by Delia Parr
Aunt Dorothy’s eyes widened. “Not at all! The very first night he called asking me to go out with him, I made sure he knew I would never, ever sleep with a man who didn’t put a wedding ring on my finger first. He just wanted me to break my rules. That’s why he bought me the earrings and a pretty scarf and a box of German candy.”
Although Charlene felt awkward discussing dating with her aunt, she was too curious to stop now. She heard the microwave ding, retrieved the cup of coffee and set it down in front of her aunt. “What rules?”
“My keeping-company rules,” Aunt Dorothy replied, and wrapped her fingers around the steaming cup of coffee, waiting for it to cool.
“Dating rules,” Charlene confirmed.
“Exactly. I had three, and I never broke them, no matter how good-looking the man happened to be or how many presents he gave me to try to sway my mind.”
“Apparently I already know your first keeping-company rule. No sleeping together before marriage. What are the others?”
“Not sleeping together isn’t my rule. It’s one of God’s,” her aunt countered, and lifted her hands to count off her rules. “First,” she said as she tapped the tip of one index finger against the other, “absolutely no kissing on the first date.”
Charlene nodded. Her mother had pounded that rule, among others, into her head long before she had started dating. Not that she had always obeyed it. She clearly remembered kissing Daniel on their first date, but opted not to mention that to her aunt.
“Second,” her aunt continued, “only two kisses per date. Two. Didn’t matter if we went out to supper for an hour or two or if we spent the whole day together. Two was my limit.”
“Why only two?”
“The same reason some people with a sweet tooth only have two pieces of candy a day—to satisfy the longing and avoid too much temptation. Which brings me to rule number three,” her aunt replied matter-of-factly as she held up three fingers. “The third time a man asks you to break rule number one or two, he’s out. Gone. It’s over. Done. Kaput.”
Charlene cocked her head. “How long did Billy Martin last?”
“Till Thanksgiving that year. But I had a new beau by Christmas,” Aunt Dorothy said proudly. “I think I’ll save John Hartman’s story for another time, though. Are those English muffins I spied on the counter when I came in?”
“They are,” Charlene said, and stood up. “Would you like one toasted?”
“Real dark, if you don’t mind. I think there’s some sugar-free crab apple jelly on the door in the refrigerator, but I need to take my needle first,” she said, and started to get up.
Charlene gestured her back into her seat. “I’ll get everything and toast the muffins. In the meantime, you need to take your pills.”
Aunt Dorothy glanced at the mound of pills in the antique salt dish and frowned. “Half of those pills are big enough to choke a horse. The other half are so small I will hardly be able to pick them up. You’d think somebody at those drug companies would think about that, but they’re all probably under thirty and wouldn’t have a clue,” she grumbled.
Charlene got a disposable hypodermic needle and an alcohol swab from the counter and laid them on the table before retrieving the bottle of insulin and the jelly from the refrigerator. Yesterday morning at this time she had been at Sweet Stuff, so this was her first chance to observe her aunt injecting insulin.
“I’m going to teach you how to do this, so watch closely,” her aunt instructed. “There’s nothing to it.” She pulled the plastic cover off the needle and eased the tip into the bottle of insulin. “You just have to remember to fill the needle up to the line that’s marked ten,” she said, and pulled the plunger back to fill the syringe. Once she was satisfied she had the correct dosage, she pulled out the needle and handed it to Charlene.
Mindful of Agnes Withers’s warning that her aunt was not able to see well enough to ensure she had the right dosage, Charlene checked carefully. Her heart dropped. “I think there’s too much insulin in the syringe. Didn’t you say you had to fill it up to the ten?”
“Yes, why?”
Charlene held the syringe closer to her aunt and pointed to the ten. “You’ve got it filled up too high. It’s at fifteen—see?”
Aunt Dorothy leaned closer and squinted, without bothering to remove her glasses. “If you say so. It’s hard to see because the insulin doesn’t have a good dark color. I really ought to speak to the pharmacy. Maybe somebody there could add some food coloring or something to make the insulin easier to see.”
“There’s no harm done,” Charlene murmured. She inserted the tip of the needle back into the bottle and extracted the excess insulin. “There. You’re all set now,” she said, and held the hypodermic needle out to her aunt.
Her aunt pulled back. “Go ahead. You do it.”
Charlene blinked hard. “Do what?”
“Give me my injection,” her aunt said, and pushed up the sleeve on her left arm.
“I—I don’t know how.”
Her aunt cleaned a spot on her upper arm with the alcohol swab. “Just shove it in. You can’t hurt me.”
Charlene’s heart began to pound, but she took a deep breath, then gently inserted the needle and pressed firmly on the plunger.
“That was easy enough, wasn’t it?” her aunt asked as Charlene removed the needle. “Just drop the whole thing into that plastic bottle over there, and you’re done until tomorrow.”
With her hands trembling, Charlene disposed of the needle. Assuming responsibility for this daily ritual had definitely not been part of her plans, but she clearly didn’t have any other choice. In order to guarantee that her aunt injected the right amount of insulin every day, Charlene would have to fill the syringe for her.
“I’ve got some fresh tuna salad in the refrigerator for lunch. I shouldn’t be home from church later than noon,” she informed her aunt as she split an English muffin and popped both halves into the toaster.
“It’s Fellowship Sunday. Stay for coffee and donuts. And don’t worry about me. Annie and Madeline are coming over to stay with me while you’re at church. Annie is a volunteer for the Outreach Ministry and visits with folks too old or too sick to go to church on Sunday anyway, and since Madeline is thinking about joining as a volunteer, too, she said she wanted to come along and pray with us here. Then we’ll just visit together until you get home.”
She pointed across the room toward the cabinets. “There should be a box of those small plastic baggies in that top drawer over there. Take one and stick it in your purse.”
Charlene cocked a brow.
Her aunt moistened her lips. “I’d dearly love to have one of McAllister’s raspberry-jelly donuts drenched with granulated sugar, not that powdery stuff. Bring me one home from church, will you?”
“You can’t eat one of those jelly donuts,” Charlene argued. “There’s almost enough sugar in one of them to send me into diabetic shock, and I don’t have diabetes! I thought you promised the doctors you wouldn’t cheat on your diet.”
“I said I’d try not to cheat so much,” her aunt countered. She pouted for a moment, pulled a battered tissue from the pocket of her robe and wiped her nose. “Based on everything the doctors told me, I could die today or tomorrow or anytime in the next few months or so. Since the good Lord is really in charge, I’ve decided to accept the fact that He’ll take me Home when He’s good and ready, and not a moment before. So I’m going to use what time I have left enjoying things I like best. Today, I’m thinking that would be a raspberry-jelly donut from McAllister’s.”
Charlene shook her head. She was tempted to refuse her aunt’s request, but she found it difficult to argue with her reasoning or her right to make these kinds of decisions for herself.
Reminded once again of the thin line separating her duty to see that her aunt followed her doctors’ instructions and her obligation to respect her aunt’s right to decide how she wanted to live the rest of her days, Charlene recognized the dil
emma. But in this case, she was very sure about one thing: she was not ready to start bringing home treats from various functions in little plastic baggies.
Chapter Nine
Attending Sunday services in a new church with an unfamiliar minister did not feel nearly as odd to Charlene as sitting in a pew without Daniel at her side. Favorite prayers and the verses of Scripture that she had loved all her life helped to ease her discomfort. The welcome she had received from members of the congregation, as well as Ellie’s companionship, also made her feel at home.
During the services, Charlene prayed for the wisdom to give Aunt Dorothy the best care, the courage to face the difficulties in her marriage and the insight to resolve them. She was still humming the closing hymn when she and Ellie left the church by the side door, both agreeing not to attend the coffee clutch.
“You like to sing,” Ellie noted as they descended the steps.
Charlene felt a blush warm her cheeks and immediately stopped humming. “I hope I didn’t get too carried away.”
“Not at all. I always feel timid about singing,” Ellie admitted.
“I think church is the one place I can sing my heart out. Since God gave me this pitiful voice, I figured He couldn’t complain when I used it to praise Him,” Charlene said. “Back home, folks are used to me singing off-key. I hope I didn’t upset anyone here today.”
Ellie laughed. “You weren’t singing loud enough to drown out Mr. Owens. He almost barks his way through the hymns, and no one has the heart to complain,” she said, and pointed to her right. “We can cut through the parking lot at Whitman Commons, or we can take the other path back to your aunt’s house. Either way, we can carry our lights with us,” she teased, referring to the closing hymn Charlene had been humming.
Charlene hesitated, trying to decide on a destination. “McAllister’s would be in the other direction, right?”
Ellie nodded. “If you want something from the bakery, we should stay and join the others. They always have donuts from McAllister’s on Fellowship Sunday here.”
“Except that I’m not ready to be a bag lady,” Charlene declared, and told Ellie about her aunt’s request for a jelly donut in a plastic baggie. “Since you suggested walking together yesterday, I’ve thought about it, and hoped we could start today and walk to the bakeshop so I can buy some donuts for Aunt Dorothy and her friends. Unless you have to get right back to your mother.”
“No. She’s got her best friend, Phyllis Kennedy, with her for the morning. Actually, I could use the walk. I got up at five o’clock to grade papers before church, and I’ve still got two more sets to go, plus lesson plans to write. A good walk would be a nice way to grab a little time for myself. I could also use the company,” she admitted as they headed off. “I don’t know about you, but my light has gotten a whole lot dimmer lately.”
“Mine, too,” Charlene murmured, and increased her pace to keep up with Ellie.
“After spending so much time at the hospital, between trying to catch up on my schoolwork and taking care of my mother this weekend, I’m not sure if I’ll have the energy to face eighty students tomorrow, although Monday is generally my easiest day. The kids are usually pretty sluggish on the first day of the week because they’re recuperating from their busy weekends.” She stopped at the corner. “Do you want to walk the avenue or stay on the side streets?”
“The side streets,” Charlene replied. “I can get from my store to Aunt Dorothy’s house, but I’m afraid I really don’t know my way around Welleswood very well because I’m always in such a rush to get to work and home again. I should learn. Otherwise, if I do leave the avenue, I might walk in circles and never find my way.”
“We’ll turn here, then.”
Side by side, they walked down Maple Avenue under a canopy of barren tree limbs, past stately homes much grander than Charlene’s aunt’s cottage or her own small house in Grand Mills, which sat on two isolated acres of wooded land.
“Did you ever think about taking care of your mother or father when they got old? I mean, before. When you were younger,” she asked.
“Not very often,” Ellie replied. “My mother and I are about as opposite as two people can be, and I spent most of my time growing up eager to be independent and move out. After my dad died awhile back, I did think about the possibility that I might need to care for my mother some day, but I usually set the idea aside, figuring I’d deal with it if and when I had to.” She let out a long sigh. “I guess that time is now.” She turned to Charlene. “What about you? Did you ever think you’d be caring for either of your parents one day?”
“I was only three when my father died,” Charlene replied. “My mother died not long after I got married, so I never really thought about it.”
They stopped at a cross street for a moment to let a Jeep filled with four teenagers go by. Charlene was also grateful for the chance to catch her breath before Ellie started them walking again.
“I got much closer to Aunt Dorothy once I opened the store here in Welleswood,” Charlene went on. “But I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t realize how her health had deteriorated until she was hospitalized.”
“She’s still incredibly active for a woman her age.”
“And you walk incredibly fast,” Charlene teased, struggling to keep up.
“Sorry. I forgot you’re a newbie,” Ellie replied, and slowed her pace.
“Better,” Charlene said. “In the hospital, when the doctors told us Aunt Dorothy shouldn’t live alone anymore, I couldn’t bear the thought that she’d have to spend the rest of her days in a nursing home any more than she could. In a way, I think caring for her gives me the opportunity to do for her what I never had the chance to do for my mother because…because she didn’t live long enough to get old.”
Ellie looked at her and shook her head. “You’re amazing.”
“Not really,” Charlene murmured. If she were amazing, Daniel would not be relieved to be living apart from her, and she would have known how to keep her marriage a happy one. She just didn’t feel comfortable discussing her failures with Ellie. Not yet. “What are you going to do about your mother tomorrow when you go back to work?” she asked as they entered Welleswood Park.
Instead of following the asphalt walkways, Ellie set off directly across the grass, and Charlene had to be careful not to step on any of the spring crocuses that splashed the landscape with varying colors of purple and yellow. “I intend to pray a lot,” Ellie said as they headed toward a gazebo facing the lake in the middle of the park. “After what happened yesterday with the alarm, I’ve also decided to take your advice and forget about using the security system while she’s living with me.”
“Welleswood is such a sweet little town, I’m still surprised by the fact that you have an alarm system at all.”
“I had it installed after my husband died because I was scared to live alone. I never bothered to have it removed once I got more accustomed to being by myself. Anyway, I’ve got my home phone programmed so all my mother has to do is hit one button and she’ll reach my cell phone, which is never, ever going to be out of my possession again,” she added.
Charlene winced. “I wish I’d noticed the cell phone before you left the store yesterday.”
“Forgetting my cell phone was my fault, not yours,” Ellie replied. “I have to make sure that I don’t ever leave it anywhere again. We’re not supposed to carry a cell phone in the classroom while teaching, but I don’t think I have any other choice. I’ll just make sure the ringer is off and it’s set to Vibrate. In a real emergency, my mother will have to dial nine-one-one until the end of the week, when the Total Care system gets installed. Then she’ll have an alert device to wear so that if she falls or is too sick to reach the phone when I’m not home, she can press a button to summon help.”
Panting, Charlene nodded toward the gazebo just ahead. “Let’s sit. I need just a minute to catch my breath, otherwise you’ll be calling nine-one-one for me, and it won’t be a false a
larm,” she teased.
“You’ll be keeping up with me in no time,” Ellie assured her as they walked straight to one of the benches built inside the gazebo. Honeysuckle vines and rhododendron bushes were just turning green, and although the fountain in the middle of the lake was still shut down, the springtime view was lovely. “We can sit, but just for a minute,” she warned.
Charlene plopped down, opened her purse to get a tissue and wiped the sweat from her face. She looked around, did not see a trash can and stuck the rumpled tissue back into her purse. “I’m seriously thinking about buying a few shares in a company that makes tissues.”
“Why tissues?”
“Now that old age is just around the corner for us baby boomers, the demand for tissues should absolutely skyrocket, if Aunt Dorothy is an example. She’s gone through an entire box of tissues in two days. She keeps them in her pockets day and night and never remembers to throw them away. I did a load of laundry for her yesterday and made the mistake of not checking the pockets. I wound up with a tub full of wet clothes completely covered with itsy-bitsy, teeny pieces of tissue.”
“Yuck!”
Charlene chuckled. “I thought for a minute they were tiny bugs gobbling up all the clothes. Unfortunately, I realized the pieces were pink and blue, and not brown, only after I’d sprayed the whole mess with an entire can of insect killer.”
Ellie started giggling. “You did not.”
Charlene grinned. “No, I didn’t, but I made you laugh and I managed to keep us both sitting down for more than a minute.”
“Let’s go. Story time’s over,” Ellie announced, and slapped her knees. “McAllister’s closes early on Sundays, so unless you intend to disappoint your aunt, we’d better get started again.”
“How much farther?” Charlene asked.
“If we use the footbridge to cross the lake and take a shortcut, we have about a quarter mile. Ten minutes. Tops.”