piece of paper flew out and slapped her across the chest. Impatiently Maureen tossed it aside and half trotted back to her vehicle.
A gust of wind came up, carrying dirt and bits of grit with it. Maureen raced toward her car and climbed inside, thankful to escape the unexpected blast.
Just then the wind flattened the brochure against her windshield. She couldn't see a blasted thing, let alone attempt to drive.
"Maureen, do you see that?"
"Don't worry, Mom, I'll get it in just a moment."
"No, I mean do you see what the brochure is for?"
"No, Mother, I haven't read it."
"It's about a riding stable."
"How nice." Maureen didn't mean to be short-tempered, but she had other errands to run, and she wanted to get home before the frozen foods began to thaw.
She opened her car door, climbed out, snatched the brochure from her windshield, and tossed it onto the backseat.
"Nichols's Riding Stables," her mother said. "It just might be something that would interest Karen."
"I'm sure it would," Maureen said, twisting around to make sure no cars were coming before she backed out of the space. "I'll read it later, Mom."
She had five other errands to run, and it took another hour and a half before she was able to drop her mother off. Karen was playing with a girl in the neighborhood, so Maureen left her at her parents' place. Actually she didn't mind an afternoon alone.
The phone rang as she was carrying the last bag of groceries in from the car.
"Hello," she said, stretching the long cord to the refrigerator and setting two half gallons of milk inside.
"Hello. This is Thom Nichols. Is this Maureen Woods?"
Nichols. Nichols. The name sounded vaguely familiar. "Yes, it is."
"You left a message on my answering machine. I understand you're interested in riding lessons for your daughter?"
Paul Morris wasn't looking forward to his visit with Madge Bartelli and her husband. He feared the couple were looking for him to supply something he simply didn't have.
Hope.
Courage.
Reassurances.
God's love.
Paul felt as if he'd lost all four in his first go-around with cancer when Barbara had been so ill. There was nothing left over to offer Madge. Nothing with which to comfort her husband.
He paused outside the front door, and his hand tightened around the soft leather-bound book he'd brought with him. It seemed an eternity passed before he found the strength to raise his hand and ring the doorbell.
Bernard opened the door, and the older man's sad, tired eyes brightened when he saw Paul.
"God bless you, Reverend, for stopping by." He held open the screen door for him. "Just knowing you were coming lifted Madge's spirits. She's sitting up in the living room, waiting for you. It's the first time she's been out of bed in almost a week."
Paul's sense of guilt increased tenfold. He shouldn't have stayed away so long. He moved into the living room and was surprised by how frail Madge looked. He shouldn't have been. He knew what cancer did and hated the disease with everything in him.
Madge leaned back on the recliner, swaddled in blankets. Her once bright eyes were dulled with medication and pain. How thin she'd become, he noted, and her skin was unnaturally pale and sickly. The house smelled of disease and struggle.
It had been two weeks or more since his last visit. Paul was angry with himself for his selfishness. These people were part of the flock he'd been assigned to minister.
"Pastor Paul," Madge whispered. Her weathered face brightened with a smile when she saw him. "How good of you to stop by."
"I apologize for not coming sooner. Time just seems to slip through my fingers."
"You're so busy."
"I'm never too busy for you."
Madge managed another weak smile.
"I'll get some tea," Bernard said. "Madge enjoys a cup of tea now and again." Her husband said this as though he held on desperately to this one small part of their lives that they continued to share.
"Sit down, please," Madge invited.
Paul claimed the chair next to her. He knew she was in pain, knew she struggled not to let others realize how very bad it was. He knew all this because of his own wife.
How he missed Barbara in that moment. It had been hell on earth to watch the ravages of cancer strip away first her health, then her looks. The end was the cruelest aspect of the disease. It had stolen Barbara's dignity.
"It's such a beautiful day," Madge said, gazing longingly out the window. "Bernard brought me a poinsettia. I'd forgotten