Dakota Love (28 page)

Managing the building, attending church committee meetings, and working on her quilt kept her too busy to have downtime. She’d slept late, hoping to relieve some of the fatigue that plagued her all week. She certainly didn’t need her MS symptoms to act up on Sunday afternoon.

A thrill shivered through her as she thought of spending uninterrupted time alone with Mark. She couldn’t wait. She hoped the weatherman’s prediction proved accurate: a warm spring day in eastern South Dakota, God’s reward for the frigid winter winds.

Mark’s reaction the night she told him that she had MS puzzled her. His face drained of color, and panic flashed in his eyes. She never dreamed that her simple statement would bring a flood of memories of his mother’s struggle. That had to have been what happened. Not that she had much practice or luck reading people, as her past could testify. The remainder of the night, although polite, he seemed distracted.

Yet Tuesday night, before and after class, he charmed her with playful teasing about his anticipation of their impending date. His text messages and e-mails throughout the week brightened her days. He seemed anxious to get to know her on a deeper level.

Happiness warmed her heart and brought a smile to her face. Like Job, she trusted God enough to take the bad with the good. She’d embraced her MS diagnosis, and now God rewarded her by bringing Mark into her life.

Sarah placed the filled teakettle on the stove at the same time a car pulled into her driveway. Her mother was an angel for not insisting Sarah drive to Brookings every Saturday morning. Wouldn’t her mom be surprised to find out that Sarah had a date tomorrow? Sarah unlocked the back door and swung it open wide.

“Good morning.”

“Well, you are chipper this fine April morning. You’re almost beaming.” Karla carried a bakery box and stepped through the door. “Surprise!” Sarah’s mother followed behind.

Sarah’s heart fell, and the narrow-eyed glare she gave her mom as she passed by could not be described as beaming. Her mother stopped and placed her hand on Sarah’s shoulder. She leaned in and pecked a kiss on Sarah’s cheek. “Have an open mind, dear,” she whispered.

How many times would Sarah have to tell her mother that she, Sarah, was the open-minded one? Karla practically had her in a nursing home by the age of forty.

The whistle of the teakettle broke the silence and called for Sarah’s attention. She stepped around her mom. She deliberately kept her back to the two women as she filled the teapot, adding that and another cup to her serving tray while the tea brewed. How dare they gang up on her?

“I’ll carry that.” Karla voice startled Sarah. She nudged Sarah away from in front of the counter and lifted the wicker tray.

“I am capable of carrying a tray,” Sarah mumbled. Her mother shot her a narrow-eyed stare as Sarah followed Karla to the table.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
Karla clicked her tongue as she set the tray on the table. “You don’t have to do it all. Now sit.”

Although the words sounded bossy, Karla’s tone was light, so Sarah ignored the double meaning and slipped into a chair. Karla arranged the teapot and cups on the table as Sarah’s mom served the cinnamon rolls.

“Thank you.” Sarah smiled.

Karla carefully poured tea into their cups.

First Mark saw her safely into her car, and now she was being served. Sarah had to admit it felt nice.

“Hasn’t the weather been beautiful?” Her mother smeared butter over her roll. “I’ve been watching the birds gather supplies for their nests.”

“Yes.” Karla’s cup rattled against the saucer as she set it down. “It’s helping my flower shoots get taller with each passing day. How’s it affecting you?”

Again, Karla’s tone held a friendly lilt, but the pointed look she aimed at Sarah emphasized the comment’s double meaning. “I’m feeling fine, if that’s what you’re getting at. The temperatures aren’t nearly warm enough to aggravate my MS. However, stress is a big trigger.” Sarah kept her voice conversational and looked wide eyed at Karla as she delivered her double entendre response.

Karla’s shoulders stiffened. She set her mouth and jutted out her chin.

“Well,” Sarah’s mom interjected, “that didn’t take long.”

Sarah tilted her head toward her mother. “Which one of you planned this little intervention?” This time she didn’t hold back, her voice shaking with anger.

Her mother raised her hands in a stick-’em-up fashion. “I did. I just couldn’t stand aside and see a long-term friendship dissolve over something as minor as a difference in opinion about a job.”

“So you think that by ganging up on me, I’ll cave and quit my job?” Not that the thought of resigning hadn’t crossed her mind several times this week. The solitude of the building management job wore on her nerves. She missed her former job’s hectic pace of delivering packages and having sporadic conversations with the customers on her route. She had way too much time to contemplate the grim future her disease would eventually bring. But she’d never admit that, especially to these two.

Her mother reached across the table for Sarah’s hand. “We love you and we’re concerned about your well-being. Plain and simple, you’re doing too much.”

“Yes, it’s like you have something to prove. If you won’t look out for yourself, then we, as people who care about you, have no choice but to do it for you.” Karla reached for Sarah’s other hand.

Sarah pulled her arms from the table and crossed them over her chest just like Mark’s familiar gesture. Sarah grinned at the thought.

“What is so funny?” Karla snipped.

“Absolutely nothing. I just had a nice thought. Or is that against
your
rules now, too?”

“Really, Sarah.” Her mother pursed her lips. “Of course we want you to be happy, but you need to listen to reason. You may be doing more harm than good to your body by keeping a busy schedule. You just said that stress triggered symptoms.”

“And this”—Sarah waved her splayed fingers palms down in small circles—“isn’t stress?” She paused to check her anger. “I used to enjoy getting together with both of you, but now I dread it. All we talk about is how I shouldn’t do anything, yet I’m under a doctor’s care and he’s pleased with my progress.”

“Touché.” Her mom took a sip of her tea.

Karla exaggerated an eye roll. “I guess you made your point. No more badgering from me.”

“Me either.” Her mom cut a bit of her roll and stabbed it with her fork. “So then, tell us what’s new.”

“Funny you should ask.” Sarah looked from her mom to Karla then slipped from her chair and rummaged through her purse. She returned to the table. “I’m taking part in the upcoming MS walk. Would either of you like to sponsor me?”

“Of course.” Her mother reached for the form and pen. “Do you
have
to walk or can you just collect contributions?”

“Mom, I thought we were done with that conversation.” Sarah sighed.

“It was just a question. But I am your mother and have a right to be concerned.”

“I plan to walk the entire route. If I need to stop halfway I can, and if my MS flares up, I don’t have to walk at all.”

“Fair enough.” Her mother marked the form then passed it to Karla.

Karla glanced at the form before laying it on the table. “How are you doing in that quilting class?” She didn’t even try to hide her smirk.

“Well…” Sarah stood and retrieved her denim tote bag from the hall closet. “I’ll let you two be the judge of that.” She pulled out her three completed quilt blocks.

“I like the colors.” Her mom picked up one and inspected it. She picked up the second one and knitted her brows.

Sarah began to laugh. “Yeah, you can say it. They don’t quite match.”

Karla reached over and grabbed them. “Are they even sewed the same?” She turned one at a different angle.

“No. The one you’re holding I tried to sew on the sewing machine.”

“But you don’t know how to sew.” Karla looked at the back of the block.

“Exactly. I thought all quilts were sewn by hand. Turns out that’s not true.”

Her mom snatched the quilt blocks back and turned them over. “These two look the best.”

“They’re the ones that I’ve sewn by hand. There are still mistakes but nothing like the one I tried on the machine. However”—she pulled the pillow top from the bag—“I didn’t do bad sewing the pillow panel.”

“Pillow? What does that have to do with a quilt?” Her mom passed the quilt blocks back to Karla and took the sham from Sarah.

“Nothing. I needed something to practice sewing on and that’s what I chose.”

“Are you renting a machine?” Karla lay the blocks on the table.

“No, Mark told me I could use the demonstrator machines at the quilt shop to learn to sew.” Sarah gathered the quilt blocks and set them on top of the tote bag. “I’ve been stopping in about three nights a week to practice.”

She caught the raised-eyebrow exchange between her mom and Karla. “What?”

“You practice sewing after a long day at work?” Her mom topped off their cups.

“Yes.”

“How long do you stay and practice?” Karla crumpled her napkin then placed it on her plate before pushing it away from her.

Sarah knew better than to say until closing time. “Not that long.”

“You go directly from work?” The terse tone and pursed lips were back.

“Yes.” Sarah braced. Didn’t they just promise to drop these lectures?

Karla gave a little snort. “I told you. She does too much. She isn’t taking care of herself.”

Tension thickened the air. Sarah watched her mother and Karla exchange another look as if they were talking to a five-year-old.

“I hope you’re not skipping meals, because you need your stamina.”

Was her mother serious? Of course she was. Authority dripped from her voice. Had the entire situation not been so maddening, Sarah might have laughed at the statement.

“Obviously, you don’t really understand my condition.” Sarah purposely infused her response with sarcasm. “It doesn’t matter if you eat. Stamina’s one of the first things to go with MS.”

Sarah watched her mother’s cheeks begin to flame with color, a telltale sign of anger. If they were going to treat her like a kindergartner, then she might as well play the part.

“Since you didn’t answer the question, we can only assume that means you’re skipping meals.” Karla picked up the discussion and nodded toward Sarah’s uneaten cinnamon roll.

Defiance surged through her, and her chest tightened. “I can’t eat when I’m being badgered,” she snapped back at Karla. “But to answer your question, Mother, I do eat. Sometimes I stop before I go to the quilt store, and sometimes Mark and I have dinner in the work…” Sarah stopped. She heard each thud of the dirge before her pulse beat out the rhythm. She’d just given them more ammunition. She should’ve kept Mark out of it.

“Sarah.” Her mother’s voice softened. “Now is not the time to get involved with a man.”

“I already told her that. No man is going to want to be a caregiver.”

“Karla, stop talking about me like I’m not sitting right beside you.”

“I know you don’t believe me, but you are setting yourself up to get hurt. Again.”

Salty tears stung Sarah’s eyes. She squeezed them shut, trying to will the tears away, but instead forced the warm moisture out onto her lashes. Did one bad mistake in her youth mean she shouldn’t ever try love again?

Another surge of hurt leaked from the corners of her eyes. She sniffled. This relationship wasn’t one-sided like the last one. After all, Mark asked her out.

Sarah opened her eyes and reached for her cloth napkin. She dabbed at the moisture on her face, leaving mascara streaks on the eggshell linen. “This is different. Mark
is
interested in me.”

Her mother’s audible sigh increased the cloud of tension in the room. “Sarah, I hate to ask this but what are you basing his interest on? Helping you with purchases in his store?”

“Or by talking you into paying for quilting classes when you don’t even know how to sew?” Karla patted the Job’s Tears quilt block lying on the table. “That only shows his interest in profit, not in you.”

The muscles in Sarah’s shoulder grew taut. She rolled her right shoulder to alleviate the strain.
God, please don’t let this flare the numbness in my right arm. I want to feel good for my date
.

“He’s interested because he asked me out on a date.” Sarah spoke through clenched teeth. She raised her shoulder and rested her ear on it. No relief.

“Have you been honest and told him that you have MS?” Her mother rose from her chair and stood behind Sarah. Her grip firm, she kneaded Sarah’s muscles, helping to relax the tightness.

Sarah straightened then shook her right arm. God answered her prayers—no numbness. “Yes.”

“What did he say?” The side of Karla’s mouth curled up and she leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. It was obvious to Sarah she was hoping for the worst.

“Nothing. I sort of blurted it out when I asked if I could join his team on the MS walk.” Sarah leaned back in her chair as her mother continued to massage her neck and shoulders.

“Does he have MS?” Her mother stopped rubbing Sarah’s shoulder and upper arm muscles.

“No.” Sarah shook her head. “His mother did. The team walks and raises contributions as a memorial to her.”

“Well, I guess he’s used to dealing with someone with MS.” Her mom patted Sarah’s shoulders and slid back into her chair.

Finally her mother was seeing her point of view. Mark was used to someone with MS. He knew what to expect of the disease and how to handle it.

“When did you tell him you have MS? Before or after he asked you out?”

Karla just wouldn’t let the subject die. Now maybe her mother would see what she’d been dealing with for months.

“After. Why?”

“I thought so.” Karla smirked. “I doubt that he’d have asked you for a date had he known before that you were sick.”

“You’re wrong.” Sarah looked to her mom for support but received a slight head shake instead.

“Sorry, honey, I think Karla’s right. Had you disclosed your MS prior to him asking, that’d be different.”

To give her mother credit, her face showed her remorse in her belief, but that didn’t stop Sarah’s heart from crumbling like a cinnamon roll, the bits of which now littered her empty plates.