Seeing Things (30 page)

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Authors: Patti Hill

BOOK: Seeing Things
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In my best let's-get-down-to-business voice, I said, “What's up?”
Andy scooted his chair closer to the table and leaned on his elbows. “Diane informed us that you want to be included in any conversations we have about you and your health. Since she's leaving in the morning, we felt that making use of our time together was crucial.”
“You have concerns?”
He looked to Suzanne and back to me. “Could you clarify for us any changes you've noticed, either physically or cognitively?”
“I'm happy to report that my bowels remain regular and soft. No straining needed. Honestly, I think you could set the clocks by my—”
“Ma,” Diane jumped in, “I think Andy means if you've noticed anything different in the way you perceive the world.”
Suzanne laced her finger on the table. Within a hair's breadth of her face, Huck sneered at her. I swallowed down a gasp. “Under times of stress, it's not unusual for underlying conditions to surface.” As she spoke, Huck puppeted her words with his hand.
Oh, Huck, please go away.
“This phenomenon hasn't been fully explained, but we've known for a long time that stress compromises the immune system.”
When I spoke, my throat tightened like a knotted rope. “My ankle is getting stronger daily.” I coughed and asked Fletcher to get me a glass of water. He trotted to the kitchen, the dear boy. “I'm using the walker less and less. If you've any doubts about my progress, I'll ask Dr. Milner to talk to you.”
Lord, help me.
Diane pulled on a strand of hair as she did when she was nervous. “I told them about Huckleberry Finn, Ma.”
My mind went blank. I wanted to defend myself, but what was there to defend? Huck mocked surprise and bewilderment.
Fletcher set a glass of water on the table and told me where it was. I loved that boy.
“On the other hand,” Suzanne said, crossing her arms, “these sorts of episodes can be aggravated by an underlying medical condition. It wouldn't hurt to have a complete physical; and if that doesn't reveal anything, it's time to call in a neurologist. They've developed some very good medications.”
How easy all of this would have been if Huck had remained within the boundaries of Charles Bonnet Syndrome. A simple explanation of the syndrome and collaboration from the Internet would have settled my children's minds. But Huck had strayed way beyond a polite appearance to excite an old woman's senses. Some might argue I should have spilled the beans right there and then, accepted the support and help of my family to uncover the mystery around Huck, but a big part of me feared that making such an admission would mean the end of my hikes in the mountains and the freedom I enjoyed to explore the world. And if Huck happened to stick around, I couldn't see how plodding a trail with Huck was anyone's business but mine.
Instead I said, “You're blowing this out of proportion. I'm quite fine. Really. Never better. I'm tip-top and cheery-o!” I smiled weakly.
Suzanne spoke to Fletcher. “Your father and I can't help noticing how protective you are of your grandmother. That's quite noble of you, but your actions may be hurting her rather than helping, especially if she has an undiagnosed condition. You know, Fletcher, it makes perfect sense to us that some of your behavior lately has been affected by your grandmother. Once we understand better what you've been dealing with, our plans for your schooling could very well change.”
Huck leaned close to Suzanne's ear and nearly growled. “I suspicioned you was a meddlesome shrew.”
Fletcher hung his head low. “Grandma and me, we've been keeping a secret from you.”
Huck jumped back, jaw slack with surprise. Andy and Suzanne leaned toward Fletcher. Diane wrapped a strand of hair around her finger and pulled. Butterflies wearing hiking boots tromped around my gut.
“Grandma's been teaching me how to waltz. I'm really sorry, Suzanne, but we roll back the rug in the great room. We're careful. We dance in our stocking feet, not to scratch anything. I guess I was embarrassed. A girl from school invited me to the prom.”
Suzanne sat up straighter. “Do we know this girl? Who are her parents? What do her parents do? When were you going to tell us this?”
Fletcher told them about Mi Sun. “I'm real sorry I didn't tell you. It wasn't until I made it all the way through ‘Moon River' without stepping on Grandma that I was sure I was going.”
I rubbed my sore toe along the back of my boot.
“When is the prom?” Suzanne said.
“Saturday.”
“Saturday?! Have you ordered a corsage? A tux?”
“It's all taken care of. I ordered a corsage online, and I'm going to wear the suit I wore to the surgeon-of-the-year banquet.”
Huck raised his clasped hands over his head like a triumphant prizefighter. “He warn't bullyragged. That boy laid a humdinger of an ambuscade.”
“You most definitely are not wearing that old thing. Do you know what this means to a girl?”
“Mi Sun isn't your typical girl,” I offered.
“You know her?”
“Mi Sun and I have it all figured out,” Fletcher said. “We're going to have a good time, not to show off. She borrowed a dress from a friend. We're having dinner with her parents.”
Andy finally spoke with a hint of sadness in his voice. “You could have dinner with us, Son.”
“Well . . .”
Suzanne flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Then we'll do dessert. I'll call
La Madeleine Patisserie
and ask her to create something out of this world. And the party planner, what was her name? I have her number at work. She'll make the table amazing.”
“I'm so proud of you.” Diane hugged Fletcher from behind. “You're doing this whole high school thing on your own terms. I congratulate you. You're the man. What sounds good to you, Fletcher?”
Huck waved over his shoulder as he sauntered off toward the bedroom.
“Grandma could bake—” Fletcher started. I assumed every eye at the table sent darts into the poor boy.
“Andrew, get on the phone to the contractor, now,” Suzanne said, rising from the table. “The kitchen must be done before Saturday.”
Andy reached for his BlackBerry. Fletcher stopped him with a touch. “Hey, everyone, it doesn't matter. It's cool. Mi Sun won't mind a little dust. We'll have sundaes or something. She loves ice cream.”
“I have so much to do.” Suzanne walked toward the planning desk in the kitchen. “We'll use the Waterford. Everything tastes better in crystal.”
I reached out my good foot to tap Fletcher's knee. He returned the gesture. At least for now, Huck had been set aside in Suzanne's mind, which meant Andy wouldn't be thinking about him either. And I had Fletcher to thank.
But what was I to do about Huckleberry Finn?
Chapter 31
Diane leaned into my embrace as we sped toward Denver International Airport in the backseat of Suzanne's sedan. Andy drove. “I'm putting in for a transfer as soon as I get back to Dublin,” Diane said.
“Over my dead body.”
She probably saw my legs swinging over the edge of my grave. A spark of anger threatened to ignite, but airport good-byes were no place to indulge anger. Diane sucked in a sob.
I pulled her head to my shoulder. “Your willingness to make such a sacrifice honors me,” I said, “but sticking with this project until the bridge is finished will honor me more. And that is some bridge you're building. My friend reads me the updates from the Internet. I saw some pictures. There's no more beautiful bridge in the world, darlin'. I'm so proud of you. Now, if you want to make me a happy mama, see that I'm one of the first to ride over that bridge. And I wouldn't mind sailing under it either.”
She raised her head, wiped at her eyes. “I can arrange that. When can you come?”
“Let me get this ankle a bit stronger.”
“You should bring Emory. We have plenty of room.”
At the thought of tramping around Ireland with Emory a warmth settled in my gut. “You're outrageous.”
“Don't wait too long. I'll be off to Dubai the first of the year.”
I caught a glimpse of the royal blue horse statue at the entrance to the terminal. “Let me pray for you.”
“You know I don't—”
“He believes in you, darlin'.” I took a deep breath and entered into God's presence. “Bless this girl with all that is good. Keep her healthy. Fill her life with love. Give her a boatload of friends, and give her eyes to see the beauty of your world. Bring us back together real soon, Father. Amen.”
“I should be praying for you.”
“Promise me you will, Diane. Promise me you will.”
Chapter 32
Suzanne had given the construction foreman his marching orders: The kitchen was to be perfect by five o'clock Friday. Whatever she'd said to them certainly upped the activity in the house. To escape the buzz of power tools and paint fumes, Lupe and I took our coffee out to the patio. Already the day was shirt-sleeves and sandals, at least on my healthy foot. I wished I'd packed some shorts. But then, this being Denver, if I waited five minutes, I'd need my down parka too. I preferred to pack light.
Midmorning coffee had become a ritual for Lupe and me, unless Suzanne came home to transcribe her medical reports. Then Lupe sterilized the toilets, and I listened to yet another book Fletcher had downloaded onto his iPod. Listening to
White Fang
made me terribly lonesome for Bee, but I'd asked Fletcher to choose a book he'd read for school, so we could discuss it. I was hoping for
Jane Eyre,
which shows how very close to craziness I hovered. I'd been thinking about all the things Suzanne had said at the family inquisition, trying to reconcile what I knew about Charles Bonnet Syndrome and the dementia she had hinted at. Nothing added up.
I felt a camaraderie with Lupe, and that's not an insult to her. Lupe was transparent as crystal, and I didn't need to see her face to know how she felt about any topic. She blasted her opinion—political, social, or religious—with a ferocity that belied her stature. No one could accuse Lupe of being an enigma, and for that I loved her. Besides, her coffee was heavenly. The swelling of my lip had reduced enough that I didn't dribble it down my chin anymore.
Lupe tossed a Grand View Cottage pamphlet toward me. “Forget that one. No jetted tub, no Lupe. It's all or nothing for this princess.”
“Well, this princess has decided there's no harm in staying just one night, jetted tub or not.”
“If someone offered me a fancy-dancy cottage with a jetted tub, I would have moved in there yesterday. And then I would invite all of my sisters to come for a visit. While they watched
The Price Is Right,
yelling at the TV, telling the contestants that they're stupid, I would listen to Gilberto Santa Rosa's
El Caballero de la Salsa,
with the jets pounding my back to the salsa beat. And sing? The tiles would all fall down off the walls.
Mi hermanas—
”

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