Sara's Promise (2 page)

She sighed as she looked at the brochures piled on the paint table, brochures telling of upcoming painting workshops, contests, and fellowships. They were there to include in the monthly newsletter, but they were also there to remind her of what she was missing out on.

She had been good once, more than good, accomplished, and she could revive her talents as easily as she could whip up a batch of cookies. At the young age of eighteen, her first year of college, she'd already won several awards for her paintings and even had one circulated in a national art show, showing at art galleries across the country. Her teachers saw her talent and nurtured her in the two years she attended school. But by then, she'd met William, an architecture major, who was two years ahead of her in school. When he graduated, they married, and she left school behind but not her painting. As he began his career designing homes, she continued painting, winning more contests and awards. But then Sandra was born, and two years later, Samuel, and Sara found her time filled with diapers, feedings, playgroups, and all else motherhood entailed. Then William and his partner started their own firm and his hours became long, so Sara threw herself completely into the kids. They built their dream house, which Sara helped design and completely decorated from top to bottom. And the years went on, with each passing year Sara telling herself she would find more time for painting as the children grew older. But each year she found her time became more precious as she ran the kids around and attended their various activities. The only painting she'd completed in all those years was the one of their house, the one that hung proudly over the mantel in the living room. Others were started but usually sat, like the one in the corner now, until they were put away in a closet when she could no longer bear to look at the unfinished canvases. Maybe this one would join them, she thought sadly, as she continued to study it. Maybe that was where they all belonged.

William came back into the room, wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, catching Sara's eye as she turned from the painting once more. Both smiled, and she padded across the soft carpet to crawl into bed beside him. Taking a tube of cucumber-melon hand lotion out of the nightstand drawer, she squeezed a bead of lotion into her palm before dropping it back into the drawer. Slowly, she started rubbing the lotion into her hands and arms.

William smiled at her as he watched her nightly routine of rubbing into her hands and arms. "You really should make time for yourself to paint again. The kids don't need you half as much as you think."

Sara looked up at him, the man she'd spent almost half her life with, the man she knew she'd spend forever with. His wavy black hair was damp from the shower, curling gently at his temples and neck. He wore it longer than fashion dictated these days, and she liked it on him that way. She always had. She placed her hand on his chest and snuggled up next to him. He felt warm and smelled of soap and shampoo. He felt good.

"They still need me more than they think, even at their ages," she said into his chest.

William wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "From what I heard today, they don't appreciate you as much as they should," he said gently, adding softly, "None of us do."

Sara smiled appreciatively. It was rare for William to acknowledge all that she did. She knew he appreciated it all and depended upon her completely. He worked long hours at his business, as well as putting in several more hours each night at home, and her being available to the kids twenty-four hours a day made it easier for him. He never had to worry about being home at a certain time, who'd feed the kids, who'd pick up the dry cleaning or who'd fill the refrigerator with groceries. It was all done, magically, quietly, completely, by Sara. Holidays, birthdays, vacations, everything was planned by her and her alone. And she loved doing it. But it did make it feel all the more worthwhile when he acknowledged the work she put into family and home.

"You know, you've spoiled us all," William continued, pulling her even closer. "We would be completely lost without you."

Sara pulled away and looked up at him, her expression serious. "Then it's a good thing none of you will ever know what that's like," she said with certainty.

He smiled. "How can you be so sure?"

"I just know," Sara said. "Even if something happened to me, I'd still find a way to be here for you and the kids. That's how strong our bond is."

William looked at her, half-amused, half-skeptical, making Sara laugh softly.

"Oh, Billy," she said, calling him by the nickname of long ago that only she still used. "I've told you a thousand times, we're soul mates. We were together before we met, we'll be together long after we're gone. And even if we cannot be together for a time, I'll find a way to make sure you and the kids are happy and cared for, one way or another."

It was William's turn to laugh, not unkindly. He loved her artistic ways in everything she did. Especially in the way she viewed love and life.

"You are forever the romantic," he told her, kissing her gently on the forehead. "And I hope you're right."

Sara raised her lips to his, and they kissed, soft and sweet at first, then turning warm and passionate. Soon they were naked in each other's arms with a passion that only years of loving one person can bring, and Sara once again showed him just how sweet forever could be.

Chapter Two

March 8th

It started as a dull ache in the middle of her abdomen, enough pain to wake Sara up earlier than usual but not enough for her to worry about. As she showered and dressed, the pain increased slightly, but she brushed it off as monthly cramps, took two pain relievers and went about her morning routine.

After William left for work, and Sara dropped the kids off at school, the pain sharpened and spread to her lower right side, and she felt warm. Still, she thought nothing of it as she headed over to the art center and worked on the newsletter. But the pain wouldn't go away. It only increased. By late morning, she was flushed and nauseous, so she decided to go home and rest before she had to pick the kids up from school. Surely a nap would help her feel better.

By early afternoon, the pain still persisted. Lying down helped a little but not enough to feel better, even after more pain medicine. Thinking she must have caught a flu bug, Sara phoned William's office, hoping he could come home early and pick up the children from school. But she was only able to reach his secretary who explained he was in meetings and couldn't be disturbed. Sara hung up, disappointed, even though she really hadn't expected him to be able to help. She'd always done everything for the kids and the house herself, never asking him for help, even when she was sick or worn out. But today, she felt stranded, alone, and it upset her. Even though she knew he loved his family and loved her, not being able to depend upon him for emergencies saddened her.

Angry with herself for even thinking this way, she pushed her feelings aside, blaming the way she felt for the cause of her anger, not William. Determined not to let this get the best of her, she forced herself to get up and drive to pick up the kids.

But the pain continued to increase and by the time both children were in the van, she was flushed, perspiration damp on her brow.

"Are you okay, Mom?" Sammy asked from where he sat in the middle seat. Even through her pain, Sara smiled. Sammy was the sensitive one. It was so like him to be the one to notice how quiet she was and notice the strain on her face.

"I'll be okay, honey," she managed as she maneuvered through the traffic at the high school. Sammy didn't look convinced, but he stayed quiet.

Sandy, however, had no concern for anyone but herself. She started in right away about wanting her nose pierced, bringing a sharp reaction from her mother.

"Not today, Sandy. I mean it," Sara warned her in no uncertain terms.

Sandy sat back, stunned that her mother would talk to her so sharply. But instead of noticing her mother looked ill, she only sulked in her seat all the way home.

Once home, Sandy flew off to her friend's house down the road with no concern for her mother, but Sammy hung back, asking if there was anything he could help her with.

Sara was touched by his concern but assured him she'd be better if she just rested awhile. He went off to his bedroom to do homework, and Sara collapsed on the sofa, wondering how she'd make dinner with the way she felt.

The pain grew inside her until Sara felt like her whole stomach was on fire. It burned, and her fever increased. She felt like she had to vomit, but she didn't have the strength to leave the sofa, so she just lay there, hoping it would stop. There was so much pressure building inside her, she felt like she couldn't stand it another moment. Then, suddenly it was as if an explosion went off inside her and slowly the pain lessened. Her fevered body cooled, and the nauseous feeling went away. She couldn't believe the pain could cease so quickly and thought that maybe the pain killers had finally worked. But whatever it was, she was thankful it was gone.

She rose, slowly at first, still not convinced the pain was entirely gone, but she felt fine, except for feeling exhausted from her long afternoon. She prepared dinner and Sandy came home from Brittany's house, and William came home from work. They all ate dinner like they did every evening. No one noticed how pale Sara was, or the dark circles under her eyes. They just ate and traded stories as usual.

During dinner, Sara felt the pressure in her side begin to grow again, but she said nothing. As she loaded the dishwasher, William came into the kitchen to tell her that he and Sammy were going to the driving range to hit a few balls. He didn't notice how flushed she looked as they rushed out the kitchen door. Only Sammy looked her over twice before reluctantly following his dad.

Sandy tried one more time to get her mom to agree to allow her to get her nose pierced, but Sara raised her hand in warning and shook her head.

"Not tonight," Sara told her. Angry, Sandy stormed up to her room, the words "I hate you" rushing down the stairs at Sara before Sandy slammed her door. But by now, Sara didn't care. She put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and practically crawled to the living room sofa, and dropped onto it. The pain had become unbearable again, even worse than it had been before, and she felt completely drained. She was pale with bright spots of red on her cheeks, and her breathing had become increasingly labored.

This was how Sammy found her when they came home, curled up on the couch, her blue-green eyes glassy in her stark white face. William had gone directly into his den to work, but Sammy wanted to see if his mom was feeling better. Seeing her this way frightened him, and he ran directly to his father's den.

"Mom's really sick. You have to come," he said, his eyes wide with fear.

William looked up from his drawing board, frowning in confusion. Sara was fine at dinnertime, surely Sammy was exaggerating. "I'm sure your mother's fine," he said calmly. "She's probably just tired."

But Sammy wouldn't listen to his dad's excuses. "She's been sick all day, and she's really sick now," he insisted. "Come on!"

William had no choice but to follow his son into the living room, and when he got there, the site of Sara's pale, limp form unnerved him.

"Sara?" he asked gently, crouching down beside the sofa. She turned to him but said nothing. He placed a hand on her forehead and pressed lightly. She was burning up. Panic swelled inside him.

"I hurt," Sara said weakly, but the pain was so overwhelming, even talking was excruciating.

William had never seen his wife so sick before. For one long minute he wavered, debating what to do. Sara took care of them, not the other way around. When Sandy had her tonsils out at age six, it was Sara who'd sat beside her hospital bed all night. When Sammy fell off the swing set when he was three and lay unconscious, it was Sara who had calmly rushed him to the emergency room. She handled all the colds, flus, and illnesses. She was the one who doled out the medications, kept the children's shots current, and handled all doctor, dentist, and orthodontist appointments. He felt completely lost.

Sara closed her eyes and winced as the pain continued to envelope her. Her breathing was erratic now with short, gasping intakes of air. Seeing the pain etched on her face finally made William fly into action.

"Get your sister," he told Sammy as calmly as possible. "We're taking your mom to the hospital."

William drove to the hospital as fast as he dared, with both children silent in the backseat, and Sara reclined moaning softly in the front seat. He'd wrapped her in a blanket, even though her body had been radiating a fiery heat of its own.

Once there, the emergency room nurse took one look at Sara in William's arms and quickly showed them to a room where he could lay her down. Doctors came immediately to examine her, while William filled out insurance forms in the waiting room, and Sammy and Sandy waited nervously beside him. The three had just re-entered the emergency ward, when they saw Sara being wheeled out of her room on a gurney toward the elevators.

"We believe it's her appendix," the doctor in charge told William. "We must get her into surgery immediately. I've already informed the surgeon on duty."

William and the children stood, stunned for a moment, staring at the stout, gray-haired doctor standing in front of them. He tried to smile and reassure them. "Appendicitis is very common," he said calmly. "The doctors here treat several cases each month. Your wife is in capable hands."