The Bend
Page 27
“That’s the way to go.” The woman clasped Penny's right hand with her free one. “Meet you by the door once I pay for this beauty. “I'm Marie, by the way. And you are?”
“Penny.” She couldn't stop her grin especially when the cashier called “Next,” and her new friend danced a little jig to the counter.
Penny glanced down at her plain, snow-white briefs. Should she grab the pink? Maybe a pair of those purple bikinis?
Instead, she pulled her purse closer to her chest to peer into it. Hopefully she'd remembered her credit cards. She liked to use a different one for different purchases, Discover for groceries and Visa for household items. A third was reserved for frivolous items. Sadly, that card never seemed to see the light of day. Maybe today she’d use it for her purchase and for her tea with her new friend. A grin formed on her lips. Maybe she would treat them to a fancy pastry too.
She dug deeper into the special pockets of her purse when a loud thud halted her fingers.
Marie lay crumpled on the floor. She clutched her chest, gasping for air, staring up at her with wide eyes.
Penny froze—then as though someone pushed a button in her back, she tossed her underwear to the side, and dropped onto her knees.
“Are you okay? Someone call 911!” She peeled open the woman's jacket, hoping to get to her chest quickly. Her fingers fluttered over the pale face, smoothing her wrinkled forehead. What should she do first? Check her pulse? Penny looked up at the horrified onlookers surrounding them. “Does anyone know CPR? I don’t think she’s breathing!”
No one joined her on the floor, but several began to moan. She yelled again, her voice shaking. “Please? Someone?” Marie couldn’t die on the floor of a lingerie store. Her grandchildren were waiting to dance with her. She and Marie were going to have tea while she told Penny about Paris. Finally, she tipped back the woman's head and tried to remember what she had learned about CPR. Clear her airway first? No, maybe she needed to blow into her mouth or maybe pound her chest? Sweat soaked Penny's underarms. She placed one hand over the other in a desperate attempt to find the woman's heart.
It couldn’t end like this. “Someone, please.” She strained to hear life-saving sirens. Instead, she heard the pounding of her own heart in her ears—threatening to topple her over as well.
“Let me!” A firm hand shoved into her side as a teenage girl jumped into action and began to perform the lifesaving techniques she should have known.
Penny crawled to the wall, riveted to the scene as a mere child pumped Marie's chest, fighting to save her life. A ragged prayer left Penny's mouth, begging God to let the poor woman live.
After what seemed like hours, the local paramedics arrived and took over. Most of the onlookers dispersed, but she forced herself to stand near a glass display cabinet of silk pajamas. The paramedics continued their valiant efforts as they loaded the woman’s body to a waiting ambulance.
Penny's legs wilted. Would she be the next one to crumple to the carpet? She pulled her coat closer and eyed the doorway. She needed to get home. To safety.
“Ma’am, thank you for your heroic efforts.” A young man’s kind face swirled in front of her. One of the paramedics who had rushed in to help. “They say you tried to save her life.”
“I didn’t know what to do,” she whispered—fully aware now her breathing was labored. She struggled to speak again. “I’m sorry.” Another whisper.
“Why don’t you sit over here a minute and let me check you out too.”
He guided her toward a bench set up for bored husbands although she tried to protest. Still nothing came out. “Tell me your name.” His direct question broke through her gray haze.
“Penny . . . Penny Hope.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Hope. How about you take off your coat and roll up your sleeve.” He wrapped a blood pressure cuff on her left arm, and listened to her heart. She wanted to protest and say she wasn’t the one who fell. It was that sweet woman whom she’d been talking to minutes before. A woman who only wanted to surprise her family. A woman who fell in love with a crazy-colored housecoat and had once ran away to Paris. “I came to buy underwear,” she said instead.
His smile reminded her of her ex’s when they first met. Sweet. Compassionate.
“Is there someone I can call to drive you home?”
Someone?
She shook her head no. “I’ll be fine. It’s the shock of seeing her . . .” She swallowed the word collapse, “in front of me.”
He helped her stand; his gentle touch guided her elbow. Did she appear that unsteady? Old at just fifty? Certainly incapable—she couldn’t perform CPR when a life depended on her. She politely shook him off and smiled, reassured him she’d be fine, and then scrambled for the open door, her new white panties left behind on Jolie’s orange and green shag carpet.
The next day Penny scanned the Sunday Steam Hollow Gazette for information on the woman who had fallen at her feet. The following day, she performed the same ritual. Then she found it. Her eyesight blurred. A photo of the woman with smiling children had been used instead of a single portrait. They must have paid a professional photographer—it was perfect. She was surrounded by three young girls and a toddler boy all dressed in matching green and blue outfits. Her grandchildren?
Marie, Penny read. Her name was Marie Angelo.
She was clearly loved.
The paper fell from her hand and landed with a soft flop onto her lap. Why hadn’t she saved Marie? Why couldn’t she remember what to do when a life counted on her?
The ornate mahogany clock her father built when she was twelve bonged softly while the steady drip from the kitchen faucet tapped behind her in endless rhythm. No gentle sounds of family or children filled her home. An empty house—an empty heart.
She’d grown up in Steam Hollow, married Eric in the Valley Chapel Church, and planned to die there. She'd already bought her plot in Forever Gardens although she wasn’t sure where Eric would land.
Penny's gaze fell onto the obituary again. Marie’s funeral was scheduled for three o’clock on Saturday. She folded the paper into three neat parts and placed it on the side table. She would go to the funeral. She’d wear the green cotton dress she wore the day she caught Eric in bed with her best friend. The same day she decided God had better prayers to answer than hers.