Delia Parr - Abide With Me

“But that’s not the whole story,” Madge insisted.

“Walking two miles to anywhere in a blizzard is a story in and of itself,” Andrea insisted.

Madge finished a sugar Spinner and tilted up her chin. “Anyone can walk two miles in a blizzard, but only Sandra would have enough nerve to go around the back of the balcony, climb the stairs to the residence on the second floor, and insist that Mr. McAllister go downstairs and open up the store so she could buy some Spinners.”

Andrea’s eyes widened. With her mouth full, she could not voice a question, but Madge simply patted her arm.

“Sandra was…Sandra. She always knew what she wanted, and she always knew how to get it. Besides, she just didn’t go to the bakery to get some Spinners for herself. The blizzard hit midday, remember?”

Andrea nodded as she tried to swallow the last bite.

“Well, she knew the bakery had been forced to close down without selling out, and she also knew the road crews would be out working all night clearing the streets. So she convinced Mr. McAllister to sell her a few dozen Spinners, along with everything else he had. Then she loaded up her sled, walked down the avenue to the public works garage, dropped off the sweets from the bakery and got herself back home.”

“Just in time for Jeopardy,” Jenny added. Her eyes grew misty.

Andrea took a long sip of iced tea and wrapped her hand around the glass. “You both knew that story. Why didn’t I?”

Jenny shrugged her shoulders.

Madge’s eyes twinkled. “You’re always working. Besides, you don’t know everything, even if you are the old est,” she teased. “That’s why we’re here together, isn’t it? To share our stories?”

Caroline interrupted to take their breakfast orders. Andrea was grateful for the extra time to think of her own Sandra story, and she was ready by the time Caroline left. She glanced at Jenny. “When Sandra left to get married for the first time, how old were you? Three?”

Jenny tilted up her chin. “I was four, thank you. And very mature for my age.”

Andrea grinned. “Then you missed the infamous black slip story.”

Madge’s eyes widened. “You’re telling that story?”

“Of course. I don’t think I can not tell that story.”

“I know all about the black slip,” Jenny insisted. “When she was a teenager, Sandra had a part-time job cleaning for some elderly lady who lived nearby, and she spent every dime on lingerie. Beautiful, expensive lingerie.”

“Mrs. Calloway,” Madge offered, and her eyes lit with a flash of sudden intuition that Andrea did not miss.

“Anyway,” Andrea continued, “Sandra’s black slip just disappeared. She blamed Madge. Madge denied taking it, and from there, a monumental shouting match. Of course, shouting and screaming never resolved anything. Sandra and Madge each held their ground. For weeks after, Sandra would make snide remarks, blaming Madge for the missing black slip, and Madge would play the wounded victim of ‘rash judgment.’” She shook her head. “Then Mother found the black slip when she was housecleaning. The slip was stuck behind Sandra’s bureau, caught between the bureau and the wall. Mother said it looked like the slip had somehow gotten wedged behind the bureau after sliding off the laundry she piled on each of our bureaus on wash day. Sandra was grounded for a month.”

Madge’s cheeks blushed pink. “And she spent even longer apologizing.”

“And well she should have,” Andrea cautioned.

Caroline arrived with plates piled high with steaming hotcakes and browned sausages. After quickly refilling their beverages and removing the now-empty Spinner plate, she left the three sisters to enjoy their breakfasts.

Andrea slathered her stack of hotcakes with butter, cut off a generous piece and savored the bite.

Madge poured low-calorie syrup on top of her stack and watched the syrup ooze over the sides. She cleared her throat. “Actually, I have a confession to make. To both of you. I—I had taken Sandra’s black slip and hid it behind her bureau. I was just playing a joke on her. I didn’t think she’d get so angry…but things just got out of hand, and I didn’t know how to stop it or what to do….”

Andrea sputtered and choked on her tea.

Jenny’s eyes twinkled. “You really had taken the black slip?”

Madge nodded. Her eyes glistened with tears. “I promised Sandra I’d tell you that today. On her birthday. That she had been right about the black slip,” she whispered. “I took it, and the argument was my fault. After all these years, I never really thought it was important to confess to that. Not to Sandra or either of you. I’d already prayed for forgiveness from God, but I never asked Sandra to forgive me. Not until she got sick. I told her right before…right before she left us to go Home.”

Andrea raised her glass of tea. “To forgiveness.”

Madge and Jenny raised their coffee cups, and they gently clicked their cups and glass together.

“Sandra had the biggest heart and most generous spirit of anyone I’ve ever known,” Jenny murmured.

Andrea swallowed hard before she took a sip of her iced tea. “She was a good friend, not just to me, but to a lot of people.”

Madge bowed her head for a moment. “She was more than just my sister. She was my shopping buddy and my gardening buddy, as terrible as she was, and she was my…my best friend.” She let out a deep sigh, paused, and then said, “I don’t know about either of you, but I hope it’s a long, long time before we have to do this again.”

“Do what?” Jenny asked. “Have a Sisters’ Breakfast? Kathleen’s birthday is in October, you know. Mother and Daddy’s aren’t until March.”

“No. I like the breakfasts. I like the tradition. I like sharing memories with each of you.” She reached out and took hold of Andrea’s and Jenny’s hands. “I hope we have years to be together. I hope…I just hope I don’t lose one of my sisters again. Not for a long, long time. That’s all.”

Andrea gulped hard and squeezed her sisters’ hands. “I pray we do, too. According to His will,” she added, certain that now was definitely not the time to share her news. She did not have to start chemotherapy for two weeks yet. Actually, she had a consultation tomorrow with the doctor to discuss the particulars of the process that would take a full year to complete. With all the experience she and her family had had with cancer and the treatments used to cure that hideous disease, she did not expect any surprises tomorrow. She did have questions, though, and decided it might be best to wait until she knew more before telling her sisters and asking for their help and their prayers.

Unless tomorrow held news she would not be anxious to share with anyone, most especially the sisters who were still grieving for Sandra, who had so recently been called Home.

A ndrea sat in her parked car outside of the urologist’s office under the shade of a swamp maple tree large enough to cast a shadow that covered her entire station wagon. Her purse was at her side on the passenger seat. Her bottle of iced tea was in the cup holder. Her mind was focused on prayer.

Head bowed, she took small, measured breaths and kept her hands loosely steepled as they lay on her lap. Just the word cancer had the power to send shivers down her spine and arouse all the memories of her loved ones and their suffering she had stored in her mind, casting images of pain and suffering that made her heart beat so fast she grew dizzy.

Keeping this ten o’clock appointment to hear the particulars about her cancer recurrence would have kept her paralyzed in her seat if not for the power of prayer and the presence of the angels who had been sent to protect her from her own fears.