Limited Light

by Carla Rossi

  He swept away a tendril of hair that had fallen across her face. Your grandmother is one of my favorite people. Wild horses couldn’t keep me from her. Or you.

  He gathered her back into his arms. Well, now he’d done it. He’d just managed to cross every professional line he knew. As many times as he’d sat on this same couch--or one just like it in another corridor--he’d never held anyone’s frightened relative quite like this. He’d never rested his lips against anyone’s temple, and he sure as heck had never pressed his hands into the small of anyone’s back in order to hold them as close as possible .

  Martha scrambled out of his embrace and off the couch. It’s the doctor. She stumbled to meet him. How is she?

  She’s hanging in there, the doctor said, as he pulled a chair from the exam room and started looking through her chart.

  Martha sat back down on the couch and brought her hands to her mouth. Is she going to be okay? she asked, as she anxiously rocked back and forth. She tented her fingers, and then laced them together. Finally she balled them into fists. I asked you if she’s going to be okay.

  Jim reached for her hands and tucked them safely between his. It wouldn’t do for her to punch the neurologist. Take a deep breath. He’s going to explain all that.

  Okay, Miss Randolph. Your grandmother had what we call an ischemic stroke.

  What does that mean?

  Simply put, a blood clot formed and blocked an artery. When that happened, there was lack of blood flow to the brain, thus the stroke.

  What about the clot?

  We’ve given her some medicine to dissolve it. She’ll be in ICU a couple days while we monitor her progress and run more tests. We’ll also be evaluating how much damage occurred and decide our next course of treatment.

  But she’s going to be okay, right?

  She’s stable. Once we run those tests we’ll have a better idea of where we stand. He nodded, smiled, and vanished as quickly as he’d arrived .

  She sprang from the couch. Can you believe that? He didn’t tell me anything. And what exactly is hanging in there ? Will she live? Can she hear me? She stomped an angry line down the center of the hallway. He’s useless. I don’t know anything more than I did an hour ago.

  Jim caught up with her and tried to hold her hand. We’ll get more information shortly. If not, we’ll start pestering someone for answers.

  She ripped her hand away. It’s this hospital, that’s what it is. She needs to be in Houston with real doctors. These yokels don’t know the difference between a real stroke and heat stroke. She stopped mid-stride and planted her hands firmly on her hips. I’m going to have her transferred to the med center in Houston. That’s what I’m going to do. She took determined strides toward the nurse’s desk. And I might have to kick that doctor’s a--

  Whoa, Tiger, he said and caught her around the waist. You’re not kickin’ anybody’s anything and your grandma’s not going anywhere. She needs to stay here and rest and recover.

  She wilted in his arms, fresh tears streaming down her face. But she’s my grandma . I can’t lose her.

  I know. But you need to calm down so we can go see her.

  I don’t know where she is, she sobbed. They won’t tell me anything.

  And so, the fierce tiger-woman disappeared.

  I have my ways of finding her. He stood her up and held out his hand. Come with me. He led her to the elevator and handed her more tissues. You need to be dry-eyed and upbeat when you see her. He tapped the end of her nose. And don’t threaten anyone.

  She quietly entered the elevator, her hand squeezing his in a vice-like grip. He winced. It was just what he needed. A broken pinky finger to go with his broken pinky toe .

  ****

  Marti stretched and opened her eyes. The rough hospital blanket scratched her cheek. She didn’t care. It had been a gift from Pastor James. Apparently he knew the exact location of every blanket warmer in the hospital. The cramped couch in the ICU family waiting room would have been pretty uncomfortable without him. While he sat up at the end, she’d stretched out beside him and tried to rest. To call it sleep would be exaggerating. Now, as dawn’s first light crept through the massive bare window, she found herself with her head resting on a pillow on his lap and his arm securely around her .

  She turned to look up at him. Are you awake?

  No.

  She smiled. His eyes remained closed, his long lashes resting on his cheek. He sat with his head in his hand and his feet propped up on a chair in front of him. She took a closer look. He’d kicked off his right shoe. A terrible thought returned .

  Did I run over your foot? she asked weakly .

  Yes. Eyes still closed. No movement .

  Um...does it hurt? Well, duh .

  I have never known such pain.

  Uh-oh.

  She tried to scoot out from under his arm. He clamped it down tighter. You’re not going anywhere.

  She burrowed back under the blanket. Not exactly the best place to hide, but it was a start. I’m sorry. The apology sounded trite and insignificant in light of how much pain he must be in and what they’d been through during the night. Is there anything I can do? Another lame question .

  No. Becky gave me some pain medicine and she’s coming back with ice when her shift’s over.

  Marti frowned. Becky? Who’s Becky? Better not ask any more questions. They should be letting us back in Grandma Rose’s room soon. I need to see her, need to touch her.

  The doctor’s probably on his way. Hopefully he’ll have answers for you. Try to rest a few more minutes.

  I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, I see her in that ambulance.

  The back of his hand, warm and soft, grazed her cheek, then absently toyed with her hair as he continued to rest. She’s going to be okay.

  I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d lost her, Pastor James.

  The hand stopped. I asked you to stop calling me Pastor James. Call me Jim.

  But you still call me Miss Martha.

  Okay then, new game. I’ll do my best to call you Marti, if you’ll do your best to call me Jim.

  Why is this so important to you, anyway?

  It’s important because one day soon, I’m going to kiss you and I don’t want any formality between us.

  Well, butter me up and call me a biscuit! What?

  You heard me.

  Boy howdy, had she ever. She curled onto her side as he returned to playing with her hair. He never even opened his eyes .

  Limited Light

  Chapter Six

  I need a mirror. The words were weak but steady .

  Sure, Grandma. Marti rolled the bed stand closer. What are you trying to do?

  I want to brush my hair.

  Marti reached for the brush. I’ll do it for you.

  No. I’ve been brushing my own hair since long before you wore your panties four-cornered.

  Marti put her hands up in surrender. Whatever you say. I’ll just sit over here by the window while you get yourself all gussied up for the physical therapist.

  He was here yesterday. Why is he coming back?

  Because you had a stroke.

  That was two days ago. I’m over it.

  But he’s a real hot-tie, Marti sing-songed. And I know how you like to look at the hotties.

  Humph. Her attempt to pass the brush through her hair with her left hand was slow and awkward. What’s that smell?

  You probably smell the gardenias your friend, Susan Curry, brought you from her garden.

  I didn’t see Susan.

  She was here yesterday when you were still a bit groggy. She’ll be back today.

  I won’t be here.

  Yes, you will. They’re moving you to the rehabilitation floor for therapy.

  Does my son know about this?

  Marti returned to her side and scooted the bed stand away. She took her grandma’s right hand, now feeble from the stroke. I’ve been trying to reach Daddy for two days. I have great faith he�
�ll get the messages and call us.

  Rose laid her head back on the pillow and gazed out the window. I don’t want to stay here.

  Between her vacant stare and the slight drooping of the right side of her face, Marti’s heart split right in two. Again. It’d been sliced into so many pieces these past couple days, she was sure it would never come together the right way. You don’t have to stay long. Just until you can walk safely on your own and get in and out of the bath, and do all the things you want to do for yourself at home. Marti paused and chose her words carefully. You know you’re gonna have to make some changes.

  A tear slid down the side of her grandmother’s face and soaked into the pillow. She pulled her lips into a tight, determined line and hitched her chin up a notch. We’ll see. Why is Susan coming back?

  Because you’re her best friend and she’s worried sick. She’s been making potato, macaroni, and gelatin salads since this happened, and there’s not a church potluck until next week. She’s a mess.

  Well, she’ll just have to get over herself, ‘cause I’m bringing my famous broccoli salad and my chicken rice pilaf casserole.

  You can tell her so when she gets here. She and your other friends want to see you.

  I don’t have any other friends.

  Of course you do.

  Nope. When they started gossiping about you, they stopped being my friends.

  Marti shrugged. I guess you shouldn’t be too hard on them. It is a pretty juicy story.

  Doesn’t matter. Where’s my pastor?

  I sent him home. I managed to convince him he had other church members to see about. He’ll be back tomorrow to see how your rehab is going.

  Grandma Rose motioned toward the bottle of hand lotion on the bed stand. Did you two settle your differences?

  Marti squirted some into their hands. Hard to say. I broke his little toe, and he says he’s going to kiss me. I have no idea what that means.

  The older woman managed a lopsided smile. It means he wants to kiss you. That’s good. That’s very good.

  I can’t kiss anybody, Grandma Rose. I’ve sworn off romance, remember? I stink at it. Besides, all I want to do right now is take care of you.

  We’ll see. And then there was another humph . And this humph was even more adamant than the first one .

  ****

  Marti tossed a match into the grill while Kimmie arranged lawn chairs on Grandma Rose’s back porch. The whirling sound of a drill and the occasional strike of a hammer filled the air on the otherwise quiet afternoon.

  Marti shoved mint leaves from the herb garden down into her glass of iced tea. Do you think those two really know what they’re doing?

  Kimmie gave the baby an animal cracker. How hard can it be? All they’re doing is bolting hand rails to the bathroom wall.

  They exchanged skeptical glances .

  Maybe we should get in there.

  The volume in the bathroom rose. Marti turned her ear toward the door and waved for Kimmie to be still. Wait a minute...are they singing?

  Kimmie inclined her ear. Yes. But what are they singing?

  Sounds like praise and worship.

  Aw, man, Kimmie snorted. That’s rough. Jim’s doin’ okay, but Danny just can’t sing. She banged on the side of the house with her fist. Hey, Danny!

  They fell silent. Yes?

  You better turn it down a notch. The bulls from the neighboring farm are on their way across the meadow. They think it’s mating season.

  They all howled with laughter.

  Funny, baby. Very funny.

  Marti checked the fire. I don’t know too many carpenters who sing praise and worship while they work.

  Jesus was a carpenter. Kimmie got all introspective. Wonder if He sang songs about Himself to Himself when He was helping Joseph in the shop.

  Marti laughed out loud. That’s funny. Hey, where are the hot dogs? This is about ready.

  Kimmie put the baby in his playpen and rushed to assist. Wow, Marti, you’re hosting your first cookout.

  You are totally not funny. You know I don’t do the whole domestic thing. I pretty much bought hot dogs, buns, and chips and dip. Hardly a cookout. Besides, if you weren’t here to supervise, I’d probably burn the house down.

  And, Kimmie said holding up a huge bowl with a shiny silver spoon sticking out, if Susan Curry wasn’t so upset about Rose, we wouldn’t have all this noodle salad.

  Marti rolled the hot dogs around on the grill ‘til Kimmie intervened. Good thing. She’d already let three fall into the coals .

  Is it time to eat? Danny appeared on the porch with flecks of sheetrock in his hair.

  Marti was just a little concerned. If all they were doing was drilling a few holes, how did he get so much debris in his hair? Is everything okay in there?

  Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?

  Pastor James followed him out onto the porch, knocking dust off his shirt as he limped to a chair. We’re done with the bathroom and bedroom, now we need to see about adding wooden rails to the steps on the front porch.

  Marti put a bag of chips on the table and handed him a diet cherry cola on her way to get the napkins. Maybe we should just go ahead and build a ramp. She probably shouldn’t be on the steps. The therapist said she’s coming home with a walker.

  True, but if she comes home and sees a ramp, she’ll be fightin’ mad at all of us. Besides, it might depress her. The doctor said there was no reason she can’t walk if she’s careful.

  Marti worked the seal on the dip. He was right, of course. When did he get to know her grandma better than she did? She would be devastated to come home and see a ramp. And fightin’ mad wouldn’t scratch the surface. As it was, she was already being unreasonable about the rails in the bathroom, and those were a direct order from the doctor .

  She took her seat beside him and let her gaze drop to his foot under the table. He’d kicked off his shoe. The huge black and purple bruise spread clear across his foot. Her heart sank. He’d been her hero since she’d come to town, and she thanked him with an unprovoked attack on his little toe. He looked her way and smiled. She liked his smile and the dimple that came along with it. He could forgive her for the toe. He would never forgive her for Houston .

  She returned the smile anyway. Will you say the blessing, Past... I mean Jim ?

  Sure, Mar-ti. He drew it out as though he had to think about it. They shared a gentle laugh while the others snickered. Their new resolve to quit using their full names had been harder than each of them had thought .

  As the prayer ended, Danny was already eating. So how was your grandma this morning?

  Getting better every day. She wants to come home. She passed the ketchup. She doesn’t want me to visit. Says I stay there too much.

  You do, Kimmie agreed. I know it’s hard, but she has a lot of work to do. As close as you two are, she might feel self-conscious struggling in front of you.

  That hurt .

  She put her elbows on the table. Okay. It’s official. I can’t do anything right. She wanted to cry, but absolutely refused to in front of her friends. I should just disappear into the mountains where I can’t run over anyone, and so my grandma can get better because, clearly, I’m a distraction.

  Oh, no, Marti, please don’t misunderstand. I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I’m just saying she needs to concentrate on her recovery. Of course you need to be there to support her. Just not every day, all day.

  Danny didn’t even look up, but added his two cents. What’s she’s really saying is that your grandma wants you to be happy. She probably feels bad about delaying your move to Dallas and causing you to cancel your interviews.

  That’s ridiculous.

  Sure it is. But she thinks she’s being a burden. She’ll feel better if she thinks you’re taking care of yourself as well as her.

  Oh. Marti turned to Jim, who’d been quiet so far. Don’t you have anything to add to this?

  Not at this time.

  Turncoat .

&nb
sp; She sighed. You all do know I never used to be this dense, right?

  Everyone laughed. You’re not dense, Jim declared and placed his warm hand on her back. You’re just worried about your grandma.

  Can we change the subject?

  Sure, said Danny. Are you coming to the church potluck Saturday?

  That was an easy one. No.

  Why not?

  She counted off the reasons on her fingers. Let’s see. I can’t cook, so there would be nothing to contribute, I like to check on Grandma Rose in the evenings before she goes to sleep, and I don’t have any desire to mingle with all the gossips at church who smile to my face then talk about me behind my back. That about covers it.

  Jim cleared his throat. I say you should take another stab at those brownies and offer one to all the ladies at the potluck who you think are talking about you. Nothing disarms the hen party like baked goods.

  Can we change the subject again?

  Yeah, Jim answered. Why don’t you and Kim tell us one of those legendary stories we’ve heard so much about?

  I have no idea what you’re talking about, she said with an innocent smirk .

  Jim tossed his napkin on the table. Not gonna work. We know there are youth group stories. Just give us a couple examples of your work.

  The ladies exchanged ornery grins. Okay, Kimmie started. I’ll give you one of Marti’s best small scale pranks.

  You mean there are different kinds? Danny was stunned .

  Of course there are. Small pranks are ones you can pull off with limited effort and with things you already have on hand. Big ones involve weeks of planning and hunting for supplies.

  Danny rolled his eyes.

  Kimmie leaned forward. Back when the church had that sign out front that you had to put the letters on, Reverend Nichols would climb up there and spell out a message about what was going on that week, or maybe put up an inspirational quote. One day he put Jesus Saves! on one line and Friday Spaghetti Supper Tickets Still On Sale underneath it. Marti got up there and rearranged it to say Jesus Shaved for Last Supper !

  There was a burst of laughter. Danny looked like he was seriously about to lose a mouthful of chips and dip .

  The best part, Kimmie continued, was when the newspaper came out and took a picture and put it on the front page with a commentary about the declining morality of the youth in Madison. When Reverend Nichols asked Marti if she had anything to do with it, she said, ‘I’m sorry, I thought all publicity was good publicity’