Tranquility

by Laurie Gardiner

  I went to her and pulled her into my arms. I could feel her body shaking. “You’re a good person. That’s why it’s so hard for you to see her this way. It’s hard for me too and I’ve found myself thinking the same thing. We’re not hoping for her to die, we’re hoping she’ll find peace.”

  I slept fitfully that night. My head swam with thoughts of Gran and Sheila.

  The next morning, I woke with a headache and puffy, dark circles under my eyes. Although I dreaded sneaking back into the bathing room, I almost wished Mrs. W’s bath was that day. The waiting and suspense were unbearable. Worst of all, I couldn’t get the image of Rose, sobbing and shivering, out of my head. Every time I sent a resident into the bathing room, I thought of her and felt a wave of guilt.

  Tracey tried her best to reassure me, but by the end of the day, I was a mess. I hurried out to the parking lot at two-thirty sharp, without even waiting for Tracey.

  When I got home, Mom was in the kitchen making a pot of tea. I pulled out a stool and sat at the island. “You’re home from the hospital early.”

  Mom poured the tea. She placed a mug in front of me as well as a plate of cookies she and Kayla had made the night before. “I was hoping to catch you before you went to the school,” she said, sitting down across from me. “I’ve made a decision.”

  “And?”

  “I want Gran to come home. I think it’s what she would want. I think it might be what she’s waiting for.”

  I nodded. “I think it’s a good idea.”

  Mom’s shoulders sagged in relief. “My only concern is Kayla. How do you feel about her seeing Gran the way she is?”

  “I think she’ll be okay. Death is a part of life. It’s something she has to learn eventually.”

  “I told Dr. Chang my decision today. He said if all goes well, she could be home by Thursday.”

  We’d need supplies for Gran if that were the case. “I have tomorrow off. Why don’t we go shopping after we take Kayla to school and get the things we’ll need for Gran?”

  “That would be nice, Sarah. We certainly haven’t had much time to spend together lately, have we?”

  “You have your hands full with Gran right now.”

  Mom took my hand as I reached for my tea. “I know I haven’t been there for you since your dad died.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Mom, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes. I do. I failed you. And I failed myself. I lost out on seeing you grow into a woman. I was so consumed by my own grief and pain that I didn’t think about yours.”

  “I didn’t exactly reach out to you either.”

  “You were a child! I was supposed to be the parent. I should have reached out. I was such a mess after your dad died. It was like a part of me died with him. For a long time I did want to die.”

  I squeezed her hand and blinked back tears of my own. “So did I. For a long time, all I could remember was how weak and helpless he was at the end, but the other day I smelled wood smoke and it reminded me of him and the trailer.”

  Mom smiled through her tears. “It was his favorite place.”

  “You’d lounge in your chair reading, while Dad and I fished.”

  “I fished too. Sometimes.”

  “Until you freaked out when you got that huge pike on the line and tipped the canoe and lost most of Dad’s fishing gear.”

  We laughed and Mom shook her head at the memory. “He wasn’t very happy with me, was he?”

  “No, but he laughed about it later. I think my favorite time was in the evening, at the campfire. You and Dad would sit on that big log bench he built and I’d snuggle up under a blanket across your legs, with my head on a pillow on your lap.”

  “And I’d stroke your hair until you fell asleep,” Mom said softly.

  I nodded. “I remember trying so hard to keep my eyes open. I didn’t want to miss anything.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Mom said.

  I squeezed her hand. “It was a bad time for all of us. Like Gran always says, you can’t change the past. All you can do is learn from it and move on.”

  Mom smiled sadly. “Gran’s always been full of good advice. Thank God she’s been here for us these past ten years.”

  I lay awake that night thinking about our talk. It was the first time we’d spoken openly about my dad since his death. It had opened the floodgates and let long lost memories come pouring in; the smell of the campfire swirling around me, filling my senses, the warmth of the fire, the gentle rhythm of my mother’s fingers in my hair, and the sound of my parents’ subdued voices, lulling me to sleep.

  I held those once-forgotten memories of my dad close, his face, etched with the lines of years of laughter, his voice, deep and musical. And the way he smelled, of sawdust, sweet fresh air and the earthy smell of sweat that comes from working outdoors.

  I’d loved him more than I’d ever loved anyone until Kayla. I swore I’d never forget him; his face, his laughter, the wonderful smell of him.

  The memories were overwhelming. There were so many, all at once, filling my head, my heart, my senses. My chest hurt. It felt as though someone had reached in, taken hold of my heart and was squeezing it. I struggled to breathe, sucked in a deep, quavering breath and buried my head in my pillow as the first sob tore from my throat. When the sobs subsided, I turned my soggy pillow over and cried myself quietly to sleep.

  * * *

  Mom and I spent the next morning shopping. Spending some uncomplicated time with her took my mind off Sheila and the camera for a while. Mom seemed more relaxed as well. The decision was made. It was one less thing weighing on her mind.

  After stopping at a diner for lunch, we headed to the hospital to see Gran. Dr. Chang came in to confirm that she would be going home the next day. He explained what would happen, answered our questions, and left us with the nurse. She gave us some handouts to read and went over the basics of care with us. It was all information I was familiar with, but it would give Mom a better idea of what to expect.

  I left Mom with Gran and headed home, stopping on a whim at the little market nearby to buy a bouquet of tulips. When I got home, I went to the kitchen, arranged the vibrant orange and yellow flowers in a vase and took them to Gran’s room.

  Before she’d come from the hospital after her first stroke, Mom and I had converted the dining room into a bedroom for her. The room was spacious with a big, bright window facing the backyard. It was near the kitchen and main floor bathroom and, most importantly, there were no stairs to worry about. It had been perfect for her while she recuperated.

  I cleaned and organized the room and put away the supplies we’d bought. I moved the double bed into the corner against the wall to make room for the hospital bed we’d arranged to rent. The armchair was perfect in front of the window. I angled it so it would have a view of both Gran’s bed and the yard. The nightstand and lamp went beside the chair. It would be a nice spot to sit with coffee and a book. I placed the flowers on the dresser beside the little flat screen TV. The walls looked a little stark, so I went to my room, got a piece of Kayla’s artwork I’d framed and put it on the wall across from the bed.

  I stood in the doorway and took a good look at the room. It was clean, bright and inviting. Gran might not be able to enjoy or appreciate it, but I knew it would make Mom happy.

  I left to pick Kayla up from school and we went to the hospital to get Mom.

  “Is Gran in there, Mommy?” Kayla asked when we pulled up in front of the main doors.

  “Yes, she is.”

  “When can I go see her?”

  “Well, Nana and I are going to talk to you about that when we get home.”

  “Why, ‘cause I get to see her soon? Oh, look, there’s Nana!” She beamed and waved her hand wildly out the window.

  Mom opened Kayla’s door and gave her a kiss before getting into the front seat. “How was school today?” she asked as we drove away.

  Telling us about her day kept Kayla occupied
all the way home, but the second we walked through the door she said, “Are we gonna talk about Gran now, Mommy?”

  I gave Mom a questioning look.

  She nodded.

  “Sure, just give us a few minutes to get settled, okay?”

  She skipped off to find something to do. Mom and I hung up our coats and went to the kitchen.

  Mom put the kettle on and took the teapot down from its place on the shelf.

  “Sorry to spring that on you,” I said, taking two mugs down and placing them on the counter. “She asked about Gran when she saw the hospital and I realized, if Gran’s coming home tomorrow, we have to prepare Kayla for it.”

  “It’s okay, I thought of that today too.”

  Kayla came skipping into the kitchen and climbed onto a stool. “Could I have tea too?”

  Mom gave her a reproving look. “It’s ‘may I’, and you forgot your manners.”

  “May I have tea too, please?”

  Mom took down a third mug. She filled it halfway with milk, added enough weak tea to make it warm, and put it in front of Kayla.

  “Thank you, Nana,” Kayla said, reaching for the sugar bowl.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I sat beside Kayla and put my hand on her arm as she reached for a second spoonful of sugar. “One’s enough.”

  Her bottom lip came out slightly, but she didn’t argue.

  I waited until Mom had fixed her tea and taken a seat across from us before I said, “Are we ready to talk about Gran?”

  “Do I get to see her?” Kayla asked.

  “Yes, you do. She’s coming home tomorrow.”

  Kayla clapped her hands in excitement and bounced up and down on her stool.

  I took her hands and held them in mine. My expression was serious. “She’s very sick, Kayla. She looks different than she did last time you saw her and she sleeps all the time.”

  “All the time? Doesn’t she wake up to eat and drink?”

  “No, she’s too sick to eat and drink, so they feed her with a tube, kind of like a big, long straw.”

  “Will I be able to talk to her?”

  “Of course,” Mom said. “Your mom and I talk to her, and read to her, all the time.”

  “Gran can’t talk,” I explained, “but I’m sure she can hear us.”

  “If Gran can’t talk, or eat, or wake up, does that mean she’s ready to die now?”

  I looked at Mom to see how she felt about that question. She gave her head a slight shake and I knew this one was up to me. “We think she is, sweetie. That’s why she’s coming home, so she can be comfortable in her own room and have us nearby. And speaking of her room, I cleaned it up today and got it ready. Would you like to come see?”

  The three of us went into the room together. Mom put her hand to her mouth. Her eyes were full of tears when she looked at me. “It’s perfect, Sarah. Thank you.”

  Kayla hopped up on the bed. “Why’d you move Gran’s bed, Mommy?”

  “There’s a special bed coming for Gran tomorrow morning. Nana and I will take turns sleeping in this one so she won’t be alone at night.”

  “That’s good. I don’t think Gran would wanna be all by herself when she dies. Does dying hurt, Mommy?”

  Mom quickly left the room. I sat on the bed and pulled Kayla onto my lap.

  I left the room a long, difficult conversation later, feeling emotionally drained and fairly certain that talking to Kayla about sex a few years later would be a breeze.

  * * *

  Before I went to bed, I double checked the video camera and battery and put them in my bag. I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about what I had to do in the morning.

  My phone went off as I was climbing into bed. It was a text from Tracey asking if I was ready.

  As I’ll ever be, I responded. So nervous.

  Dont b! Ull b fine. Ud b a terrible spy

  I slept fitfully and woke before the alarm. My stomach was so twisted up with nerves that I skipped breakfast. I filled a travel mug with strong, black coffee and was out the door well before six.

  Tracey met me in the change room at six-fifteen. Five minutes later I was in the bathing room, setting up the camera. Shortly after six-thirty we were on the floor working.

  Chapter 26 - The Sh*t Hits the Fan

  WHEN I ENTERED HER ROOM shortly after six-thirty, Edie was sitting in her chair, staring out the window into the fading darkness.

  “Good morning, Edie,” I said in a hushed voice.

  Her hand flew to her chest. “Are ye trying to give me a heart attack, sneaking up on me like that?”

  “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to sneak. I was just trying not to wake Mrs. Sellers.”

  She twisted her hands in her lap. “Och, lass, I know that. I’m just a little out of sorts today.”

  “Are you feeling okay? You’re not sick are you?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I didn’t get a good night’s sleep is all.”

  I was sure there was more to it than that. She seemed nervous about something. “Are you sure you’re okay, Edie. Is there something you want to talk about?”

  She hesitated, but shook her head. “No, thank you for your concern, but I’m fine and you’ve work to do. I’ll not hold you up.”

  I didn’t argue. I’d talk to her after breakfast when I wasn’t so rushed for time. I unlocked her wardrobe. “Don’t forget, you have a bath at seven-thirty this morning.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. I haven’t forgotten.”

  * * *

  It was nearly seven-thirty when I hurried back down the hall to Edie’s room. She wasn’t there. I was sure she’d gone to the bathing room, but I poked my head around the corner at the end of the hall to be sure. She was sitting on the bench outside the bathing room with her bag of clothing and toiletries beside her.

  She looked up. I gave her a quick wave. She barely lifted her hand in return. Her face was pale and drawn. There was something wrong, more than she was letting on. I had a feeling she was hiding something. The twins’ raised voices drifted down the hall. They were arguing again. I looked back toward Hall B. Albert was at the other end of the hall in a pair of plaid polyester pants and an undershirt, calling “Hairball!” over and over. He disappeared into Rose’s room. I gave Edie one last concerned look, wishing I had time to talk to her. She smiled and waved her fingers upward as though to say “go”. I sighed, gave her a grateful smile and hurried down the hall to find Albert.

  Twenty minutes later I was on my way back from taking some of the residents to the lounge. It was a quarter to eight and I still needed to get Mrs. Sellers up and ready for breakfast. I was about to go into her room, when Sheila came running around the corner at the end of the hall. My mouth dropped open as I stopped and stared in disbelief.

  Her hair was a damp, tangled mess. Streaks of black mascara ran down her blotchy face and her wet scrubs clung to her body. She waved her hands frantically as she hurried down the hall toward me, yelling, “She’s crazy. Help me!”

  Tracey came running out of Mr. Roberts’ room. “What’s going on?”

  “I have no idea.” Then it occurred to me. “Edie was in there with her!”

  “Crazy…gun… help,” Sheila gasped as she ran toward us.

  I pushed past her and sprinted down the hall to the bathing room. “Edie?” I called, charging through the door. My heart pounded. I looked frantically around the room. Edie lay naked on the floor in front of the tub, in a puddle of water.

  “Oh, my God!” I grabbed a towel off the bench beside the door and started toward her. I slipped on the wet floor, caught myself and went carefully to where she lay. Kneeling down in the water beside her, I covered her shivering body with the towel and picked up her hand.

  “It’s okay, Edie. I’m here.” I placed two fingers on the inside of her wrist. Her pulse was strong. I held her hand in mine and continued to talk to her soothingly.

  I could hear the sound of voices in the hall and people running. “Hear that, Ed
ie? Help is on the way. We’ll have you out of here in no time.”

  Her fingers twitched and her eyes fluttered open. “Tell you…later.” She squeezed my hand and closed her eyes right before the door opened.

  I could have sworn she winked.

  The door opened a crack and Abby called out. “Sarah? Are you in here?”

  “Right here. It’s fine. Come in.”

  She opened the door wider and took a hesitant step into the room.

  “Careful,” I said. “The floor’s wet.”

  She made her way cautiously across the floor. “Sheila said something about a gun.”

  “There’s no gun.”

  The nurse in Abby took over. She crouched beside Edie to check her pulse. “I called 911. Help will be here soon.”

  Tina and Carol stood in the doorway. Behind them, a few residents had gathered curiously. I could hear Sheila in the hallway crying and prattling on hysterically about Edie and the mysterious gun.

  “Tina, Carol,” I said, “can you get these residents away from the door, please? And send someone in with blankets.”

  Carol took charge. “Okay, show’s over. Let’s go see if the dining room’s open.” The crowd dispersed and the door swung shut, blocking out the last of the noise.

  Abby was carefully feeling Edie’s limbs and joints, checking them for injuries, when the door opened again and Tracey came in with blankets. We draped them over Edie’s trembling body and tucked them underneath as well as we could without moving her.

  Abby spoke brusquely as she worked. “Nothing feels broken, but I’m worried about her head and back.”

  I took a towel off the shelf and mopped up as much water as I could from the floor around Edie. Tracey grabbed another towel and knelt down beside me to help. Within minutes we had the floor dry.

  Tracey took my towel. She wrapped the wet towels in a dry one so they wouldn’t drip. “I’ll take these to the laundry and watch for the paramedics.”

  After Tracey left, I knelt beside Edie once more, and took her hand. “I’m still here, Edie.”