Griselda Takes Flight

by Joyce Magnin

  "The dance was good. I missed you. The square dance was a disaster though."

  Stella laughed as she peeled potatoes. "I bet. I can't imagine the people square dancing."

  "So how is Nate doing?"

  "Ah, he'll be better now that it's over. A few days and he'll be back to farming. The cows still need milking."

  "Hey Stella," I said. "You guys ever think about having a baby instead of pumpkins."

  She tapped a spoon against a pot. "Me? A mother? Nah, well we thought about it but Nate wouldn't hear of it. Not sure why either. He could use a boy around the farm."

  Stella put coffee on to percolate while I picked at a pumpkin pie. I pulled my finger out of my mouth and stopped. "This . . . isn't Bertha Ann is it?"

  "No. No. Those big pumpkins don't make the best pie. She's out back. Just sitting there under her tarp. Nate will get rid of her soon. Feed her to the squirrels and gophers."

  "The very things that he was trying to kill he's now feeding."

  "Weird world we live in, Griselda. Very strange."

  "So anyway," I said. "I guess you heard about the treasure hunting going on." I said it casually because I was trying my best not to make a big deal out of it.

  I grabbed a brown, paper bag full of peas and a yellow, clay bowl and started to open the casings and drop little green peas into it. "The whole town is out by the quarry digging holes. Cliff and I just flew over. It looks like the surface of the moon. You should have seen it, all these craters all over. Empty, stupid craters and people running around with shovels and pick axes. Even Ruth went."

  "Are you kidding? But—" She looked out the kitchen window. "That's Walter's treasure."

  Her reaction surprised me. "Stella, I thought you wouldn't care."

  "I know. But, still. It is Walter's treasure and they have no right. Not really. Considering Walter's condition and all." She turned back to the window and then to me again. "Staying for dinner?"

  "Sure. Are you really upset?"

  "About you staying for dinner?"

  "No, about the treasure."

  She paused a moment and considered her words. "I think I am."

  Forty-five minutes later we were gathered around the table. Stella had prepared a typical Sunday dinner. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, peas, and biscuits. Nate took a knife and fork and sliced the beef into quarter-inch slices. He sawed off four when Cliff stopped him.

  "I feel the need to pray."

  Cliff proceeded to pray in a way I never heard anyone pray, not even Agnes. He thanked God for the day, the beauty of the earth, his airplane, the town of Bright's Pond, the food, the hands that prepared the food, and just when I was getting bored he thanked God for his new friends and asked that the Lord's will be done between Zeb and me.

  We ate and passed food silently at first as though we had entered into some kind of holy moment that mustn't be disturbed. But Cliff broke the tension and got into a conversation with Nate about fuel lines, gasoline, and pumpkin seeds.

  "I was thinking about heading over to Greenbrier after supper," I said as I passed the gravy to Nate.

  "Maybe I'll go with you," Stella said. "I should check on Walter. Tell him everyone knows about the treasure. Maybe that will pop him out of his coma."

  "It just might," Cliff said. "They say they aren't certain what a person hears when they're unconscious, so who knows? Maybe he needs a good shock."

  "So you really think we can build a better seed?" Nate asked drawing Cliff's attention away.

  Stella and I continued to eat quietly. Stella looked a bit pensive. I was just about to ask her what was on her mind when the telephone rang. Stella excused herself and dashed to the kitchen. I saw her lift the yellow receiver from the wall phone.

  "Hello?"

  "Yes. This is Stella Hughes."

  Then I watched her jaw drop. She seemed speechless and then said into the phone, "Should I come? I'll be right there!"

  She hung up and looked straight at me. "It's Walter. He's awake!"

  28

  It was that nurse, Sally," Stella said. "She wanted to tell me before Gilda. Since I'm really his next of kin."

  "Should we go?" I asked. "Or you and Nate?"

  Nate turned around to see Stella. "You go with Griselda. It will be better." There was softness in his voice I hadn't heard all season. "Go on. Don't worry about dinner. Unless of course, you want to finish."

  Stella touched her stomach. "Nah, I'm all of a sudden filled with butterflies or cucumber beetles or something."

  "Go on," Nate said. "Call if you need anything."

  Stella grabbed an olive green jacket from the coatrack near the front door.

  "This is a good thing," Cliff said. "Your brother is waking up."

  Stella cracked a half smile. "I'll be back."

  That was when Nate walked closer to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and I saw just how much taller he was than her. She looked up at him.

  "It's going to be all right, honey. It really is. Just go and be with him."

  I pulled into the nursing home parking lot. It was crowded. Sunday was always the busiest visiting day as families, free from work and other obligations were able to come. Not seeing a parking spot right away I said, "This is an emergency. I'm parking in front."

  I slammed the truck in park. It lurched slightly. "Geez, Griselda," Stella said. "He's waking up, not dying."

  "Sorry. I'm excited."

  Claude stood at the door and pushed it open for us. "You here to see Walter?"

  Stella nodded.

  "He's the talk of the building. Go on now. They called Doc Silver in to see."

  Stella grabbed my hand and we made our way down the hall, passing a small congregation of residents in pajamas and sweat suits in the large community room. The area had been made up to resemble a church with a cross in the front and a podium. I saw seven or eight wheelchairs with residents sitting in them lined up across the front of the room and a group sitting in regular chairs behind them. A man in a red suit with a purple tie stood near the cross strumming a guitar. They were singing "What a Friend We Have in Jesus." It made my heart lighter just to hear the words.

  Another smaller group hovered outside Walter's door.

  "There she is," one said. "Let her in."

  I let Stella go first. She took a hurried step and then stopped short. I banged into her. "Go on," I said.

  She stepped lightly into the dimly lit room. I could still hear the sound of the breathing machine. The doctor and two nurses leaned over Walter. Sally looked up at us. "Stella. I'm glad you came."

  "The doctor took his stethoscope from his ears. Are you the sister?" He looked at me. I nodded toward Stella who looked like a deer in headlights. "I thought you said he was awake. His eyes are closed."

  "He'll be in and out for a bit. I sedated him because he was bucking the vent," the doctor said.

  "Bucking the vent?" I said.

  "Yes. He's trying to breathe on his own but the ventilator is still doing the job. Patients don't like the feeling, and he got a little upset."

  "You mean he's moving and talking?"

  "Oh, no," Doctor Silver said. "He can't talk with the ventilator, and his movements are still pretty sporadic."

  "Then take the tube out," Stella said.

  "Not yet. Soon though, I'll keep a close eye."

  Stella moved closer to his side. She touched his hand. "Oh, Walter. You can do this. You can wake up—all the way."

  Then Walter opened his eyes. He looked right at her and blinked two times.

  "He sees you," Sally said. "He knows who you are."

  I watched a teardrop fall from his eye. Stella wiped it away with her thumb as he slipped behind closed doors again.

  The doctor took Sally aside. "Continue the IVs and—" was all I heard before they left the room.

  "Should we try to find Gilda?" I asked.

  Stella shook her head. "I don't know. For someone who said she's here day and night waiting for her
dear sweet Wally to wake up, don't you think she'd be here? I bet that Dabs fella is right about her."

  "I do too. But it still might be the right thing to do, to let her know."

  "Well, I don't agree. Let her find out however way she does. I mean I wouldn't even know where to find her."

  "We could call over to Cora's house."

  "Suit yourself," Stella said. "If you want to go to that trouble to find a woman who could and most likely is up to no good."

  "OK, I won't do anything. Maybe I'll go see Agnes. I'll be back in a little while. You just sit with your brother."

  She looked first at Walter and then me and then back at Walter. "Would you mind if I went with you?"

  "No, of course not. I just thought you might want some time alone."

  "Not yet. Not now."

  Agnes appeared to be waiting for us. "It's about time," she said. "I've been sitting here for hours, it seems, waiting for you two to come by. I heard about Walter. It's a good sign. A good sign."

  "Thank you, Agnes," Stella said. She rushed to her side and grabbed both of Agnes's fat, little hands. As heavy as Agnes was, Stella's hands seemed to swallow Agnes's. "Thank you."

  "Now hold on there, Stella. What in tarnation are you thanking me for?"

  "Praying. You have been praying. I know that's why he's waking up. You've been praying since the first day I told you about him."

  Agnes pulled her hands back. "Now of course I've been praying, but I thought we were over all that. We talked about how it's God's doing not mine."

  "Oh, I know. I know that's what you said and I know it's true but still . . . I can't help but—"

  Agnes shook her head. "Don't go any further. You best be thanking the Good Lord for this miracle, if it is a miracle. I mean Walter is not the first person to wake up from a coma."

  That was when I decided to step in and try to avert the discussion.

  "How are you Agnes?" I asked brushing hair out of her eyes.

  "Fine, just fine. Hungry though. They gave me nothing but a meat patty swimming in some kind of gristly sauce and a tiny side dish of hard vegetables." She shaped her hands with the fingers touching into a circle about the size of a half-dollar.

  Stella reached into her bag. I grabbed her hand. "I hope you aren't fixing to pull a Milky Way out of there."

  "No, no," Stella said. "I got some walnuts. Can she have walnuts?"

  "Sure can," Agnes said. And she ate the nuts like they were the best food ever in spite of my protests.

  I wandered over to the door and peeked down the hall, keeping an eye out for Gilda.

  "So what's next?" Agnes asked. "For Walter, that is. I don't know too much about comas but does a person just wake up like nothing was ever wrong and go about their business?"

  "I'm not sure," Stella said. "I kind of think he'll be here a while. He still has that breathing tube and IVs and stuff. It might be more gradual."

  Agnes closed her eyes a moment. "It's all about God's timing."

  By then the sun was setting behind the mountains, Agnes was starting to look tired, and Stella seemed to be getting more and more anxious as we talked. "Maybe we should go back to Walter's room," I said. "We can ask the doctor all these questions."

  "That's a good idea," Agnes said. "I am feeling a little run down today—probably on account of they don't feed me enough for a hamster to live."

  Stella kissed Agnes's cheek. "I know you don't want the credit. But I will always be thankful that you pray. And . . . And I have one more request."

  "What is it, Stella?" Agnes asked.

  "Just please pray that . . . that he forgives me."

  "You?" I said. "I thought he was the rat. He was the one that swindled you out of your money."

  "He was and could very well still be a rat but, you know, it's just money. I don't need it. Family is more important than dollars. I know it sounds trite to say but it's true. I should have found a way to stay in touch with him even after he did what he did and said what he said."

  Agnes reached for Stella's hand. "It's not easy to take the high road."

  "High road," I said slapping my knee. "That reminds me. Did you hear about the big treasure hunt?"

  "Well I heard something about something. Hazel Flatbush came in to see her cousin, you know Old Miss Millie, and she poked her head in my door and told me the congregation went nuts this Sunday. She said they all dashed out the doors after the sermon like rats from a sinking ship, those were her words, rats from a sinking ship. She said they were all fixing to go up to the quarry and look for that treasure."

  "That's right, can you believe it? Half of Bright's Pond is up at the quarry digging for treasure. I got a bird's-eye view of them from Cliff's airplane. They were scattered like prairie dogs out digging holes. Even Zeb and Stu went carrying shovels and pickaxes. Ruth even went along."

  "Fools," Agnes said. "Anyone find it?"'

  "I don't know yet," I said. "But I'm sure you'll hear about it the minute it happens. Someone will be whooping it up but good."

  "Maybe they should combine their efforts and share it," Agnes said. "A million bucks is a lot of money."

  "They thought about doing that—well Studebaker did—but then Bill Tompkins said it should be finders keepers, losers weepers."

  Agnes made a noise. "Bill Tomkins. He's a pip."

  Stella was starting to look a little antsy.

  "Maybe we should get back to Walter," Stella said.

  "Probably," I said. "We'll see you later, Agnes." I patted her leg and moved her tray table closer to her. "Got enough water?"

  "Uh-huh, I'm fine. But keep me posted as events unfold. I want to hear about the treasure too."

  The doctor was leaning over Walter when we got back and that alarmed Stella.

  "What's wrong?" She asked. "Is he OK?"

  "Yes. He's responding to stimuli," the doctor said.

  "That's good?" I asked.

  "Yes," Sally said. "It means he's becoming more aware of what's going on around him."

  "But he's still . . . asleep?"

  The doctor nodded. "Yes but don't forget I sedated him."

  "I know," Stella said. "I don't know whether to be nervous or excited and happy."

  "A little of both," Doctor Silver said. "We'll know more when he is fully awake. You should probably prepare yourself that he might have some deficits."

  "Deficits?" Stella looked at the doctor like a confused puppy.

  "Brian damage, memory loss, loss of movement," said Doctor Silver matter-of-factly. "But we won't know anything until he is fully conscious."

  "Oh, I hadn't thought about that." She practically fell into the visitor's chair as though she had been pushed. "What if he has brain damage? What will that mean?"

  "Let's wait until we know some things for certain." The doctor's voice turned smooth and compassionate. "No sense in guessing."

  "That's right," Sally said. "Let's just wait a few more hours and see. I'll call you if there are any changes."

  Stella took a deep breath and let it out through her nose. She reached through the bed rail and squeezed her brother's hand. He seemed to smile slightly at her touch.

  "All right," Stella said. "But please. . . promise to call."

  29

  Nate and Cliff were still sitting at the dining room table still sifting through piles of pumpkin seeds when we arrived back at the farm. I don't know what it is about dining room tables but they always seem to become work zones. Even in my house, the dining room table is used for pretty much everything from figuring my taxes to folding laundry—only occasionally is it used for a meal. The men had baby food jars with seeds inside lined up like little glass soldiers. Each jar lid was marked with a year and a number.

  "Now these here," Nate said, "came from a grower in Nebraska. He swore six ways to Tuesday that I would grow a pumpkin at least five-hundred pounds."

  "Wow," Cliff said.

  "Duds." Nate said looking over his glasses—Stella told me he only wore them
for close work because they made his eyes look a little buggy. "Only grew two pumpkins and they were just average."

  That was when Cliff finally noticed us standing there listening to their conversation.

  "Hello, girls," he said. "Back so soon?"

  "Soon?" I said. "We've been gone for hours. You fellas must have been really excited about those seeds not to notice the time."

  Nate pulled his glasses off and looked into the kitchen where a clock, made to look like a pumpkin with vines for hands read nine fifteen or so, it was hard to tell.

  "Geez, oh man! It is later than I thought," Nate said. "So how is he? Did he really wake up?"

  Stella sat in the chair opposite Nate. She fiddled with one of the jars. "Kind of. He started to wake up but the doctor said he became agitated and tried to pull his tubes out so he put him back to sleep."

  "What?" Nate said. "Don't they want him to wake up?"

  "Well sure," Stella said. "But they can't have him pulling his tubes and stuff out. He's probably very confused."

  "That's right," I said standing behind Cliff. "I guess now the doctor can control things and let him come back slowly."

  "I guess it makes sense."

  "I think he recognized me, though," Stella said. He blinked his eyes right at me but then he dozed off again."

  "And," I said, "not only that but at one point he even smiled at Stella."

  Stella looked at the jar of seeds she held. "I think he even cried a little. I wiped a tear from his eye."

  "Oh, that's amazing," Cliff said. "I hear that a lot of times people in comas wake up with amnesia, without a clue about who they are or what happened to them."

  I sat next to Cliff. "The doctor also said he's responding to stimuli. That means he's aware of what's going on around him."

  "I reckon they'll need to evaluate him for other problems," Cliff said. "But it sure does sound like he's coming around. It's kind of a miracle don't you think? Maybe your sister is still in business."

  "Oh, please don't say that," I said. "This has nothing to do with Agnes. It's not unusual for a person to recover from a coma. Especially a pretty short one like Walter's. A month is not long at all."