Cocoon (15 page)

She pivoted and strode purposefully back inside, and when Billie Jean gave her a thumbs up on Seana's whereabouts, she cranked up Tim McGraw's “I Love It” and thrust herself into the line dance formation and danced as if her very life depended on it.

That vibe hit her. Full force. Her breath nearly left her as she looked around.

Scott now danced step for step, elbow to elbow with her, smiling down at her like the Devil himself.

• • •

Peyton and Zoe managed to get Seana to the exit. It was ten-thirty. She'd taken her medicine on time, and now she was getting groggy. Barth lingered and helped them get her into the car's back seat. “I'll follow you,” he said.

Zoe shook her head. “There's no –”

“I insist.”

She threw her hands in the air. “Okay. Okay! But you're not getting any rest, Barth. That's the whole idea of my keeping Mom, you know?”

Silently, Barth got in his car and drove off. Zoe felt like a shrew having chastised him like that. She closed her eyes tightly and took a couple of deep breaths, then climbed into her car.

“Mom? Why did you act that way with Barth?” Peyton asked softly.

“Because I'm a class A–”

“Don't say that, Mom.” He reached over to touch her tense arm. “I just hate to see you try to – fix everything that you can't fix. You know?”

“No,” Zoe said, blinking back tears. “I don't know. Tell me.”

“Well, Barth's just trying to help us get used to working with Nana. Just a temporary thing, you know? She's not always easy to handle, and he's trying to spare us too much hassle. Anyway.” He shrugged. “That's what I think.”

Zoe was silent for long moments as they drove home, watching landmarks along the way: Chelsea's Glad Rags Dress Shop, and directly across, Joanie's Homecombing Queen's Hair Styling Salon, Fred's Grocery and Delicatessen, their brick church on the corner.

“What about me? What do you think I chewed him out about?” Suddenly, she wanted to know. Because honestly? She couldn't for the life of her figure out who she was anymore.

“I think you were just trying to help Barth.”

“But I didn't do it very nicely, did I?”

“Well … not really. But I think he understands.”

Zoe huffed a dry laugh. “How can he when even I don't understand?” They reached the historical section of the little town.

Soon, their white, two-story dwelling, a duplex actually, appeared in her headlights, and as always, she felt an enormous rush of gratitude to her parents. This property had been bequeathed to her at her father's death. The adjoining, roomy apartment was an added blessing. The rent went a long way in supplementing her salary. Right now, it was empty, just when she needed that extra income.

Barth's car came to a smooth rest behind hers. He quickly helped Peyton guide Seana inside and upstairs to the nice guest bedroom, where he assisted her into her floppy pajamas and tucked her in.

Zoe was drinking a cup of coffee when he came down into her cozy, classic kitchen. “Coffee?” she asked.

“Thanks, but I think I'll go turn in. I think she'll be okay now. The meds are kicking in. If you need me, just call.” He headed for the door.

“Barth?”

He turned and looked questioningly at her, hand on doorknob. “Yes?”

“Don't worry about her. I can take care of her.”

He smiled and Zoe saw the extreme weariness in his face. “I know.”

“Go get some rest.”

“Thanks.”

She watched him leave, and despite her still rampant misgivings, she felt sorry for the man.

But pity did not equate trust.

She'd gotten Scott to push his police buddy to do another check on the murder case in Canada. Still no arrest.

That didn't set well with her.

• • •

The next week, something profound happened.

There was little omen. No headlines when it happened.

One morning, Seana woke up with a clear mind. “I feel better,” she told Barth upon awakening.

Cautiously, Barth watched her get up and go to the kitchen and begin to prepare her breakfast. An omelet. Excitement began to rise. But he kept pushing it down, watching. This wasn't supposed to happen.

He called their current physician and described what was happening.

Dr. Caston told him, “It's temporary, Mr. McGrath. It won't last. Just enjoy it while you can. And whatever you do, continue her on her meds.”

Heart plunging, Barth rang off and returned to watch Seana go about doing normal things, even smiling at him when she caught him following her around.

As the day wore on, he decided to do what the doctor said. Enjoy this time. He wouldn't let himself go beyond that.

“What's today?” Seana asked at one point.

“Saturday.”

“I want to go to church tomorrow,” she stated as she dried off from her shower.

“That's great, honey,” he hugged her and was eternally grateful she didn't shrink from him. But still, she pulled out the darned old green- and yellow-striped shirt and black slacks.

Barth decided to surprise her.

So he paid a visit to Glad Rags Dress Shop.

“Chelsea, I want to buy some church clothes for Seana. She's actually wanting to attend services.” Barth knew his pride was splashing over but he didn't care. He went on to explain the temporary improvement.

“Really?” Chelsea clasped her many gold-ringed fingers together with glee. “Oh, Barth! I'm so tickled.” She hugged him and then dashed off to pull some pretty outfits off the hangers. She was careful that her choices not be too fitted, for fear Seana might backslide into her recalcitrance.

Barth didn't seem to harbor such fears. By now, he'd convinced himself that this was the answer to all his prayers. God wouldn't tease him like this, would he? He didn't know but it was all he could do to stand still while Chelsea packaged the clothing. After he retrieved them, he stopped at the door, dashed back, and kissed Chelsea's blushing cheek. His exit was quicksilvery.

He burst into Joanie's salon and startled her by tossing the packages down and grabbing her for a bear hug. “These clothes are for Seana. She's going to church tomorrow. And miracle of miracles, she
wants
to.”

Joanie, between customers, slapped both hands to cheeks and fought back tears, slowly shaking her head in disbelief. Barth snatched up the packages he'd dropped and dashed out the door.

He'd called Zoe this morning when Seana had awakened acting differently. Like she was more
there.
Zoe and Peyton were there at their door minutes later. The visit was tearful and exceedingly affectionate.

Zoe had even hugged Barth, such was her exuberance to have her mother back. Peyton, well, he softly, tentatively played Seana's piano favorites for a short period of time. Barth could tell that they all tread softly for fear they might loose the terrible affliction upon Seana once more. The next morning, Seana dressed herself in one of the lovely outfits from Chelsea's shop. She seemed pleased with the way the blue knit dress fit. She was as willowy as a fashion model, which wasn't too bad, Barth quickly decided. Her face … well, her face with
her
behind those eyes, was so beautiful he could hardly hold back the tears.

But he did as he proudly escorted her to her regular seat – her preference today – three pews back from the front. Billie Jean sat with her on one side, and Ashley, grinning like roadkill, flanked the other. She scooted over for her parents to join them.

Excitement over Seana's presence rippled over the gathering. Necks craned and whispers rode the air, even during the three hymns and preliminaries. They only lulled when Barth arose from his high-backed pulpit chair, opposite the platform from Pastor Keith's, and moved to the center podium facing the choir. There he opened his music.

Accompanied by Peyton at the piano, Barth conducted the choir in a fitting Bill Gaither arrangement of “He Touched Me.” In the choir, Zoe sang with tears flowing, as did Chelsea and Joanie, sister altos. Behind Zoe, in the fourth baritone section, grocer Fred Johnston and Scott Burns, too, were seen reaching up to swipe moisture from their faces. At the end of the number, when contemplative silence settled, loud snuffling erupted throughout the congregation.

Pastor Keith looked somewhat red-eyed when he arose from his pulpit chair to address the congregation. “Welcome back, Seana. We have a great God,” he said, his voice cracking. He vigorously cleared his throat and visibly bucked up.

“Now let us open our Bibles and read together today's text.”

• • •

“What a great week,” Barth slid his arms around Seana as she piddled around in her kitchen. He went at it very gently, assessing her, still testing the waters. He could tell that even though she claimed to feel better, she was still fragile. Most of her gestures were slow, hesitant.

She opened the cabinets, exploring subtle changes that had simply evolved from someone else being in charge. She was still quiet, almost pensive. Not her former exuberant self yet.

Yet.

His mind froze there.

Still ….

“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured, nuzzling her clean hair. Yes, she'd begun tending more to her hygiene. She smelled clean. What a miracle.

Seana turned in his arms and embraced him. “I love you, too, Barth. I'm sorry for all –”

“No.” He pressed a fingertip to her lips. “None of that. You've been sick. You couldn't help it.”

She gazed into his eyes, a muddle of expressions flickering in the blue depths. Swirling. Not settling on any one thing in particular.

“Trust me.” He kissed her then, and she sank against him.

Surrendered. Soft and pliable. Her mouth responding to his.

Barth froze for a second, then deepened the kiss.

Was he in Heaven?

When she took his hand and allowed him to tug her to the bedroom, he
knew
he was in Heaven.

He rolled his eyes heavenward.

Please, Lord. Don't let me wake up.

• • •

Ashley's sixteenth birthday was a joyful family occasion. She was their Thanksgiving child, born one day before the holiday so it was easy to track. Seana wanted to cook a special dinner party, but the family refused to allow it.

“Mom, you don't need to do all that work,” take-charge Zoe had insisted the week before as they ate at the Mater and Onion's Sunday Buffet.

“Billie Jean, Sherry, and I will take care of the food. Too, Fred's Deli is a wonderful source of fare for birthday parties, doncha know?”

“That's right, Seana,” Billie Jean spoke around a mouth full of crispy fried chicken. “You just get your strength back.”

Seana sighed and shrugged. “Okay.” She bit into a drumstick and thought how it wasn't so bad after all. She could taste the nuances of buttermilk, wheat, a touch of salt, pepper, garlic, and rosemary, Chief West's special concoction.

“Not bad,” she declared and wondered why the simple act of eating a drumstick sent everyone at the table into ecstasy. Lots of what she did was drawing those sappy reactions nowadays.

She enjoyed the affection but the attention –

Seana still didn't embrace intrusiveness. Didn't know why. She just didn't. But Barth reassured her she was on the mend. She trusted Barth's judgment. He also insisted she remain on her meds.

The doctors's reactions were less than enthusiastic. She knew that Barth soft-pedaled most of their comments past her. Why didn't they celebrate her progress? It puzzled her.

“Seana?” Pastor Keith spoke to her from across the table. He and Louanne had joined them today after service. They tended to rotate their table visitation amongst members so as not to contribute to any predisposition toward jealousy.

“Seana?” he repeated.

Seana blinked. She'd drifted off somewhere. “Huh?”

“I hope you can convince Zoe to help chaperone the upcoming Round-Up Youth Weekend.”

Seana nodded. “She's bossy.”

“I heard that, Mama!” Zoe wailed from the other end of the long table. Today the joined tables seated twelve.

“You didn't hear me!” Seana snapped and reaped an explosion of laughter.

“I hear everything,” Zoe called back, her eyes twinkling.

“She's not lying,” Peyton joined in, rolling his eyes at her.

“How about it, Zoe?” Pastor ventured. “You'll make an excellent chaperone for the Round-Up event. Why not give it a go?”

“Aw, she'll do it,” Seana muttered and took another bite of her fried chicken.

Zoe gazed at her mother, her eyes growing moist, making Seana feel that keen “being analyzed” sensation again. For some reason, her daughter was getting all teared up. Go figure.

• • •

“Okay,” Zoe said and shrugged, trying to tether her emotions into submission. Her mother's lucidity and mere presence awed and choked her up. “Oh, am I the only one being corralled for this?”

“Nope,” Scott Burns spoke up from the seat beside her. “I'm already lassoed.”

Zoe's face fell. “Oh.” The word came out flat.

Darn it! Why hadn't she asked earlier? She was trapped.

Scott burst into laughter then murmured quietly for Zoe's ears alone, “Oh? Define that for me, please? ‘Oh, I'm surprised' Or ‘Oh, as in ouch?'”

Zoe's mouth twisted into a grimaced smile. “Y' know, Scott. I really don't know. But I promised and I always keep my promises. So what does it matter?” She speared a Brussels sprout from her plate, popped it in her mouth, and viciously chewed it.

Scott watched with amusement and slid Peyton a sly wink.

Zoe saw it all. He thought she didn't but she did. She also saw Peyton's subtle thumbs up.

Zoe had her work cut out for her deflecting this blatant conspiracy.

And deflect it she must. Because she knew something that they didn't. She was bad news. Men liked her at first but as time passed, the interest waned. Any experience she'd had with the opposite sex had ended up the same way.