there wasn’t time to say anything then. She had to hurry off to work. And now he was waiting for her to come home, hoping to see a smile on her face.
Dan pushed the backrest to a more comfortable position and poured himself a cup of coffee from the thermos Marian had left this morning. Dr. Hinkley was concerned. He said Marian was worried about him in the house alone. He’d spent the entire time of the examination urging Dan to go back to work. Everyone seemed to be nagging him about work. Harvey and Drew wanted him back for the team’s sake. Dr. Hinkley wanted him back for Marian’s sake. And Dan admitted he should go back for his own sake. He was growing bitter and despondent cooped up in the house. All those arguments made perfect sense, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to go back.
Dan tried to be objective. He honestly didn’t think a man in a wheelchair could coach hockey. They all wanted him back out of pity, and that was a damn poor reason. “Isn’t he brave?” they’d all say. “Poor man, he looks so pathetic. Did you know he used to play hockey in college? Now he can’t do a thing, but he’s still got his job. One thing about Nisswa. We take care of our own.”
It was enough to make him sick! Dan knew his attitude wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t seem to rise above it. If it weren’t for Marian, he’d give up for good.
It was late. Mrs. Owens had stayed well over the half hour allotted for parent-teacher conferences, and then Harvey had wanted to talk. Marian hung her coat in the closet and pulled off her boots. She had to check on Dan. Perhaps he was in better spirits today.
She’d been so full of hope yesterday, after Dr. Hinkley’s visit. But Dan refused even to talk about going back to work. He said he was thinking about it. And this morning he had been quiet and uncommunicative. She had been worried about him all day.
He was asleep. Marian stood in the doorway and blinked back tears as the wave of despair she had been battling all day hit her with the force of a physical blow. Dan was unmoving, uncaring in his slumber. The small Christmas tree she’d set up at the foot of his bed was dark. She should have thought to put it on a timer. It was almost more than she could bear, seeing her husband here in the dark, with no cheerful lights to lift his spirits. She tiptoed to the foot of his bed and switched on the tree, hoping that he would wake with a smile and they could talk. But Dan’s eyelids didn’t even flicker as the tiny, colored bulbs cast a rosy glow over the room. Suddenly she had to get out, get away from the wasted man who was once her strength.
The day’s mail was still in the box. Marian ran out the front door and dashed down the icy sidewalk to the mailbox. The hinge seemed to be stuck, and she pulled with all her strength to open it. There was a tiny plastic bottle of shampoo inside, a new-product sample. It had burst as it froze. Now there was shampoo ice all over the inside of the mailbox. When would out-of-state companies learn about Minnesota winters?
She wiped off the mail as well as she could and carried it back to the house. There was a power bill, a campaign letter from their congressman, and a preprinted postcard.
It was the final straw. Marian stared at the writing on the postcard, and tears came to her eyes. It was from Laura’s dentist in Brainerd, a reminder of her six-month appointment. She tried to stop crying, but it was no use. Laura was gone. She was foolish to pretend any longer.
Marian climbed the stairs and opened the door to Laura’s room. She felt as if her head would split. She was on a roller coaster of emotion, and she had to get off.
There were brief periods when she was happy, secure in her knowledge that Laura was with her. She would smile and laugh then. Her energy was high. Then her mood would change abruptly, and doubts would return. Was it foolish to believe that Laura was still here? There were no more notes. Had
Dan pushed the backrest to a more comfortable position and poured himself a cup of coffee from the thermos Marian had left this morning. Dr. Hinkley was concerned. He said Marian was worried about him in the house alone. He’d spent the entire time of the examination urging Dan to go back to work. Everyone seemed to be nagging him about work. Harvey and Drew wanted him back for the team’s sake. Dr. Hinkley wanted him back for Marian’s sake. And Dan admitted he should go back for his own sake. He was growing bitter and despondent cooped up in the house. All those arguments made perfect sense, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to go back.
Dan tried to be objective. He honestly didn’t think a man in a wheelchair could coach hockey. They all wanted him back out of pity, and that was a damn poor reason. “Isn’t he brave?” they’d all say. “Poor man, he looks so pathetic. Did you know he used to play hockey in college? Now he can’t do a thing, but he’s still got his job. One thing about Nisswa. We take care of our own.”
It was enough to make him sick! Dan knew his attitude wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t seem to rise above it. If it weren’t for Marian, he’d give up for good.
It was late. Mrs. Owens had stayed well over the half hour allotted for parent-teacher conferences, and then Harvey had wanted to talk. Marian hung her coat in the closet and pulled off her boots. She had to check on Dan. Perhaps he was in better spirits today.
She’d been so full of hope yesterday, after Dr. Hinkley’s visit. But Dan refused even to talk about going back to work. He said he was thinking about it. And this morning he had been quiet and uncommunicative. She had been worried about him all day.
He was asleep. Marian stood in the doorway and blinked back tears as the wave of despair she had been battling all day hit her with the force of a physical blow. Dan was unmoving, uncaring in his slumber. The small Christmas tree she’d set up at the foot of his bed was dark. She should have thought to put it on a timer. It was almost more than she could bear, seeing her husband here in the dark, with no cheerful lights to lift his spirits. She tiptoed to the foot of his bed and switched on the tree, hoping that he would wake with a smile and they could talk. But Dan’s eyelids didn’t even flicker as the tiny, colored bulbs cast a rosy glow over the room. Suddenly she had to get out, get away from the wasted man who was once her strength.
The day’s mail was still in the box. Marian ran out the front door and dashed down the icy sidewalk to the mailbox. The hinge seemed to be stuck, and she pulled with all her strength to open it. There was a tiny plastic bottle of shampoo inside, a new-product sample. It had burst as it froze. Now there was shampoo ice all over the inside of the mailbox. When would out-of-state companies learn about Minnesota winters?
She wiped off the mail as well as she could and carried it back to the house. There was a power bill, a campaign letter from their congressman, and a preprinted postcard.
It was the final straw. Marian stared at the writing on the postcard, and tears came to her eyes. It was from Laura’s dentist in Brainerd, a reminder of her six-month appointment. She tried to stop crying, but it was no use. Laura was gone. She was foolish to pretend any longer.
Marian climbed the stairs and opened the door to Laura’s room. She felt as if her head would split. She was on a roller coaster of emotion, and she had to get off.
There were brief periods when she was happy, secure in her knowledge that Laura was with her. She would smile and laugh then. Her energy was high. Then her mood would change abruptly, and doubts would return. Was it foolish to believe that Laura was still here? There were no more notes. Had
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