Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014

by Joyce Livingston, Gail Sattler, Joyce Livingston

  Debbie could nearly see the fire and brimstone spurting out of Trish’s nostrils. As she went about her day, she sensed Trish glaring at her and whispering to the other nurses. Then things began to happen. Debbie’s linen cart mysteriously disappeared. All the call lights for her patients came on at once. When she answered them, only to find nothing amiss, they were turned on again. She began to fume. If things weren’t difficult enough, now she had to deal with coworkers acting like grade school kids.

  When Trish and company left for lunch, Debbie used the time to present her gift to Elvina. She found the older woman sitting in her chair positioned in front of the window, though Debbie knew she couldn’t see the pretty view of the evergreen trees. Love welled up within her at the sight of the woman, especially with the knowledge that this was Neil’s beloved grandmother. “Hi, Elvina.”

  She turned her head and smiled. “Debbie, how are you?”

  “I’m doing well.”

  “Why don’t I have you today? I have that one who always sounds like she has a cold.”

  “I wish I had control over the assignments, Elvina, but it’s the head nurse who makes them out.” Debbie took a seat beside her. “I have something for you.” Gently she placed a record on Elvina’s lap.

  “What is this?” She sniffed it. “Smells old. A record?”

  “Yes. I found several of them in a flea market, and I thought you might like to hear some new tunes. There’s one that has a song about a woodpecker, of all things.”

  Elvina began to glow. “How wonderful. I would love to hear it. I could use some laughter right about now.”

  Debbie obliged by starting up the player and putting on an album. Soon the room filled with the crazy tune. In no time, they were singing away with the lyrics and mimicking the song’s funny woodpecker noises.

  They both broke out in laughter at the song’s conclusion. “Could your husband sing?” Debbie asked.

  “Joe? Dear me, no. He couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, poor thing. He once told me how he tried out for the choir. The choirmaster thought he should do other things. He was very good at building. He made me a wonderful cabinet to store all my fine china. I certainly hope my daughter is taking good care of it.”

  Debbie began to fidget, wondering how she should broach the subject of the other man Elvina had talked to Neil about. “I think the oldies are still goodies.”

  “Oh, they certainly are. Now my Samuel, he had a wonderful singing voice. He would make me swoon with his voice. I told him he should go to Hollywood and star in a musical.”

  Debbie caught her breath. It seemed almost too good to be true. Elvina was actually talking about him! “I don’t think I’ve heard about Samuel. Was he one of your sons?”

  Elvina laughed long and loud. “Oh, you are a funny thing. Certainly not, though I often thought of naming one of my sons after him. I don’t think Joe would have approved. He knew how close Samuel and I once were. I think Joe was afraid the man would show up on my doorstep one day, ready to whisk me away or something.”

  Even as Elvina spoke, Debbie began to rationalize all this out. Elvina must have once had two boyfriends competing for her love. Maybe they had tried to woo her in different ways, one with flowers and song, and the other with trips to the store for an ice cream float. Debbie had to admit she wouldn’t mind two men fighting over her. There was a certain romantic lure to it all. Two men, each one interested, each one thinking she was special, each one wanting to share their life and love forever. Then she chastised herself. What was wrong with one special man wooing her with hot chocolate and a great smile? Neil was more than enough, in her opinion, and she hoped the feeling was mutual.

  “I don’t know what happened to him.” Her voice softened. “For all I know, Samuel died on the battlefield.”

  Battlefield? Now Debbie was all ears.

  “Maybe he never came back. Or if he came back, he never tried to contact me. Maybe even now he’s wondering what happened to his Albert. But I did what he wanted. I took care of his little boy while he was gone. I treated him as if he were my own.”

  “Hello! Excuse me! If this isn’t much of a bother, your people are ringing their call lights, Debbie. And Harriet is nearly on the floor.”

  Debbie whirled to see Trish standing in the doorway, her arms folded. She stood up and followed Trish to the solarium to find one of the residents, the elderly Harriet Watson, leaning a bit sideways out of her chair. “Anyone could have helped her,” Debbie grumbled, helping the woman sit upright with pillows at her sides to support her.

  “We have enough to do without looking after your residents while you sing some dumb woodpecker song and hold Elvina’s hand,” Trish said in a huff.

  Debbie burned with anger. Everything took flight, even the bit of joy over the way Elvina was beginning to open up about her past. Debbie soon began snapping at the residents. When one accidentally tipped over his tray of food, spilling it on the floor and leaving colorful patterns on her smock, she scolded him.

  “Debbie, may I see you for a minute?”

  Mrs. Whitaker spoke from the doorway of her office. Heat flooded Debbie’s face at the thought of the head nurse witnessing her outbursts.

  “Is everything all right?” asked Mrs. Whitaker. “I’ve never seen you lose your temper with the residents.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Sometimes it can get very stressful around the holidays. The residents get more demanding.”

  “The personnel aren’t much better.”

  Mrs. Whitaker raised her eyebrow.

  “I’ll be frank, Mrs. Whitaker. Trish and I do not get along at all.”

  “It’s not like I haven’t noticed. But we must do what we can in order to give the residents the best care possible. They are our priority.”

  “Trish doesn’t think so. More than once, I’ve had to clean up after her. She doesn’t brush their teeth. She never combs their hair. And she gets the praise of everyone on the floor just because she has the biggest mouth.”

  Mrs. Whitaker stood silent and still, studying her. Debbie knew she had blown it big-time. She’d let her irritation get the best of her. Though she wanted Mrs. Whitaker to know about Trish’s work habits, she never expected it to come out this way. But maybe it was just as well. The truth had finally been let out of the bag instead of being hidden away for far too long.

  “I will follow Trish and see what’s happening. But I suggest, Debbie, that you concentrate on what you’re doing. I can say that, after what I observed today, you are no different than Trish. Raising your voice with the residents is not proper care either.”

  “I know. I shouldn’t have done it. I wasn’t mad at them but at other things. And I took it out on them, which I shouldn’t have.”

  “Debbie, I know we all experience frustrations here. I have my moments, too. But we have to be doubly careful to keep ourselves under control at all times.” She nodded before returning to the computer screen to complete the day’s charting.

  Debbie shuffled out of the office, only to see Trish standing at the nurses’ station, a funny grin painted on her face. If only she had an ally on this floor, someone who would vouch for her and what she had witnessed concerning Trish. But there was no one. No one cared. She was on her own. Talk about being on the battlefield of the enemy, alone, just like Harold warned. She was living it.

  The work shift had ended by the time Debbie ventured back to see Elvina. She made certain that Trish and her cohorts had left before she returned to the room. Elvina was listening to one of the records she had brought. “I’m back, Elvina.”

  “I was thinking of you and wondered where you went.”

  “I had to take care of some residents.” She shrugged. “It’s just like one of the other residents said—I’m here on a battlefield without a friend in the world.”

&nb
sp; “Now, now.” Elvina reached out her hand, which Debbie took. The older lady squeezed it. “You’re my friend.”

  “Thanks, Elvina.”

  “In fact, I do believe you’re my best friend. I don’t have friends here. I don’t talk to anyone except the girl at the beauty parlor. And, of course, Nathaniel.”

  “Why don’t you go play bingo or do some crafts?”

  “I like the minister at the Sunday services. But I think people see me and decide they can’t talk to me because I’m blind and can’t see them. Or maybe I make them uncomfortable, and they think they will say the wrong words.”

  “It must be hard.”

  “I was thankful to see what I could before the glaucoma took away my sight. I saw my dear husband and my children.”

  “And you saw Samuel, too.”

  “Samuel! I told you about Samuel? My goodness, I haven’t told anyone about Samuel. I saw him before he left to go to war. World War II, you know. And he told me. . .” She paused.

  All at once Debbie saw her gray blue eyes fill with tears. Elvina’s hand fell away to rest in her lap, which was covered by a knitted lap robe.

  “He asked me to take care of his little boy. He had a boy, you know. The little boy’s mother died in childbirth. That’s what Samuel told me. And he asked me to look after his Albert while he was gone to war. And I did, Debbie, even when Samuel didn’t come home. Little Albert became part of our family when I married Joe. He grew up and married Terrie. And they had three children. Richard, Sandra, and Nathaniel J. But Albert died so young, the poor thing. He died in Vietnam.”

  Debbie stared in disbelief. Despite the sadness of it all, the truth rang loud and clear. Neil indeed had another grandfather, a man he never knew, a man who went off to war and left his father in Elvina’s care. “And you have no idea what happened to Samuel?”

  She shook her head. “I heard from him once. I used to have the letter. I don’t know whatever happened to it. I should have put it in a frame. It’s gone now, as are most of my things. But I can remember it clearly, as if he had written it yesterday. He told me how rainy and cold it was in England. He said they would soon go and free France. He said there wasn’t anything better than fighting to free others. He told me to give Albert a hug and tell him his father loved him.”

  Tears trickled down her plump cheeks. Debbie leaned over and plucked two tissues out of the box, one for Elvina and one for herself.

  “I read the letter to Albert. He was only three. He took it in his hands and held it to his heart. What a sweet sight. It was the closest he ever came to his father since he left for war, the handwriting on that paper. I would show the letter to him every so often, telling him his father wrote it after he went off to war. When he was about ten, he asked about the war. I told him as best I could. But I didn’t want to share how I used to feel about Samuel, since I was married to Joe, you know. Those things shouldn’t come out. I loved my Joe.” She blew her nose. “And yes, I loved Samuel, too. But it was different. A different kind of love. In a different time and place. And that time is gone. But I wish it would come back. I wish I could know where he is. I wish I could see him one last time, show him his grandchildren. He would be so proud. But it’s a Christmas gift well beyond anyone’s ability to give.”

  Debbie left White Pines, her thoughts fairly spinning over this emotional revelation. It seemed too unbelievable to be real, yet it was. And she was in on it all, along with Neil. Neil. She would have to tell Neil the truth. What would he think? How would he react? Would the news push them away or bring them closer? She didn’t know as she hugged her arms around her to ward off the chilly December night. She would have to tell him and let God handle the rest.

  Eight

  Neil felt like Watson meeting Sherlock, only Debbie didn’t appear for this meeting dressed in a full-length trench coat. Instead, she sat opposite him in the coffee shop in a fuzzy blue sweater. A shaggy scarf dangled around her neck, and she wore gold hoop earrings. She looked radiant. When she called earlier to invite him for coffee, he nearly fell over. A woman hadn’t invited him to do anything in ages. He took the coffee-and-bagel invite as the next best thing to dinner at a five-star restaurant. Of course this was hardly some special date. From the seriousness of her expression as she sipped her cappuccino, this was strictly business. But he hoped more might come out of the conversation in the end.

  “You were right, Neil,” she began.

  I was right? That was news to him. So far, it seemed he hadn’t been right about anything. After the fiasco at his mother’s, the phone call to his sister, and a fruitless Internet search to try and hunt down clues to his past, he only saw doors slamming in every direction.

  “You have a different grandfather on your dad’s side.”

  The coffee caught in his throat. He coughed, quickly covering his mouth with a napkin before he made a fool out of himself by splattering coffee down the front of his sweater.

  “Are you all right? I can hit you on the back or something, but if you’re coughing, that usually means you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay,” he said in a raspy voice. “I should have swallowed first before you broke the news. How did you find out?”

  “Elvina told me. Took awhile, but she finally did. His name was Samuel.”

  “Samuel what?”

  Debbie’s full red lips turned pouty. For some reason, she looked absolutely kissable at that moment, and he couldn’t figure out why. She had just dropped a bombshell of some unknown grandfather. Kissing should be the furthest activity from his mind. Maybe he should simply ditch all this soap opera stuff—the strange grandfather, his family’s weird reactions, Gram’s longing to see some old flame—and enjoy this budding relationship. That would be nice. Maybe soon. First, he had to get this resolved.

  “She never mentioned his last name. All I know is, he went off to war.”

  “Which war? We’ve had plenty.”

  “The Civil War.”

  A twinkle in her eye now accompanied her upturned lips. If not for the table separating them at this moment and the seriousness of this discussion, he might be forced to act on his impulses and skip to the kissing part. “Very funny. We’ve had several wars in the twentieth century. World War I and II. Korean War, Vietnam. Desert Storm. Afghanistan. Iraq. Of course I’m pretty sure it wasn’t any of the later ones.”

  “World War II. He left his boy behind, Elvina said, asking that she take care of him while he was away. The little boy’s mother had died giving birth, it seems. How sad. And the boy’s name was Albert.”

  Again his throat tickled, but at least he wasn’t in the midst of swallowing coffee. He coughed. “That was my dad’s name. Albert Jenson.”

  “He must’ve had a different last name, though, before he was adopted into the Jenson family. Maybe you can ask your mom what it was.”

  He shuddered at the thought of another confrontation with his mother. “I don’t think I can. She wasn’t too keen about me prying into this matter in the first place. All she and Sandy told me to do was let it go. But I think I have the right to know who my true grandparents are. There’s nothing wrong about wanting to know one’s heritage.”

  “Or knowing, for instance, if you’re predisposed to hereditary traits,” Debbie added. “I mean, when you fill out physicals, you have to give a family history of illnesses, such as heart disease, cancer, or some other diseases in the family.”

  He began turning his cup. A bit of coffee tainted the table, probably from the first coughing episode, and now it made a perfect brown ring. “Did Gram say what happened to Samuel?”

  “No, and that’s where the real mystery comes in. She said she never received word about his circumstances. Once he shipped out overseas, she got one letter from him, and that was all. I think it’s strange that a man who left behind a son he obviously loved would suddenly disa
ppear. My thinking is he probably went missing in action.”

  “Maybe. Then why would Gram want to see him again?”

  “I suppose she wants to know what happened—to close that chapter in her life. She has little else to think about in her wheelchair all day, you know. You get to thinking about the past. And obviously she has been thinking about Samuel.”

  Neil sighed. He wished there were more to go on. Like a last name for the man. What unit he was with. He might have been able to do some further research on the Internet. It might take another trip home, maybe when his mother was preoccupied with her quilting bee. He had a key to the house. He could go over there and do some hunting to avoid further family turmoil over this. Though he wished his mother would just come out and tell him what she knew and save him the trouble of digging for answers. Obviously the idea of some other man in the family line raised questions some would rather leave unasked. But it was important to him. His bloodline was not of the true Jenson. He was not a true relation to Gram—or to any of those relatives on his dad’s side he saw at holidays or at reunions. He had no true grandmother, paternal aunts, uncles, or even cousins, as far as he knew.

  He sucked in his breath. Is this how his father once felt? Did he, too, wonder who his real parents were? If he had any other siblings? Or did he just accept Gram, Grandpa Joe, and those who loved him, casting away the mystery concerning the identity of his real parents. If only Neil could ask him. If only he knew his own dad, too. Now he had two lost loved ones, his grandfather and his dad, who didn’t know that he, Neil, lived and breathed, that he carried on their characteristics, that he was alive and doing pretty good for himself, all things considered.

  “Neil?” Debbie asked, staring at him with a questioningly look in her deep blue eyes. Against the fuzzy blue sweater, those eyes looked even more intense. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh sure.”

  “I’m not so sure. You look like one of the lost boys in Never-Never Land. You haven’t said anything.”