by Rhett DeVane
“I’m the opposite. I lose my appetite. Still, it isn’t good either way. My clothes hang on me anymore. I only have a few pants that fit.”
“Tell you what, Miss. Follow me around for a few weeks. Every time I start to snack between meals, I’ll hand it to you and make you eat it. That way, I lose and you gain. Deal?”
If Missy didn’t sit the plate out of range soon, Hannah knew she would cave. “Please, Miss. Back away with the buns.”
“Well, all right.” Missy sat the plate on top of the stove and covered it with a sheet of waxed paper. “If you change your mind . . . ”
“It wouldn’t take much. Believe me.” Hannah switched the subject. “How are things with Brittany?”
Missy poured herself a cup of coffee. “Warm-up?”
Hannah raised her mug for a refill. “Rules don’t apply to coffee. Thank goodness.”
“It’s been challenging.” Missy eased into a chair and propped her elbows on the table, the steaming mug grasped in her hands. “I have to lock the scales up.”
“Really?”
Missy clicked her tongue. “She would weigh herself twenty times a day if I didn’t. The counselor recommended that she only weigh in once a week, on a certain day. Still . . . ” Her face echoed her weariness. “It’s a fight to keep her believing in herself. She looks into the mirror and sees rolls of fat, when in reality, she’s still far from a normal weight for someone her age and height. Each ounce she gains is a small victory.”
“Justine told me Brit’s enjoying cooking.”
Missy offered a slight smile. “She’s very creative with dishes. We cull through Cooking Light Magazine for good recipes.” She took a sip of coffee. “I doubt she’ll ever be one to overindulge in sweets, but she seems to like the idea of making healthy dishes. The meals she has concocted have been very tasty, with an interesting combination of flavors and colors.”
“Chip off the old Martha Stewart/Missy Rodgers block, eh?”
Missy laughed. “If you saw the dust in my living room, you might rethink your opinion of me. I can’t recall when I’ve cleaned the baseboards.”
Hannah slapped her friend playfully on the arm. “Welcome to the human race. It’s not pretty, well-organized, or, for the most part, clean.”
“I suppose. Hey, can you have fruit on your diet?”
“That is the one thing allowed for snacks.”
“I have a few ripe Georgia peaches left. They’re Albertas, the sweet big ones. What say I cut up a couple and put a dollop of low-carb ice cream on top?”
The diet did allow milk. And ice cream was frozen milk.
Chapter Forty-two
On the nineteenth day of August, a day so infernal even the cicadas were too flaccid to sing, Hannah coined the perfect phrase to describe the weather: the Lord Have Mercy! Heat. People dashed from air-conditioned homes to cars to shops and back, seldom pausing long enough to dry the sweat-beads from their upper lips. Neighbors ceased hanging over the hedges to discuss daily events. The sidewalks buckled, ladies lost high heel tips in the soggy asphalt, and the postal workers wore short pants. If terrorists could have found a way to contaminate the iced tea, the majority of Southerners would’ve dropped dead.
At Rosemont, Lucy Goosey wore a pair of pink gingham hot pants with a matching bandeau top. A beribboned sunbonnet shaded her beak, and a pair of child-sized hot pink flip-flops rested beside her webbed feet. Around her neck, a single strand of seed pearls provided the only adornment. A scandalous amount of cement was exposed, but no one seemed to mind. It was too darned hot for any goose, living or stone, to bow to a code of modesty. How Hannah had been talked into a Wal-Mart run on the most hellish day of the year was a mystery.
“You and your mama off to play?” Beth asked.
Hannah moaned. “I’m taking her and Josie shopping.”
“In this heat?” Beth shook her head. “You’re a brave woman, Hannah Olsen.”
“Ain’t I, though?”
“No need to bother to sign in,” Beth said. “Remind them to sign out, okay?”
Josie Harrison wheeled around the corner. “Good morning! Your mother and I have been really looking forward to this.”
“I’ll get Ma-Mae. Why don’t you go ahead and sign out?” Hannah walked down the hall and tapped on her mother’s door, then used her key when there was no answer. “Ma-Mae?”
The silence echoed. Hannah’s heart beat accelerated slightly. A thin band of light showed beneath the closed bathroom door. She tapped. Again, no answer.
She held her breath as she pushed the door open. The room was empty. Hannah locked up and walked back toward the lobby. “Have you seen my mother by any chance?” She asked one of the aides in the hallway.
“Just passed her, heading toward the dining room.”
Hannah found Mae hunkered down at a table, scribbling on a slip of paper. Hannah released the tension from her shoulders. “What cha doing?”
“Oh, hi baby. I’m leaving a note for Maxine. She’ll wonder why both of us are gone at lunch.”
Hannah picked the two ladies up under the covered porch, helped them fasten seat belts, and stored Josie’s walker and her mother’s cane in the back.
“Y’all have your lists?” Hannah asked as she turned from Rosemont’s parking lot.
“Surely do. We sat up half the night making sure we had everything written down, didn’t we Josie?”
“The nurse didn’t bring my ten o’clock medication,” Josie said.
Hannah slowed. “Do we need to go back and get it?”
“It keeps her from having those shakes so bad,” Mae said.
“We’d better return,” Josie said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not a problem.” Hannah executed a U-turn.
“Maybe I should get the two-o’clock medication, too.” Josie wrung her hands.
“Good idea. We may not be back by then.” Hannah pulled the SUV beneath the shaded walkway. “Y’all stay put. I’ll get the pills and some water for you to take them with.”
Hannah pulled into traffic for the second time. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”
Josie reached over and patted her on the arm. “Thank you. I told the nurse this morning that we were going out, but I forgot to check with her again. I know that was a lot of trouble.”
“Not at all. You didn’t even stomp a hole in the floorboard like Ma-Mae would’ve when I flipped that U-turn.”
“Don’t get all smarty,” her mother commented from the back seat.
“I’ve thought seriously about writing the car company and telling them what a great vehicle they made. As many times as Ma-Mae has applied the fake brakes on that side, the floor is still intact.” Hannah winked at her mother’s reflection in the rearview mirror.
“Hannah’s passable,” Mae said. “She obeys the speed limit, for the most part. Good thing we’re going to the Wal-Mart in Marianna. Those fools over in Tallahassee tend to make her forget her religion and she cusses like a sailor man.”
Hannah glanced at her mother in the rear-view mirror. “Stretching things a bit, aren’t you?”
“Not particularly. Just be glad there’s no sink in this car. On several occasions, you would’ve gotten your mouth washed out with soap.”
Josie laughed. “You two are the most fun when you get to going at each other.”
“This is mild.” Hannah said as she merged onto the Interstate.
“I still don’t know why Helen couldn’t meet us,” Mae commented.
“Something about a retirement party thing she’s in charge of. I didn’t half listen, to tell the truth. She was going on and on about some guy, knowing full well and good I wouldn’t know him from Dick’s hat band.”
“Your sister has always been so involved in the social whirl of Marianna,” Mae said. “Suppose we can overlook her not being able to drop and run like we can.”
More like run and then drop, Hannah thought.
When they reached the shopping center parking lot, Hann
ah snagged the last handicapped-reserved spot.
“Don’t forget to hang the little ditty on the mirror like you did last time,” Mae said as she opened the back door. “If I hadn’t sweet-talked that policeman, you’d have paid a steep fine.”
As soon as the three entered the double automatic doors, Mae made tracks to the scooter shopping carts, motioning for Josie. “You know how to drive one of these?” Mae asked her friend.
“I’ll just use my walker and take it slow.”
“Nah, sit yourself down.” Mae waved to her daughter. “Hannah, fold up the walker and put it in the back rack there.” Then, to Josie. “It’s as easy as falling off a log. If you can drive a car, you can surely run one of these babies.”
After Mae’s brief in-service training, the two seniors pulled away from the entrance lobby. The only thing the entire scenario lacked was the fire of a starting pistol.
Hannah hustled behind them. “Jeez-O-Pete!” She managed between gasps. “Do you have to go full throttle?”
“I like the rush of wind in my hair,” Mae called over her shoulder, slowing for a few feet. She took off again, her daughter jogging behind. Fellow shoppers ducked into the safety of the aisles as Mae and Josie flew past.
“Didn’t you miss the turn for the mini-pad aisle, Mae?” Josie called out.
Hannah watched in awe as her elderly mother executed a fast U-turn around a center display of stacked cat litter bags.
“Why didn’t she just stop and put it into reverse?” Josie asked when Hannah finally stepped alongside.
“And take the fun out of giving me angina?”
Josie giggled and throttled. Hannah threw up her hands and rolled her eyes in benefit of several shoppers who had stopped to gawk. Mae had stopped mid-aisle, jabbing with her cane to jostle a package of panty liners from the shelf.
“Here, let me get them before you pull the whole lot down on your head.” Hannah tossed the pink plastic bag in her mother’s wire basket. “Having fun?”
“Absolutely. Get me two bags. I like to stay dainty. These hot days make me sweat more. God knows, I don’t want to smell. Old people often smell, you know.” Mae looked around. “Where’d you leave Josie?”
Hannah’s gaze scanned the aisle. “I thought she was right behind me.”
“We’d best go find her.”
“She can’t leave the building, Ma-Mae. I don’t see—” Hannah stood with her hands propped on her hips, watching her mother zoom away. “If I survive today, it will be a dadgum miracle.”
The threesome occupied a booth at Ruby Tuesday Restaurant. While the seniors chatted, Hannah took a moment to enjoy sitting down. The soles of her feet throbbed and burned.
“That was some Mr. Toad’s wild ride, wasn’t it, Josie?” Mae clapped her hands.
Josie peered over the top of her menu. “I kind of felt bad for that one woman you ran into the toilet paper display.”
“She had a soft landing.” Mae shook her finger. “Folks need to yield right-of-way.”
Hannah looked at her mother. “I didn’t see any road signs in the store. How, exactly, do you determine that?”
“Age always trumps,” Mae announced. “Now, what are we going to eat today?”
“I’m going for this Mexican salad,” Josie said.
“The black beans will gas you up, Jo.”
“Suppose you’re right.” Josephine lowered her menu. “What would you suggest?”
“A big old beef burger, loaded, with melted cheddar cheese and a mound of curly fries.” Mae ran her fingernail down the laminated page. “And for dessert, one of those brownie and ice cream concoctions.”
“Ma-Mae! For heaven’s sake,” Hannah said. “That’s a lot of food.”
“What’s it going to do, kill me?” Mae winked across the table at her friend. “I’m way too old to die young, right Jo?”
Josie closed the menu and rested her folded hands on the edge of the table. “That logic defies me, Mae. But I’ll have the same.”
Hannah frowned. The menu was filled with low-calorie, carbohydrate-reduced fare. After four days, the cereal diet was beginning to wear on her nerves. Besides, if she had survived chasing two old women around a shopping center the size of a football field, she had worked off breakfast.
Hannah flicked a packet of artificial sweetener, then tore off a corner and poured it into her tea. “I’m adding bacon to mine.”
Chapter Forty-three
The call came at 7 a.m. as Hannah prepared to leave the house to pick up her fellow car-pool members.
“Hannah?” Lora Strong, the charge nurse. Not a good sign.
She dropped her purse and briefcase on the kitchen table. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry to tell you, your mother is not well. We’ve called for an ambulance.”
“Oh, God. What?”
“When she didn’t come down for breakfast, her friend Mrs. Harrison went to see about her. She found her on the floor and immediately alerted the staff.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Justine!” Hannah yelled. “Jonas!”
The kids appeared at the door, curious expressions on their faces.
“Something’s happened to Grand-Mae. Call your father and have him meet me at Rosemont.”
“I’ll come with you,” Justine said.
“No, honey. You and your brother eat breakfast. Then, I need you to go ahead and get Jonas to school. Leave your cell on. Tell your teachers what’s going on. I’ll text you as soon as I know anything.”
Justine rushed over and kissed her mother on the cheek. “Sure, Mom. You okay to drive?”
“I’ll be fine. Call your father for me.” She snatched up her purse, frantically dialing the cell phone number of one of the carpool members as she rushed into the garage.
A parked ambulance sat in front of Rosemont, lights blinking and engine idling; this time, she hadn’t beaten them. Hannah’s stomach rolled as she swung the SUV into the first vacant spot and dashed inside.
“The paramedics are with your mother,” Beth said, waving her past the front desk.
A flurry of activity greeted her in the hallway. Maxine and Josephine stood to one side, their walkers pulled out of the line of emergency workers. Several staff members parted to allow Hannah to pass. Inside room 104, two paramedics were busy strapping her mother onto the gurney, taking vital signs, and communicating in medical lingo Hannah only understood in part.
Hannah waited, numb, by one wall. Her brain struggled to equate the pale woman on the gurney with the vital, funny senior who had terrorized the department store shoppers mere hours before.
“Are you her daughter?” The male paramedic asked.
“Yes.”
“From her records, we see that her doctor has privileges at Tallahassee General. We’re en route, if you would like to follow.”
“Ma-Mae?” Hannah stepped to the gurney and asked in a quiet voice, “Can you hear me?”
Mae’s eyelids fluttered. She mumbled unintelligible words. Her face drooped on one side and a fine line of saliva leaked from her parted lips.
Dear God, no. Not a stroke. Please.
Norman’s voice sounded from the hall as Hannah trailed the gurney from the room. Beth rested a hand on Hannah’s arm. “I’ll see to it that her room’s locked up tight. Don’t concern yourself with anything here.”
Norman fell into step beside his wife and cradled his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s leave your car here, hon. Pick it up later.”
Hannah was vaguely aware of the murmured well-wishes of her mother’s friends and the Rosemont staff as they left the building.
“Norman, I’m texting Justine. Stop by the school.”
“You sure?”
Tears coursed down her cheeks. “They need to be with us. I just feel it.” She dug in her purse for a handkerchief.
Norman tapped the Bluetooth clinging to his left ear and spoke a command for the autodial. “I’m calling your brother again. He was on his way home to g
et Suzanne. They can pick up Justine and Jonas. One of you needs to be over in the ER when your mother arrives.”
“Oh.” Hannah closed her eyes. “I completely forgot . . . Helen.”
“She and Charlie are already on the road. I’ll call them next and tell them to go straight to Tallahassee.”
Hannah rested one hand on her husband’s thigh. “What would I do without you? I can’t seem to think straight.”
On a level deeper than she could put into words, Hannah understood. All the fear and anticipation, the intense worry, had culminated into this final set of disjointed moments.
This is it.
Mae seemed diminished by the fluorescent lighting of the ER. Hannah and Norman stood to one side watching as various monitors were attached. Without its customary animation, Mae’s face appeared waxen and lifeless. Judging by the amount of intense attention from the nurses and emergency physician, her condition was grave.
A few minutes after the rest of the family arrived, a doctor in crisp green scrubs called the adults into a small conference room. The physician motioned for the family to be seated around the oval table.
“Mrs. Mathers has suffered a cerebrovascular accident, a stroke. The next few hours are critical. We’ll be moving her to the Neurointensive Care Unit as soon as she’s stable.”
“Is she going to . . . die?” Helen clung to her husband.
“It is a possibility. However, I have seen patients of advanced age pull through. Unfortunately, your mother also has a multiple fracture of the neck of her right femur.”
“Her hip?” Hal asked.
“Yes.” The doctor paused. “This complicates things considerably. Once she’s clear of danger from the stroke, the hip will have to be repaired surgically.”
“She’s eighty-five, Doctor,” Hannah said.
“Can’t she be confined to a wheel chair and not put her through surgery?” Helen asked.
“I’m afraid not. It’s not that simple. The break necessitates some kind of repair, as the tissue will suffer necrosis otherwise.” The doctor cleared his throat once before continuing. “Your mother has an advanced directive in her file. You are aware of this?”