High Anxiety (11 page)

I managed to cut the call short. I changed into my favorite jeans and decided on an outfit for the following day, then I grabbed Mike’s food, and we took off. At the Chinese restaurant, I filled two take-out containers from the buffet. I figured I would give Mona as many choices as I could.

I arrived at her house twenty minutes later and found her wearing loose pajamas. I was shocked to see that her rash had indeed worsened, but I pretended not to notice.

“I know it’s a little early for pj’s,” she said in a dejected tone, “but I can’t stand for anything to rub against my skin. So I figured satin wouldn’t be as bad.”

“You should wear whatever is comfortable,” I said. I smiled and held up the to-go bag from the restaurant. “I hope you’re hungry, because I chose a little of everything.”

“Thank you,” she said.

We prepared our plates, and I grabbed bottled water from the fridge.

“So how was the girl from the agency?” Mona asked, once we sat down at the kitchen table.

“She did okay,” I said, again keeping my feelings to myself. I smiled. “Of course, nobody can fill your shoes.”

Mona gave me a weak smile, but her thoughts seemed elsewhere. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to come back to work sooner than I thought.”

“Oh?”

“I called my mama,” she said, “and told her about this god-awful rash. I don’t know if I even mentioned it to you, but she’s a healer and a midwife.”

Mona had told me very little about her past. I knew she’d been born and raised in the Tennessee mountains and that her father had hit the road when he’d learned Mona’s mother was pregnant with her.

“I’ve never met a healer or a midwife,” I said. “That sounds so exciting.”

Mona didn’t look enthusiastic. “She had to tie up a few loose ends, but she promised to hit the road as soon as she could. I just hope that old VW van makes it,” she added. “Lord knows I’ve offered to buy her something new, but she won’t hear of it.”

Once we finished dinner, I wrapped the leftovers, rinsed our dishes, and loaded them into the dishwasher.

“Hey, I know what will cheer you up,” I said.

“Get totally drunk and puke in my hair?”

“How come
I
never come up with these cool ideas?” I said, giving my forehead a bop with my palm. “I was just thinking we could watch Popeye cartoons.”

Mona gave a wistful smile. “Mr. Moneybags loved those cartoons. We used to watch them for hours. I miss him.”

“I know.”

Mona and I headed for the media room, where an enormous flat screen was attached to the wall. The other walls were devoted to shelves where hundreds of DVDs had been categorized and alphabetized. Comfy overstuffed chairs and sofas dominated the room.

I went straight to the animated section and pulled out one of the Popeye collections. I popped the DVD into the player, and Mona and I settled on the sofa with Mike at my feet. We spent the next couple of hours watching Popeye and Brutus fight over Olive Oyl. Mona and I had long agreed that Olive Oyl was one of the most unattractive women we’d ever seen and wondered why Popeye wasted all those cans of spinach so he could pound Brutus into the ground and win Olive’s affection.

Sometime later, I awoke and realized Mona and I had both fallen asleep. It was after midnight, but Mona was sleeping so soundly that I hated to wake her. Instead, I covered her with a plush throw and took Mike out to do her business. I was not surprised to find Jimbo shining his flashlight at the hedges.

“Who goes there?” he called out.

I gave a massive eye roll. “It’s me, Jimbo!” I said.

He stepped out of the shadows. He was dressed like a ninja. “Did you forget the password?” he asked.

“I’m not going to use a password,” I said, wondering why I didn’t make things easier on myself and play along. But I’d had my fill of weird people for one day. “You know damn well who I am, and I don’t have time to deal with stupid passwords.”

He looked put out.

“Furthermore, Mona’s mother will be arriving soon. She shouldn’t have to use a password either.”

“Are you saying I’m going overboard on this security thing?”

“You think?” I said.

I left him standing there and reentered the house through the back door, pausing at the counter to grab a dog biscuit from a box where I kept Mike’s treats. I offered it to her, and she gobbled it. I looked about the room, wondering if there was anything I should do to get ready for the arrival of Mona’s mother. The pantry and refrigerator were filled with food, since Jimbo had purchased massive amounts on his last grocery run, and I knew the twice-weekly cleaning crew saw that the upstairs guest rooms and baths were maintained.

I was considering taking a quick shower and putting on my pajamas when I heard a vehicle pull into the driveway. I looked out the window as a vintage VW van parked beside my car.

I hurried out the front door. A woman in a flowered skirt, peasant blouse, and shawl climbed from the driver’s side. I noted a long gray pigtail hanging down the center of her back. She was no bigger than a minute; it was obvious where Mona had inherited her size-three frame.

“You must be Mona’s mother,” I said, giving her what I hoped was a welcoming smile.

She returned it. “That’s right. And you’re Kate. Mona has told me all about you. I’m Willie-Mae Dalton.”

I held out my hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Dalton.”

“Call me Willie-Mae,” she said, squeezing my hand affectionately. Just then, the passenger door opened, and a very pregnant young woman climbed out. “Meet Tiara Tuttle,” Willie-Mae said. “I had to bring her with me on account of I’m her midwife.”

Tiara looked to be in her midtwenties. She and I shook hands, even as she gawked at Mona’s house. “Holy cow, this is a big place,” she said. “How many people live here?”

“Just Mona,” I said. “I’m here for emotional support.”

“My whole family could fit in this house,” Tiara said, “and I’m related to half the people in Tennessee.” She looked at Willie-Mae. “How come you didn’t tell me your daughter lived in a mansion? She must be really rich.”

“It didn’t cross my mind,” Willie-Mae said as she opened the back door of the van. “But then, money has never meant much to me.”

“I’m glad I brought my camera,” Tiara said. “I’ve got to get pictures of this place. My friends won’t believe it.”

Jimbo joined us and introduced himself to Willie-Mae. “I’m Mona’s chauffeur,” he said, “although I help out in other areas.” He glanced at me. “I have been instructed to keep everyone away from the house until Mona’s rash heals, so I’m trying to keep the place secure.”

“I hope it’s okay that my patient and I are here,” Willie-Mae said, glancing my way. “Mona asked me to come.”

“You’re more than welcome,” I said. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Jimbo nodded. “Please allow me to take your luggage.” He reached for a large black satchel.

“Don’t touch that!” Willie-Mae said so loudly that Jimbo snatched his hand away as though he’d just grabbed a hot coal. “That’s my medical bag,” she said.

“Nobody is allowed to touch her medical bag,” Tiara whispered to me. “It’s
sacred
.”

We headed toward the front door of the house with Jimbo on our heels, bearing suitcases, and Willie-Mae clutching her black bag.

“When is your baby due?” I asked Tiara.

“Not for a couple of weeks.” Without warning, her face scrunched up and she burst into tears.

“Hush up, Tiara,” Willie-Mae said. “We don’t have time for nonsense. Besides, it’s not good for the baby.”

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked Willie-Mae.

Willie-Mae shook her head. “It’s her hormones.”

“That’s not the only reason,” Tiara said.

“Her husband is in the armed forces,” Willie-Mae said. “He was deployed six months ago.”

Tiara sniffed and swiped at her tears. “He won’t be here when the baby comes,” she said. “It’s our first.”

“I’m sorry to hear it, Tiara,” I said, feeling genuinely sad for her.

Willie-Mae’s look softened, and she rubbed Tiara’s back. “That’s why I brought my digital camera. We’ll take plenty of pictures and e-mail them to Wayne.”

A sleepy Mona met us at the front door, and we went inside. Willie-Mae set her bag down and hugged her daughter, but Mona’s gaze was fixed on Tiara. “Let me look at you,” Willie-Mae said, taking a step back. She frowned. “I thought you said you had a terrible rash.”

“What do you call this?” Mona said, pointing to several small red patches on her face.

Willie-Mae looked from Mona to me. “She has always put too much stock in her looks,” she said. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told her, real beauty comes from the inside.”

“I don’t think inner beauty would have won me all those beauty pageants,” Mona quipped, “or the money that came with them. If not for the outer kind of beauty, I would still be living in the mountains.”

Willie-Mae gave a snort. “Like that’s a bad thing,” she muttered.

They bickered back and forth for several minutes, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was normal for mothers and daughters to argue all the time. Their relationship wasn’t so different from the one I had with my own mom.

“Where do you want these suitcases?” Jimbo asked Mona.

Mona didn’t seem to hear him; her focus was on Tiara. She turned to her mother. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why did you bring a very pregnant woman with you?”

“I’m her midwife, honey, and it’s my job to see that she takes care of herself.”

Mona didn’t look pleased. “When is the baby due?”

“Not for two weeks,” Willie-Mae said, “but you know how first babies are. They’re always late.”

Mona didn’t change her stance. “Mama, you’d better be right about that, because I am
not
going to assist you in birthing a baby. I told you when I moved out that I’d had enough of that sort of thing to last me a lifetime.”

Tiara burst into tears. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Now look what you’ve done,” Willie-Mae accused Mona. “You’ve gone and upset my patient.” She turned to Tiara. “Stop that bawling right this minute, young lady!” Willie-Mae looked at me. “See what I mean? She cries at the drop of a hat. Darn those hormones. They’re flip-flopping about like a fish out of water.”

“Would somebody please tell me where to put this luggage,” Jimbo said.

Mona looked at him. “There are four empty guest rooms upstairs,” she said. “
You
decide.”

He nodded and started up the tall staircase.

“Mona, I’ve been a midwife for thirty years,” Willie-Mae said, “and I have never been wrong about a woman’s due date. Not once!” she added.

“There’s always a first time,” Mona said. “Oh, great! Just thinking about it makes me itch. I should have known something like this would happen.” She started for the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Willie-Mae asked.

“To take my anti-itch medicine,” Mona said.

I decided Mona was in no state to see to her guests, so I took it upon myself to play hostess. “May I get you something to eat or drink?” I asked Willie-Mae and Tiara.

“I’m always hungry,” Tiara said. “I would kill for a pizza with all the works, including anchovies.”

Willie-Mae rolled her eyes. “I have to watch her like a hawk; otherwise, she’d be eating junk food with tons of salt, which is not good in her condition. She’s already ten pounds over the normal pregnancy weight because she sneaks French fries and milk shakes behind my back.”

“I can make you a grilled cheese sandwich,” I offered Tiara.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Willie-Mae said. “I’ll prepare a light snack to tide her over. Something healthy,” she added.

The three of us went into the kitchen and found Mona tossing back a pill, followed by water. Willie-Mae pulled a chair from the kitchen table and motioned for Tiara to sit, then turned to her daughter. “What is that you’re taking?” she asked. “You know how antidrug I am.”

“It’s just crack cocaine, Mama,” Mona said. “I bought it off the street corner.”

Willie-Mae didn’t look amused. She held out her hand, and Mona handed her the prescription bottles she’d received from the hospital.

Willie-Mae pulled a pair of glasses from her purse and put them on. “I wouldn’t give this stuff to a lab rat!” she said, tossing the bottles in the trash.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mona demanded.

“I’m going to have to insist you get off all medication if you expect me to heal you,” Willie-Mae told her.

Mona pressed her lips together in irritation but said nothing. I had a feeling I should have stayed home.

Willie-Mae went to the refrigerator, opened it, and peered inside. “You may have cottage cheese and fruit,” she told Tiara.

The young woman gave a huge sigh. “I thought being pregnant would be fun. Frankly, it stinks.”

Mona and I joined Tiara at the table as Willie-Mae prepared the snack and set it before her. Willie-Mae took a closer look at Mona’s rash, examining her arms and legs as well. “Are you sure you haven’t been bitten or stung by an insect?” she asked.

“I’m positive,” Mona said. “I know I have hives,” she added. “I broke out after a particularly stressful event. I remember breaking out every time I had to help you deliver a baby.”

“You broke out because you had allergies,” Willie-Mae said. “You were allergic to just about everything, including my chickens and that kitten you wanted so badly.” Willie-Mae looked at me. “She was even allergic to baby powder, and the only soap her skin could tolerate was Ivory.” She turned to Mona. “I’m going to give you a topical cream to get you through the night, but before we can attack the problem, we need to cleanse your system of toxins. I’ll have to start you on a regimen of colonics first thing in the morning, starting with a liver cleansing.”

Mona instantly paled.

“What’s a colonic?” Tiara asked.