Looking for Me (12 page)

Her voice was flat with fatigue when she said
,
“How about you fix it up tomorrow. All those pills are making me tired. And you should go on home and get some rest.”

“You go ahead and sleep, Mama. I’ll stay right here.”

“I won’t be able to rest with you staring at me. I’m sure your little dog would like to see you. He’s probably scared bein’ in a strange house all alone.”

I tucked the blanket over her bony shoulders. “All right. I’ll be back in the morning. Do you need anything from the house?”

She thought for a moment. “Yes. I’d like my own nightgowns. Bring me the blue one with the lace collar, and I’d like the yellow flannel one, too, in case I get cold.”

“If you think of anything else, just call. I hope you get some good rest.” I gave her a kiss on the forehead and hoisted my handbag over my shoulder.

“Teddi, you’d better take my purse home with you. I don’t want to worry about someone snatching my wallet.”

I took her handbag and slung it over my other shoulder.

“On your way out, turn off the overhead lights, will you?”

While heading for the door I had the sudden urge to tell her that I loved her. It was so strong that I could feel it mushroom across my chest. But I was afraid. What if I said those words and they fell flat on the floor between us? What if she didn’t say them back?

The words continued to rise in my throat. Instead of pushing them out, I did what I’d always done—swallowed them whole. For a moment I hesitated at the door, and then I flicked off the lights and stepped through the open doorway.

Why, I don’t know, but I stopped and took a step back. Mama was watching me. I smiled, pressed my fingers to my lips, and sent her a big, lip-smacking kiss across the room.

An unexpected light, both fierce and tender, shone in her eyes. To my surprise, she blew a kiss back to me. For a brief moment, she held her hand suspended, her slender fingers opening like a pale flower.

E
ddie squealed with delight when I opened the back door. After taking him for a walk and feeding him dinner, I locked up the house and went to bed. I was so wrung out that the muscles in my legs twitched, and yet I lay awake as a galaxy of thoughts swirled in my mind.

Mama shouldn’t live alone anymore. Maybe I could talk her into coming to live with me. But she’d fight me on that, and what if it made her blood pressure go up? Maybe she and Stella could live together. How long can I afford to stay in Kentucky? How long can I expect Inez to handle the customers on top of her regular work? Will Albert be able to keep up with the extra workload? What about all the custom work that only I can do? And what if . . . ?

I woke to a shimmer of sunlight glazing the windowpane. My head felt heavy and my body stiff. Throwing back the covers, I wrapped up in my robe and padded to the kitchen. While Eddie ran around in the yard, I picked up the phone and called Olivia. The moment she answered, I blurted, “Mama’s in the hospital.”

A long pause was followed by the words “You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not. She had a mini-stroke. But she seems fine, fussin’ like always. I’m worried about her, but I’m a little angry with her, too. She hasn’t had a medical checkup in a million years.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“Well, she has high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and Lord only knows what all else is high, low, or out of whack.”

“I’m really sorry, Teddi. I know how much you were looking forward to having her visit. I was, too. Shoot, last night I even dusted my entire Pez collection.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Well, maybe she’ll still be able to come, and if not now, another time. Anyway, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Call me anytime, even if it’s the middle of the night. I mean it.”

After we said good-bye, I took a few moments to collect my thoughts and then called my grandmother. I all but chirped while making light of Mama’s condition, softening the truth until I outright lied by claiming she’d suffered little more than a migraine. “Don’t worry, Grammy, the doctor says she’s doing great. She’ll be released in a few days, and then I’ll bring her to Charleston . . .”

I ended the call as fast as I could, and after a quick breakfast and a shower I slid Mama’s nightgowns into a bag and left the house.

The morning air rolled in through my open window as I wound along the country roads. I passed cornfields left barren by the final harvest, some already plowed under in preparation for winter, others filled with geese pecking for stray kernels. As I neared the hospital, I noticed lights go on inside a small floral shop, and when I slowed to turn in, a woman placed an Open sign in the window.

From a stainless-steel cooler, I selected creamy white roses and Stargazer lilies, two of my mother’s favorites. I paced at the counter while the shop owner took her good old time snipping the stems and arranging the flowers in a glass vase. When she was done, I grabbed the vase and nearly ran to my car. I didn’t want to miss the doctor’s morning visit.

I pulled in to the hospital parking lot thinking maybe, just maybe, Mama’s mini-stroke was one of those upside-down blessings that would bring us closer together. If the way we’d talked last night was any indication, I had the feeling we might be in for a long-awaited mother-daughter treat.

With my handbag slung over my shoulder, the paper bag filled with Mama’s nightgowns in my hands, and the vase of flowers cradled in my arms, I pushed through the door with a smile on my face. I inhaled the sweet scent of the flowers and knew she’d be surprised by the bouquet.

When the elevator door opened, I turned toward the corridor and found myself in the middle of a commotion. A young man in blue scrubs ran by, nearly mowing me down with the metal cart he was pushing. Two nurses scurried behind him, followed by a man in a white coat. I watched them bolt up the hallway and into a room.

Mama’s room.

I sped up, my purse bouncing on my shoulder, the bag with Mama’s nightgowns slapping at my side while water from the vase of flowers sloshed onto my sweater.

A gray-haired nurse ushered Stella Rose from my mother’s room. Even from a distance, I could see that she was crying.

I broke into a run—flowers flying and water splashing everywhere.

Stella turned and spotted me coming.

Our eyes locked.

When I saw the way her lips quivered and the flush on her cheeks, I stopped running. Just stopped. I stood in the middle of the corridor as water spilled down my hands and onto the shiny linoleum floor.

Drip . . . drip . . . drip.

There was no need to rush.

I knew.

When the commotion ended, the nurses filed out of Mama’s room while the doctor led Stella and me to a small alcove at the end of the corridor. I stood with my back against the wall and watched his lips move, but his words seemed far away, as if whispered from behind a thick curtain. I didn’t care what he said about high risk, the final stroke, or how sorry he was . . .
blah-blah-blah
 . . . His words meant nothing to me. Still grasping the vase of flowers and the bag of my mother’s nightgowns, I turned and walked away.

My legs felt unsteady. Nothing seemed quite real. A nurse approached me holding a towel. She tried to take the flowers, to dry my hands and blot my soggy sweater. Her face was kind, her words kinder. But I moved away and stepped into Mama’s room. With my foot I closed the door behind me.

The lights had been turned off. The room was so still that I could hear a faint hiss of air streaming through the ceiling vent. “Your favorites,” I whispered, stepping across the room. I set the vase on her bedside table. The bouquet was a mess—two rosebuds were broken off and several lilies were crushed. I took a moment and tried to make them pretty again.

How long I stood and looked at my mother, I don’t know. But it felt like an eternity. Reaching beneath the blanket, I took hold of her hand. A smudge of the blush I’d applied the previous evening remained on her left cheek. The sight of it nearly brought me to my knees. Turning toward the window, I looked into the morning sky, so blue and bright with the promise of a new day. I wanted to rip it down and throw it away. I wanted black clouds, thunder, and unforgiving winds.

I wanted the world to hurt like I did.

Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes and said, “Well, Mama, I guess this means you won’t be comin’ to Charleston anytime soon.”

I
t’s sad that so much is discovered about a person only after her death. From Stella I learned that Mama didn’t want to be buried. She wanted to be cremated, her ashes set free into the wind. Where that wind was didn’t matter—she just wanted to go wherever she pleased. This was confirmed when I opened the fireproof box that held the deed to the farm and the simple last will and testament that Mama had made following Daddy’s passing.

She left everything to me. My brother was never mentioned.

I honored her wishes, cremation and a small memorial service, nothing more. The plot next to Daddy’s would remain unused. Where I’d scatter her ashes I didn’t know, was too raw and confused to know. But I’d figure it out.

Mama’s sudden death had left me in a stupor of disbelief, and though I was devastated to dysfunction when Daddy had died, his passing was almost a blessing. For two weeks I’d sat in a helpless vigil and watched cancer shrink my once-powerful father to a skeleton, his skin waxed yellow as he writhed in pain. By the grace of God, he passed away the day he looked at me with sunken eyes and asked me to get him his gun.

But where was the grace of God now? Both my parents were gone, and my brother was still missing. I sat at the kitchen table, buried my head in my hands, and let out a groan that turned in to a sob. I didn’t know how to begin to deal with everything—the paperwork, the farm, the furniture and household items.

A gentle knock sounded at the back door. I wiped my eyes on my sweater sleeve and looked up to see Stella walk in holding a foil-covered plate.

“Hey, honey. I brought you some supper. How’re you holding up?”

“Not so hot.”

She pulled out a chair, sat down next to me, and smoothed her hand down my back. “Me neither.”

We leaned toward each other, and I rested my head on her shoulder.

“What can I do to help you, Teddi?”

“At this point I can’t think of anything.”

“Well, just remember—I’m only a few miles down the road, and Lord knows I have plenty of spare time on my hands. Why don’t I come by a few days a week to check on the house?”

“That would be great if it wouldn’t be a bother.”

Stella stayed and talked while I picked at her supper. Wrung out as I was, I was glad for the company. I pushed a pea across the plate with my fork. “I’m going back to Charleston tomorrow. Grammy Belle needs to know what’s happened, and I can’t tell her over the phone.”

“Bless her sweet soul. Give her a hug from me.” Stella glanced into the living room, to the urn holding Mama’s remains that sat on the fireplace mantel. Her voice broke with emotion when she asked, “Any idea where you’ll scatter her ashes?”

I shook my head.

The next morning I woke to a dreary, flannel-gray sky that darkened the mountains. It was a good time to head south. From room to room I went, latching the windows and closing the blinds. Already the house felt cold and emptied of energy. I walked into Mama’s bedroom and looked at her half-packed suitcase. Reaching out, I ran my fingertips over her folded clothes. Next thing I knew, I zipped her suitcase closed and was carrying it down the steps.

After tucking it into the trunk, I went back inside the house and marched into the living room. “C’mon, Mama,” I said, lifting her urn from the mantel. “A promise is a promise. You’re comin’ to Charleston.” With her urn cradled in my arms, I walked out of the house and locked the door behind me.

And so it was on a foggy autumn morning that my mother and I embarked on what would become our first and last road trip. Surely not the way either of us had planned, but a road trip just the same.

“We were going to stop here,” I said while passing the exit to Asheville. “The Biltmore Estate. I thought you’d like to see it, Mama.” Later in the day, I zoomed by the town of Newberry and said, “Right off this exit is the sweetest little restaurant. I was planning to take you there for dinner . . .”

When I reached Charleston, I lugged everything up the stairs. After setting her urn on the night table in the guest room where she should have been sleeping, I put her suitcase into the closet. “Here you are, Mama. I hope you like your room.” My voice broke when I added, “I even ironed your sheets.”

Fatigue was folding me in half as I walked down the hall and collapsed on my bed.

Tomorrow I would have to tell Grammy.

I woke before dawn, puffy-eyed and cotton-mouthed. After dragging myself into the shower, I dressed and was back in my car as the day opened above the trees. I drove aimlessly, turning from one street to the next while trying to gather my thoughts.

Once I’d parked my car at the nursing home, I took a deep breath and slowly walked toward my grandmother’s room. Grammy grinned like an elf when I stepped through her open door, her eyes bright with anticipation. When she realized that Mama wasn’t behind me, her smile faltered, yet her recovery was remarkable. She straightened her shoulders and said, “What day is it, honey?”

Forcing a smile, I pulled up a chair and sat. “Tuesday.”

“I lose track,” she said, resting back in her chair. “I’m never sure anymore. That’s just another part of getting old that drives me buttons . . .”

She rocked back and forth, jabbering away. I suspected it was her way of dealing with such deep disappointment. The minutes ticked on, and when she wound down on sharing what she’d done in my absence, she let out a sigh. “Anyway, that’s about all I know, or at least all I remember.” She looked down and smoothed her fingers along the arms of the chair. “So . . . Frances decided not to come.”

It was not a question.

Please help me. How do I tell her?

I scooted the chair closer and covered her hands with mine. “Her bags were all packed. She wanted to be here, she really did. But she . . . she took a bad turn. There was nothing the doctors could do.”

Grammy’s face blanched, and I felt a tremor move through her fingers. “Oh, no. Oh, dear Lord. She’s gone?”

I nodded.

The focus of her eyes drifted past me to the window, to a secret place known only to her. She resumed rocking. The slow, rhythmic creaking of her chair was the only sound in the room. A tear escaped my grandmother’s eye, caught itself in a wrinkle, and slid into the corner of her mouth. She did not look at me when she asked, “Was it her heart?”

“A stroke.”

“Were you with her when she passed?”

“No. But Stella was, and I’m grateful for that. Grammy, I hope you’ll forgive me, but I couldn’t tell you over the phone. I just couldn’t. And then I thought—”

“Nothing to forgive, honey.”

“I’m still so confused. Mama seemed fine the night before she passed away. I sat on the edge of her bed, and we talked for quite a while. I fluffed up her hair and even put some blush on her cheeks.”

A sad smile crept to my grandmother’s lips when she looked at me. “That was a sweet thing you did, Teddi. Got her dolled up for the big trip.”

I traced my finger along a thick blue vein in her hand and lowered my head.

Grammy’s bottom lip trembled when she said, “It’s no secret we had our differences, but I loved Frances. Loved her very much.” Her voice broke apart when she added, “We’re not supposed to outlive our children. It goes against nature’s plan of things.”

I watched my grandmother’s inner light fade as she lowered her eyes and began smoothing a wrinkle in her yellow duster.

“Right before I left her room, I hugged Mama and said good-bye. I don’t know why, but when I reached the doorway, I stopped and turned around. And you know what, Grammy? She was looking at me. I mean more than looking at me. It was like she was studying me. So I blew her a kiss across the room.” I swallowed against the thickness in my throat when I added, “And she blew one back to me.”

“My Aunt Lil used to say that right before passing, a person sees with clear eyes. You’re a good girl. I hope Frances finally saw that.”

Another tear slid down my grandmother’s cheek, and I reached over and wiped it away. Then, in perfectly choreographed unison, we turned and looked out the window at the garden. But my eyes lost focus, and soon the flowers became nothing but a watercolor blur.

When I looked at my grandmother, she had either fallen asleep or was so deep in thought that I wondered if maybe she wanted a little time alone. I closed the window blinds against the morning sun and went in search of a strong cup of coffee.