Madge offered, and her eyes lit with a flash of sudden intuition that Andrea did not miss.
“Anyway,” Andrea continued, “Sandra’s black slip just disappeared. She blamed Madge. Madge denied taking it, and from there, a monumental shouting match. Of course, shouting and screaming never resolved anything. Sandra and Madge each held their ground. For weeks after, Sandra would make snide remarks, blaming Madge for the missing black slip, and Madge would play the wounded victim of ‘rash judgment.’” She shook her head. “Then Mother found the black slip when she was housecleaning. The slip was stuck behind Sandra’s bureau, caught between the bureau and the wall. Mother said it looked like the slip had somehow gotten wedged behind the bureau after sliding off the laundry she piled on each of our bureaus on wash day. Sandra was grounded for a month.”
Madge’s cheeks blushed pink. “And she spent even longer apologizing.”
“And well she should have,” Andrea cautioned.
Caroline arrived with plates piled high with steaming hotcakes and browned sausages. After quickly refilling their beverages and removing the now-empty Spinner plate, she left the three sisters to enjoy their breakfasts.
Andrea slathered her stack of hotcakes with butter, cut off a generous piece and savored the bite.
Madge poured low-calorie syrup on top of her stack and watched the syrup ooze over the sides. She cleared her throat. “Actually, I have a confession to make. To both of you. I—I had taken Sandra’s black slip and hid it behind her bureau. I was just playing a joke on her. I didn’t think she’d get so angry…but things just got out of hand, and I didn’t know how to stop it or what to do….”
Andrea sputtered and choked on her tea.
Jenny’s eyes twinkled. “You really had taken the black slip?”
Madge nodded. Her eyes glistened with tears. “I promised Sandra I’d tell you that today. On her birthday. That she had been right about the black slip,” she whispered. “I took it, and the argument was my fault. After all these years, I never really thought it was important to confess to that. Not to Sandra or either of you. I’d already prayed for forgiveness from God, but I never asked Sandra to forgive me. Not until she got sick. I told her right before…right before she left us to go Home.”
Andrea raised her glass of tea. “To forgiveness.”
Madge and Jenny raised their coffee cups, and they gently clicked their cups and glass together.
“Sandra had the biggest heart and most generous spirit of anyone I’ve ever known,” Jenny murmured.
Andrea swallowed hard before she took a sip of her iced tea. “She was a good friend, not just to me, but to a lot of people.”
Madge bowed her head for a moment. “She was more than just my sister. She was my shopping buddy and my gardening buddy, as terrible as she was, and she was my…my best friend.” She let out a deep sigh, paused, and then said, “I don’t know about either of you, but I hope it’s a long, long time before we have to do this again.”
“Do what?” Jenny asked. “Have a Sisters’ Breakfast? Kathleen’s birthday is in October, you know. Mother and Daddy’s aren’t until March.”
“No. I like the breakfasts. I like the tradition. I like sharing memories with each of you.” She reached out and took hold of Andrea’s and Jenny’s hands. “I hope we have years to be together. I hope…I just hope I don’t lose one of my sisters again. Not for a long, long time. That’s all.”
Andrea gulped hard and squeezed her sisters’ hands. “I pray we do, too. According to His will,” she added, certain that now was definitely not the time to share her news. She did not have to start chemotherapy for two weeks yet. Actually, she had a consultation tomorrow with the doctor to discuss the particulars of the process that would take a full year to complete. With all the experience she and her family had had with cancer and the treatments used to cure that hideous disease, she did not expect any surprises tomorrow. She did have questions, though, and decided it might be best to wait until she knew more before telling her sisters and asking for their help and their prayers.
Unless tomorrow held news she would not be anxious to share with anyone, most especially the sisters who were still grieving for Sandra, who had so recently been called Home.
Chapter Two
A ndrea sat in her parked car outside of the urologist’s office under the shade of a swamp maple tree large enough to cast a shadow that covered her entire station wagon. Her purse was at her side on the passenger seat. Her bottle of iced tea was in the cup holder. Her mind was focused on prayer.
Head bowed, she took small, measured breaths and kept her hands loosely steepled as they lay on her lap. Just the word cancer had the power to send shivers down her spine and arouse all the memories of her loved ones and their suffering she had stored in her mind, casting images of pain and suffering that made her heart beat so fast she grew dizzy.
Keeping this ten o’clock appointment to hear the particulars about her cancer recurrence would have kept her paralyzed in her seat if not for the power of prayer and the presence of the angels who had been sent to protect her from her own fears.
“According to Thy will, with the blessing of Your grace,” she murmured. She believed in God, and in His protection. She believed in the power of prayer. She believed. And with that belief came a gentle peace that washed over her, calmed her racing heartbeat and gave her the strength to make it from her car and into the doctor’s office with more dignity that she thought she might be able to muster today.
She entered the office and immediately cast aside the memory of her last visit when she had had a checkup at the other office Dr. Newton shared with several partners closer to the hospital. During the cystoscopic examination that day, more commonly referred to as a cysto, the doctor had discovered and removed several small growths in Andrea’s bladder and sent them for biopsy. The visit itself had become a blur, but the clinical setting Andrea remembered in the examining room did little to assuage her unease today, despite the fact that she would be keeping all of her appointments here, in the doctor’s office, which was closer to Welleswood.
The second blessing of the day came when the receptionist quickly ushered Andrea directly into the doctor’s office. No forms to sign. No referrals to submit. No waiting. Just a gracious welcome and immediate escort to a private office with a comfortable upholstered visitor’s chair facing a window that provided a spectacular view of an outdoor garden.
The doctor’s desk itself looked like no desk that Andrea had ever seen in a medical office. It didn’t hold files or a telephone or a computer screen. Instead, this small antique lady’s desk cradled treasured family pictures and trinkets and a vase of wildflowers. A door next to the desk led outside to the garden, which, Andrea guessed, was the source of the flowers in the doctor’s office.
With assurances that the doctor would be in momentarily, the receptionist left, closing the door. Through the window, Andrea could see the private garden was protected on all sides by a tall fence, bordered by lush hedges and flowerbeds bursting with riotous color. Elegant wrought-iron benches faced the open center of the garden, where Andrea glimpsed some sort of tiled patio. She noticed a number of low garden lamps and imagined how beautiful the garden must look at night. No matter the hour, the doctor would always have a private haven at her fingertips.
Andrea was half tempted to step outside, to enjoy the sweet fragrances of the flowers, when
