By the time they pulled into the ER, Mickey’s lips and fingernails were blue and she was unresponsive. The ER physician was able to get a ventilator tube down her throat while IV lines were started. Mother Theodora, Sister Mary David and Jessica prayed in the waiting room.
“She’s beginning to respond,” the doctor told them a couple of hours later. “The secretions in her lungs are much thicker than normal, and only a portion of her lungs are functioning anyway. She cannot treat colds and flu casually anymore.”
Sister Mary David looked stricken. “It’s my fault. I checked on her last night, but she was sleeping so soundly I didn’t check more closely. I should have been more observant.”
“You had no way of knowing,” the doctor said kindly. “This is her first cold season since her injuries.” He turned to Mother Theodora. “She will have to stay in the hospital for a few days.”
Mickey was able to be removed from the ventilator after two days, but had to stay on oxygen and nebulizer treatments for a few more days. Greg Allenby came by to see her. He hadn’t been to the abbey in weeks.
“Greg, what is it?” she asked in alarm when she saw him. He looked terrible, with dark circles under his eyes.
He ran a hand over his face. “It’s Judy. I’ve been racking my brain to figure out what I can do to keep the practice going and be able to spend more time with her. She still needs therapy three or four times a week, and I’ve only been able to find part-time help at home.”
Mickey bit her lip. “Have you considered bringing in another doctor part-time?”
He threw up his hands. “Who? I don’t know anyone who only wants part-time work.”
“Well, actually you do,” she said. “You have to keep this quiet. I still need to talk to Mother, but… I’ll be leaving St. Bridget’s soon, and I was wondering what this crippled, ex-nun might do for work.”
He looked at her earnestly. “Maybe go into practice with a former student?”
“Are you sure?”
“This could be the answer to both our prayers if you’re really interested.”
Mickey laughed and immediately choked, triggering a fit of coughing. “Yes,” she gasped when she could breathe again. “I’m interested.”
His expression brightened. “I’ll come see you at St. Bridget’s soon and we can start working out some details.”
When Mickey did return to the abbey, Sister Mary David anxiously asked her to stay in the infirmary for a couple of days. “At least spend a few nights here,” she pleaded, “or I am going to camp outside your cell.” Mickey acquiesced when Sister Mary David said seriously, “I would never forgive myself if anything happened again during the night.”
Mickey requested a private meeting with Mother Theodora, and told her of her decision to leave as well as Greg’s proposed partnership.
“I hope you don’t think I just used the abbey as an escape for a while,” Mickey said.
“Not at all,” Mother Theodora assured her. “As a matter of fact, I think your time with us has allowed you to find an important part of yourself. And I know we benefited from your presence.”
Mickey blushed as she said, “Well, I don’t know about that, but things around here should be calmer without me. I seem to create more drama than everyone else combined.”
Mother Theodora smiled. “Life has definitely been more interesting with you around,” she mused.
╬ ╬ ╬
“I’ve found the perfect house!” Jamie told Mickey excitedly. “Okay, maybe not perfect in every way – it’s going to need a ground floor addition for your bedroom and bath, and some ramps may have to be added, but,” he grinned, obviously very pleased with himself, “it’s perfect in other ways. You just have to trust me.”
“Okay,” she laughed, “I trust you.”
“Good,” he said, pulling out some rolled-up blueprints and spreading them out on the table in the parlour, “because I’ve already asked an architect to draw up some plans for the changes. Look these over and see if there’s anything you want added or moved or whatever.”
The plans depicted a two-story house, about eighteen hundred square feet. The three existing bedrooms and bathroom were on the second floor. A ground floor addition had been drawn up to include a bedroom large enough to allow wheelchair access all around the bed. The bathroom was also completely wheelchair accessible, with a shower but no tub, and a free-standing sink attached to the wall on a hydraulic slide that would allow it to be raised and lowered to accommodate someone standing or sitting. There were separate built-in closets and cupboards for storage. A laundry room and garage were also included, built with no stairs or thresholds to obstruct a wheelchair.
“This looks wonderful,” Mickey murmured, looking the plans over.
“Jen has been working hard on this, trying to think of everything you might need eventually,” Jamie said. “The kitchen will be redesigned so the appliances will all be in locations where you can easily get to them sitting or standing.”
Mickey sat back and looked at him fondly. “Thank you both so much for all of your help with this.”
“No problem” he smiled. “It’s been kind of fun. We’re actually thinking about changes we want to make to our house – like a nursery.”
It took Mickey a moment to process what he’d said. Her mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding!”
His face couldn’t have smiled any bigger. “About eight weeks, we think. She goes to the doctor next week. I can’t believe it,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “Life is really going to change.”
“You and Jen will be wonderful parents,” Mickey said, laying a hand on his arm. “And I can’t wait to be an aunt!”
She pulled out some papers. “Here is the new account my funds have been transferred to,” she said, handing him a statement. “I’ve named you as co-holder of the account so you can access it to pay anything that may come due over the next month.”
Jamie’s eyes popped as he looked at the statement. “Wow,” he breathed, “I’ve never seen so much money in one place – that I could get to,” he added with a sly grin.
“Don’t get too excited,” she warned him. “It’s the money from my old practice, both houses and Alice’s life insurance. And it’s all been invested for most of the last six years, but I’m probably uninsurable now, and I’ll be buying into a share of Greg’s practice. And this,” she indicated the blueprints, “will make a dent also. A few more incidents like my trip to the hospital at Christmas, and this could go faster than you think.”
He looked at her sympathetically. “I guess you’re right. Do you want your old furniture back?”
She laughed. “No, I’ll start fresh.” She frowned at the blueprints. “But I do have a few extras I’d like to add to the house.”
╬ ╬ ╬
“I don’t know how to say good-bye,” Mickey said with tears in her eyes. She was in Mother Theodora’s office, wearing khakis and a sweater for the first time in five years.
“Then don’t,” Mother Theodora admonished. “Simply tell me that you’ll see me soon.”
“I will,” Mickey promised. “I’ll call and arrange a time with Sister Mary David in the next two or three weeks to begin medical visits.”
“It’s very generous of you to offer your services to the community, Mickey. I wish you would allow us to pay you something. I still feel we owe you some compensation for your injuries.”
“That’s not necessary,” Mickey insisted. “This arrangement allows me to feel that I’m giving something back to the abbey for all it’s given me, and selfishly, still allows me to feel a connection to this place. But please emphasize that my feelings will not be hurt at all if any of the sisters prefers to see another doctor, or Greg. As I’m sure you can attest, it isn’t always easy having a personal relationship with your doctor.”
Mother Theodora smiled. “Personally, I count myself blessed to have such a dear friend as my physician.”
Mickey’s throat sud
denly felt too tight for a response. The telephone on Mother’s desk rang. She answered and then said as she hung up, “James is here.”
Mickey stood with her crutches, and then braced herself on one so that she could embrace Mother Theodora as she came around her desk.
“I will miss you very much,” Mickey managed to say.
“And I you, Mickey.”
Together, they walked down the corridor to the entry where Jamie already had Mickey’s trunk and wheelchair loaded into the back of the SUV. Mickey was not prepared for most of the community to be assembled to see her off. She had said private farewells to many of them over the past few weeks: to Sisters Catherine, Paula and Madeline who had taught her so much; to Sister Stephen who confided that Mickey had been one of the best Latin students she had ever taught; to Sister Regina who had provided perhaps the best example of how to balance prayer and work; to Abigail from whom she elicited a promise not to betray Mother Theodora’s trust. To Sister Mary David, “There aren’t words enough to thank you for all you’ve done for me,” she had said, with a promise to call soon.
One person she’d known wouldn’t be here was Father Andrew. She’d gone to see him immediately after her meeting with Mother. He must have heard the click of her crutches coming up the walk to his house, because he opened the door as she raised a hand to knock.
He stepped back to let her in, and went to clear a place at the dining table for her.
“Raymond is a scholar, but a messy one,” he said apologetically, as he shoved books and papers aside and pulled out a chair.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Mickey huffed, winded by the walk to the chaplain’s house.
“You’re leaving,” Father Andrew said, taking an adjacent chair. “What is there to talk about?”
Mickey looked at him in surprise. “Did Mother –?” she began, wondering how he could have heard so quickly.
He shook his head. “No. You told me.” He looked into her eyes. “In bits and pieces, over the past three or four months. I could hear it in the things you said, and in the things you didn’t say.”
Mickey digested this. “Are you disappointed?” she asked.
“In you?” He shook his head and leaned toward her. “No. Never in you.” He paused and absent-mindedly folded over a corner of one of the papers lying on the table. “And just in case you’re wondering if you’ve made any kind of difference around here… you have.” He cleared his throat and sat back. “I’m sober because of you.”
“Because I threatened to turn you in, you mean,” she reminded him.
“Same difference,” he insisted. “You had the guts – the fortitude, the sisters would say – to act on what you knew was right. You’ve done that again and again while you’ve been here.” He waved his hand. “I know you’ll continue to do it out there.”
Mickey nodded and gathered her crutches to stand. Father Andrew walked her to the door.
“Just so you know,” he said, “I’m not good at good-byes.”
Mickey looked up at him, swallowing all the words lying unspoken between them. She nodded again and turned to make her clumsy way back to the abbey.
Many of the nuns, the ones who didn’t know Mickey well, made an effort to wish her well over her last days. Perhaps the greatest surprise had been Sister Scholastica, who had stopped Mickey in a corridor a few days before she was scheduled to leave. “Sister,” she began hesitantly. She didn’t seem to know where to look – she couldn’t meet Mickey’s gaze, nor could she seem to bring herself to look down at Mickey’s crutches. She averted her eyes to the adjacent wall as she struggled with what she wanted to say. “I wanted to speak with you… I wanted to tell you that the abbey will be the poorer for your absence.” Her jaw worked back and forth as she raised her gaze as high as Mickey’s cheek, but still not quite to her eyes. “I wish you well in your new venture,” she added before turning to walk away.
She stopped abruptly as Mickey said gently, “I hope you know that none of this is your fault.”
Sister Scholastica stood rigidly, her veil obscuring her face from view.
“And thank you for the flowers.”
With a barely perceptible nod of her head, Sister Scholastica continued on her way.
Lastly had been Jessica, to whom Mickey had said, “You have been my rock. I wouldn’t have lasted this long without you.” And Jessica, in her typical, unflappable way, had replied, “You’ll be nearby, and will be out here weekly, so we’ll still have each other to talk to. This is not good-bye.”
Mickey’s eyes ran now along the line of figures, all dressed alike in black and white, yet so different. And so familiar. Not trusting herself to say anything more, she walked out the door and climbed awkwardly into the SUV. Jamie placed her crutches in the back seat. As he pulled out of St. Bridget’s drive onto the main road, Jamie said, “I would’ve bet I’d be coming back to get you after five weeks, not five years.”
Mickey nodded and blinked back tears as she looked back through the trees at the abbey. “I would have made the same bet.”
Jamie drove her to the new house, her first actual view of the clapboard and stone bungalow in the midst of renovations. The drive and yard were dotted with mature trees and construction trucks. Workers were framing the roof of the addition which extended from the rear of the house. They looked over toward the old detached garage where heat and air-conditioning were being installed.
“The new garage will come directly into the utility room over there,” Jamie said, walking her in that direction.
Mickey looked around and sighed. “It’s beautiful. You were right –”
“Wait,” Jamie cut her off, glancing at his watch and holding up a finger.
Mickey stood there, not sure what they were waiting for when she heard it. The bell for None was ringing from somewhere behind the house.
She looked unbelievingly at Jamie who beamed. “Your property butts up against the abbey’s farm land,” he pointed, “just over that ridge. If you walk to the top, you can see the roof of the abbey and the bell tower.”
She hugged him tightly. He laughed, picking her up and swinging her around, her crutches flying. “I told you it was perfect!”
Chapter 45
The windows were all open, letting a wonderful early summer breeze blow through the house. Mickey peeled off her chambray shirt and stood balanced against the kitchen island in jeans and a t-shirt, making a salad.
“It’s beautiful,” Jennifer called admiringly as she came back downstairs, looking around the living room.
“It won’t win any design contests.”
“I don’t know,” Jennifer disagreed. “It’s austere – nothing on the walls, no frills, but every piece you’ve picked is beautifully made, functional. The hardwood floors are in beautiful condition. I like the sage and beige you’ve picked for the walls. It’s clean and… meditative.”
Mickey grinned. “Think maybe my taste has been influenced by five years in a monastery?”
“Undoubtedly.” Jennifer looked around. “Including no television, I see.”
“Too much noise,” Mickey wrinkled her nose. “I prefer the quiet. Speaking of which, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you and Jamie allowing me to stay at your house the last few weeks while the work here was being completed. The commotion of all the construction workers was unbelievable.”
“Well, it’s not like your presence inconvenienced us in any way,” Jennifer replied, pausing to peruse the books on the built-in shelves. “We were both stuck in the city for the past month. Jamie’s latest commission was very well received, and he got two more as a result. That’s where he is now.” Jennifer stopped in front of the only photo on display – it was one taken about a year before Alice got sick. Mickey was sandwiched in between Alice and Jennifer, all of them laughing hysterically at something – Jen couldn’t remember what.
“Dinner is almost ready,” Mickey said. “Any chance Jamie’ll be joining us?”
“I’m really
not sure. You know what he’s like when he gets working,” Jennifer shrugged. “He may be there all night long.” Jennifer pulled a book out and flipped through the pages. “I noticed there’s one furnished room upstairs,” she said nonchalantly.
“Very subtle,” Mickey observed sarcastically. “I’ll furnish the other rooms as I find decent stuff at moving sales and antique shops, but… I wanted one room ready for her in case she wants her own space.”
Jennifer turned from the bookshelf. “You said in her letters that she never comes out and says if or when she’ll be back. It’s been months. Do you really still believe she’ll come to you after all this time?” she asked dubiously.
Mickey didn’t answer immediately. Her crutches clicked metallically as she moved over to the stove to stir the chicken simmering in a pan. “I have to,” she said quietly. “Could you set the table?”
“Sure,” Jennifer said.
“Mickey!” she exclaimed, stopping in her tracks as she entered the kitchen.
“What?” Mickey jumped, looking around to see what had startled Jennifer.
“Look at you! I haven’t seen you in anything but a habit or a sweater for ages. I didn’t realize you were this lean, and look at your arms!”
Mickey laughed as she spooned rice into a bowl. “I can’t afford to carry any extra weight anymore. Hauling my ass around on these,” she nodded toward the crutches propped against the countertop, “for the past year has been like a daily weight workout.”
“Well, you look fantastic,” Jennifer said, giving Mickey’s butt a pat on her way to the cupboard to get plates. “If I weren’t married…”
“To my brother.”
“Well…”
“And pregnant.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“You are rotten,” Mickey scolded, but she smiled as she added, “But thanks anyway.” She put the bowls of food on a rolling cart and pushed it all out to the table, using her hips and crutches to steer it.
“What a great idea,” Jennifer said as she set the bowls on the table.
In This Small Spot Page 27