The Healing by Frances Pergamo

Karen replied. “But I’ve been spending the summers out here my whole life.”
    Grace nodded. “I thought you looked a bit familiar.”
    Karen hoped she meant their more recent encounters. Hopefully Grace had no knowledge of the goofy sisters who used to snicker at her and imagine she was some kind of phantom. “We’ve passed each other on the road,” Karen said. “And I’ve seen you at the store a few times.”
    Another nod. When Grace drank her tea, she barely bent her head. Long, thin hands lifted the teacup to her lips with steady finesse. Her brown eyes regarded Karen over the brim of her cup and suddenly shimmered with subdued humor. “You’re a coffee drinker, aren’t you?”
    Karen smiled for the first time in days. “How can you tell?”
    Grace smiled, too. “Just a hunch.”
    â€œI wasn’t doing anything wrong, was I?” Karen asked with good-natured self-derision.
    â€œOf course not,” Grace replied. “It’s just one of those things you can tell about people. But I wish I had realized it sooner.”
    Karen sipped her tea with deliberate aplomb, which only brought them both to the brink of outright laughter. “I do like tea,” she said, putting her cup down before she spilled anything. “Really, I do. I just like coffee better.”
    â€œI’ll make some,” Grace said, and started to get up, but Karen reached across the table and put a hand on her forearm.
    â€œPlease, Grace, that’s not necessary. The tea is delicious. And you were right about the bergamot. I feel better already.”
    Grace settled back down. “Well, maybe you just never learned enough about tea to appreciate it.”
    â€œYou could be right,” Karen said. “And today I learned that a good cup of Earl Grey is like a brain massage. It’s just what I needed.”
    Grace was noticeably silent. It was obvious she had too much class to come right out and ask Karen why she had been sobbing so wretchedly at the beach. But Karen was more than ready to share her plight with another human being. She needed to talk about it. Grace didn’t know Karen or anything about her family’s marathon of misfortune, which was even more of a blessing.
    â€œMy husband has multiple sclerosis.”
    Grace didn’t wince or make a comment, but her expression thawed with understanding.
    â€œHe’s getting pretty bad,” Karen added, keeping her voice steady. “I think today I just realized how bad. That’s why I got so upset.”
    â€œIs he at home?” Grace asked.
    â€œYes, but I don’t know how much longer we can manage.” Karen couldn’t believe she was talking so openly about it. She had never admitted to her own sister that Mike’s illness was getting the best of them.
    â€œSo who’s with him now?” Grace asked.
    â€œA visiting nurse. And we have a home health aide who comes to the house every other day.”
    â€œIs he in a wheelchair?”
    At first Karen was reluctant to admit it out loud, and she took a deep breath. “Yes,” she finally replied. “He can’t walk anymore.”
    â€œHow about physical therapy?”
    Karen shook her head. “Not anymore. All along he’s been trying to do whatever he can to take care of himself and be as independent as possible, but now he’s given up altogether.”
    Grace was so attentive to Karen’s every word it seemed she was barely blinking or breathing. “Do you have children?” she asked.
    â€œOne daughter. She’s nineteen.”
    â€œDoes she help you?”
    â€œWell, she’s not too well herself.”
    Again, Grace waited for Karen to offer the information before probing.
    â€œLori suffers from depression,” Karen said. “She would have been fine on medication if fate hadn’t been so hard on her. Around the time my husband got sick, Lori