The Road to Glory (25 page)

"What?"

"This!" She reached behind the stick and thrust a large furry thing in her mate’s face.

"Ahhh!!!" he screamed, throwing himself under their bed. "Take it away! Take it away!"

"What? You don’t like my voodoo doll?" She laughed wickedly, stroking her cat-like creation, which was complete with brown fur. She’d wanted black, but her choices had been woefully limited.

"No! I hate it! It’s grotesque." He peeked his head out from under the bed. "But I see you managed to get lots of brown hair to glue onto the doll ... finally decide to shave your upper lip?" He burst out laughing at his own joke, his stubby arms wrapped around his shaking sides.

The female narrowed her eyes. "Yes, dear. That’s exactly what I did." Her gaze flicked to his now bald back and ass, thinking it much improved over normal.

"You know," he paused and scratched an itch on his back that had been bothering him all day. "I had the weirdest dream last night."

*  *  *

Patrick and Liam just rolled their eyes as their mother continued to place dishes on the table in what they kindly thought of as a less-than-loving manner. They both looked at their father, who simply shrugged and tried to remain inconspicuous.

The younger Fitzgeralds, ages 8 and 14, watched their mother with slightly wide eyes. She was in a rare temper. And for Katherine Fitzgerald that was saying a lot. Dinner hadn’t even started yet and it was already a quiet affair — always a bad sign in the usually boisterous household.

Finally, Patrick couldn’t stand it any longer. "Mother, you don’t know what the council’s answer is going to be," he commented, reaching for the rolls.

"Tis not a matter for the council," she snapped, giving the red-haired man an annoyed look. "They already said no." She slammed down the gravy boat, biting her tongue when the brown sauce sloshed over the sides and onto her lace tablecloth. "Tis up to a higher power now."

"Katherine, having a fit about it certainly isn’t going to help." Harris’s voice was calm as he tried to clean up a bit of the gravy.

"Harris, tis not a fit I’m throwin’." Katherine sat down, literally wringing her hands. "I’m the one who made the petition today. I’m the one who stood there and said that Ruth Jean deserved this chance. I’m only fretting because I can’t decide what breaks me heart more. The idea of her leaving us for years on end or the idea of her staying when her heart is driving around in a big red truck."

Liam leaned over and placed a serving of vegetables onto his sister Mary’s plate. "Mother, RJ is a big girl. She knew what she was getting into when she went off with Leigh." He nodded to the younger children to eat, which they both began doing with varying degrees of enthusiasm. They were far more interested in finding out if RJ would be leaving Glory.

Katherine tossed her napkin onto the table. "You shut your mouth, Liam! RJ had no idea this would happen when she left. Even now she might not be sure of her feelings for the truck driver. And she certainly didn’t ask to be allowed to leave Glory for another lifetime."

Liam, the oldest of the children, who had died in a crop dusting accident in the late 1960s, always seemed to be the one who clashed with his mother. And he was as accustomed to his lot in the afterlife as he had been in life. "No, you’re right, Mother, she didn’t. You took that crusade upon yourself. How do you know Ruth Jean will even want to leave? Maybe when the week is over it’s her intention to just come home where she belongs."

Katherine looked pointedly over at her husband, Harris, her gaze softening almost imperceptibly. "Tch. I know what I would do and Ruth Jean is ten times as stubborn as I could ever hope to be."

The table burst out laughing.

"What?" Katherine demanded, looking at each face with accusing eyes.

"Mother," Patrick nearly choked on his coffee, "We love you. You know we do. But when it comes to stubborn, you’ve written the book!"

Patrick’s wife, Betsy, rolled her eyes. When would the man learn to shut up?

Katherine reached over and smacked Patrick in the back of head, earning a broad smile from Liam, who was the one who usually got smacked. "You just volunteered to say grace. Get to it, boy. Our dinner is gettin’ cold."

Patrick scowled but began reciting a commonly used blessing.

Under the table Harris reached over and squeezed his wife’s hand. Katherine gratefully squeezed back. This is where she found her strength. She wondered briefly where Ruth Jean found hers.

L
EIGH AND RJ made their way up the walkway that lead to the reception area of the Golden Link Retirement Center. As the sign proudly stated, it was an ‘assisted’ living facility.

Stepping inside, RJ shook out the umbrella they’d both huddled under on their way from Leigh’s Jeep.

"You think this is the place?" Critical green eyes surveyed their surroundings. It wasn’t nearly as sterile as RJ had feared and was filled with warm-colored furnishings and carpet, cheerful Big Band-era tunes playing softly in the background.

"The address and name match," Leigh commented as she took off her jacket and tucked it under her arm. She began tugging RJ to the receptionist. "Are you sure we shouldn’t have called first?" Leigh said quietly, feeling like she was in a library and would be scolded for being too boisterous. Or for having sex in the bathroom. That was even worse than an overdue book. Unless, of course, it was the actual librarian you were having sex with. Leigh sniggered her to herself.

"No. I’m not sure." RJ’s voice was tight, and she felt Leigh pull her to a stop.

The blonde woman squeezed RJ’s hand reassuringly, surprised to feel a slight chill. "Are you okay?"

"I’m a …" RJ licked her lips nervously, intentionally not looking at the curious receptionist who was watching them both. "I’m a little nervous, I suppose. I’ve never been in one of these aged homes before."

Ah. Now that made sense. Even the nice ones could be a little unsettling, Leigh knew. "I visited my grandpa in a place sort of like this, only it looked a little more like a hospital than an apartment complex." She wrinkled her nose. "It smelled funny."

RJ nodded. "But this place isn’t too bad."

Leigh smiled softly. "No. It’s a very nice place." She allowed RJ a few more minutes to look around before gently prodding her with her elbow. "Ready? That receptionist is about ready to die from curiosity about the two woman standing in the middle of the room and not moving."

RJ shot Leigh a mild look. "I’m ready, lass. You’re coming with me, right?"

"Do you want me to?" Leigh had figured on waiting in the visitor’s lounge, and reading two-year-old copies of
People Magazine
while RJ met with her granny’s friend.

"I … I want –" RJ abruptly halted her speech and bent down to whisper in Leigh’s ear. "I want you to come, Leigh. If only for a few moments."

Leigh’s heart broke at the abject fear in RJ’s voice. "Of course, I’ll come."

RJ exhaled explosively and bravely headed for the reception desk. "Good."
I knew I could count on you, darlin’.

*  *  *

"I don’t have her listed as a resident or you as a visitor," the man said politely, rechecking his log one more time to be sure. "What was the resident’s last name again? We have several Lucy’s."

"Slocombe."

"I’m sorry."

"Was that her married name, RJ?" Leigh leaned forward over the desk, trying to get a peek at the ledger.

"No. She was single when … err… I don’t know if she ever married."

The man closed his book. "Can you describe her?"

RJ’s eyes went a little round. She had no idea what Lucy would look like now. "Short." She wrapped her arm around Leigh and pulled her directly in front of the man’s face. "Shorter than her even."

"Hey!" Leigh squawked.

The man laughed and waited for more. When RJ remained silent he said, "Sorry. That doesn’t help me much. This is a retirement community. All our Lucys are short. Anything else?" he prodded carefully.

"When she was young her hair was flaming red and her face was covered with freck– "

"Oh,
that
Lucy! Lucy Gelland. The one who curses like a sailor when something happens that she doesn’t like."

"Yes!" RJ grinned broadly.

"When her TV blew during the World Series last year I could hear her all the way in the parking lot."

RJ laughed. "That
had
to be her Lucy Slocombe, who usually lost a full third of her paycheck in fines for cursing over their plane’s radio. "That would be her."

"She’s in room forty-two." He reopened the book, immediately turning to ‘G.’ "In fact, her granddaughter and her three devil children are due for a visit in just a while. I’ll show you to her room and make sure that’s she’s awake."

Leigh blinked in surprise.

"This is a residence for the elderly, not a prison," he assured her knowingly. So many people had the wrong idea about this type of facility. "The only folks who have restrictions on visitors are ones who place them there themselves. And Mrs. Gelland has never done that. So –"

"So, why are we still here?" RJ asked, smiling.

"Good point," the man agreed. "C’mon."

*  *  *

"Mrs. Gelland?" The receptionist knocked gently on her door. "Are you up for some visitors?"

"Are they Jehovah Witnesses? If they are, they can just go the hell away. The last thing I need at this point in my life is to be saved. Anyone else can come in. I don’t bite. Especially when I forget to put in my damn teeth. God …" The rest of the sentence trailed off.

Leigh’s hand flew to her mouth where she clamped down on a burst of laughter.

RJ smiled wistfully at the sound of her co-pilot’s voice, which, even though it was a little scratchier than she’d remembered it, was still recognizable after all these years.

"They’re not here to solicit you!" the receptionist called to Lucy. One little mistake six years ago and the residents never let him live it down! He turned to RJ. "You’re not, right?"

"No worries." She patted him on the back. "We’ll take it from here. Thank you."

He nodded and lowered his voice. "Just one thing. Mrs. Gelland suffers from Alzheimer’s disease."

"A disease?" RJ hissed quietly.

"I’m afraid so. It’s not terribly advanced, but she does tend to be a little forgetful at times." His face flushed. "You’ll probably see for yourself and I really shouldn’t have said anything. I mean, I could lose my job and –"

Leigh quickly shook her head. "We didn’t hear anything from you."

He exhaled in relief. "Thanks. I just didn’t want you to be surprised or upset. Some people get that way and well … it can be a little hard on the residents. And Mrs. Gelland isn’t nearly as bad off as some."

"Thank you for warning us," RJ said sincerely.
She’s senile is what he’s sayin’. Not that I should be surprised.

"I’m leaving you to your guests, Mrs. Gelland," he said loudly and turned to go.

"Yeah, yeah, go back to your desk, Leo," came the grumpy response from behind the door.

Leo laughed and began walking down the hall.

RJ reached for the door handle. Her hand was shaking so badly that Leigh closed her own over it, steadying it.

"Ready, sweetheart?" The endearment slipped out without Leigh even knowing it as she felt a surge of protectiveness for RJ, who suddenly looked a little pale.

RJ smiled and nodded, turning the handle.
Forgive me for all the lying I’m about to do to you, Leigh. It is, sadly, the only way other than not having you with me at all. And right now that’s not an acceptable choice.

Lucy Gelland was sitting in a recliner near the window. She was dressed in a long nightgown covered by a pink terry cloth robe. She appeared to be engrossed in a novel.

Then several things happened at once. Leo, the receptionist, remembered he had RJ and Leigh’s visitors passes still in his hand and he shouted to RJ who was standing in the doorway.

RJ stepped away from the door toward Leo while Leigh walked into the room.

Lucy turned toward the young blonde. "Helen?"

Leigh shifted uncomfortably, looking over her shoulder for RJ who was nowhere in sight. "Sorry. But my name is –"

"I know good and goddamn what your name is, young lady."

"But I’m not –"

"Come and give your great auntie a kiss on the cheek."

Leigh groaned inwardly and inched toward Lucy the way a kid makes a forced march to the principal’s office.

"Jesus, girl! I’ll be dead before you reach me at this rate. March like you’ve got a purpose in life! Move! Move! Move!"

Leigh bolted across the room. She fought the urge to salute Lucy when she stopped in front of her chair. Bending, she reluctantly placed a gentle kiss on Lucy’s cheek, her skin feeling soft, warm and paper-thin. "Hello," she said softly.

"Hello, child. You look a little different than the last time you came to visit. Did you cut your hair?"

Leigh looked into Lucy’s soft brown eyes and realized that she didn’t want to upset or disappoint her. So she dutifully nodded.

Lucy smiled and Leigh smiled back, taking a good look at the woman. Her dark eyes smiled along with her lips and the tiny freckles of Lucy’s youth, though faded from time, still spattered her cheeks.
She’s still beautiful.

RJ walked into the room and closed the door gently behind her. Leigh and Lucy both turned their heads toward the sound.

Lucy’s novel clattered to the floor.

"RJ Fi …" Lucy had to swallow and start again. "RJ?"

Leigh quickly moved back to RJ and whispered in her ear, "She think I’m someone else too. Do you look like your grandmother?"

RJ’s heart was thundering in her ears when she whispered back, "The spitting image. But –"

"I don’t think we should upset her, RJ."

RJ nodded and said a small prayer of thanks. She’d wondered if Lucy would recognize her and how exactly she would explain it to Leigh. Things just got a whole lot easier.

RJ quickly squeezed Leigh’s shoulder and moved past her to greet her dear friend. "Hello, Lucy."