Heartache

    Ellen placed one foot in front of the other--it was about all she was capable of these days. The hot sand scoured her soles before the cool sea rushed up to sooth them. Saltwater pushed at her ankles, urging her back home. The funeral was over now, but details still remained. Insurance. Papers. Banking. Ellen thought of the study, so obviously his, and decided to leave that for a time. His things weren’t going anywhere, and the room gave her chills.

Rocks rose before her and she faltered. Had she walked so far? Reluctantly she turned back, surf slapping her other ankle now. Before she was ready, the beach ran out again, and she climbed the steep steps up to Cliffside Road.

The kids would be back soon. She needed to be ready for that. Mom’s car might already be there, parked in front of the house, waiting.

The colonial house looked huge as she approached. Freshly painted wainscoting, divided light windows, even the cupola, it was all as Jerry had seen it, dreamed it even, since they met in college.

Mom’s car was parked in front, the engine ticking as it cooled, the seats empty.

Ellen drew a shaky breath. She realized she was rooted to the sidewalk, unable to go inside and face the ones that she loved, the ones that were left to deal with loss of father and son-in-law.

The front door of the house opened, and Joey stuck his head out.

“Mom? Are you coming in?”

Katie peered around him, pushing at Joey to let her out. "Mommy!"

“You’re only three, you’re not allowed to go out front where the street is,” Joey told her in a bossy big-brother tone.

“Mommy’s right there, Joey. Let me out!”

While their attention was focused on each other, Ellen got her feet moving, one in front of the other, and made it to the door.

“I was just making some lunch,” her mom said as Ellen ushered the kids back inside.

“That sounds great,” said Ellen, though she knew she wouldn’t eat any of it. Joey and Katie ran for the kitchen, already into a new argument about who was having the last juice box.

Ellen stood rooted again, her attention caught on the ornate door to Jerry’s study. She swore she heard whispered words calling her, inviting her in. She shivered.

“Maybe this house is too much to keep up,” said a soft voice. Ellen’s gaze unlocked, moved to her mom, registered the pain there, and the caring.

Ellen sighed. “To give it up now, even without him here, would be a betrayal,” she said.

Her mom nodded, but Ellen could see she didn’t agree.

#

A couple of weeks passed. Ellen sat in the window seat of her study, a book lying unheeded in her lap. Some premonition was growing in her, becoming a physical pain, a cold knife piercing raw wounds. She looked at the garden below, so colorful in the sunshine, and told herself she was only experiencing the next stage of grief, as so many had kindly reminded her she would.

Then Joey ran into the room.

“Mommy, Katie won’t stop crying, and she won’t tell me what’s wrong!” His six-year-old face wore a miniature version of his father’s frown. She set the book aside and rose, taking his hand in hers.

“Well, let’s go see what can be done,” she said reassuringly, but she followed slowly so that he had to pull her along.

The playroom was just down the hall, with it’s own window box seat, bookshelves lining one wall, and toys littering the floor. Katie sat in the big chair for reading stories in, surrounded by numerous stuffed animal friends, her chubby cheeks streaked with tears.

“Here now, Katie, Joey says you won’t tell him what’s wrong. Is it a secret?” Katie loved having secrets from her brother.

“I’ll tell you, Mommy, but not until he’s gone.”

Ellen looked at Joey and shrugged helplessly. His feelings were hurt, but in seconds he got over it and took off downstairs.

She took Katie in the washroom and sat her on the counter, wetting a cloth to wipe her face. One perfect tear sat motionless on the rise of her cheek.

“Okay, it’s just you and me,” Ellen said softly. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“My heart hurts, Mommy,” she said. The honesty was plain, and devastating.

“What do you mean, like a cut or an owie?” Katie shook her head, but not without hesitating first. “Do you mean like being sad?” This time her face brightened, and she nodded. There it was. She suffered heartache.

Ellen swallowed past her own pain.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Here Katie really hesitated, seemingly unwilling to meet Ellen’s eyes. They had already talked so much about the death, Ellen wondered if she was asking too much. Katie whispered something that Ellen could not make out.

“I can’t understand you, honey. Look at me and tell me straight out.”

“The see-through people, they tell me sad stories,” she said, looking right at Ellen now as if daring her to disbelieve. She didn’t know what to say, but now that she’d gotten started Katie kept going anyway.

“They come and whisper in my ear when I’m going to sleep. I just want to cry, Mommy, ’cause the stories make my heart hurt.” New tears welled up as she said this, and she held her little hand flat against her chest.

Ellen knelt down to look into her face, and gathered up her two little hands. “Well, how’s about we read stories until you fall asleep tonight, okay?”

She nodded, then threw herself around Ellen’s neck. “I love you, Mommy!”

Ellen returned the hug, her eyes misting over.

“You go on downstairs and find Joey,” Ellen said, sending her off. This was obviously a child’s construct to deal with grief, but just to be sure Ellen decided to book a doctor’s appointment. She headed down and stood in the kitchen so she could watch them sitting together before the TV screen.

She explained to the nurse that Katie was having some trouble sleeping. The nurse understood, well aware of the tragedy this family now suffered through, and booked her in for the day after next.

That night Ellen sat in the old rocker between their beds and read to them until Katie fell asleep. Joey was almost there when she finished the book.

“Well, did Katie ever told you what was wrong?” she whispered, tucking the blanket close to him.

“No,” he said, his face remembering the hurt. “But she didn’t cry since then, so she’s okay now, right?”

“Right,” Ellen said as she turned out the light and pulled the door closed.

With a sigh she plodded downstairs. She wandered around and picked up toys, put things back in order. The television sat quiet. She decided to make tea. Put the kettle on. Turned it off again. She stood for a long time in the doorway of the kitchen before she went back upstairs, one measured footfall after another. It was only eight o’clock.

#

The next morning she was trying to compose an email to any acquaintances that might not be aware of Jerry’s death when Joey ran in again, her faithful messenger.

“Mom, she’s at it again,” he said with disgust, his arms crossed in an awkward mimic of her own stance when she was angry with them. “I can’t even hear my video game.”

“At what again, Joey?” she said absently, her mind still on the wording of the email.

“Crying on and on, just like yesterday. Bet she’s done something wrong and just won’t admit it.”

“Now, Joey, come on,” Ellen replied. Her attention was diverted now, and she wondered if that was the true plan in all this, whether subconscious or not.

She followed Joey down the hall. A cool breeze ruffled her hair, and she shivered. It was so much like the day before; her instincts screamed warnings that she didn't understand. Ellen struggled to reconcile her emotions with reality.

Again she cuddled Katie in an attempt to comfort both of them.

“These people, are they like ghosts, Katie?” Katie nodded, her thumb now stuck in her mouth and her head resting against Ellen’s chest. They rocked steadily, and Ellen continued. “And they are just very sad ghosts, right?” Again, a nod. Then she noticed Katie’s other hand playing with the folds of her shirt where it lay against her chest.

Right over her heart.

“Well, what do you think we can do to make them happier?” She felt Katie go very still at this thought. Then Katie squirmed up and crawled off Ellen’s lap.

“I dunno,” she said, shrugging on one side, but looking hopeful.

“Should we ask them?”

“I guess so.” She grabbed Ellen’s hand and held tight, wanting company for the little adventure. Playing along, Ellen allowed herself to be led out into the hall. Katie carefully checked each room, leaning in the doorway to look this way and that before leading Ellen on to the next.

“They’re not up here, Mommy.”

Ellen wasn’t surprised. She was convinced now it was a wild story to gain time with Mommy. An elaborate ruse for comfort and attention. Ellen was happy with this explanation until she saw Katie rubbing at her chest again, like a man with bad heartburn.

“Does it hurt there?” she asked, crouching down and pointing at the spot she’d been rubbing.

“Yeah.” Katie looked incredibly guilty and scared, and suddenly it all made more sense. She had seen her father holding his chest and gasping as he fell to the floor right in the middle of dinner. She was afraid, so she had made up the story of the ghosts to cover up the real story.

Ellen was glad she’d already booked a doctor’s appointment. If it weren’t the very next day, she’d be tempted to make the drive to the hospital this minute, never mind the crazy emergency room wait.

“Mommy...does it hurt to die?”

Ellen’s mouth went dry.

“Sometimes, I guess," she finally managed to say. "But don’t forget, when we die, we will go to heaven just like Daddy did.” She wanted to cry, for her, for him, for herself, but she couldn’t break down in front of her confused child.

“How come the see-through people didn’t go to heaven?”

At this, Ellen was stumped. Katie wasn’t ready to let go of her story just yet.

“Well, if we could find them, maybe you could ask them that, too.”

She smiled a smile that tore Ellen’s heart.

“They won’t come when you’re here, I bet,” Katie said. Another thing popped into place. Lately Ellen was unable to do much of anything without Katie stuck to her side like a static-filled sock.

“Okay, fine. I’ll wait in the front entry downstairs, and you see if you can find them.” They marched down the stairs hand in hand, and stopped in the hall.

When she chose Jerry’s old office, Ellen covered her mouth with a hand. Tears dribbled over her knuckles.

Ellen heard Katie’s little voice form a question, then a little cry made her instincts flare and she dove around the corner and into the room in time to see her baby’s body hit the floor.

She scrambled for the phone on Jerry’s desk, knocking things over, and dialed 911.

“It’s my daughter, she’s collapsed, I’m going to do CPR, please hurry...”

She dropped the receiver, not bothering to end the call, knowing the calm voice on the other end was telling her to stay on, asking questions, but she had no time for that.

Teardrops dotted Katie’s shirt as Ellen got her into position and began basic first aid.

Push, push, breath. Push, push, breath.

“Come on, baby. Please, don’t go. I want you to stay with me, please.”

Push, push, breath.

“Mommy?” It was Joey.

“Go open the front door for the ambulance drivers,” she said, her voice sharper than she meant it to be. His eyes were wide, but he ran to do as she asked.

Push, push, breath.

There it was, a little heartbeat, a breath, colour returning to her lips. Ellen thought she might pass out.

“Mommy.” Katie’s eyes drooped and Ellen brushed the hair from her face, willing her to stay alert. “They were waiting for me, Mommy, waiting for me...and Daddy was there, too.”

Ellen sucked in her breath, new adrenaline searing her veins. Footsteps thudded on the stairs, and she pulled her baby to her, her breath coming in rasps.

“We’re here to help, Ma'am, you have to let her go so we can help...”

Moments later they were loading Katie into the ambulance. She looked so tiny on the man-sized gurney. Ellen stood on the front stoop, Joey in her arms, until they closed the door.

“Come on, Buddy, we’ll follow in the car.”

At the hospital, doctors spoke words she’d prayed to never hear again. Heart attack. She didn’t understand how a little girl would have one, but everything was still confusing, and they assured her their family doctor was on his way.

She came back down the hall to where Joey sat reading one of the hospital books. Ellen tousled his hair.

“Getting tired?”

“No.”

Ellen nodded. Of course he wasn’t, but it was getting late, and she would need to make arrangements for him. Ellen checked her purse, but her cell phone wasn't there. She went to the payphone nearby, almost smiling when she saw his face split into a huge yawn. Then she frowned, her hand frozen on the telephone receiver.

He was rubbing the embroidered football on his shirt. It lay right over his heart.

She plugged in change, and dialed.

“Mom? I need you--" Tears choked off her words, and her mother's worried voice questioned her. "You were right," Ellen finally got out. "It's time to sell the house.”