A Fine Line

By Shelley McGarry

Lena, about to celebrate her fifteenth anniversary to Martin, finds herself planning his imminent funeral instead. Childless and with no close friends, she reaches out for support to her former supporting cast from her university days in London who she hasn't seen in years. A turnaround in Martin's condition coincides with the guest's arrival. O

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Oct 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781647731366

Book preview

Shelley McGarry

Trilogy Christian Publishers

A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Trinity Broadcasting Network

2442 Michelle Drive

Tustin, CA 92780

Copyright © 2020 by Shelley McGarry

All scriptures are from KJV.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

For information, address Trilogy Christian Publishing

Rights Department, 2442 Michelle Drive, Tustin, Ca 92780.

Trilogy Christian Publishing/ TBN and colophon are trademarks of Trinity Broadcasting Network.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Trilogy Christian Publishing.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Trilogy Disclaimer: The views and content expressed in this book are those of the author and may not necessarily reflect the views and doctrine of Trilogy Christian Publishing or the Trinity Broadcasting Network.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-1-64773-135-9 (Print Book)

ISBN 978-1-64773-136-6 (ebook)

To Jesus,

The author and finisher of my faith. To You alone belongs all the glory—for every blessing and for being my ever present help through every trial of my faith. You equipped me to fight the good fight during the seven years I cared for Steve, believing he’d recover. You took the sting out of death when after forty-two years of marriage, Steve went to live with You forever. I’m forever grateful.

1

Carol Nelson steered the rental car along the unfamiliar winding road. There was fog, rain, and a detour that had pointed to another road. Carol wasn’t certain whether the crooked detour sign had been placed haphazardly into the ground or a strong wind had moved it, or maybe it was both. She hoped she was headed in the right direction. If it brought her further out of the way in the wrong direction, it would be dark before they arrived.

Carol glanced over at her teenage son. Evan was sprawled in the passenger seat asleep, oblivious to all that was going on. His trust in her capability to rise to any occasion, setting it to rights, is what kept her going the past two years they’d been on their own. Evan had slept almost the entire flight from Texas to Heathrow airport after eating all his portion of lunch they were served and most of her own. He consumed the entire bag of assorted snacks she was allowed to carry onboard during the first hour of the flight. To hold me over till lunch, he teased. Carol assured herself his appetite was normal.

Now she gazed from the windscreen to the directions in her lap, and ahead of her, she wondered, was his appetite normal? Should she be worried? Carol had been wrong before, and the result was fatal. There had been no sign of anything amiss with her husband, and the doctor told her she had no way of knowing, but surely, her woman’s intuition should have sensed something. At least, it seemed to her it should have. The fact that it did not caused her to question everything now.

Carol no longer trusted her logic that told her all was normal. A part of her vigilantly questioned, What if it is not? Better safe than sorry. Of course, she kept this from Evan. He continued to regard her as sensible and dependable. The strain of keeping up appearances was a price she had to pay.

Carol couldn’t lose Evan. She almost lost him once, when he was born four months premature. As she drove on, her thoughts moved from his appetite to his sleep habits. Was his body requiring more sleep than it usually had because of another growth spurt? Or was his body fighting off something?

It didn’t help hearing of all the new diseases that kept popping up in the news. Almost weekly, she’d hear or read a report of a boy his age diagnosed with an incurable genetic condition that went undetected at birth then presented itself during puberty. If all went well there, the child could be attacked by a rogue bacterial immune to antibiotics. Or out of nowhere, a viral infection could permanently damage the immune system. If all that failed to take her son from her, there was always the chance an injury during one of his football games could damage a part of the brain, impairing him physically or mentally. Carol noticed the darkening sky and shook off these gloomy thoughts.

Growing boys needed more calories to grow. It was as simple as that. It stood to reason boys also needed more sleep during those growing years. Carol didn’t have any brothers to compare him to, but now that she thought of it, her dad fell asleep in front of the television every day after work during her childhood. That brought a reminiscent smile.

Carol’s dad…that was normal for him, a fully-grown man, to nap during the day. He spent the better part of an hour a day, sitting in the bathroom, reading the paper as well. Compared to her mother, her dad had it easy. By 5:00 p.m., he considered his work was done. Her mother’s work was never done. Every morning at 6:00 a.m., she awoke without an alarm clock. Her feet hit the bedroom floor like clockwork.

A substantial breakfast was waiting when Carol and her dad came into the dining room. Her mother had their bag lunches prepared to send them off. Home-baked cookies or brownies were included with a deli kind of sandwich and a medley of seasonal fruit salad. No box mixes or convenient shortcuts for her. Her mother never worked outside of their home at what most considered a real job. Her mother didn’t consider what she did as work. It was simply what a wife did to make a house a haven for her family.

The house was kept spotless. Her mother never napped unless she was ill, which was rare. Even now, her mother had enough energy to keep their new little house pristine, and prod her husband to engage in numerous social activities in their community now that he had retired. After all these years, she still put her makeup on every day and dressed nicely as though she had social plans. Her mother didn’t approve of Carol’s tendency to lounge in her pajamas on weekends and holidays, but didn’t press the issue while she lived at home.

Carol learned from her mother to do the same along with having a career. She was able to maintain life in the fast lane quite successfully as a wife and mother until Carl’s death caused her to skid into a black hole. Unfortunately, Carol wasn’t nearly as effective in her role as a mother and a widow. Carl’s death knocked her completely off-track mentally and emotionally. The thick fog of grief, which she compared to walking through molasses, required all of her effort to get out of bed to face another day. With each day attempting to focus long enough to accomplish only what was absolutely necessary.

Her mother’s tendency to hint, Maybe you’d feel better if you got dressed, dear during her visit to help after Carl’s funeral penetrated Carol’s numbness.

But it wasn’t enough to answer, Getting dressed will in no way make me feel better. Carl is dead, Mother.

The fog and the tears from every reminder of her husband made the first year a constant blur. She barely managed a stiff upper lip around Evan. Seeing Carl’s name on what seemed like endless legal paperwork changed to only hers didn’t get any easier. Rather, it removed Carl from every aspect of their lives together as if erasing him altogether, almost as if he never existed at all. The devastating grief had consumed her life and left nothing but pain in its wake.

Each legal document that securely bound them together once upon a time was a malicious reminder that their union was gone forever. For the first time, Carol was alone. Really alone. When she was single, alone felt different. Alone was only temporary. Her entire life was spread before her with limitless, wondrous possibilities. Alone was filled with daydreams of the man she would meet that would change the course of her life with his love. They would marry, build a life together that would last a lifetime, have children, not multiple miscarriages, and one son…they’d grow old together. Dying never entered her daydreams then or after they married. Ever.

Carol, who prided herself on being sensible, knew that had been a huge mistake on her part, continuing to believe that could never happen to them, even though it actually had. Despite all she had done, following the doctor’s instructions to the letter, it made sense to lose faith in doctors. It made sense to stop trying for another child and be grateful for the child she had and for Carl. It hadn’t been sensible thinking that decision prevented any further loss.

Carol was ill-prepared for Carl’s diagnosis—his death—even less so one week after their fourteenth anniversary. Evan began coping almost straightaway, requiring little more than the bare essentials. Just as well since that was all she could manage. She could not have gotten away with simple food and clean sheets if Carol had been given the daughter she longed for; at least if all the drama she read and heard about from those who had them was accurate.

Such as it was, Carol managed to go on for Evan. Because of Evan, she could manage. Only because of Evan was there any point to managing anything at all.

Evan went on investing his grief in school academics and athletics. He had promised his dad on his deathbed he would do his best to succeed at both. That promise gave him a purpose for his life. He focused all his energy on that goal to attain everything his dad believed Evan could achieve. His grades in every subject began going up. His practice in season and off season increased his endurance, improved his coordination and mobility. All he lacked before became assets.

Some found it a pity his dad hadn’t lived to see it. Evan knew if his father had lived, he never would have seen it. Evan was comfortable being average in everything. He was content not being great at anything. His parents loved him as he was. His father had to die in order for Evan to wake up, to shoot for beyond average and make his life count.

Evan was compelled to prove his dad’s death changed the course of his life. Favorable comments from his teachers and coaches fueled his determination, but they weren’t necessary. He had all the motivation he needed. Moving forward while doing his best was his only option. He missed his dad, but Evan had realized bad things happened to good people by then. Some part of him realized each time his mom came home from the hospital, went into the master bedroom, and shut the door, she was also, in effect, shutting him and his dad out of her life.

The first time Evan was sad, his mother was sad. The next two times, he knew she’d eventually be okay. Until she was, Evan enjoyed the special time with his dad being the center of his attention. Carol, in deep depression, barely registered Carl’s offering to get takeout food. Carl told Evan they should rate the best by trying them all. Really, Carl intended the game to get Evan’s attention away from her sadness, which it had. By the time Carol emerged from her room, ready to move on with her life, Carl and Evan had rated the best places to go for fried chicken, burgers, Chinese, and ribs. These restaurants became family favorites in the years that followed.

Carol had her final miscarriage in the spring Evan turned thirteen. That year, Evan finally understood how his mother felt about loss. Why, she didn’t want to do anything but stay in her bedroom. Now he knew why she shut out the two people who loved her. Evan’s dog, Abby, had died several months before, but it just as well could have been the day before. Abby had been in his life as long as he could recall. All his baby photos had Abby in them. She was by his mom’s rocking chair, watching her rock him to sleep. Abby was lying on the floor by his crib. His favorite was Abby sitting close to his wooden playpen, sticking her paw through the slats, smiling that Collie smile.

Dad filmed Abby walking beside his tricycle, strolling close by as he learned to ride his bike. Abby kept pace alongside him as he rode his new ten-speed bike. She chased him, barking when Evan sped downhill on his skateboard. Evan never minded being an only child. His friends—Gary, Louis, and Derek—complained what a pain their brothers and sisters were. If they were arguing about which TV program they wanted to watch, they were sneaking their best toys outside to play with without asking. None saw any point in asking when the answer had been no the first time they asked.

When the toy was broken, Rene, Mickey, Samantha, Donny, Trevor, Cindy, and Bobby weren’t ever sorry, because it was never their fault—the stupid toy didn’t work. Gary’s parents never did anything about it except to say, They get into mischief when they’re bored. Go outside and teach them some games.

Having a sibling sounded so awful. Evan thought they were having him on. All three lived in the same neighborhood. One day after school, he got on their bus instead of his to see what really went on at Gary, Louis, and Derek’s houses. It wasn’t as bad as they said. It was worse.

Gary gave Samantha a Twinkie one second too late. Evan couldn’t believe a sound that piercing was possible from a two-year-old. The sound startled Mickey who dropped his. Their dog, Rufus, snatched it and ran, causing Mickey to throw a tantrum. Evan muttered a lame excuse and made a hasty retreat to the brownstone down the street where Louis lived. His two brothers, Donny and Trevor, brought new meaning to the word annoying. From the time Evan arrived, the two chased each other inside and outside the house, the door slamming each way, clattering the collection of decorative plates. They shouted at the top of their lungs, You’re it!

I am not! You’re it! Louis answered from behind the door.

Evan walked inside, amazed and relieved by the quiet. He sat at the kitchen table for a quick snack. Rene sat there, sniffling from a cold, looking miserable. Evan felt sorry for her, but according to Louis, she whined just as much when she was well. Nose running, she’d shake her head, whining, Noooo, I don’t wannnt thattttt! She’d point to the apple on the counter. I wannnt thatttt! Only she didn’t want that. Or the crackers, juice, etc.

Cindy walked into the kitchen, holding two dolls. She walked over to Evan, dropping both dolls into his lap. You’re their daddy! You watch them! I’m tired!

Louis smirked knowingly at Evan’s panicked expression. Now you get me, dude.

After Abby died, his dad thought what had worked before would work again. But Evan knew nothing that had comforted him so well before would work this time. It took most of his energy to empty the garbage, but that was necessary. Leaving the house to fish was not necessary. Evan had never lost his appetite before, unless he was sick. He felt awful, but he wasn’t sick. Though he could barely manage cereal and a banana and a sandwich, comprising lunch and dinner the next two weeks. He didn’t feel the usual comfort in his dad’s presence either.

When Abby died, she took the life he had with her. A very bad unfair thing happened to Abby and to him too. His grandpa would say, When things happen, you can either like it or lump it.

Complaining about it didn’t change it, but that didn’t stop Evan’s complaining and raging, God let a drunk driver run over Abby, Dad! Life isn’t fair! God doesn’t care!

His dad listened as Evan poured out his bitter woes. When Evan finished, he saw the same gentle expression on his dad’s face he saw following each miscarriage. Evan realized his dad had never complained about the miscarriages. He just helped them through it.

Rather than be curious as to how this was possible or grateful that he had helped them, Evan became angrier. You’re just like God! he accused. You don’t care either!

Carl waited until Evan’s tears ran out. Empty and numb, Evan accepted the tissues his dad gave him. After Evan blew his nose, he looked up at his dad and shrugged.

His breath caught, she asked, Why don’t you care, Dad?

Carl put his arm around Evan. I do care, son. Deep down, you know that. God cares too. He gave us life and freewill. Both are gifts. You know the story about Adam and Eve? They made a wrong choice that brought death. This affected all of humanity in the perfect world God created. Carl tousled his son’s hair. In life, there will always be loss. God wants to comfort us through it, but sometimes, we choose to continue to hold what we’ve lost. It takes time to let it go. But we can’t see all that’s still good in our life until we do.

Evan thought back to that day. The screeching tires and a loud thud. Evan turned from the mailbox to see a blue Mustang speed erratically away. Evan didn’t look in that direction when the car hit the telephone pole. Evan ran across the street, skidding on his knees. Abby always twitched in her sleep. He imagined she dreamt of chasing rabbits as she did when she was awake. Now she lay completely still. Evan knew he wouldn’t hear her heartbeat, but he hoped he would.

His head on her chest, he listened, gripping Abby tightly; tears and snot made a puddle under his face against her fur. Carl was beside him, rubbing his back for what had to be a long time. Evan became aware of several stones embedded in his skinned knees. He shifted his weight, which made them sting. Eventually, with his dad’s help, Evan released his hold physically that day. It took his heart much longer…

Evan was alone in the hospital room with his dad when he felt him go as still as Abby. Evan noticed the far-off stare in his eyes as if he glimpsed a perfect world he was about to enter; a world mankind wouldn’t ever ruin by wrong choices. Sitting by the bed, Evan wiped his tears, aware of the two choices before him. Either he could hold on or he could follow his dad’s advice and example and let go. He chose to let go. From past experience, he had seen his mother’s coping limitations and how his dad stepped in. Evan knew it would require far more to prevent his mom from going over the edge this time. It was overwhelming to think about it. Evan was way out of his depth. He was just a kid, for crying out loud.

But if not him, who else? Certainly not Grandad, and Grandma was way too efficient about everything to be of any real help. So, by default, Evan stepped into his dad’s shoes in more than one way that day. At times, when he noticed the strain and the cost of acting normal for his sake, Evan worried he might lose her too. Those times, he’d recall his dad’s faith, a faith Evan thought was more a part of his upbringing than a source of strength.

In his weakness, Evan would ask for strength like his dad had. Somehow, Evan would feel a strange calm fill him. With that came a certainty he wasn’t alone. Was this faith? Faith was something that couldn’t be seen, but surely faith could be felt. Couldn’t it? Evan had more questions than answers. This didn’t bother him. It was enough God had become real when he needed Him the most. God was a practical help to Evan when no human could help during the times when Evan was at his weakest point. Especially then, in fact.

It was all very strange. He tried explaining to his guy friends, but not experiencing a similar loss, they were unable to relate to him. Oddly enough, his mom who suffered the same loss couldn’t relate to him either.

Evan woke long enough to eat enough curry at an Indian takeaway for a small army before falling asleep in the rental car. Carol was thankful Evan was never a picky eater. Carl was the kind that ate anything placed before him as well. Although she had to wonder occasionally what he’d have thought of her substandard culinary efforts these days. Of course, now that she thought back, Carl would have understood.

The first summer Carol miscarried, Carl grilled every night while she recovered. Carl enjoyed grilling, but he never grilled as often as he did that summer. Carol thought that was due to the frequent fishing trips Carl had taken with their son. Almost nightly, Evan came into her room. With a huge grin, he gave her whatever flavor ice-cream they bought at the store. That nightly ritual eventually helped her realize the time she lost as she mourned the baby, and it made her miss time with the son she had.

That grim cold winter, Carl had made what he referred to as homemade stew when he picked her up from the hospital. He boasted of stirring together three different kinds of soup, one can of beans with an onion, carrots, and potatoes he had chopped. Carol smiled wanly at his effort to appear as if it was normal for his wife to leave for a second time after Evan’s birth with empty arms. The third miscarriage was a repeat of that first loss in summer, but Carol had prepared herself,