Forgiveness Road

by Mandy Mikulencak

  When Janelle told Ruth about the board’s decision, she made the sign of the cross and turned back toward the sink and her dishwashing.

  “What’s that for, old woman?” Janelle asked.

  “None of my business, ma’am,” she said beneath the clanking of pots and pans.

  “Speak your piece.”

  Ruth turned and stood proud and tall, unafraid to challenge Janelle.

  “Why haven’t you told Miss Caroline about your plan?” she asked. “Secrets like that cause the deepest type of wound. They’ll never heal.”

  “I’m Cissy’s guardian. It’s my decision to make,” Janelle said. Caroline’s reaction wasn’t a primary concern, nor was the permanent damage the abortion would likely do to their already strained relationship.

  “Hasn’t there been enough killing in this family?” Ruth asked. “Taking that baby’s life ain’t going to punish Mr. Pickering for his sins. He’s long dead and will be judged by his Creator. It’s not our right to judge the baby.”

  “I’m not judging the baby. Cissy shouldn’t have to carry that monster’s child.”

  “You’re not giving Miss Cissy the chance to decide on her own. That baby’s soul is pure. It’s a miracle from God, a blessing from such a horrible thing.”

  Janelle let out a guttural cry and took a china dinner plate from the drain board.

  “Just what are you going to do with that?” Ruth taunted.

  Janelle threw it at the kitchen door, just a foot from Ruth, who didn’t flinch. She wiped her hands in the dish towel, leaving the shards where they lay. Although her hair was ghost white, she seemed stronger and more assured than she’d been in her younger years.

  “I’m warning you now, Ruth. Don’t ever speak of blessings to me. You have your God and your beliefs, but I’ll not stand to hear it in my house.”

  She wanted to run out the back door, to run and run until her legs gave out. She wanted to lie in the dried hay fields behind the house and disappear. In that moment, Janelle couldn’t bear to think she’d somehow crossed a line. Without Ruth’s support, Janelle had no one.

  “I told you it was none of my business, but you asked anyway,” Ruth reminded her.

  “Well, I should’ve listened. Now please clean up this mess for me. I’m going to pack. I want to be there for Cissy tomorrow.”

  When she reached the bedroom, she slammed the door, confused about what to do first. She needed just a few items for an overnight trip to Meridian: a day’s change of clothes and some toiletries. A small carpet bag would do and she dragged it from underneath the bed. It smelled of wool and mothballs. Janelle stood still, breathing deeply of the musty odors and grasping unsuccessfully for memories associated with the scent.

  Without thinking, she reached under the bed again and grabbed a smallish suitcase and then a larger one. Soon both lay open on the bed, begging to be filled. Janelle made no effort to resist the plan taking shape.

  She rummaged through drawers for late fall and winter outfits to pack. She emptied the contents of her jewelry box into a silk blouse and wrapped it up in a ball, tying the sleeves into a knot around the bundle and tossing it into the small suitcase. Then she loosened a board at the back of the armoire and retrieved ten thousand dollars in cash hidden there. The Depression had taught her that banks weren’t always the safest places. Beau had made fun of her secret stash all those years. Now, her foolishness had paid off.

  When she’d finished packing, she changed into a nightgown and crawled into bed even though the sun still shone strong in the evening sky. She didn’t answer when Ruth knocked softly at the door, asking about supper. Janelle closed her eyes and hoped her nerves wouldn’t get the best of her in the morning.

  * * *

  The next day, she made her way down the corridor at Riley Hospital, looking for the door to the recovery room the nurse had described. Cissy should have been resting comfortably by then. The monstrosity that used to reside in her was now just hospital waste and not the precious great-grandchild Ruth hoped they’d have in their lives in a few months.

  The plan to rescue Cissy before she could be moved back to the psychiatric hospital now seemed foolhardy. Earlier, she’d decided to trip the fire alarm and hope to get Cissy into a wheelchair and out of the hospital before anyone noticed. There were so many variables including whether she had the physical strength to push the wheelchair into the parking lot. Janelle couldn’t know how Cissy would react. If she was confused or belligerent, she’d draw unwanted attention.

  Janelle passed a small waiting area and peered in. Her stomach dipped at the sight of the familiar face. “Dr. Guttman? What are you doing here?” she stammered.

  “Don’t be alarmed, Mrs. Clayton.” He rose to shake her hand.

  “What makes you think I’m alarmed?” She gripped the wheelchair handles tighter so he wouldn’t notice her quaking hands.

  “Could we talk?” He gently took the wheelchair from Janelle’s grasp and parked it against the wall in the hallway.

  The double doors to the recovery area loomed before her, beckoning her away from whatever Guttman had to say. She felt so foolish thinking she had some control over what happened to Cissy or any of them for that matter. She sat down, a child ready to be scolded.

  “I can’t remember why I even took this job.” His words petered out. “How arrogant of me to think I could make a difference.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re saying. . . .”

  “Mrs. Clayton, I’m tired. Tired of fighting the nurses and administrators. Tired of believing my degrees or my experience in New York would make a difference.”

  “I’m sure you have made a difference, young man.”

  “Young man. Exactly.” A bitter snort escaped his lips and he ran both hands through his hair. His glassy eyes held sadness or maybe regret. “I don’t belong here and you know it.”

  She had nothing to offer, so she waited for him to continue.

  “I thought I could help Cissy. I wanted to help Cissy,” he said.

  “I’m sure you have helped her.”

  “The other day, when you insisted you be here for Cissy after the procedure, I suspected you had a plan,” he said. “I couldn’t guess what, but I thought I could at least help you get her to the car. I have more arm strength than you.”

  Janelle stared at him, shaken. He wasn’t going to stop her from taking Cissy after all. She stifled a cry. Dr. Guttman knelt down next to the chair and took her hand.

  “Would you like some water, or a moment alone?” The way he smiled and dropped his shoulders added to her relief.

  “No, but thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart,” she managed.

  “Um . . . I brought some of Cissy’s things with me just in case I was right about your intentions.” He pointed to two crumpled paper sacks. “Her notebooks, art supplies, and some clothes. I couldn’t grab much more without arousing suspicion.”

  “How wonderful. She’ll appreciate it so much. I grabbed a few clothes from her house thinking I’d not get a chance to retrieve anything from the hospital.” Janelle peered into one of the bags and then scrunched it closed. “Let’s go see Cissy now, shall we?”

  He held out his arm and she grabbed the crook of his elbow. After pushing through the doors to the recovery room, he explained to the nurse on duty he was Cissy’s psychiatrist from the state hospital and she nodded that they could pass. Dr. Guttman was just a few inches taller than Janelle and they stood almost shoulder to shoulder. She could have never guessed that this unassuming man would turn out to be Cissy’s savior.

  She let go of his arm and they parted so they could stand on opposite sides of Cissy’s hospital bed. Her cheeks held color and she looked peaceful. Janelle leaned in for a kiss.

  Cissy’s eyes opened. “Grandmother?”

  Mute, Janelle looked frantically at Dr. Guttman to explain the situation to her granddaughter.

  “Cissy, do you know who I am?” Dr. Guttman rested his hand lightly on hers
but didn’t squeeze it.

  “That’s a dumb question. You’re Dr. Guttman. Where am I?”

  She frowned, but Janelle welcomed her confusion like a belated birthday gift. “You’re at the hospital. I mean, a regular hospital. You weren’t feeling well.”

  “My stomach is a little queasy, Grandmother.” Cissy tried to sit up, but slumped back, groggy and somewhat frustrated by her fatigue. “Do I have the flu?”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Janelle said. “What’s important is that you’ll be fine.”

  The nurse touched Dr. Guttman on the elbow and whispered something Janelle couldn’t make out. He nodded and she walked away.

  “The nurse said Cissy is ready to be transported back to the hospital.” He motioned for Janelle to follow him so that Cissy couldn’t overhear. “She’s getting her clothes and some maxi pads. There will be some light bleeding for the next day, but nothing to worry about.”

  “But how . . . what . . .” she asked.

  “The nurse thinks I’m the one who’s supposed to transport Cissy,” he whispered. “I can’t believe our luck.”

  When the nurse returned to help Cissy dress, Dr. Guttman and Janelle exited to the waiting area to give them privacy. She told him she had something to do and would be back in a few moments. He didn’t ask about her mission, although his face held questions.

  Janelle walked the full length of the corridor looking for a staff person to help her. Finally, a candy striper delivering flowers directed her to a public phone on the next floor. Her hand shook as she dropped in one coin after another.

  “Clayton residence.” Grace and authority sang out in Ruth’s greeting.

  “It’s me.”

  After a few seconds of silence, the sorrow in Ruth’s words traveled through the phone wires. “I suspect it’s done, then.”

  “She’s in the recovery room now, but she talked again. She recognized me.” Janelle spoke excitedly, hoping to get a response in kind.

  “I guess you got what you wanted.” Ruth didn’t try to mask her disappointment.

  “Oh, Ruth. Please don’t start. I’m too tired to fight. I had to do this for Cissy.”

  “You did it for yourself, ma’am. Don’t try to convince me otherwise.”

  “I’m sorry this has come between us.” Janelle’s anger had run dry, now replaced with pure sadness. “I’m sorry I didn’t make time to speak with you this morning. I wanted to get on the road as early as possible.”

  Ruth’s forgiveness wasn’t forthcoming, but Janelle ached for it. Even though she’d have Cissy with her, she knew when they left the hospital she’d feel lonelier than she had her entire life. Janelle would have no confidante, no friend.

  “I saw you loading the suitcases into your car,” Ruth said without emotion.

  “Yes.”

  Janelle trusted Ruth knew it meant she’d be gone for some time. Ruth coughed, but Janelle didn’t know if it camouflaged sadness or anger or both.

  “I’ll miss you, Ruth.”

  She wouldn’t answer, but Janelle kept the phone to her ear. Half a minute passed and she thought Ruth might have hung up. Then she heard her breath, loud and steady.

  “Good luck to you, Mrs. Clayton.”

  “I love you, Ruth,” Janelle said while the dial tone buzzed in her ear.

  Chapter 25

  The smell of gasoline burned Cissy’s nostrils, but, oh, how she loved that burn. Strong smells like gas, oil, and tar were like smelling salts calling a person’s brain to attention. Today, though, her brain felt like Rip Van Winkle awaking from a hundred-year nap. She sat up too quickly and fell against the smooth leather of the backseat of Grandmother’s car.

  “You’re up, sleepyhead.” Grandmother sat in the front seat and pointed to dirty spots on the windshield of her Caddy she wanted the gas station attendant to wipe.

  “Why am I in the backseat of your car?” Cissy asked.

  “I thought you should get some rest,” Grandmother said.

  “No, I mean, why am I not at the hospital anymore?”

  “Which hospital?”

  “The state hospital. What other hospital is there?”

  “I didn’t think it was the best place for you,” she said, but offered no more explanation.

  Cissy looked out her window at the car on the other side of the pump. A little boy with a chocolate smudge on his top lip stared back. He took a big swig of his Yoo-hoo. She stuck out her tongue and he ducked down, continuing the game she started but really didn’t want to play. She licked her lips and swallowed hard, thinking how much she wanted a cold drink herself. That is, until her cramping gut called out for attention. Cissy wrapped her arms around her middle to hold in the pain.

  “I think I have my monthly visitor, Grandmother,” she said, doubling over. “I’m going to see if there’s a Kotex machine in the restroom.”

  “There should be some pads in your toiletry bag on the floorboard. Just take the bag with you.”

  In the stall, Cissy pulled down her pants to find she already had on a pad, soaked through and bright red. She undid the safety pins that fastened the pad to her underwear, wrapped it in toilet paper, and placed it in the bottom of the trash can.

  With her brain lacking so many details, her legs became noodly and unsure. She couldn’t remember packing a bag or leaving the hospital, much less putting on a Kotex. The panic circled her like a swarm of bees, mad as blazes, and buzzing in a million different directions. Cissy attached a fresh pad to her underpants and walked over to the stainless-steel sink. She hoped splashing water on her face would jump-start her memory, but the shock of cold just caused goose bumps to shoot up over her whole body.

  She rushed out of the bathroom and into the sun to get warm. Surely the sky had never been so blue. She lifted up her face and drank it in. Grandmother tapped the horn twice to get her attention, so Cissy decided not to ask for a Yoo-hoo after all. She climbed in the front seat and the car took off, sending pea gravel in a spray over the pumps.

  “Grandmother, I’m scared. I can’t remember how I got here.”

  “You’ve just not been yourself lately.” Grandmother rested her hand on Cissy’s thigh.

  “What day is it?” she asked.

  “September 26th. Don’t worry yourself about anything. You’ll be just fine in no time.”

  Cissy didn’t feel fine at all. She felt shivery, like she did when first getting the flu. Her grandmother saying Cissy would be fine wasn’t the soothing she hoped for, but her grandmother didn’t seem in a mood to share. Cissy asked if they could listen to the radio and she said okay, as long as it wasn’t obnoxious rock and roll music. After that comment, finding a station seemed like too much trouble, so Cissy just stared out the window instead.

  Nothing looked familiar. The town they’d stopped in had a four-way stop and no traffic lights. The gas station and post office were the only places people seemed to gather. Now, just-plowed fields and leaning wood barns filled her view. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure, Cissy.” Her grandmother gripped the steering wheel with both hands. They looked ancient and red except where her knuckles were white. She wouldn’t look at her and Cissy wondered if that was on purpose.

  “Leave your grandmother be for a while.” God was reclined in the backseat so that her feet were propped up in the window Cissy had left rolled down. The words didn’t come across as chastising so much, but Her voice was firm. “She’s still figuring out a plan.”

  Cissy was happy to be out of the hospital. Thinking of going back made her feel as if she were falling down the rabbit hole in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. But not knowing where she was heading made her chest pound. It’d been almost three months since she shot her daddy, but Cissy couldn’t account for all of those days. She held a hand over her heart to calm its confusion.

  “Does Mama know we’re together?” Cissy asked.

  “She does by now,” Grandmother said.

  “Are we runnin
g away?” she asked, ignoring God’s advice. “Like Bonnie and Clyde?”

  “Something like that. But we’re not criminals.” Grandmother tightened her jaw, which looked hard anyway.

  What were they, then? Would Mama or the police or Dr. Guttman come after them? Would Cissy be punished for leaving even though she couldn’t remember how she left?

  “Grandmother, let’s count blue cars,” she pleaded.

  “There’s not enough traffic on this back road. Why don’t you just close your eyes and rest a while?”

  “Because I’m not tired anymore,” Cissy said, but that wasn’t exactly the truth. She felt tired through and through, and not just body tired. Her brain didn’t feel like working and directed her to obey her grandmother. Sleep, it said. Plenty of time for questions later, it said.

  “I’m hungry.” Cissy crossed her arms defiantly.

  Her grandmother pointed to a crinkled paper sack on the floorboard. Cissy opened it and found three sandwiches wrapped in wax paper plus a big pickle in a plastic sleeve, floating in its juice.

  “It’s homemade pimento cheese,” Grandmother said. “I know that’s your favorite.”

  “And a pickle!”

  “Yes, dear, and a pickle,” she said, a slight smile emerging.

  The gummy cheese and white bread stuck behind Cissy’s front teeth, and her tongue pushed against it to loosen it. “This is delicious.”

  “Dear, don’t speak with your mouth full.”

  Cissy ate two of the three sandwiches and her grandmother didn’t stop her. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate, but guessed it’d been some hours. Her tummy churned its gladness at being full and her eyes kept suggesting they close for a nap.

  “Did you pack my notebook?” She opened the glove compartment to check.

  “It’s in your suitcase in the trunk,” Grandmother said. “When we stop for the night, you can get it then.”

  “But what if I have to add something to a list? I’m never without my notebook,” Cissy protested. “I need my notebook.”

  “Cissy, be patient. You can’t hold on to childish things forever.”

  Her lip trembled and she bit it hard to keep from crying. God was right. Grandmother was doing the best she could. She hadn’t explained why Cissy had been allowed to leave the mental hospital or if Grandmother had asked permission at all. Cissy assumed they were running from the law. The judge would be none too happy about her being free. Grandmother had a lot more on her mind than stopping for a notebook.