The Parting Gift(13)

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Mara glared as she watched Blaine’s disappearing form. She was half tempted to throw something at him when the screen door slammed behind him. A stifled curse was heard through the door. Obviously he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to see his father right now. And had he just accused her of being something other than David’s nurse?

Anger anew welled up within her as she stomped her way back up the stairs into David’s room. “Time for your medicine,” she said, ignoring his pleading eyes.

David looked around her towards the door, then back at her face. “Who’s downstairs?”

“The devil,” she answered, smiling as she poured the pink liquid into the glass in her hand. “Open up now, Mr. Graham.”

Frowning, he shook his head. “Not before you tell me who you were talking to. Did they give you trouble, my girl? I know I’m getting weak, but I still got my guns locked up over there.” He pointed to the closet, his brow knitted in frustration.

Mara sighed and sat on the bed. David’s anxious look made her irritation with Blaine unbearable. How could he be so insensitive? His father was dying! And he was upset about her staying in his room?

She opened her mouth to explain but didn’t have to use words. Small tears pooled at the corner of David’s eyes as he grabbed her by the shoulders. “He’s home? Blaine is home?”

“Yes. Yes, he’s here. He’s downstairs. But –”

“Is he coming up? Did you tell him where I was?” Anticipation invigorated him, and he sat forward in expectation.

“Mr. Graham, I had a few words with him. It might not be the way you were hoping it would be.”

“He’s here. Right? That’s half the battle.”

“Yes. I suppose it is. But I hate to see you get hurt.”

“He’s hurt. I did that. Until he’s ready, there’s nothing we can do but pray for him.”

Mara knew he was right, but she couldn’t help but feel protective of her patient. Even the brief emotional expenditure took a toll on him, and exhaustion seemed to overtake him.

“I think you should rest awhile. I’ll make some lunch and clean up a little downstairs.”

“Don’t worry, Mara. Have faith. He’ll come around.”

She wished she could be so sure. This was a switch. Usually it was Mara telling David to ‘have faith, everything will be fine.’ Mara adjusted David’s pillows and turned out the light and went back downstairs.



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Blaine cursed again as he carried his suitcase into the small room off the kitchen. There was an old cot folded and leaning in the corner. It probably hadn’t been used in close to twelve years. The room itself had been used mainly as storage after his mother had passed away. He figured his father had rarely set foot in there since then.

The case dropped with a loud clatter on the wood floor, and Blaine grabbed the cot and set to work putting it up against the far wall. The joints were stiff, and they squeaked as he forced them into position. After spending five years sleeping on a cot just like this one, it wouldn’t take long to get used to the new sleeping arrangement. It would be much more difficult just getting used to being back here.

He cringed at the heaviness in his chest. The emotional turmoil was suffocating him. Forgetting this place had taken the better part of ten years. Dredging it up again was the last thing he thought he’d ever have to do.

His mother’s old sewing machine sat against the inside wall. She used to sew every Thursday afternoon. When Blaine would come home from school, he would walk in through the back door and sit at the kitchen table to eat the sandwich she had laid out for him. The whirring of the machine reassured him of his mother’s presence. When she became ill, those Thursday afternoons grew fewer and farther between. Then they stopped altogether.

Smoothing the wood of the sewing machine cabinet with his hand, he remembered his mother sitting there, the way she smiled at him when he came in from school. Before he could stop it, a tear escaped his eye and slipped down his cheek.

The sound of pots and pans banging in the kitchen jerked him back to reality, and he instinctively wiped the tear from his face and turned his back to the door.

There was the matter of Mrs. Crawford.

Blaine laughed bitterly as he began unpacking his bag; she was a piece of work. One minute she was fainting at the sight of him, the next making certain he called her by the proper title.

The thought alone made him cringe, especially considering how beautiful she was. Not that he had ever been smooth with the ladies, but it had been a long time since Blaine had felt so attracted to a woman, and it would have been nice to know he could have a chance – even if he wouldn’t know what to do with it. Back in this house again, he was going to need the distraction.

He took the last few things from his suitcase and set them on the shelf. There wasn’t much space in the little room, but he could make it work. After all, he spent most of his time in the confines of a cockpit. Didn’t get much tighter than that.

A light knock on the door announced the presence of Mrs. Crawford. Blaine wanted to avoid looking at her, but he had already put the last of his things away, and had no other recourse but to address her.

“Yes?”

“May I come in for a moment?”

Blaine sighed and nodded with resignation.