not going to live much longer. Something is wrong with me, Florry, and not just the crazy stuff. There’s a disease deep in my body and it’s getting worse. Might be cancer, might be something else, but I know it’s there and it’s growing. The doctors can’t find it but I know it’s there. They can give me drugs that soothe the nervous breakdown, but they have nothing for my disease.”
“I don’t know what to say, Liza.”
“Say nothing. Just listen.”
Hours had passed, hours with no sign of Joel. Liza seemed to forget about him, but Florry was well aware that he should have been there.
Liza stood and said, “I think I’ll change clothes, Florry. I’ve been thinking about a certain pair of linen pajamas and a silk bathrobe that Pete always loved.” She walked to their bedroom door as Florry stood and stretched her legs.
Florry went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. A wall clock gave the time as 11:40. She took the phone to call Joel, and then she saw the problem. The wire running from the baseboard to the phone had been cut, snipped cleanly in two as if by scissors. The phone was useless, and it had probably not been used that night to call Joel.
She returned to the den and waited. Liza was in her bedroom with the door open, and she was crying, louder and louder. She was lying on the bed she had shared with Pete, wearing the white linen pajamas under a cream silk bathrobe. Her feet were bare.
Florry leaned over her and said, “It’s okay, Liza. I’m here with you. What’s wrong, honey?”
Liza pointed to a chair and said, “Please.” She wiped her face with a tissue and struggled to get control. Florry took a seat and waited. Liza had not called Joel. Joel had not called the doctors, nor Stella. They were all waiting frantically for news from somewhere, and here was Liza on her bed, in her home.
Florry wanted to ask why she had cut the phone line, but that conversation would go nowhere. Liza was on the verge of talking and perhaps revealing secrets that they thought would never be revealed. Best not to distract her. She didn’t want Joel around at this moment.
Liza finally asked, “Did Pete talk to you before he died?”
“Of course. We discussed a lot of things—the kids, the farm, the usual things you might expect a dying person to cover.”
“Did he talk about us and our troubles?”
Indeed he did, but Florry wasn’t taking the bait. She wanted to hear it all from the closest source. “Of course not. You know how private he was. What kinds of troubles?”
“Oh, Florry, there are so many secrets, so many sins. I really can’t blame Pete for not forgiving me.” She began crying again, then sobbing. The outbursts became something of a wail, a loud, aching, agonized groan that startled Florry. She had never heard such painful mourning. Liza’s body retched as if she might vomit violently, then she heaved and convulsed as she sobbed uncontrollably. It went on and on, and finally Florry could watch no longer. She went to the bed, lay down beside her, and clutched her tightly.
“It’s okay, Liza. It’s okay, honey. You’re okay.”
Florry hugged and whispered and cooed and promised and patted her softly, and she rocked her and whispered some more and Liza began to relax. She breathed easier, seemed to withdraw into her own little emaciated body, and cried gently. In a whisper, she said, “There are some things you should know.”
“I’m listening, Liza. I’m here.”
* * *
—
She awoke in a dark room, under the covers, the door open. The house was dark, the only light from the small lamp in the den. Liza quietly shoved back the covers, got to her feet, and walked out of her bedroom. Florry was on the sofa, under a quilt, dead to the world. Without a sound, Liza walked by her and into the kitchen, through the door, across the porch, down the steps. The air was cold; her feet were bare and soon wet. She glided through the grass and onto the footpath that led to the barns, her silk bathrobe flowing behind her.
The moon came and went between the clouds, with its bluish light washing over the outbuildings and the fields before disappearing again. She knew where she was going and didn’t need the light. When she passed the last barn she saw the silhouettes of her