I Made You My First (16 page)

“He’s coming, Jurnee.  I called his dad.  It’s okay.  See you soon.”  He hung up.

I handed the phone back to Irish and sat there for a moment trying to compute what had just happened.  I was not a morning person and Irish was about to find out.

“Irish,” I said climbing out of bed, “What time is it?”

“It’s three-thirty
, Jurnee,” he said walking around the bed to me.  

“So my aunt’s really bad?”  I asked, wanting him to corroborate John’s words.

“We need to get you back there, Jurnee,” he said.

 
              I walked to my closet and pulled the light cord, standing there looking at my wardrobe.

“Irish, remember how you did this for me once before?  Please pick something out while I brew some coffee.”

He reached for my hand and wrapped his shirt around my shoulders.

“Jurnee, I’ll go make the coffee,” and he pulled a pair of jeans and a red top from my closet, handing them to me.  “Put these on, and I’ll be right back with coffee,” he kissed my forehead and was gone.

I slid on my jeans while still thinking about John’s words.  I knew I wasn’t fully awake yet but he had to be wrong.  I’d just spoken to my aunt and uncle. 
They were fine
, I thought.  I finished getting dressed and went to the bathroom, turning on the water and splashing my face.  How did John get airline tickets this time of the morning?  I lifted my head from the water and looked at myself in the mirror.  I wasn’t dreaming.  I was really standing here.  I reached for a towel and jumped when I saw Irish standing in the doorway.  He handed me half a cup of coffee. 

“I didn’t wait but took this little bit from the pot before turning it off,” he smiled.

“Thank you,” I said putting the cup to my lips.  There was whipped cream floating on top.  I smiled at him.

“Judy...I have to tell Judy,” I said.

Irish looked at me sweetly, “I wrote her a note, Jurnee; we really have to go.”

I followed him to the living room. 
I need my purse and my phone
, I thought...
and my shoes
.  They were all neatly setting on the coffee table.  I grabbed everything Irish had set out for me and followed him out the front door.  Maybe it was the cold air, I’m not sure, but realization finally dawned on me.  We climbed into Irish’s car, the motor already running.  I smiled at him.  It took about twenty minutes to pull into the same airport Irish and I had been at the day before.  I saw John’s truck as Irish pulled up beside it.  He exited the car and came around, opening my door for me.  When I stepped out, we were beside a much bigger plane than the one Irish and I had been on.  I looked at him. 

He looked at me and winked. “This is your brother’s plane.” 

I watched his face.  He had to be joking. “My brother has a plane?”

Before answering me, John walked toward us.  His hair was a mess and he looked like he’d gotten dressed in the dark.  He walked to me with his arms open, hugging me tightly.  He didn’t release me but continued to hold me tightly for a minute or two.

“Jurnee, even if we leave right now, Uncle Clay said there’s still a chance we’ll be too late.  I’m going to try my damnedest to get you there, okay?” 

I nodded my head.  I wondered if he didn’t want me to see his face.  Maybe he was crying?  He released me and looking toward Irish said, “We’re clear to leave, you both get settled.  We’re airborne in ten minutes.”
 

Irish nodded to John, walking over and taking my hand.  I stood there and watched my brother walk into a building.  We climbed the stairs to the plane, and when I reached the top, I stopped.  This didn’t look like the inside of any plane I’d ever been in. Irish gently pushed me in laughing at me as he kept me moving forward.  There were two sofas, one on each side of the
plane plus two overstuffed chairs, a huge television, and a galley in the back.  The windows had fancy little curtains and the floor was carpeted. 

Irish tapped me on the shoulder.  “The bathroom’s right there,” he pointed to a door.  I stood there and stared.

“Jurnee, are you with me here?” he said, laughing.

“Yeah, I’m here,”
I said.

“I’m going to help John and when I return, I’
ll get you some coffee, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, walking toward
one of the sofas.  When I turned around, Irish was gone. It was still dark outside and after a few minutes, I lay down to rest.  The sofa was long enough for me to stretch out completely.
I’ll just lay here until Irish comes back
, I thought. I must have fallen sound asleep because the next thing I knew, the plane was airborne and it was dark. I saw Irish lying on the sofa across from me. I was covered up with a blanket and had a pillow under my head.
Where was John
, I thought? I got up quietly, trying not to wake Irish, and went to the restroom. When I came out I smelled coffee. Irish was standing in the back area. The curtains had been opened and daylight shone in the plane.

When Irish turned around he had a
n apologetic look on his face. “There’s no whipped cream.”

I
laughed at him, making my way to the kitchen. “You’re an angel,” I said, giving him my best smile. “Where’s John?”

He handed me a cu
p, raising an eyebrow. “He’s flying the plane, Jurnee,” he chuckled.  I just stared, waiting for him to tell me where John
really
was. When he realized I didn’t believe him, he took my hand and slowly walked me to the front of the plane. He pushed a curtain open and looked back at my face. John was our pilot. I stared out the front window and then back at my brother.

“Good morning,”
John said.

“Good morning,”
I said turning around and heading back to the sofa.

“Irish, if she’s awake,
we can leave that curtain open,” I heard John say. When Irish had told me that this was John’s plane, I assumed there was a pilot.

Irish sat down next to me, smiling now. “It’
s going to be okay, Jurnee,” he said tapping my nose with his finger.

“
When did John start flying planes?” I asked in a whisper. 

“He’
s been flying for two years now, but just over a year on his own.”

I took a
deep breath and then a sip of coffee. “What time is it?” I asked.

H
e reached into his pocket for his phone. “No service,” he said. “I’ll go check.  Don’t go anywhere.”

“
Not a problem, Irish,” I said sarcastically.  He headed for the front of the plane.
He didn’t seem worried
, I thought. Maybe I shouldn’t be either? I saw Irish walking toward me now, relaxed and smiling. That was comforting.

He sat down beside me and
brushed my hair behind my ear.  “It’s eight-thirty California time, eleven-thirty North Carolina time. We’ll be landing in an hour.”

I looked at his sweet face, reminding myself how
lucky I was to have him at my side. I fully expected John to fly to North Carolina when something happened to my aunt, but before this past Friday, I never envisioned wanting someone to be with me as much as I did at this moment. This guy sitting next to me was stepping up to the plate, no questions asked, and flying three thousand miles to be with someone Irish barely knew.

“Irish, I love you,” and
reached out to hug him. He took my cup and set it on the table, pulling me into his body.  We sat there for the longest time, quietly hugging.

He finally disengaged himself
and lifted his finger to my chin, turning my face to his, “Someday we’re going to celebrate our fiftieth wedding anniversary together; do you want to make a bet?”

I
smiled and shook my head. “No, you might be right about that.” He pulled me back into his body. I had that feeling again as if I’d just won the lottery. 

“Thanks
for taking care of me,” I said pulling him closer and kissing him on the cheek.

When we arrived in Charlotte, a limo was waiting for us, just like the one that met us in San Francisco. 
What was up with the limousines,
I thought?  I wondered if John had known the driver because he rode up front while Irish and I climbed in back.  We had an hour’s drive to my aunt’s house and we sat quietly, side by side, with our bodies firmly touching. 

I tried to prepare myself for the many different scenarios I might encounter when we arrived.  John had said that we might not make it soon enough, but that didn’t feel right to me.  I told myself that she’d wait for me if at all possible.  When we pulled up to the two-story white house, several people I didn’t recognize were standing on the front porch. 
There were too many cars
, I thought.  Before the car had even come to a complete stop, I felt my stomach churn.  Irish reached for my hand, squeezing it gently.  When we stopped, John jumped out and opened our door.  Irish and I climbed out and stood there looking at the house for a moment.

“Jurnee, you go find Auntie and I’m going to find Uncle Clay,”
 John said. 

I turned to Irish and he leaned back against the limo.   “I’ll wait here.” 

I gave him a smile and ran up the front steps to the door.  When I entered the living room, everyone turned and looked at me.  It was the most unsettling feeling I’d ever experienced.  Maybe ten folks were scattered throughout the room, half looked at me as if my aunt had already passed and half looked relieved that I’d arrived at last. 

John must’ve called ahead because I heard Miss Joplin call me from the kitchen. “Jurnee, is that you, dear?”  She had been the first nurse hired to care for my aunt and I was probably closest to her.  I tried to avoid all of the uncomfortable stares as I moved closer to the kitchen and Miss Joplin’s voice.

“Yes, John and I are both here,” I answered. 

When I finally reached her, she took me by my arms and pulled me into her tiny little frame.  “Girl, your aunt’s upstairs waiting for you.  I’m so glad you’re here.  She won’t stop talking about you fixing that flowerbed for her.”  I pulled back and smiled at her.  She’d been crying, her eyes a puffy red.  I turned and headed for the stairs.  With each step, I felt my chest tighten and my stomach churn.  By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I had to stop and wipe my hands on my jeans.  They felt clammy and numb.  I took a deep breath and walked to my aunt’s bedroom door.  When I peeked in, I saw her lying peacefully in bed with just a sheet pulled over her.  She must have heard me
because she was smiling.  I stood there for a moment and smiled back. 

She patted the bed with her hand and I moved to her side.  “Hummingbird, I knew that you’d come home,” she said as I sat on the edge of the bed where her hand was patting the cover.

“John’s here with me,” I said, knowing she already knew. 

“I know, and I’m so happy that you’re both here with me,” she said.  She held her small frail hand out for me to take and when I held it, she squeezed it a little.  She looked around the room as if she were trying to remember something before I realized she was just struggling to begin her story.

“You know that your mom and I were both born in this room,” she looked at me and smiled.  I smiled back and nodded.  Watching her now, she looked so fragile to me, her gray hair somehow lighter than I remembered it just days ago.  Her face was thinner and her lips looked chapped. 

I squeezed her hand and looked into her eyes, “I remember you telling me that, Auntie.”
 

“You remind me so much of your mother, Hummingbird; having you here with me is almost like having her here too,” she smiled sweetly.
 

“I miss her too, Auntie,” I said lightly squeezing her hand.

“You know, when your mom went away to school and met your dad, I always hoped they’d move back here one day so I’d be closer to you and John.”  She took a deep breath before continuing.  “Your coming here to stay with me was the best gift I’ve ever received, Jurnee,” and her smile disappeared.  She’d only called me Jurnee twice before when she was upset with me but this time she wasn’t upset.  Letting go of my hand, she pointed to a bowl with a wet washcloth in it setting on her night table.  I reached for it and set the bowl on her chest. 

She stared at the wash cloth, not looking at me, and said, “When God comes to take me home I want you to go back to California and your life.”  She reached for the washcloth and slowly struggled to move it to her lips.  I turned and looked away to wipe my eyes now beginning to fill.  When I turned back, I
saw the washcloth fall from her hands and I quickly removed it and the bowl.  She settled back into her pillow.

“I mean this, Hummingbird; I don’t want you staying here with your Uncle.  He’ll be fine.  I want you to do something wonderful in this great world.”  I reached for her hand but didn’t have the words right, so I looked at her and smiled.

“You get John now,” she said, “and see what those men did to my daisies.”  I didn’t move.  I merely looked at her face memorizing every line I could.  I finally stood, leaned in, and kissed her forehead.  She patted me gently as I tried to hold back my tears.  I didn’t want her to see that.