. For that very reason, she wanted to discuss the worst possible surgical treatment. “As a new wife, this must be especially difficult.”

Mercy’s hand clenched tighter. “It’s dreadful. I’ve ruined everything.”

“You haven’t ruined anything. I’m thankful we caught this when it was small and that Taylor is so experienced. Think, Mercy—how God had His hand on this with those provisions and that you live now instead of back when surgery was barbaric.”

“They didn’t have to do . . . that, though.”

“Yes, they did mastectomies. That’s what the surgery is called, and it’s been done for a long time.” Taylor kept her voice matter-of-fact. “John Adams’ daughter had a mastectomy while fully awake, without anything to dull her pain. Her cancer had been noticeable for quite some time and she’d not gotten any treatment. By the time she sought surgery, the tumor had completely overtaken her breast—yet the mastectomy drew away enough malignancy that she lived another two years.

“Your examination reveals something quite small in comparison to Nabby Adams’. Since it is movable and away from the chest wall, those are excellent signs for a full recovery; but if this is a cancerous tumor, I must remove the entire breast so none of the glandular tissue is left.” If she gave no realistic preparation with honest glimmers of hope or heaped-on pity, her sister-in-law was doomed. Taylor knew the importance of instilling the belief that she’d recover and lead a normal life—not just immediate recovery, but also for Mercy’s ultimate outcome. “After healing, women with this surgery wear some padding at the bosom and no one is the wiser that they’ve had the surgery at all.”

“You’d know,” Mercy whispered to Enoch.

He lifted her face to his. “And I’d still love you every bit as much.”

Taylor turned away. She didn’t want either of them to see her tears. “Enoch, I’ll prepare everything. Go fetch Velma. She can assist me.”

“No!” Mercy and Enoch said in unison.

Mercy wrapped her arms around his waist. “Only Enoch. No one else. Please, Taylor. I trust him. He’s helped you with other surgeries, and—”

“He’s too emotionally involved.”

Enoch glared at her. “I vowed before the Lord to protect and cherish my wife. You and I work as a team, and no one else has half my skill. You’re not going to stop me, Taylor. I’m assisting you.”

She looked from one to the other and got ready to argue. Mercy’s eyes held desperate trust, and Enoch stared at Taylor’s with a fierceness she’d never seen in him. Medically, Velma would be the wiser choice for an assistant; but they wanted—no, needed—this semblance of control. “The two of you are insane.”

“I sure am. Crazy in love.” He must have thought she was out of earshot when she went across the hall to prepare her surgery, because he said, “I’m madly in love with you, Mercy-mine.”

Heavenly Father, please, can’t you grant a miracle? Can you make this a mere cyst after all? They’re so in love. Heidi’s just a little girl, and she needs her mommy. . . .
Prayers lurched from Taylor’s heart as she set out her carefully sterilized instruments. Trying to sound calm and maybe even a little lighthearted as she reached for the chloroform, she called out, “Okay, Enoch. It’s time for you to give your bride a good-night kiss.”

A short while later, Taylor paused. In a second, the tumor would be visible. Some tumors spidered out in all directions, clear into muscles and the lymphatic tissue—even into the lungs in a few cases she’d seen. In such instances, the cancerous disease had gone so far into the woman’s being that putting her through the hardships of recovering from the removal of all of the tissue was not only useless but cruel. She stopped praying just long enough to order, “Give Mercy a little more chloroform.”

“She’s had enough.”

“I’m the doctor here.” She didn’t want her twin to see the tumor until she’d first had a glimpse of how involved it was; only he wasn’t cooperating. “I knew I should have gotten Velma to assist me.”

“She wouldn’t administer more chloroform, either. It’d be too much, and you know it.” Enoch’s voice edged close to a shout. “Stop delaying. The truth isn’t going to change.”

“I love her, Enoch.”

“I know.”

“I love you, too.” She drew a deep breath and pressed ahead.

“ ‘Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me . . .’ ” Enoch crooned softly as he sat at the bedside and coiled one of Mercy’s little wisps of hair around and around his finger. She was hideously pale, her lips pinched in pain, and her body dwarfed by the bed and the stack of pillows Taylor had used to keep the covers from rubbing against Mercy’s chest.

Mercy’s eyelids fluttered.

Holding her right hand in his, he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “ ‘Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me. . . .’ ”

Slowly, one eye opened. “You need glasses.”

Bolting up out of the chair so fast it slid back and crashed against the wall, Enoch chortled. “You need a kiss to sweeten your disposition.” He gladly obliged, then fearing she’d ask the one question he didn’t want to answer, he insisted, “You have to drink some of this. Taylor extracted a promise from me that I would make you down the whole cup when you woke up.”

“What—”

“It’s a mixture of juices and some medicine. I think you’re fairly safe. Taylor can’t cook, but no one can ruin juice.”

Mercy rewarded that with a small smile.

“And voilà! I have a straw for Madame.” He tucked the paper straw into the cup and aimed it between her lips. “I bought a whole box of them. Think Heidi’s going to like sipping lemonade with them?”

“Mmm . . .”

“She’s fine. I’ll bring her by later on.” He tapped the straw to urge Mercy to drink more. “You ought to see how much fun she’s having, sticking her tongue out through the hole where her tooth was. I caught her trying to wiggle another tooth loose.” Enoch twisted the straw. “Keep drinking. Taylor and Karl argued about her wanting to pay too much for coal today, and I’m not getting in the way of her temper. You’ve seen Taylor when she’s got her back up. She hisses at everything.”

Her lids drooped.

“You’re tired, sweet pea. Go on and take a little nap.” He drew away the empty cup and pressed his lips to her temple. “Praise God, you’re doing fine.”

He stepped out of the room and Taylor grabbed his sleeve. Hauling him over to the room that had been his bedchamber, she whispered hotly, “You can’t do that, Enoch. You can’t. She’s not fine. It’s wrong to tell her otherwise.”

“I’m doing what’s right for my wife and family. It’s my decision.” For the past three days, they’d been squabbling over this issue. He’d continued to argue, assuming that Taylor would eventually give in. First, he’d attributed it to the stress they’d both been under. Then, the sleepless nights. But now—now things were hitting a critical point.

Eyes afire, Taylor kept hold of his sleeve and shook it. “How dare you relegate Mercy into the same category as you would a naïve child. She’s a grown woman who’s cared for herself and her daughter and run two successful businesses. Suddenly, since you put a ring on her finger, you know so much more than she does about herself that you get to decide what she’s told about her own condition? No. Absolutely not.”

“Not everyone is as headstrong and autonomous as you. Certainly not other women. You can’t judge what my wife needs based on what you’d want.”

Taylor released his sleeve and stepped back. “I based what I said on what other patients have desired and on the character of the woman I know Mercy to be.”