“Thank you, I will. Do you have any hairspray or styling gel?”
Another glare was her answer.
“Guess I’ll use some of mine then.” She returned a minute later with a small plastic bottle of hairspray and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You know this would be easier if you sat on the chair.” Sorry, Mother, I’m all grown up now and you can no longer intimidate me with that glare. The world I live in, I’ve been subjected to far worse glares than yours. “How long since you’ve had a haircut?” Gillian brushed her mother’s hair, then combed and sprayed it into some kind of style, difficult since it wasn’t long enough to comb back and up and yet too long to let it hang. “I don’t suppose you have a curling iron?” Another glare. “This will have to do. Do you want a mirror?” Gillian put back the brush and comb and fetched one of the church sweaters from the closet. Holding it for Dorothy to push her arms into, Gillian almost shook her head in frustration. There was no way she was going to forcefully dress her mother. So, if she didn’t care, what difference did a sweater make? About the time she was ready to concede defeat, Dorothy growled and shoved her arms into the sleeves.
“I know Enzio likes iced tea, but would you rather have coffee?”
“He only drinks decaf.”
“Do you have any?”
“No. He can drink iced tea.”
“And you?”
“Coffee.” Her eyes narrowed, daring Gillian to argue.
“Fine then, I’ll make you coffee. If I were going to be here longer, I’d have taken out the coffeemaker I sent you. Far easier than your old percolator.” For that she received another stony look.
“There he is,” Gillian said on hearing the doorbell. “You sure you don’t want to come out to the living room?” Sure that was a rhetorical question, she hurried down the hall to the front door. “Come on in.”
Enzio smiled at her, his dark eyes dancing. “Am I welcome?”
“By me you are.” She stepped back and motioned him in.
“And Dorothy?”
Gillian rolled her eyes and shut the door. “She’s been talking a bit more, ate both breakfast and lunch, not much but better than nothing. So I see that as progress.”
Enzio patted her arm. “You are good for her, my dear, whether she thinks so or not.”
“I hope so. Please, don’t expect too much.”
“Don’t you go worrying about my feelings. I’ve lived a long time and dealt with all kinds of people. I’ve learned that love conquers all. Sometimes it just takes longer than others.” He held a silver-wrapped package under his arm.
“I don’t have any decaf coffee, so is iced tea all right?”
“It most certainly is.”
Showing a gentleman to her mother’s bedroom made Gillian flip-flop between laughing and feeling embarrassed. She thought of asking if he knew the way, but that left her open to blushing. On the other hand, if he was a longtime friend, surely he’d been to the house often enough to know the master bedroom was a little beyond the bathroom. She stopped at the door and motioned him in before heading back to the kitchen. What she wouldn’t do to eavesdrop on the conversation, the old mouse-in-the-pocket kind of thing. If her mother would even deign to speak at all.
At least her mother wasn’t shrieking, “Get out” or some such nonsense. Or throwing things. Not that she could picture her mother doing that, but then she would never have believed her mother would go to bed wanting to die. When the coffee finished perking, Gillian fixed a tray with three drinks and headed for the bedroom. Pausing outside the door, she listened. Nothing. No one said anything. Surely they had been talking. Or at least Enzio had been talking.
“Here we go,” she chirped and then entered the room. Enzio smiled at her. Her mother ignored her. Setting the tray on the end of the bed, she handed one glass to Enzio, passed the mug to her mother—who set it on the nightstand—and parked herself on the end of the bed with the other glass. “Can I get you anything else?”
Neither Enzio nor her mother responded, so she took a sip of her drink. Now what should she do? She looked over at Enzio, then to her mother, and back to him. He shrugged and drank from his glass. Her mother stared at her hands.
“So, Enzio, how has your day gone?”
“Good. I played bocce ball after church; went to the early service.”
“Did you win?”
“I didn’t do half bad.”
“He won.”
Gillian snapped her attention back to her mother. She was paying attention.
Enzio chuckled. “That I did.”
“Do you play bocce ball, Mother?”
“Sometimes. I used to.”
“And she won the women’s division.”
“Really? Is that a big sport around here?”
“Guess you could call it that. Mostly older folks play it. The game came from Italy.” He set his glass down on the nightstand and leaned forward. “Easier on the shoulders than horseshoes.”
Gillian saw that the gift had been unwrapped but was either still or back in the box. Should she ask? Her mother picked up her mug and took a sip of the coffee.
“I told her I can take her to the doctor on Wednesday. I’ll get the wheelchair from the church if I need to.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”
“No. I am not going,” the voice from the bed proclaimed.
“Then you have to make arrangements with Allie.” Mother, that is so rude. Here your friend is trying to be nice to you, make your life easier, and you are being a brat. But then perhaps there had been some brain damage with the TIA. At least personality-wise. Gillian thought back. Her mother had always been able to get things and people to do what she wanted. Once Dorothy focused on something, it might take some time, but it happened. How close was Mother to really dying? That thought piled even more guilt on the necessity for her to leave in little over twenty-four hours.
Enzio drained his glass and got up to set it on the tray. “I will be back tomorrow afternoon, Dorothy.” He leaned over and patted her hand. “Thank you for the visit.”
Gillian walked him to the front door. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry she was so rude.”
“You are welcome. You do not need to apologize for her behavior. You are doing your best, but you are up against a strong will.”
Gillian nodded. “That I know for sure. I will lay out her clothes before I leave. I know she can dress herself, but will she? I’m just not sure.”
“Maybe I should ask Adam to help. Between the two of us we could force her to come along.” His chuckle told her he was kidding.
“I wish I didn’t have to leave.” The statement surprised her. But saying it to herself again, she realized that it was the truth. Did she really have to be in New York by Tuesday morning? Yes, she and Scot had a meeting scheduled, but could it be postponed?
“Rest assured that we will take care of things here, and hopefully you will be able to return before long.” Enzio pulled a folded piece of paper from his chest pocket. “Here are some contact numbers to get someone to help if you decide to do that. I don’t know anything about Dorothy’s finances, but getting help through the doctor and Social Services will take longer.”
“I can manage to pay for help for a while for her. I just never expected we would be at this stage yet.”
“And you shouldn’t be. But God willing, we will see what we can do.” He started to leave and turned back. “If you can get an extra key, I can come and go without bothering you or Allie.”
“I will take care of that tomorrow. I plan on getting one for Mrs. Gonzales, too. I see her car is back, so I will go over and talk with her this evening or tomorrow.”
“Good.” He patted her hand. “You are a good daughter.”
Her eyes misted over as she watched him stride down the walk. A good daughter. Was she really?
Time picked up speed and whirled her through her to-do list. She’d just hung up the phone again when she heard the doorbell. A familiar form filled the po
rch side of the screen door.
“Adam, how good to see you. Come in.” The glint in his eyes made her smile wider.
“No thanks, Just thought I’d see if you need anything. Thor and I are on our way to the school for a run.”
“Oh.” Funny, why did she feel a tinge of disappointment?
“Dad and I will check on your mother after you leave. Just wanted you to know that.”
“You don’t happen to know of anyone I could hire to stay with her, even part time, do you?”
“Not off the top of my head.” Thor whined behind him. “You tried the newspaper ads?”
She nodded. “I’ll call the services in the phone book tomorrow.”
“Good. We gotta go.” He turned to leave, then threw over his shoulder, “Don’t stay away too long, okay?”
Gillian watched Adam jog out to the sidewalk and turn down the hill. Though she wasn’t a runner, a fast walk sounded like a good idea.
Mrs. Gonzales agreed to take care of watering the lawn and plants. There was no one available to stay over with Dorothy twenty-four hours a day, but Gillian would look for someone, or rather three someones, since her mother needed coverage for three eight-hour shifts. When Gillian checked online for the price for caregivers, she nearly choked. Companions were expensive, let alone nurses. Her mother would never agree to this.
When she called and talked with Allie about the information she’d learned, it was like talking to a stranger. In fact, a stranger would have been a lot more concerned.
“So you are saying you can only come every other day?” asked Gillian.
“That’s for this week. I have to have time to work this out.”
“I see.” Even though she didn’t. “I was hoping to interview someone tomorrow, but that just won’t happen. I’m leaving the list of numbers here for you to follow up on. Enzio says he will get her to the doctor’s appointment on Wednesday.”
“Good, because my Wednesday is out.”
“Why didn’t you say that at the doctor’s office?”
“I hadn’t entered all of my calendar into my cell. When I got home and checked, I realized my morning was already full.”
But you couldn’t be bothered to let me know that. “What about dinner tonight?”
“Sorry, but Jefferson got tied up in a project at the neighbor’s and sends his regrets.”
“I see.” She swallowed her inquiry about her and the kids coming and settled with, “Will I see you before I leave tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll let you know.”
Gillian clamped her teeth to keep from ripping her baby sister up one side and down the other. With all the damage caused by the tongue biting and teeth clenching, her dentist would be able to afford a new Lexus. “You do that. Bye.”
Pacing did no good. Stomping didn’t, either. Instead Gillian grabbed the window cleaner from under the sink, retrieved the paper towels from the rack, and went outside in the backyard to attack her mother’s bedroom window. Back to the pantry for the step stool. Her mother always despised slamming doors. But there was a certain release of frustration accomplished by a good door slam, except the door in this case was a slider, so it wasn’t nearly as effective. Standing in the garden and screaming would most likely result in the neighbors calling 9-1-1, thinking someone had been injured.
Surely that window had never been scrubbed so hard. The paper towels were a shredded mess. And still Gillian wanted to scream.
Dorothy’s bedroom window changed from water spotted and dusty to sparkling in a matter of minutes. On to the kitchen window and the sliding glass doors. Gillian’s arm ached and now the birds would probably fly into the glass. How could her sister be so—so petty? Bratty? Shouldn’t a forty-plus woman have some sense of responsibility? Of family? Gillian rubbed her shoulder. Now she had physical pain to go along with her rage. What happened to counting to ten? She’d be at ten thousand by now, and it still would not have done any good.
She used the glass cleaner to scrub the grime off the patio table. She’d washed it before, but now she scoured it, both the top of the glass and the underneath. A female Anna’s hummer hovered two feet away from her face, zipped down to examine the clean table, and returned to eye level to hover a few seconds more.
Gillian could not help but smile, no matter how mad she was. “Aren’t you beautiful?” she whispered. The hummer flew higher, hovered, and then headed for the roses. “That does it. I am putting out a feeder even if I have to go buy one. Surely if I hang one outside Mother’s window it will get her attention.” She ignored the in-her-head voice that asked “Who will fill it when you are gone?” and returned to the kitchen to put away her cleaning supplies. She found a box marked bird feeders in the garage and brought it into the kitchen. Inside were tubular seed feeders, two quart-size hummingbird feeders, and a tray type of seed feeder with a cover. She remembered her mother spreading sunflower seeds on a flat one like this when she was a little girl.
After washing the feeders and leaving them turned upside down on the kitchen counter to dry, she poured herself a glass of iced tea, one for her mother, and headed down the hallway.
“Mother?”
“I thought you left.”
“No, this is still Sunday and I am here.” She set the iced tea on the nightstand. “I brought you something to drink.”
“What were you banging around out in the garage for?”
Gillian paused in mid-sip. Her mother had noticed all the noise. How about that? “I was looking for hummingbird feeders. I found the box.”
“Oh.” Dorothy pushed herself halfway to a sitting position.
“You want some help?”
“No.”
Gillian set her glass down and stacked the pillows behind her mother’s back. “I wish you would come out and watch her.”
“Who?”
“The hummingbird.”
Dorothy reached for her glass. “I don’t feed them anymore.”
“Why?”
A shrug, but at least it was a response.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“I’m thinking of leftovers for tonight; we hardly made a dent in them at lunchtime. Unless you’d like salmon again. There are those fillets in your freezer.”
“Is Allie coming back?”
“No.” Gillian drank a slug from her glass. “Do you know someone we could call to come and stay with you?”
Dorothy shook her head and tipped it back to stare at the ceiling. “I told you. I don’t want anyone to stay here. I don’t need anyone to stay here. You go back to your New York life and I will be just fine.”
“Mother, I can’t just leave you like this.”
Dorothy glared at her again, rolled over, and pulled her covers up.
What would the glass being thrown against the wall sound like? More important, feel like?
Chapter Thirteen
Hanging up the hummingbird feeders felt like a declaration of war. Or maybe it was an act of war. The declaration had been made when she broke the windowpane to enter the house. Gillian watched out the kitchen window as her shimmering avian friend found the feeder. It hadn’t taken her long. Hummingbirds used to be one of her mother’s daily delights. She’d kept the feeders filled and planted her yard and garden to be a friendly place for both birds and butterflies. That thought brought Gillian to another. Where was the birdbath that was always kept full so the feathered guests would have the water they needed for drinking and bathing?
She’d not seen one in the garage. Surely her mother had not thrown it away. Gillian, now on a mission, headed for the area around the gate to the backyard where her mother used to keep gardening equipment under a shed roof attached to the house. Sure enough. The rakes and hoes hung on hooks, a tiller, lawn mower, and a couple of garbage cans with firmly clamped lids took up most of the graveled area, leaving just enough room for the concrete birdbath. Why had Mother put it away? But then the why of her mother’s most recent actions would
take far more understanding than Gillian was capable of at the moment. Since the birdbath came in two pieces, she carried the top part out first and set it on the concrete patio. When she alternately dragged and rolled the heavy stand out, her shoulder, the right one still unhappy with all the window washing, yelped at her. Though dusty, the birdbath had been scrubbed before its retirement. She retrieved the brush from under the kitchen sink, cleaned the concrete using water from the hose, and looked around for a place to put it. In the rose bed would be good; the sprinkler system would fill it while watering the plants.
Once the birdbath was in place and filled, she fetched herself another glass of iced tea, her pen and pencil, and sat down at the patio table. Interesting that her years in New York hadn’t totally obliterated her training from childhood. Not that she’d thought of feeders and birdbaths and sprinkler systems while living in her high rise condo. Besides which she’d never been back to her mother’s house for a length of time when she needed to spend hours in the backyard.
The hummingbird left the feeder and hovered over the patio table for a moment before going on to the roses.
“You’re welcome.” Gillian watched as her new friend perched on a rose cane and proceeded to groom her feathers. Back to her list of things that should be accomplished before she left. The countdown had begun; she had twenty-six hours before she needed to leave for the airport, giving herself an extra hour to return the rental car. When the phone rang, she returned to the house, not realizing she was chilly until she stepped inside to the warmer kitchen.
“Hi, Gillian, Enzio speaking.”
Even the timbre of his voice made her smile. “I know.”
“My accent gives me away.”
“Not so much your accent as just your voice. You always sound happy.”
“Now that, my dear, is a very good compliment. How is our patient doing?”
“As little as possible. She’s trying to ignore me.”
“I see. And how well is that working?”
“I’ve been busy outside. Good thing the grass is all dead because then I don’t have to mow it.”
On Hummingbird Wings Page 10