Thanks to Eustace

Whispers from the back door in the kitchen alerted me to an illegal venture. I heard the door furtively open. "Shh! Quiet, now! Can’t let Mama hear us . . ."

Ah, those little sneaks!

Well . . . did I want to scream at them to stop right where they were; dash through the kitchen, dodging table, chairs, and toys to collar them, or dash the other way down the hallway to my right, around the stairway, and to the kitchen that way— where I’d be right at the back door. Screaming would be quicker, but I was tired of that. Something more drastic might work better anyway. So, I snuck around to the back door using the hallway route, fast as an irritated mother could run on tiptoes. They were already out the door. Which Jack, my ten-year-old, was about to pull softly shut. I jerked it from his hand. He gasped, stepped backwards into the twins, pushing them further out onto the porch. My outraged glare swept from Jack to his equally guilty younger brother and sisters.

"You were told you cannot play out here! It’s too dangerous!"

Sylvana, eight, adjured Baby Trista to stop yanking at her hand, and stand still. Then, her blue eyes big and wide, she wheedled, "We’ll stay away from the edge, Ma. Honest!"

Ha . . . right!

This business of settling Eustace’s estate had gone on forever it seemed, and the kids were handling it horribly. I said with impatience, "Look, how many times have I told you? Eustace fell over that cliff over there, trying to put a fence up. Nobody’s finished the job! It’s a fifty foot fall onto those railroad tracks! No way are you playing out there! I swear your father must’ve been crazy wanting to stay in this place! Me too for agreeing to come! Get in here! Right now!"

They complied— grumbling. Redheaded, five year old Allyna scowled. "You’re no fun, Mom!"

"Yeah!" declared her lisping twin, Anthony, "Sanks to Eustath, I’m bored!"

Amid a chorus of me-too’s, I herded them inside. The fact they’d packed my life with considerable stress these past few days eroded my sympathy. Really, in my opinion, the death of my husband’s cousin didn’t merit the children and I remaining here now that the funeral was over. However, as summer vacation had begun, Donald’d deemed it an excellent opportunity for our kids to meet our home state, West Virginia. So here we still were.

"How can you say this gorgeous mountain scenery is boring?" I demanded. "And I thought you liked these thrilling roller coaster roads that have nothing much to keep you from disappearing over their edges— like this back yard! Lost your appreciation?"

"Definitely!"

"Made us seasick, anyway; huh, Anthony!"

"I want Connecticut!"

Even Baby Trista eyed me accusingly.

Unequal to the challenge, I waved them away. "Go on, and find something else to do besides fight and trash the place. You’re making me nuts!"

Five seconds later, they were at it again. Well, what else was new?

Heard the thud of stumbling footsteps from the upstairs hallway, which was followed by a few oaths, and the crash of toys being kicked aside. Donald was finally up. He wandered into the kitchen, unkempt and bleary-eyed, clad only in jeans. Posed at the sink, I looked him over.

"What? No Attorney Lloyd today? You’ve finished Eustace’s business?"

"Thanks to his foresight and planning— just about. There’s just some minor things to take care of . . . ." He delivered a peck to my cheek. "Dayna, what if I were to make an offer for this house?"

Surely his brains had gone fishing! "This house? This nightmare of tiny rooms, no closets, and drafty halls? No yard? Oho, take me home, country roads!"

"I was thinking about coming back home, actually. Thought that maybe . . . but if you feel that way about it . . . " Pressing a hand to his head, he sighed deeply. "Ahh, these lousy headaches . . . . I’m . . . not going anywhere today . . . and no one’s coming here. It’s just us." Another peck. (I hate pecks.) "What’s for breakfast?"

"Breakfast?"

Swiftly, Donald assessed my mood. "Lunch then," he amended.

I folded my arms. "Sandwiches!"

"Fine. Whatever you feel like fixing."

I felt like fixing nothing. Who wanted to think about lunch while the breakfast dishes still lurked in the sink?

Yet, having Donald all to ourselves would be worth some sacrifice. Probably be for the first time in months, if I put myself to the trouble of thinking about it. A short while after Trista’s birth, he’d begun to change toward me; toward us all, really. Indifference . . . .impatience. . .

Nothing I did seemed to please him. And I’d killed myself to take off all the excess weight I’d gained with four pregnancies. Everything the kids did gave him a headache. Rarely did he play with them. Seemed he was the happiest when he could fill our house with semi-permanent guests— friends or relatives. Whose wishes I was expected to grant whatever else I was dealing with.

Wasn’t a surprise to me that he’d quickly settled into old habits here as well. From the first day we arrived at Eustace’s old house, somebody (usually Attorney Lloyd) had to be entertained for meals. Yes, even here, Donald had to have other people surrounding him. While I was tired of the extra work and the kids’ endless bickering, I was profoundly thankful that he had not invited anyone to "move in" with us, as was his habit back home.

Moreover those headaches seemed more frequent of late. I’d passed them off, at first, as an excuse to wheedle out of doing things with the kids. I was the one who taught the boys— and the girls— how to play ball, ride a bike, bowl, swim . . . whatever. Donald kept pretty much to himself, except when his buddies, or his relatives, were there. When, finally convinced there might really be something wrong, I suggested he go see a doctor about his migraines, he’d snapped, "Back off, Haldayna! I’m fine!"

Rarely one to force an issue, I backed off. Of course, that shouldn’t mean I oughtn’t show a little compassion. . . . I could muster some— probably.

The kids thundered in then, derailing my budding good intentions, and exuberantly tackled their father. "Dad! Dad! Will you play with us today?"

"Yeah, Mom’s no fun!"

"There’s nuffin to do!"

"All right, all right! Quiet— all of you! " Donald put a hand to his head, annoyance and some anger in his expression. I thought he’d order them all to disappear someplace. He surprised us all by visibly curbing his irritation, and saying, "Look, how about we all go to the park after lunch. Okay?"

My arms loaded with mustard, mayonnaise and ham and cheese, I fannied the refrigerator door shut. "You go. I need some peace and quiet, thanks!"

Some disappointment registered in six pairs of eyes, but not one soul cajoled to change my mind.

Oh, was wonderful to have a meal as a family! No Attorney Lloyd— or anyone else— added. Granted, the kids monopolized the conversation, but we’d have our time later when they were asleep. Was I ever looking forward to that!

Then came a knock at the door.

Jack fell over his chair in a rush to answer it before Sylvana did. All that fuss for a buddy of Donald’s I couldn’t stand. Roger Fairing’s meticulous appearance, his insincere charm, that affected laugh, had always nauseated me. It still did.

"Am I intruding, Donny? I’ll stay just a second! Heard you were in town, so I thought I’d stop quick, and say hi!" He sidestepped to warmly clasp my hand. "Dayna, you still look seventeen!"

I smiled politely, (actually I finally looked twenty-five), and conveyed a silent imploration to Donald to get rid of him. Useless. Story of my life . . .

"Sit; help yourself! Nothing fancy! Dayna, get him a cup! So, Rog, what’s new? How’s Jan?"

"She’s left me," lamented Roger, accepting the seat at Donald’s right, where he commanded Donald’s attention, and the rest of the sandwiches and the fruit.

While I applauded Jan’s good sense, Roger mourned his loss, and licked our platters clean. After that, he and Donald removed to the living room. Wherein they embarked upon a thousand other topics. Roger’s "second" stretched to suppertime and beyond. I saw Our Time dissolving like an Alka-Seltzer tablet.

Deep frustration, anger at being treated as Slave of the World, plus having to deal with the kids’ worst behavior yet (provoked by the abortion of the park excursion) gave me a thumping headache. Which peaked acutely, when, as I came downstairs, battle weary from putting the kids to bed, the guys succumbed to the urge to go look up some other old pals.

His headache apparently healed, out sauntered Donny, a hand on Rog’s shoulder. "Stay the night afterwards, Rog. Be no problem."

I groaned my despair and resentment aloud. Oh, never have I agreed with Donald’s free and easy views of hospitality. I stand by my feeling that 99.9% of his friends should go home BEFORE the month is out. Bunch of mooches!

Standing yet on the staircase, I drummed the railing. How was I to prevent the intrusion of an unwanted guest when I could never do it before. Too much of a wimp, really.

My restless drumming stopped; I drew in a horrified breath. My God, he could come home with Everybody!

My thoughts whirled wildly. I could run out and demand Donald stay and Roger leave. I could leave! Or— I could make some phone calls, and when Donald returned, he could drown in a sea of my friends.

I drummed the railing again.

Okay. Now . . . where’s the phone book?

I found it on the coffee table under some Field and Stream magazines. Within a short time I’d reached a few old friends who could drop everything and come right over. It wasn’t precisely a sea, but hey— a good sized pond could serve my purposes too.

The thought of a slumber party niggled.

How sweet it was to get together with my pals! I had a few friends back in Connecticut, but it was great to see those of my childhood Especially Jody and Nicki Thompson. We’d been a club, those sisters and I— and Gracie and Pam. For about two hours I forgot the real reason I’d asked them all over. We laughed, giggled, and reminisced, and polished off all the snacks that Roger and Donald hadn’t.

Just as I’d made up my mind to ask them to stay over, an incredulous, and annoyed, voice from the doorway ruined our happy atmosphere.

"Dayna! What’s going on? Thought you wanted our time?"

Now here was a brilliant observation from the man who had deserted me for his own pursuits! This thought, and my astonishment at seeing him back so soon, and without Roger— without anyone— made me respond with lively indignation, "Didn’t think it’d been such an important thing with you! You told Roger he could spend the night!"

"All right! I had a prick of conscience! Girl talk’s over!"

Oho, not a chance. "I need friends too, Donald! And we need some more chips and dip. And the raspberry tea that’s in the fridge. Oh, and some ice . . .!" I blew him a kiss to soften the order as he always does to me.

"Dayna!"

"What? It’s the least you can do for us. I’ve been doing it for your friends since I married you! And more so these past few months! You too good to do it for me?"

Apparently so, for he replied coolly, "I am not waiting on your friends, Dayna. Good night, ladies! Some other time, huh?"

How I wished I’d said something like that to his friends all those many times in the past! In that tone too. Defiantly I faced him. "These are my plans tonight, Donald!"

Unmistakable threats gleamed in his grey eyes. "Now!"

Which persuaded Pam and Gracie to beat it for the door with a hastily uttered "See you later, Dayna!" But Jody and Nicki merely altered their position in their respective seats. We’d always been a team, the Thompson girls and me. We never abandoned each other to dire fates.

Fiercely, Donald eyed them. "Said everyone, Dayna!"

"Your friends never left when I had things to say! But then, your friends never seem to leave, period! We come here— thanks very much to your cousin’s death— and what do you know! Nothing changes! You do what you want, and we’re supposed to be happy just because you are! Well I’m not! Let me tell you something . . . I’m sick of— "

I faltered momentarily, becoming aware, suddenly, of the presence of another audience, huddled together out in the hall behind their father. Caught a glimpse of five considerably apprehensive little faces.

Oh, great . . . . . had they ever gone to sleep?

For the first time in my life, however, I was too angry to care who heard me, and so I ranted on. "You know, except that I make a wonderful slave— or— or rug— you must feel that your friends have more to offer you than I do! Fine— fine! But what about the kids!"

Disregarding that, he grimly ordered, "I want them out, Dayna! Now!"

I folded my arms mutinously. Goaded, Donald took purposeful strides toward me. Jody and Nicki rose up, ready to assist me if called on. The kids, believing he’d meant for them to clear out, did— like a bunch of frightened puppies. Three stumbled back upstairs, and two bolted for cover in the kitchen.

Startled, his temper now flaring, Donald swung around in time to see them all scatter. "What are all of you doing up? GET TO BED!" Turning his head, he glared at me. "This is your fault!"

"Mine? You do this all the time, Donald! You ever stop to consider— "

"Ma! Ma!" Anthony burst into the room, his eyes huge with fear. "Allyna ran ou’thide! I don’t thee her!"

"What! Why?" thundered Donald.

Anthony cowered. I elbowed past Donald to go after Allyna, shot back, "That’s why!"

Briefly I paused on the tiny back porch. Was so dark I couldn’t see the outline of anything. Thank goodness Eustace had gotten that stretch of fence up. If she would only stay to the left side of the yard, she’d be all right. Was a flicker of hope that wanted to balloon instead into mindless panic. For my frantic calls brought no answering ones. Heedlessly I ran forward.

Behind me, with flashlights, Donald and Jody hurried. Nicki collared the other kids, kept them from following. Except Jack— who jumped over the railing. When I ordered him back, he burst out, "It’s my fault! I showed her how to unlock the door today, Mom. Let me help find her!"

I couldn’t tell him no. He took my hand, and we searched together.

In the beam of the flashlights, we quickly discovered an empty backyard. Ordering Jack to stay behind us, and Jody and me to be careful, Donald cautiously approached the edge of the drop off. My heart felt like an ice block melting in cold drips to the pit of my stomach. I crept closer to Donald.

Jody slipped beside me. "See anything?" It was echoed from the porch by probably everyone.

The beams pierced the blackness, casting weird shadows onto the rocks below, and upon those beside the railroad tracks. In frustration Donald uttered, "I can’t tell . . . What is that over to the right?"

Oh, please . . . . . no . . . .

"Mama!" The plaintive cry came from further right.

As one the beams of light swung toward it. There in a crumpled heap upon a sliver of a ledge, perhaps fifteen feet below us, lay a frightened Allyna.

Drawing a swift breath, I clutched Donald’s arm, speechless with dread. Donald called to her, keeping his voice calm. "Are you okay, ‘Lyna! Don’t move, honey! I’m coming to get you!" He turned his head slightly. "Jack— get the rope!"

Armed with Jody’s flashlight, Jack hurried away. Meanwhile, the three of us encouraged Allyna to stay still, for any shift in her position could send her plunging downward onto those merciless boulders. A heartfelt prayer that Eustace hadn’t died in winter flitted through my mind. Rescue was going to be risky enough without the added complication of cold, snow, and ice.

I was grateful too, for Donald’s calm assurance— in stark contrast with his livid temper only minutes ago. In spite of his gentleness, however, Allyna sobbed for me. Became quite hysterical frankly.

Much afraid she would make a fatal move in her agitation, I implored him, "Let me try, Donald. If it’ll calm her—"

"No!" he declared flatly. "If something were to happen to you, the kids’ ll end up having nobody!"

"What?" I stared uncomprehendingly at him. It was difficult to read his face in the dark. "What are you talking about? She’s scared, Donald! Just let me go!"

"I know she’s scared. I’m talking about these headaches. It’s what I came back to talk to you about. What I’d planned to tell you when we went to the park. Except you—"

Jack returned then, breathless. "Here! Here’s the rope, Dad!" And thrust it into his father’s hands. Headaches were forgotten for the moment.

Swiftly Donald made a loop, and slipped it around his waist. "Will you be able to handle my weight? And hers!"

I didn’t have much size to me, but Jody did. I assured Donald we could do it as a team. Nicki ventured nearer, holding Baby Trista, and keeping a strict eye on Anthony and Sylvana. Anthony had the idea he could haul his sister up all by himself.

"Just gimme the rope, Dad! I can do it!"

"Just stand back, Anthony. We don’t need you going over, too!" Donald got ready to descend.

Sylvana pulled her little brother back against her, all the while hugging Baby Trista close.I wanted to hug all three of them close, but it’d have to wait. Jack directed both beams downward, and we lowered Donald to the ledge. He wasn’t a terribly big man, but his weight dropping over the edge took us a little off guard, and we fought to brace ourselves as we played out slack to him.

At length he reached the ledge Allyna lay upon. He reached to gather her into his arms, speaking to her soothingly, his voice husky with his fear for her. To our dismay, she fought him. There was barely room for him to stand with her upon that slice of rock, thus he had difficulty keeping his balance, and coping with her resistance too. Although he continued to speak to her calmly, I could sense his exasperation.

"Allyna, please let Daddy bring you up to Mommy! I’m waiting for you!" It was hard to keep the panic out of my voice, but I managed.

In a moment, to our relief, Donald called, "I’ve got her! Get us up!"

With Allyna’s added weight, our benumbed fingers and straining muscles objected, threatened to give out. Inch by gradual inch, we hauled them up to safety

When at last, Donald crawled over the side of the drop off, I seized Allyna, Tears streaming heedlessly down my face, I made sure she’d suffered no hurt beyond an awful scare. Except for some cuts and bruises, she seemed okay. While I wanted to enfold her forever within my embrace, I surrendered her to Donald when he reached for her. He had a breach of trust to heal with her. We were all standing together now, so I took Baby Trista from Nicki, and hugged her and Sylvana instead. Realized I was trembling uncontrollably.

A prick in my brain began to investigate the meaning of Donald’s remark,"If something were to happen to you, the kids’ll end up having nobody!" So what about those headaches? Disregarding the fact that the timing might not be right, that’s precisely what I asked him.

Dropping a kiss upon Allyna’s red head, he confided, "Haldayna, I have a brain tumor. It —may not be operable . . ."

My stomach dropped to my sneakers. "What?" How long had he known? Why hadn’t he told me about it before? Vaguely I was aware of glances exchanged between my friends. Silently they slipped away, leaving us alone to sort this out together.

Enlightenment, like one of those flashlight beams, flicked on in my head. Ever since Trista’s birth . . . "You knew this all the time! You made me believe it was just migraine headaches! No big deal, you said! Just make the kids be quiet, you said! But you may have waited too long before you went for real help, huh? You littered our lives with your friends because you couldn’t make yourself tell me! Did you think I wouldn’t stick by you? Did you think I’d leave you? Ahh, Donald!"

My anger and frustration overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t finish. Just thrust Trista into Sylvana’s arms, and dropped down on one knee beside him, wrapped an arm about him— despite my feelings of betrayal, and hugged him and Allyna.

He bowed his head with a sheepish guilt, and shrugged. "I didn’t know . . . how to— I just . . . I just . . . didn’t want to . . . burden you with . . . with this . . ."

One hand clenched in frustration, my other bunched up the fabric of his sleeve. "Donald! Wake up! Your friends have been the burden on me! On our time, our relationship— our wallets! On the kids even! We’re supposed to be a team, and you’ve made me sit on the bench! It isn’t fair. I would rather have known!"

"I’m— sorry, Dayna."

"I am too!" I responded, not terribly moved by his tone of regret. "Look what it’s done!"

"I know. I had a taste of my own medicine tonight . . . I didn’t like it!" He suddenly chuckled. "Finally discovered you do have spunk! I was beginning to think I had married a rug!"

"Well, thank you! I love you too!"

The mockery in my tone made him smile with sad regret. With one movement he stood, lifting Allyna in one arm, and drawing me up with the other. "I haven’t done the best job in showing it, but I love you— all of you! I don’t want to lose any of you!"

Nor did we want to lose him.

When I couldn’t seem to answer, and say it, he forced a laugh. "What a time for gut wrenching revelation! Out here in the dark next to a fifty foot drop off! God— first Eustace, then Allyna . . . We were lucky tonight, Dayna. But I don’t know if I’ll be so lucky. Maybe— maybe I’ll lose my grip, and— join Eustace . . . "

Swallowing the fear and the tears that formed a lump in my throat, I snugged up my hold on his waist. "Donald, I don’t know what’s going to happen. I just know we can get through it if you just don’t shut us out! I don’t know— maybe some good’s come from our having to be down here because of Eustace. Why can’t we use it as a foothold, and climb this cliff of yours together!"

For a moment, Donald was quiet, looking down at me. When he answered, it seemed his mood was lighter. "I never expected to be grateful to Eustace for anything! Teased me unmercifully when we were kids! Imagine, though, I oughtta be for this!" With that, he flung back his head, and hollered to the stars, "Thank you Eustace— wherever you are!" Which made the kids giggle.

"There!" he pronounced with satisfaction. "That takes care of that! Let’s get Allyna checked out just to be sure. And when we get back, we’ll make time for us. From now on— whatever happens. How’s that?"

How’s that?

The night breeze carried an echo of thanks softly after Donald’s . . .