Leota's Garden (57 page)

“Practical nurses, home-care agencies?” George sounded completely exasperated.

Annie went on doggedly. “Tom Carter came over and put the support bars in the bathroom and another bar in the bedroom. He also built a ramp for a wheelchair that I can put over the back steps. Corban has agreed to come in on Wednesdays as respite care so I can do shopping and other things. Everything is ready.”

“Who’s paying for all this?” George’s eyes were hard.

“Grandma and me. She had my name added to her checking account, and I had some savings.”

“That money isn’t yours to spend!” George was clearly angry now. “Nora, for crying out loud,
do
something about this!”

“Anne-Lynn, you have no right.”

Annie stood. “I have
every
right! I seem to be the only person in this room who
loves
her.” Her eyes filled and spilled over. “Whether you like it or not,
this
is the way it’s going to be. Grandma put the decision in my hands. Thank God for that!”

“Mother doesn’t get enough from Social Security to pay for additional nursing!” George said, rising as well. “Where are you going to get the money to give her all this fancy private care?”

“It may not come to all that, Uncle George. I was only saying
if
it became necessary.”

“If you plan on doing this by yourself, it will become necessary fairly quickly,” the social worker put in.

“Then I’ll look into selling the house to a bank that will pay out monthly installments large enough to cover—”

George exploded. “Your mother and I are not going to sit idly by and let you spend every dime of our inheritance!”

Annie stared at George. Then her gaze turned until she faced her
mother. Nora could feel the heat come up from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. How could George say it like that? It sounded so appalling. What could she say now to explain it so that it sounded better? “Your uncle George doesn’t mean it the way it’s coming out, Anne-Lynn. He only means that Mother worked all those years and put money into Social Security and taxes. It’s only fair the government should pay the expenses now. And they would pay the lion’s share if she—”

“No.” Annie’s face was white.
“No!”

“This is getting us nowhere.” Dr. Patterson was clearly annoyed. “We need to be reasonable and cooperative.” Nora could tell he was on George’s and her side. Why didn’t she feel good about that?

“The decision is made, Dr. Patterson.” Annie sounded very businesslike. “I have a copy of the power of attorney. If you want to speak with my lawyer, that can be arranged. Since you recommended moving Grandma Leota to a care facility as soon as possible, I’d like to take her home with me. Today. As soon as you can arrange it, as a matter of fact.”

The minute she mentioned a lawyer, Dr. Patterson had stiffened. “As you wish,” he said and left the room with an air of disdain. The others sat silent, embarrassed.

“Anne-Lynn, don’t do this.” Nora couldn’t keep her voice from trembling.

“It’s done, Mother.” Annie looked so pale . . . and sad. She looked back at Nora, obviously deeply troubled, then at George. “May God forgive you both.” She pushed her chair in against the table and walked out of the room.

Nora closed her eyes.

“Are you going to let her get away with this?” George yanked his tie off.

“I don’t think there’s much either of you can do about it.” Fred spoke quietly and evenly. “If Annie can prove she has power of attorney, she has the legal right to make the decision for Leota.”

George swore. “You’d better talk to her, Nora. Talk her out of it.” He stalked out of the room. The others followed quietly.

Nora sat there, unable to move. Unable to think.

What had just happened?

Fred leaned close. “Are you all right?”

Her mouth trembled. “No.” It was all she could manage without breaking down completely.

Leota was touched by Corban’s presence. She hadn’t expected him to be the one helping Annie take her from the hospital. He lifted her from the wheelchair and placed her carefully into the front seat of Annie’s car. She wanted to thank him, but all she could do was pat his cheek. And cry.

“I’m sorry, Leota,” he said, and she wondered what he meant. He lingered as Annie wheeled the chair to the back of the car and opened the trunk. He met Leota’s gaze. “I was wrong about everything.” He kissed her forehead, clicked her seat belt shut, and closed the door. She could feel the car bounce as he dumped the wheelchair into the trunk; then Annie was sliding into the car seat next to her. Annie was smiling brightly, eyes glowing.

“Well, we’re on our way home, Grandma. I hope you like the changes I’ve made. Of course, we’ll need to make a few more as we go along.” She put the car in gear, pausing just long enough to lean over and give her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Grandma.”

“I love you, too,” Leota said, though it didn’t sound just right. “I love you very, very much.” Then she sat weeping all the way home.

Corban had arrived ahead of them in his own car. “Forget the wheelchair, Annie,” he said, opening Leota’s door and leaning in to unhook her seat belt. He scooped Leota up and lifted her out carefully. “I’ll come back for it.”

“Trying to impress my granddaughter,” Leota said, chuckling. He didn’t understand a word she said, but he smiled slightly, as though he guessed what she might be saying. He carried her right up the front steps, waited for Annie to open the door, and placed her gently in her old recliner.

Oh, Lord, it’s good to be in my own home.
She smiled, feeling the left side of her mouth lift. Annie was beaming. Never had anyone looked more beautiful to Leota. She could see Jesus shining right out of the girl.

Corban went out to Annie’s car to bring in the wheelchair.

Annie looked at her. “We’re going to do just fine together, Grandma. I’ve already moved into the other bedroom. Susan’s mother has been working with me on the care aspects.”

Leota could smell fresh paint. The living room hadn’t looked so clean
and polished in years. The wood on her side table was shiny. The rug had been shampooed and vacuumed. The windows were clean. Not just the one Corban had cleaned the first day he came, but all of them. Knowing Annie, Leota could imagine all the windows were so clean they looked wide open to the world outside.

“I love you, Grandma,” Barnaby bellowed and bobbed his head up and down, walking back and forth on his perch.

Leota chortled.

Not only could she smell fresh paint; she could smell something wonderful cooking. For the first time since she had been taken to the hospital, she felt hungry.

Corban came to touch Annie’s arm. “Anything I can do before I leave?”

“You can stay and have dinner with us.”

“Not tonight, Annie. Can I have a rain check? I’ll be back tomorrow. How about I collect then?”

Annie saw him out the door. She whistled happily as she went into the kitchen. When everything was set for dinner, she came back and helped her grandmother into the wheelchair. In the kitchen Leota could see right out the newly washed windows to her garden beyond, where the leaves had been raked and additional trimming and pruning done. It was plain to see from all directions that Annie had been busy, even getting special silverware for her to use. The spoon handle was curved to make it easier for her to eat without assistance. Annie watched as she worked on the meal, but she didn’t interfere.

The evening was full of firsts, and every hurdle was taken successfully. Leota was touched by Annie’s tenderness. Annie didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed when helping her with the most personal aspects of her care. Leota was so tired, she had no strength left by the time Annie helped her into her nightgown and into her own, wonderfully familiar bed. It wasn’t until Leota was lying down that she saw the pink walls and white molding, the lace curtains, the tall potted fern. As she relaxed against her own pillow, she saw Annie had painted words on the wall in exquisite calligraphy that sparked rose-sweet memories:
Sand castles. Bubble baths. Jehovah Roi. Kisses. Holding hands. El Shaddai. Dancing. Music. Savior. Flying kites. Old movies. Nature walks. Friends. Good dreams. Rainbows. Christ the Lord. Pillow fights. Feather beds. Seashells. Jesus. Animals. Birdsong.

Leota read until Annie leaned down, kissed her good night, and turned out the light.

And then she saw on the ceiling the fluorescent stars Annie had glued there. Leota drifted off to sleep, imagining herself staring up at the night sky from a chaise longue in her garden.

Chapter 21

Leota sat in her wheelchair, outside on the small patio. Annie had made sure she was bundled in a warm blanket and a soft, wool hat pulled down to cover her ears. Her hands were in wool-lined leather gloves. Annie had even gone so far as to heat a flat pillow she’d filled with rice and seeds in the microwave. It lay warm over Leota’s shoulders and against her back, smelling of lavender.

Her breath puffed in the cool afternoon air. She liked the feel of biting air against her skin and could see the result of it in the flush on Annie’s cheeks and the red tip of her nose. Leota had longed to be outside, and only this morning, Annie had understood what she was saying.

The garden was dying down for its winter sleep. Two things were coming into their glory with the approach of the Christmas season: the holly bush and the pyracantha. As soon as their berries were fully ripe, the birds would come and have a festival. It had always amazed Leota how they knew the exact day, as though invitations had been sent out for a party. They’d swarm over the bushes, eat their fill, and flutter away like drunken sailors returning to their ship.

In January the lavender heather and white candytufts would bloom. February perked up the plum tree, and March would bring forth the
daffodils, narcissus, and moonlight bloom. April lilacs and sugartuft would blossom along with the pink and bloodred rhododendrons, bluebells, and the apple tree in the victory garden. As the weather warmed, miniature purple irises would rise amid the volunteers of white alyssum and verbena. The roses, dahlias, white Shasta daisies, black-eyed Susans, and marigolds would bloom from late spring to early fall.

Leota could see it. She knew exactly where she had planted everything, and with Annie’s tender care the garden would bloom again. She saw Annie’s unique touches here and there. The funny bowling balls, looking like dinosaur eggs, the metal sculpture that was now a starburst of color, the wash bucket and wheelbarrow that served as planters. She could imagine them spilling color come spring.

In this world of New Age philosophies and El Niño weather patterns, of gambling in almost every state, of drugs, abortion, crime, gay rights, and Dr. Death, there was still an oasis.

Leota knew the Lord was with her everywhere she went—even in that depressing hospital—but she had always
felt
His presence here the most.
Is it because everything of great importance happened in a garden, Lord? Man fell in the Garden. You taught in a garden. You prayed Your passion in a garden. You were betrayed in a garden. You arose in a garden. I love this place, for when I sit out here, I see the wonder of
Your creation. I smell the earth and flower-scented air, and it soothes me. It reminds me that Your hand is in it all. For I heard the voice of the Lord in the garden, calling to me.

Instruct Annie, Lord. Teach her as You taught me.

It wasn’t enough to love the flowers. Annie would have to hate the weeds that tried to choke the life from them. She would need to soften the soil and plant the seed so that she could watch the Father bring forth the growth. She would have to cut away the branches that died. It took harsh pruning sometimes to bring forth the fruit, all so that others might partake.
Oh, Father, will she see that a garden is color and proportion and rhythm and line and balance and focus? Will she come to understand that some of us are poppies, blooming bold and brief? Others are ornamental vines, passionflowers, or trumpets. Still others are shy violets and wallflowers. But we are all in the garden by Your design, each one here to proclaim the glory of
Your name. Oh, Father God, teach Annie that a garden is for sharing, for meditating on Your Word, for exercising faith and experiencing the surpassing joy of Your grace.