An Unholy Mission (6 page)

In the bookstore, located not too far from Brookfield, bibliophile Frederick was like a kid in a candy store, only with benefits. Add the staff discount to his good fortune, and the man was out of control. When she got home, she would write “put up more book shelves” on the rapidly expanding renovation and to do lists. 

And she saw that it was good.

Six

 “Could you go over that one more time, Sister Patrick? I want to make sure I get it right.” Luther was taking copious notes.

If the nun sighed in exasperation, no one heard her. This was the third time she’d gone over it, and all the chaplains except Luther had run out of questions.

“I suggest you actually get out there and do one before you ask any more questions, Luther. It’s not that hard.”

“But …”

Olympia was wiggling her foot under the table and trying not to scream when she caught one of Timothea’s big brown eyes sending the barest flick of a wink in her direction. It defused her frustration on the spot, and she twitched the corners of her mouth in response.

I want to get to know that woman better, thought Olympia, if for no other reason than to listen to her magnificent voice for more than two or three minutes at a time. I know there’s more than that, a lot more.

“I’ve scheduled the tour of the OR and the other surgical floors for nine-thirty, so we’d best get moving,” said Sister Patrick, checking her watch and interrupting Olympia’s thoughts about Timothea. “You can all go off to your assigned units after that.” 

Following the orientation, Olympia took the elevator down to the Transitional Unit. She was already more confident about finding her way around the different floors and departments, and that was reflected in a more purposeful stride and a straighter back. She would go and check on Elinore first and see how she was doing after her tearful upset the day before.

Yesterday, when Luther went out of the room, Elinore confessed to Olympia that she feared going home with her daughter would be a tacit admission that she could no longer live alone. It was a hard reality for her to accept, and talking to the chaplain was helping her to see both sides of the issue.

Already, Olympia was feeling protective of the woman and wanted to help her in any way she could. As she approached the room, Sister Patrick’s and the charge nurse’s words came back to her: “Mostly, they just want someone to listen.” She could do that.

When she got to the door, she could see that Elinore Banks was no longer alone in the room. There was a slender woman in the bed nearer the window, lying on her side with her back to the door. She appeared to be sleeping.

Olympia tapped the doorframe with her fingertips and waved a greeting to Elinore. “Shall I pull up the commode, or shall I come back later?” Olympia stood close to her bed so as not to wake the other patient. “If we talk now, we might wake her.”

“Oh, no,” said Elinore, speaking softly. “Stay right there, and I’ll introduce you when she wakes up. Her name is Nancy. She’s very ill, Olympia.” She smiled up at Olympia. “See, I remembered your name. You were so good to me yesterday. I’m glad you came back.”

At the same time she was greeting Elinore, Olympia was wondering how in God’s name she was going to remember this conversation and get it down word for word. Then she recalled Sister Patrick telling them they could choose which visits to record as verbatims. Maybe I’ll do one with a patient who’s not as chatty as my darling Elinore, she decided.

“End-stage liver disease,” whispered Elinore Banks, shaking her head. “Waiting for a transplant, but she might not last.”

Olympia looked over at the motionless woman and then at the bags and the tubes and the monitors surrounding her and connecting her to life. She prayed she would be able to offer some measure of comfort. 

“Can you get me my leg, dear?”

“What?” Olympia turned back towards Elinore.

“Can you get me my leg? It’s in my closet.”

“Leg?” Olympia felt about as foolish as a person could feel in that situation.

“My prosthesis. I call her Louise, Louise the leg. See?”

Elinore Banks pulled back the sheet to reveal a bandaged knee stump. “It’s doing beautifully, almost no swelling. I have to walk on it a couple of times a day. The physical therapist will be here in a minute.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s really handsome, so maybe you should come back later.”

Olympia didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry, but she decided to take her cue and learn a very valuable lesson from this dear, optimistic, very funny woman. She laughed.

“One leg, coming right up,” said Olympia with a broad grin, holding the prosthesis over her head. Do you need any help getting it on? Because if you do, you’re going to have to tell me what to do.”

“Not really, dear, just hand it over. I’ve got to be able to do it myself.” She paused. “The more I can do for myself, the sooner I can go back to my own place.”

Olympia bit hard on her lower lip, handed over the leg and promised to come back later. I’m not sure you’re ever going back to your own place, Elinore, she thought, but I’m not going to be the one to remind you. At least, not right now.

Then, with her fist pressed to her lips, she bolted for the bathroom.

By the end of her first week at Mercy Hospital, Olympia had pretty much settled in. She was feeling far more confident about walking into the rooms of people she didn’t know, always asking permission to visit, and less dismayed when some of them waved her off with neither a word nor a smile. Elinore Banks was making good progress and would likely be leaving in another week. Nancy Farwell, her new roommate, while not making any real progress, was at least holding her own.

When she arrived at their door, Olympia would often find the two women chatting away as though they’d known each other forever. But it was cheery, optimistic Elinore, the self-appointed caregiver, who badgered Nancy to finish her meal or to get up and walk and who encouraged her to make the best of every minute of the day. There were days when Olympia wondered who was ministering to whom in room 311, but she decided it really didn’t matter.

Elinore Banks was improving far beyond expectations. After that first day, when she had learned about the possibility of not returning to her own home, the optimistic and determined little grandmother dismissed the negative option completely and concentrated on the positive. That morning, when Olympia entered her room, she waved a triumphant fist in the air and announced she was going home come hell or high water. Olympia responded with a high five and said, “You go, girl. If anyone can do it, you can.”

Olympia looked over to see Nancy lying there, smiling encouragement to the two of them, as Elinore outlined her happy plans.

Later, when Olympia returned to visit with Nancy, she pulled the privacy curtain between the two beds and listened while Nancy told her how difficult it was to be happy for Elinore, knowing she herself might not reach her fiftieth birthday. Sister Patrick’s words came back to Olympia. “Be a presence. Listen to the secret thoughts and hold them in your heart.”

Olympia leaned closer and encouraged the frail woman to speak her thoughts, assuring her that she would honor and keep her confidence. At the end of the visit, Olympia reached out her hands to Nancy Farwell and the two of them bowed their heads while Olympia prayed for strength and for the miracle of an available compatible liver.

“It’s not like I want someone else to die so I can live,” said Nancy, looking up at Olympia when they finished the prayer, “but …” She hesitated, her tired voice growing huskier. “I just want to see my children get through high school. Is that too much to ask?”

“Nothing is ever too much to ask a God you trust.” Olympia was still holding the woman’s hands. “I just wish we didn’t have to wait so long to learn the answers. I guess that’s where faith takes over. I do believe there is a purpose in our living, and every one of us has something to give to this time on earth, as well as something to learn from it. Right now, you are helping me to learn how to be a chaplain. I’ll bet you never thought of that. The lessons I take from you will help me help someone else, so your gift of strength in all your own pain and waiting will go on to benefit someone you’ll likely never meet. Your courage to keep trying in the face of all you are dealing with is a divine gift, Nancy. I believe that with all my heart.”

“I don’t want to die, Olympia.” Her yellow-tinged eyes filled with tears.

Oh, God, what do I say now?

“I don’t want you to die either, and I’m going to keep on believing that a healthy liver will become available to you. I do believe in prayer, but I’m not averse to super-charging it with a healthy dose of positive thinking.”

At this, Nancy managed a weak smile, but the conversation had tired her out, and she was obviously ready for a rest. “I like it when you visit me,” she said as Olympia helped her lower the bed and rearrange her pillows. Her voice was fading. “Thank you for listening, Olympia. I feel better when I talk to you. That other chaplain just rubs my hands and arms and talks about salvation and making peace with God.”

“What other chaplain?” Olympia was instantly on red alert and trying not to show it, but the woman was exhausted and slipping into a light sleep.

“Said his name was Luther something,” she murmured. “Big, cold cross …”

Nancy’s hand relaxed on the blanket as she slowly drifted into sleep.

Olympia stood and stepped out from behind the privacy curtain. Elinore was there, propped up against a pile of pillows, listening to her radio and reading. Ever gracious, she was trying to give them as much privacy as she could in the close, cluttered room.

“Elinore?”

“Yes, dear?”

How do I say this without sounding like a criminal investigator, which at the moment is exactly how I feel?

“Uh, has another one of the chaplains been in to visit you? A man named Luther Stuart?”

 “Not me, Olympia. He only comes to see her.” Elinore gestured to the sleeping woman in the other bed.

“He doesn’t visit you?”

“Oh he’s polite enough when he comes in. He says hello and asks how I’m doing, but he always goes right over to see her.” Elinore held her hand up to the side of her mouth and whispered, “If you ask me, I don’t think she likes him very much.”

“Really, did she actually say that to you?”  Olympia hoped she was keeping her voice level, but she felt an uncomfortable tightening in her chest.

Elinore wiggled herself into a more upright position. “Not in so many words. She said he asks a lot of questions about her family and her husband and if there’s anything she’d like to tell him. I try not to listen, but you know what it’s like here. There’s no real privacy.”

“What does she do then?”

“Oh, they talk a little. Then he takes her hand and reads the Bible. Sometimes he strokes the side of her face. Like I said, I try not to snoop, but if it was me, I’d tell him to mind his own business.” Elinore grinned at her own impertinence. “That’s what happens when you get old, you say what you want. But Nancy is nicer than I am, and she probably likes the company. No matter how many people come to see you, Olympia, it gets lonely in here. I suppose he’s doing his job, but I’ve never liked having any kind of religion shoved down my throat. You’re a chaplain, too, dear, but you don’t come in here pushing God at me.”

Now it was Olympia’s turn to grin and squeeze back a few fond tears in the process. God I love this woman, she thought. She made a mental note to ask to Nancy again about this when she returned on Monday. Better to check it out in person before jumping to any conclusions. This was all so new, and there was still so much to learn.

“So, Elinore, how are you doing today? I see you’ve got your leg on.”

“I’m doing real good, Olympia. I walked all the way to the far end of the hall and back again before they caught me.”

By now Olympia was laughing out loud. “Caught you red-footed, did they?”

Elinore cast a conspiratorial glance toward the door, then stage-whispered to Olympia, “I’m not supposed to be walking around without someone beside me in case I fall. It’s one of the rules, but I’m bound and determined to go back to my own home. Gerry promised to come in every day and help me.”

“Who’s Gerry, one of your sons?”

“No, dear. I guess you haven’t met him yet. He’s my boyfriend.”

Olympia dialed Jim Sawicki’s rectory number the minute she got home.

“Jim, its Olympia. Have you got a couple of minutes? I need to talk to you about something at the hospital.”

‘Only a minute, I’m on my way out. What’s going on?”

“This is going to take longer than that. Do you have any time Saturday morning?”

“Olympia, you have been there exactly four days, and already something’s gone amiss. What is it with you?

“It could be serious, and I could also be overreacting. That’s why I want to talk to you and get a reality check before I go into overdrive. Maybe we could meet at some halfway place.”

 ”Is Braintree halfway enough for you? There’s a breakfast place just off the highway at the first exit after the split, Lucky’s Diner. You’ll love it, great omelets and fried potatoes. Grease for two with extra butter. What time’s good for you?”

“Nine?”

“Nine it is,” said Jim. “See you then. Will Frederick be coming?”

Olympia looked over at the man who was standing across from her and listening to her half of the conversation “I’ll ask and see if he’s working at the bookstore tomorrow. Either way, I also want to know more about your plans for coming to stay with us for a while. Is that still in the works? ”

Jim’s voice dropped. “I guess we need to talk about that, as well.”

“Has something changed?”

“Yes and no, but not significantly. I’d rather not talk about it on the phone.”

“Okay, Jim. I’ll see you Saturday at nine at Lucky’s. I actually think I’ve been there, and you’re right about the potatoes.”

 Olympia hung up the phone and turned to the other most important man in her life. She held out her arms for the hug she’d bypassed earlier in her rush to call Jim, but when the embrace intensified, and Frederick’s hands began wandering north and south, Olympia pulled back and shook her head.