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Upon Their Hands They Will Carry you
Page 13

Swedish Lace Held Us Together

"You know we canít treat Rhonda any longer unless you leave her here full time." This once smiling person suddenly had become detailed and cunning I felt.

My first reaction was one of incredible disbelief. There was just no way this woman could have made this statement, I was thinking. Had these people not seen how devoted I was to this little bit of humanity who was so at risk? How could she open her mouth with such a blasphemous, loose statement? What constituted her thinking to believe that someone could simply hand over something so precious as their own blood and to do so with ease? To further abuse a life that already had been put at risk was beyond my comprehension. My mouth wouldnít open to answer her.

For a moment I dropped my eyes to the Swedish lace around Rhondaís dress. Something about the power this bit of fabric had to resist stress gave me strength. Maybe it was only machine made but certainly the original artisanís work had been caught and rendered intricately beautiful. It wasnít the delicate lace of a Spanish lady but had a heavier and more durable look to it. I couldnít have voiced my opinion at the time as to how I felt but for some reason the lace represented a depth of caring and desire to create something of value for whoever picked it up so they could be pleasured by it. Certainly if a cold set of threads could be worked into an art piece then why couldnít something as complex as flesh and blood be valuable?

With no sound made from my voice tears began rushing down the sides of my face and I was embarrassed but there was no stopping the flow. Without a word, I stood up. With Rhonda in my arms I turned and walked straight away from the office, down the hallway, through the front door and to my car. I donít remember driving home, changing Rhonda into play clothes, and leaving the house with her in the stroller. When the strange neighborhood around me brought the realization that I had been walking for a length a time. This was the time I began to think.

"I must call Uncle Dennis. He will know what to do." I was admitting that this was more than I knew how to handle.

We had not been home but for a short time when Auntie Pud came to the door. She was the professional and the customary cigarette the woman always smoked was held casually in one hand.

"The center called and said you left somewhat abruptly and they were concerned about you." She was certainly, still honestly trying to manipulate what she had discovered was a delicate situation.

By this time I had begun to understand I was on shaky ground. I had no idea what was working behind my back and it made me very cautious about what I said to her.

"I am just very upset at the moment, but Iíll be better. Rod will be home soon and Iím sure he will help me with all the inís and outsí of things."

"You are depressed?" Auntie wanted to know.

"To be sure." This statement, at least, was innocent but very true.

My girl-like behavior Auntie probably defined as unsophisticated and inexperienced as only a childís actions might be.

"Iíll leave something to settle you down. You have been crying. Your face is all swollen."

As she turned to leave, she pulled a bottle from her pocket and left it on the top of the television set.

After she left instead of picking up the bottle I picked up the phone and called home.

"Mom! Did I wake you?" Even as I asked the question I knew this was true.

"Whatís the matter?" Mother was instantly awake and alert even though I had only spoken one sentence.

"Oh there are things going on here Iím not sure I can handle. Do you think you can ask Uncle Dennis to come down?

We continued to talk for a brief time and I explained what had happened.

"Heíll be there in little over a couple of hours," Mother reassured me.

"Thereís no hurry, Rod will be here at five oíclock." I didnít want my uncle to worry.

"Your uncle will be there before that." Mother ever true to her position at the military school was always the captain and made quick, sure decisions. I knew Uncle Dennis would be in route. Heaven help the person who wasn't in quick obedience to her orders.

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