THEA WARRINGTON SAT out back on the deck, by the small rock pool, a drawing pad on her lap. The weather was cool but she enjoyed the fresh air as she worked, imagining in her mind’s eye a different landscape and the exact requirements of her client and his family. She always loved working on gardens for families, trying to ensure space for the adults to have quiet time, somewhere restful, with a seat or garden chair where they could unwind and forget their daily cares, and of course a family area, for entertaining, cooking and playing outdoors in the warm summer weather, and most important of all a hideaway spot for the children to run and imagine they were lost in a fairytale wood or cast away on a treasure island. There would be a sand pit and a swing and maybe a low stone bridge to cross from one world to another. She smiled, just thinking about it.
Her own boys were at school and Erik would collect them later. It was funny how the kids had just accepted the change in their routine once she and Erik had explained a bit about her illness to them. They now knew that it would either be their father or their home help Valerie who would collect them, as their mom could no longer drive. It was strange, thought Thea, that it was the little things that she missed doing the most – the boring school runs, helping at the Scouts’ bake sale, taking the kids swimming, going to the market and complaining about the weight of her shopping kart and having to stand in line and check it all through. Now her groceries just seemed to magically appear as she could order all her requirements over the net, and her local store had a same day delivery service. The big things didn’t seem all that important any more as she adjusted to a life governed by the cancer cells which remorselessly attacked her body. She refused to wave the white flag of defeat and listen to the doom and gloom prognosis of her illness given by her doctors. She was still a young woman with plenty to live for, and was not about to give in.
Like a good patient she had followed all the best of medical advice, tried the latest drug and radium therapies and when for the third time she had been told her cancer was back, agreed to go and see the hospice which her oncologist had suggested might be a good place for the final management of her illness, should she and Erik and the boys no longer be able to cope. The staff there had warmly welcomed her, giving her a guided tour. Thea had been impressed with the level of care and the holistic environment in which the patients enjoyed their final days. She had been fortunate enough to meet with its director and about two hours later, after explaining the reward and satisfaction she got from her landscaping work, she found herself being asked to design an informal garden for the younger patients and their visitors, a commission she had joyously accepted.
The work kept coming in and she even did it flat on her back in the bed, where Erik had erected a drawing board for her. The computer could do the rest: catalogue the plants, the stones and tiles and bricks, trees and shrubs that she wanted to use, provide a display for her clients to mull over. Creating and shaping the earth and ground around her seemed to take over Thea’s thought processes and help her cope with the dark days as her illness took a hold. Her brain and mind were still virgin soil untouched by the creeping weed of her disease.
Erik was her rock and without him she did not know how she could have carried on. He was there for her and the boys, unflinching no matter how bad things got, constant in a tornado of utter change. Her husband refused to give up and accept the time span the doctors had allotted her; he was ready to wage battle against the might of an unseen enemy, somehow believing they could win! It was Erik who had heard about the woman from Massachusetts, the woman who was said to have the power to heal, like a saint in the Bible able to perform miracles. Thea had little belief in miracles but seeing the hope in her husband’s eyes had agreed to his trying to contact her, pleading with him not to expect anything.
The miracle was that Martha McGill had actually responded, not to the letters and phone calls but to the five-minute home video that Erik had shot of the family, and that she had driven all the way up to West Hartford to see her.
Thea had been embarrassed at first at the thought of a stranger coming to her home; would she be a bible-thumping Jesus freak or a wacky new age spiritualist who would chant around her? Much to her surprise, Martha was neither and the two of them had got along just fine, Thea feeling unusually relaxed and open. A wife and mother like herself, Martha with her understanding eyes and easy manner seemed to have a rare understanding and empathy for what she was going through, and a line of complete trust had developed between them. The healer had made her lie down and then without even saying a word laid her hands right on her.
At once Thea had been aware of the enormous heat and energy that seemed to flow towards her as Martha began to lightly run her hands all over her body, concentrating on the areas that had been mentioned as trouble spots. She knew Martha had been startled when she touched the area where the aggressive tumour encased part of her spinal column, but unwaveringly she had continued, Thea giving herself up to the pleasant sensation of sunshine that enveloped her as Martha worked.
Afterwards, she couldn’t explain it but she felt better – maybe it was a placebo effect, but whatever it was she was in less pain and seemed to have more energy. Erik kissed her and told her she even looked more beautiful.
‘That Martha lady sure has a special effect, in that case!’ she joked.
Martha came again and again, once a month and with every visit the advance of Thea’s cancer just seemed to slow and halt. How Thea laughed when the doctors rechecked her X-rays and re-examined her, baffled, but admitting cautiously that perhaps she was in some form of temporary remission.
Thea didn’t care what the reason was, all she knew was that the Good Lord was giving her more time to spend with her husband and boys, more days to sit in the sun and enjoy his greatness, and that somehow the healer, Martha, was connected with it . . .