We Interrupt This Date

by L. C. Evans

  “I’ll see if they’ll let me in the back to check on Mama.”

  “Good idea. I’m surprised they didn’t come and get one of us already.” She looked across the room at a white-uniformed figure pushing a stretcher holding a screaming child. “Scratch that idea I had about nursing school. I could never be a nurse.”

  Better she should find out now rather than later after she’d invested time and money in a career change.

  “I’m going to consider something else. I couldn’t stand being around sick people and not being able to cure them. What do you think about paralegal studies?”

  She wouldn’t have the patience for such detailed work.

  “Sounds great. But you’ve got plenty of time to look around and find what interests you most.”

  I scurried away before she could ask for more career advice. DeLorean was the most bullheaded person on the planet and she was not about to listen to any suggestions I might come up with any more than I’d follow her advice to give up on the idea of the ghost tour business. Come to think of it, being bullheaded was a trait she got from Mama. Some people liked to accuse me of that same trait, but I preferred to think of myself as strong-minded.

  I went up to the desk and asked about Mama.

  “Mrs. Marsh? Oh, yes, the lady with the ankle injury. Sorry, only one visitor at a time in the ER.” The receptionist picked up a chart and beamed me a pert smile that seemed more a signal for me to politely go away than a willingness to answer more questions.

  “Excuse me?” Only one visitor. That I could understand, but who else would be visiting Mama? DeLorean and I were her daughters. No one except us would be here, not even her church family, as she called them, because they didn’t know about her injury.

  “Mrs. Marsh already has a visitor.”

  “That can’t be.” I leaned over the counter, and she quickly swiveled her computer monitor to face it away from me. “My sister and I are her only family. Except for her grandsons, but Cole is only a baby and Christian is away at college.”

  “Her friend is with her.” Much arching of eyebrows from the unhelpful desk queen.

  Friend? Had she called Pastor Whitfield or Ruth Ames?

  The door leading to the back opened. I turned, my attention caught by a distinguished looking gentleman walking past. He looked vaguely familiar.

  The desk queen followed my gaze. “There he is. Now you can go back. Cubicle three. It’s on the right after you pass through the double doors.” She hit a buzzer on the wall next to a chart rack.

  Very efficient. But I was so deep in thought wondering about the identity of the visitor, I almost didn’t get through the electronic doors before they swung shut on my butt.

  Mama was lying on a gurney in a curtained cubicle. Her eyes held the dazed look of someone who’d been drugged. She shook her head when she saw me and pointed toward her right foot, which was elevated.

  “It’s sprained, not broken,” she said, her voice sounding almost disdainful as if she blamed her ankle for betraying her. “They’re going to wrap it.”

  “That’s the usual procedure with sprains.” Hey, I watch ER, I know how the process works. “The receptionist said you had another visitor and I saw a man go out right before I came in. Who is he, Mama?”

  She stared at me for a long minute. “Here I lie in a hospital bed, racked with pain, and all you can think to do is ask nosy questions?”

  I pulled the visitor chair up to her gurney and plopped down. “I’m wondering why a man, someone I’ve never met, is allowed to see you while DeLorean and I have to sit out front worrying.”

  “Worrying? For heaven’s sake, it’s only a sprained ankle.”

  “For all we knew you’d sustained internal injuries. Want to tell me about your friend?”

  “You should have only one concern on your mind and that is concern for your mother and her well-being. My gentleman friend, not that it is any of your business, is Rhett Dearborn. We’ve been seeing each other for almost five months.” Mama’s expression went from dazed to defiant, as if she expected me to wail and rip my hair out because she had a man in her life after more than twenty years alone.

  “That’s great,” I said. “Really wonderful.”

  She shifted, trying to move higher on the gurney, and I wondered if I should offer to plump up her pillow. “I hadn’t realized I was sometimes lonely until I started spending time with Rhett. The babies are good company, of course, but they can’t carry on a conversation.”

  Really? This was the first time she’d ever admitted the Chihuahuas couldn’t take the place of people.

  “But why did you keep your boyfriend a secret?”

  “Boyfriend?” Mama made tsk, tsk sounds. “That sounds so undignified. Rhett is sixty-four years old, and I have my own reasons for keeping my personal life to myself.”

  “But now that I know, there’s no reason why you can’t tell me all about him. And arrange an introduction. I’m happy for you, Mama.”

  “We’ll see about the introduction.” She sniffed. “I’ll give you the condensed version. Rhett is widowed, one grown son. Well-off. Retired from a shipping business. And he’s a wonderful man, a real southern gentleman. He wants to marry me, but of course I said no.”

  That’s all? Marriage? And of course she said no? My jaw dropped and my mouth hung like an open trap until Mama reminded me to shut it. Good manners and all that.

  “Marriage? You’ve got to accept.” It was about time she had some happiness in her life—as well as someone to keep her occupied so she’d stay out of my business.

  “Love or no love, the subject is finished.” She closed her eyes and sighed gently, and I noted that the bright light overhead made the lines around her mouth seem deeper, which only added to the impression that she was suffering.

  I drummed my fingers on the edge of the gurney. Clearly Mama wouldn’t have told me about her boyfriend if she hadn’t gotten injured. Older man friend, I meant. But why?

  The ER crew bustled in while I was still pondering, and I went back to the lobby to update DeLorean. I didn’t leave out the part about Rhett Dearborn.

  Her eyes grew huge. “If I weren’t holding a sleeping baby, I’d be positively jumping with excitement. What did she say about him?”

  “Practically nothing, except that he’s widowed and he’s asked her to marry him and she turned him down. But I thought he looked familiar when I saw him leave. Now I remember. I saw him walking with her last week when I was out for coffee after yoga class. I wasn’t sure at the time it was Mama—she was in shadow—and I certainly didn’t expect to see her with a man.”

  “I don’t know why she’s being silly about not wanting to get married. Did she say why?”

  “No. And I’m not going to ask her.”

  Mama wouldn’t tell me, I knew that much. But I was determined to find out on my own, so I could try to get her to change her mind.

  Chapter Twelve

  Of course Mama couldn’t go home to her condo alone. I suggested she hire someone to come in for a week or so until she was able to move around on her own. “It won’t be for long, Mama.”

  “But there’s no way I can climb the stairs to my place. I can’t walk and surely you don’t expect me to hop.”

  “I expect you to take the elevator like normal people, Mama.”

  “I don’t take the elevator in my building. You know that and there is no use trying to persuade me that thing is safe.”

  “This is an emergency. I’ll ride up with you and then I’ll call one of those home health places and ask them to send someone.”

  “I told you I am not riding that untrustworthy contraption. Just drive me to a nursing home and check me in for a few weeks.”

  “A nursing home is not a hotel. What about your babies?”

  “That’s another thing. No home health aide on this earth will want to walk the babies and take care of them. I’ll have to hire a petsitter to come in a couple of times a day. My, the trouble and the e
xpense. But what else can I do?” Her lip trembled so she reminded me of DeLorean getting ready to pitch a fit.

  I turned my head toward the window so she wouldn’t see me roll my eyes. “Why, Mama, I’ve just had the most fantastic idea. You and the babies can stay at my house for a few weeks.” I heard an audible intake of breath from DeLorean’s direction.

  Mama fanned herself with a sheaf of papers the ER receptionist had given her and stirred a lot of dust off the dashboard. “I couldn’t possibly impose. You already have so much to deal with.”

  “There’s no way you can manage on your own, so I don’t want to hear another word of protest.”

  “I am the last person on earth to put someone out. The very last. Sophie Rainier, you remember her I’m sure, inflicts herself on her relatives to a point where they’re all on the verge of nervous breakdowns. Last week she showed up unannounced at her daughter’s house in Savannah and then positively steamed when her daughter said the visit was inconvenient because she already had guests from New York.” Mama dropped the ER papers in her lap. She hauled a hairbrush out of her purse and used it to tap my elbow for emphasis.

  “Ouch.” I jerked my arm out of reach. “Mama, it would be my privilege to help you. Besides, if you don’t come to my house, it would be a lot more work for me to keep running across the bridge to look after you in Charleston.”

  I allowed myself a few moments of mentally rolling in self-pity. I’d accustomed myself to my empty nest and now all the members of my family, dogs included, were dependent on me. And this, after I’d concluded that having DeLorean and Mama in the same house was about as likely to work out as me falling in love with T. Chandler all over again.

  Mama settled back, wearing an expression like that you might see on a tennis player who’d just bested her rival for the hundredth time. She’d planned all along to stay at my place. She knew I’d make the offer and she knew she’d accept after making a token protest.

  Kenny was in the back yard romping with Brad when I pulled into the driveway. I smacked my hand against my forehead. I’d forgotten to call and let him know Christian had fixed the fence.

  “Hey, great dog, Mrs. Caraway.” He came around to the front and I saw a toolbox on the steps. I tumbled out of the van. “Kenny, I’m sorry, but when you didn’t show on time this morning, I let Christian fix the fence.”

  “Didn’t show?” His eyebrows came together in a furry line. “You didn’t get my message?”

  “Message?” Light slowly dawned. My message machine wouldn’t kick in as long as someone was answering my phone. I’d learned that yesterday when Jack appeared at my door expecting to take me out and discovered me dressed for an evening of cleaning my toilet.

  “I called yesterday. A lady promised to tell you I couldn’t get here until after one.”

  “Sorry,” called a voice from the back seat. “My bad.”

  Christian had said DeLorean had sat on top of the phone and we’d assumed all the calls were from Baldwin. As stressed as she was, when Kenny called she must have completely forgotten to pass the message on.

  I shook off a feeling of annoyance over careless family message takers and said, “I’m sorry. But how about another job? My mother sprained her ankle and she’s going to stay with me for a few weeks.” Running mine and DeLorean’s lives. “Could you help me get her settled inside and then go with me to get her things?”

  “No problem.” His face brightened and the furry line turned back into two separate eyebrows.

  If it were me with the sprained ankle, I’d be fine at someone’s house with a gym bag loaded with clothes and toiletries, but I knew Mama. She’d started a list in the car on the way home and in addition to the dogs and their equipment and her clothes, she’d listed at least ten more items she couldn’t live without. Of course she had to have her cosmetics case, her box of vitamins, and her new orchid plant, the one with the fuschia blooms. I suspected from the way her mouth softened when she mentioned the orchid that Rhett had given it to her.

  Between the two of us, Kenny and I got Mama inside and settled on the family room couch. Before we left, I brought Mama a cup of tea and a couple of slices of toast and handed her the TV remote.

  She accepted gratefully. “Are you going to the condo right away? The babies need me, but it looks like rain and there is no point in you being outside if the heavens open up. I suppose they could wait.” Doubt clouded her face.

  The sky had darkened from bright blue to an angry charcoal in the time since we’d left for the hospital and the air had chilled at least twenty degrees. I waved away her worries. “I’ll have them here before the storm breaks. I haven’t lost any dogs yet.”

  I put on a flannel shirt with long sleeves over my blouse and took my umbrella with me. Traffic was light, typical for a Sunday, and I made it to Mama’s building in record time.

  The beginnings of the promised downpour spattered on my head as soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the condo. Kenny and I shared my umbrella and dashed into the building.

  As soon as I unlocked the door and we stepped inside the front room, the Chihuahuas swarmed, attacked my ankles like a couple of stirred up ants, and then retreated behind the couch.

  “Is this any way to treat your rescuer?” I called, shaking my fist in mock anger.

  Kenny laughed. “Don’t you like dogs?”

  “I like them fine, but these two are not only neurotic, they’ve chose to focus their aggression on me. You should see them with my mother. They fawn over her like she’s their queen.”

  “What about the big dog, the one in your backyard? He likes you, right?”

  “Like may be too strong a word. I think tolerate applies better. He actually belongs to my sister, but he doesn’t seem to have bonded with her any more than he has with me.”

  “Hey, he’s a great dog. If your sister ever decides to sell him, tell her to let me know.”

  “Sure,” I murmured absently, trying to decide where to start. Mama’s place is cozy and decorated in early frill—lace curtains on the windows, doilies on the chair arms, and fringes on the lampshades. Predominant colors were lavender and pink.

  “Hmm. Mama wants her own towels. Would you mind getting them out of the linen closet in the bathroom while I check in the coat closet for her yarn?”

  “Sure.” Kenny saluted.

  I found the yarn basket and about five hundred cans of soup in the closet. Famine was not going to take my mother, not as long as Campbell’s stayed in business. While I was trying to get the yarn basket without knocking down a stack of cans, Kenny called from down the hall.

  “There’s nothing in here but toilet paper.”

  I went to see for myself. The linen closet was packed from floor to ceiling with rolls of toilet tissue in every brand imaginable. “Guess Mama’s expecting the great toilet paper shortage of the 21st century. Hold on while I look in her room.”

  Mama’s bedroom was as pink and lavender as the rest of the house. The bottom drawer of her dresser was crammed with towels and washcloths. I dragged them out and handed them to Kenny to take to the car while I packed the rest of the things she’d asked for. Kenny came back and took the suitcases down to the van. After I gave him the dog food, the orchid plant, and assorted small items essential to life as Mama knew it, I surveyed the living room. Chihuahuas nowhere to be found.

  “Come on, babies, time to go see your mama.” I chirped away, sounding more like a demented parrot than a seriously annoyed woman who was starting to wonder if she could get away with dropping the babies off at the pound and telling Mama they got dognapped by a couple of tourists with more guns than brains.

  I’d brought Mama’s bag and I opened it wide to give them the idea. The little darlings pranced away and scooted behind an armchair. Lovely. On top of packing enough of Mama’s things to completely fill my mini van, I had to deal with defiant Chihuahuas. Not how I’d planned to spend my Sunday afternoon.

  Sweetpea, usually a meek sort, seemed t
o have undergone a personality transplant since his trip to the spa, and Tiny was always a pain in the ass. Eventually I got them cornered and tried to gather them in. They snapped at me, one on each side, then attached their little teeth to my shirt sleeves. Before I could peel them off, I heard footsteps and experienced a sense of relief. Kenny could help and we’d be out of here before the storm moved in from the harbor.

  “Kenny, you get the little stud on the right and I’ll get the other one,” I said without turning around.

  I nearly jumped across the room when, instead of Kenny’s adolescent squawk, a deep voice behind me said, “Where’s Regina?”

  I stumbled to my knees, Chihuahuas dangling from my sleeves like remoras hanging off a shark. My heart lurched.

  How many years since I’d last seen him? I couldn’t remember. Long enough for his red hair to turn a pinkish white, his stomach to develop a slight paunch, and his face to sag around the edges. But he was still good-looking for someone his age.

  Something clicked—maybe the sight of the plaid pants--and I knew this was the man Mrs. Barkley had told me about who’d come looking for Mama the day I took her to the doctor. Why hadn’t I investigated at the time?

  A sly grin pulled his thin lips apart. He put his hands on his hips and rocked back on his heels. I looked at his shoes. Expensive. Italian leather. That figured.

  “Susan. All grown up.”

  “That tends to happen to a kid as the years pass.”

  “Where’s your mother?”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” I leaned backward and hit the coffee table.

  “You tell her I want her answer. I don’t care where she’s hiding, I’ll find her, and she’ll give me what I asked for.”

  “Get out before I call the police.” My initial confusion had given way to righteous anger.

  “Mrs. Caraway?” Kenny appeared in the doorway. “Is this man bothering you?” His voice cracked.

  Bless him, he was only seventeen and had yet to fill out. His arms hung at his sides like bent sapling branches against his skinny body, but he was prepared to defend me against a man who must have outweighed him by more than fifty pounds.