Love Gently Falling (4 page)

Donna's eyes twinkled as if she really understood this.

“Don't tell me you had this all planned out?” Rita said in a lighthearted tone. “Get yourself into the hospital so that your daughter can hook a doctor?”

Donna actually laughed about this. Then she muttered something that Rita could not make out at all. Donna tried again, but it was even worse. Naturally, this frustrated her mother even more than it frustrated Rita.

“It's okay,” Rita assured her as she flipped over to the page she'd skimmed earlier, the one about speech problems, or aphasia. Some suggestions she already knew—like speaking slowly and clearly and not talking down to the person having difficulty. But it also suggested asking questions that only required yes or no for answers, allowing the patient to nod or shake her head. Rita asked several questions like that and her mother's relief at being able to communicate—even if it was very basic—was a good reward.

“It also says here that you might be able to draw some pictures to communicate something,” Rita explained to her mom. “You'd have to use your left hand for now. But it might be worth trying. I'll pick up a notebook in the gift shop.”

Donna nodded with eager-looking eyes.

“Looks like your breakfast is coming,” Rita told her as a cart was wheeled in.

“Would you like to help her with this?” the nurse's aide asked Rita as she carried a tray to the bedside table.

“Sure. Any suggestions?”

“She's had difficulty swallowing, so just encourage her to go slow. Everything here is liquid so it should be fairly easy for her to get it down. But it takes time.”

And it did take time. Especially since Donna insisted on trying to feed herself with her left hand, which was clumsy. But Rita did her best to remain patient, only helping when it seemed really necessary. And after about an hour, her mother was finished. But she pointed at Rita. Pantomiming with her left hand, like she was eating again.

“You think I should go eat breakfast, too?” Rita asked.

Donna nodded eagerly.

“I had a latte already. But now that you mention it, I guess I'm hungry, too.”

Donna waved her hand toward the door.

“But I hate to leave you.”

She waved her hand again, giving Rita that strong, motherly I-mean-it look.

Rita laughed. “You might be half paralyzed, but you still know how to get your way, don't you?”

Donna smiled. And just then Richard and Ricky came into her room.

“Good timing,” Rita told them as they all hugged. “Mom is kicking me out.” She quickly explained and even gave them the sheet about working through aphasia before she left.

As she went down the elevator again, she felt a heavy sadness coming over her. Her mother was really trying, but it seemed clear she had a long, hard road ahead. According to what Rita had read this morning, recovering from a stroke of this magnitude took time. It might be six months or more before her mom was even partway back to normal…and even that wasn't for sure. Rita had asked her manager, Vivienne, for two weeks off, but she knew that time was going to zip by. Perhaps it would be wise to let them know she might need a little more time. Fortunately Aubrey had gotten her an open-ended ticket, because Rita knew she wouldn't want to leave Chicago before she felt certain her mother was making real progress.

Later that day,
not long after Donna returned from her MRI, Grandma Bernice came to visit the hospital. “I would've come sooner,” she told Rita. “But your dad said to wait until they were done with all Donna's tests and whatnot.” She peeked into the room. “How is she doing?”

“She's resting right now. I think the MRI wore her out a little,” Rita explained. “Dad and Ricky just went out to get some lunch. You can go in and sit with her if you want.”

Grandma Bernice nodded. “Yes, I'll do that. But tell me the truth, Rita,
how
is she?”

Rita shrugged. “Well, she has no use of her right arm, and she can't talk. She understands what you're saying, but she can't really respond—not intelligibly anyway. She gets frustrated. And she has some trouble walking, too, but the doctor thinks that will improve in time. I guess we'll know more after today's test results are read.”

“And her spirits?”

“She's in surprisingly good spirits,” Rita said. “But she's always been such a positive person. I guess it makes sense she'd be a trooper about this too.”

“And is she out of the woods? From what I've read there's always a chance it can happen again.”

“The doctor said that each day after the stroke increases the odds that she won't have another one. But this is only day two.”

Grandma Bernice hugged Rita again. “Oh, it's so good to see you, darling. I wish the circumstances were different, but you are a sight for sore eyes.”

“Thanks.” Rita patted her grandmother's snow white curls. “And, as always, you look very pretty.”

“Well, no matter our age, we have to look our best.”

“Speaking of that, Mom had me do her makeup after she came back from her MRI.”

“Did she really?”

“Yes. She couldn't say it in so many words, but she did a pantomime and I knew exactly what she meant. So be sure to tell her she looks pretty, okay?”

“Well, of course I will. And since I'm here and all ready to sit with my girl, I insist that you should go join the fellows for lunch.”

Rita didn't argue with her grandmother. She knew better. She also knew that her mom would be delighted to see her own mother. Hopefully she'd wake up soon.

By Donna's fourth day in the hospital, everyone was beginning to feel a bit more hopeful. All the scans had come out clean, and the prognosis for a recurrence of stroke seemed slim. Besides that, it appeared that the damage caused by the stroke wasn't as extensive as the doctors had first assumed. She still had almost no use of her right arm and her speech was greatly impaired, but already, thanks to intensive rehab therapy, she was making progress—both speech and physical. Besides being able to walk unassisted and use the toilet without help, she was able to make sounds that resembled
yes
and
no
as well as several other simple words. Baby steps, perhaps, but encouraging.

“At this rate, we should be able to discharge Donna by Monday,” Dr. Jane Morrison told Rita and her family on Thursday afternoon. “With the recommendation that Donna continues her rehab from home, since I understand that's Donna's preference.” Dr. Jane smiled at Donna. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Donna nodded with enthusiasm.

“And Ricky and I will be there to help her while Dad's at work,” Rita assured the doctor. “We've got it all figured out.”

“I'll drive her to rehab therapy,” Ricky said. “And I'll make sure she does her exercises.” He grinned at Donna. “Right, Mom?”

“Yeah.” She nodded again. “Righ…”

After Dr. Jane left, the four of them continued to visit a while longer, and then, as Donna's dinner arrived, Ricky and Rita excused themselves to go home, allowing their parents the rest of the evening to visit in private. Rita had been touched by how tender her dad had been as he engaged with her mother. She'd always known their devotion to each other was genuine—the kind of love story that endures through the ages—but seeing her dad helping her mom like this now, tenderly wiping a bit of soup from her chin or pushing a strand of hair from her eyes…well, sometimes it was hard to hold back the tears.

“I'm glad Dad went back to work today,” Rita told Ricky as he drove them home. “But I can tell he's really worn out from this week. I hope it won't be too much for him—working and visiting Mom at night. I mean, he's not exactly a spring chicken.”

“Don't let Dad hear you say that,” Ricky teased. “He says that today's sixties is like yesterday's fifties.”

“I hope so…but look at Mom. She's not even sixty yet.”

“But that was a fluke. Nothing to do with her age.”

“Still, I can't imagine what we'd do if both our parents got sick.”

“Well, at least Dad has weekends off now,” Ricky pointed out. “One of the few perks of his job change.”

Rita was well aware that the automotive industry had taken its toll on her dad's job situation. Instead of selling new cars, he now worked in the service department. Not actually repairing vehicles, but managing the desk on weekdays. Although he still got the same benefits package, which was important considering Donna's recent hospital stay, his salary had been reduced significantly. It was just one more reason that her mom had been unwilling to retire.

“Mom wants me to go to Hair and Now tomorrow,” Rita told him. “To see how things are going.”

“She
said
that?”

“Well, not in so many words. It was partly from what she drew on the drawing pad and partly from me asking her yes and no questions. But it's obvious that she's worried about the business. I told her that I'm happy to fill in for her. I can take her appointments as long as I'm here.”

“I've talked to Charlene every day since Mom got sick,” Ricky said. “Giving her updates, you know. But as far as I can tell, business is pretty slow.”

“That may be, but I promised Mom I'd go in tomorrow. So that's what I plan to do. And you don't need to take me over there. I'll just use Mom's car. So you'll be on your own with Mom at the hospital all day. Do you mind?” Rita had noticed how much Ricky had been limping today. She knew that his leg and back were hurting him.

“No. Of course, not. I already planned to go.”

“And don't overdo it,” she warned. “Use that recliner in Mom's room to put your feet up. Take a nap if you need to. Or just play your silly video games.”

“Wow, you're giving permission?” Ricky chuckled. “And are you going to tell me what I should tell Dr. Wright when he comes looking for you?”

Rita rolled her eyes, remembering how Dr. Wright had stopped them on their way out this evening. Clearly he had more than just chitchat on his mind. “Tell him whatever you like.”

“Hmm…what if I tell him that you're really into him and that you're just waiting by your phone for him to call?”

“You better not!” She reached over and playfully punched his arm.

“Kidding.”

“Thanks a lot, bro.”

“Seriously, that dude seems like he's really into you, Rita.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

“Hey, some girls would be gaga over the prospects of a
doctor
boyfriend.”

“Yeah, my roommate Margot would be impressed,” Rita admitted. “But something about Dr. Wright feels all wrong to me.”

“Yeah, he seems a little
too smooth
to me.” Ricky turned into their driveway. “Kinda
slimy
.”

“Okay, that's a bit harsh.” Rita wrapped the woolen scarf that she'd borrowed from her mom's closet around her neck as she climbed out of the car. Hurrying up to the house, she wondered if she'd ever acclimate to the extreme temperature change.

“Looks like the church ladies have been here again.” Ricky picked up the cardboard box sitting on a chair by the front door. “Wonder what's for dinner?”

“That's really sweet of them to do that.” Rita unlocked the door. “I wonder how long they'll keep it up.”

“We've already got enough leftovers to last a couple more nights.” Ricky carried the box into the kitchen. “Maybe we should just freeze this.”

“If it's not already frozen from sitting out in the cold.” Rita turned up the thermostat before she started to peel off the top layer of winter clothes. Then, as usual, she went around attending to the household chores—playing mom. If her mother was really coming home on Monday, it might be time to give the whole house a thorough cleaning. It seemed neglected. As they ate dinner in the kitchen, she explained her plan to deep clean. Although Ricky's enthusiasm was lagging a bit, he agreed to do his part. And by the time they called it a night, they'd actually made a pretty good dent on the place.

The next morning, Rita was eager to get over to Hair and Now. She hadn't been to the salon in years and was looking forward to rolling up her sleeves and helping out with some of her mom's clients. She knew the salon didn't open until nine, and that Charlene had been doing that, but since she had her mother's keys, she decided to get there early and open it herself. Her plan was to surprise the girls by picking up a box of Krispy Kremes on her way. This kind of treat would not be appreciated where she worked in Beverly Hills—everyone there was always on some sort of weird diet—but here in the Midwest, well, she didn't think anyone would mind.

Besides that, she told herself as she carried the cardboard box through the freezing cold to the back door of Hair and Now, all of this cold winter weather had to burn a few extra calories. She unlocked the door and let herself into the back room, pausing to absorb the familiar smell. The faint aroma of ammonia mixed with her mother's favorite vanilla deodorizer combined with some pine-scented cleaning solution transported her straight back to childhood. “Welcome home,” she said as she turned on the lights.

She set the box on the counter between the washer and dryer and, surveying the tidy surroundings with everything neatly in place, she removed her coat, scarf, and gloves, hanging them in the closet by the back door. Nothing in here had changed. She turned the thermostat up a bit then went into the main part of the salon, flipping on the lights and taking a quick inventory of the cutting stations. Everything in here was the same, too.

The chairs were the same dusty rose color that her mother had chosen to redecorate with when Rita was a little girl, although the vinyl had some stains and tears—signs of years of use. The station tables were the same oak that had been fashionable in the nineties—more worn and out of style perhaps, but still serviceable. The pale gray linoleum on the floor was the same, but definitely showing signs of wear. In fact, it was actually peeling in places. The walls were the same, gray wainscot below with a dusty pink faux marble paint above. Fashionable three decades ago, but so ho-hum now. All in all, Hair and Now looked rather old and sad and shoddy. Especially compared to where Rita worked.

Just the same, Rita knew that her mom loved this place. She always had. And she probably wouldn't want to change a thing. At least that's what she used to say when Rita was a teenager and full of ideas for salon upgrades. Among other things, Rita had wanted Donna to put in a mani-pedi station as well as a spray-on tanning booth, but she wanted to keep the salon strictly hair. Rita had also wanted her to change the color scheme. But her mom had insisted that the pink shades were feminine and soothing. Just the same, Rita wondered how her clients felt about it now. What if the rundown appearance cast a negative light on their level of service?

“
Hello?
” a woman's voice yelled sharply. “Who's in there? Identify yourself before I call the police!”

“Hey, Charlene, it's just me,” Rita called back. “It's Rita!”

“Oh, Rita.” Charlene came in grasping her buxom chest with both hands as if she were having a heart attack. “My word! I thought we were being burglarized.”

“I'm sorry. Didn't you see Mom's car out there?”

“I saw it, but I know Donna's still in the hospital. So I wondered if someone had stolen it and was breaking in. You know they've had some trouble around here. In fact, just last week I was telling Donna we should get a security system installed.”

“Seriously?” Rita grimaced over the dismal surroundings. “What would a thief possibly want to take from here?”

Charlene frowned. “Well, you never know.” Now she came over and giving Rita a big bear hug, she pulled her tightly into her well-padded body. “It's so good to see you, girl. How's your mother? I saw her on Wednesday, and Ricky gave me updates yesterday. Anything new?”

“Not really. But she's making daily progress, and it looks like she can go home on Monday.”

“That soon?” Charlene unbuttoned her winter coat.

“She'll have to continue rehab therapy from home. But Ricky is determined to help with that.”