On Hummingbird Wings

by Lauraine Snelling

  “There now. Here’s your coffee.”

  “Drink coffee, I just have to get up to pee.” But she took a sip, holding the mug with both hands.

  “Okay, what did Dr. Isaacs say?”

  Dorothy shook her head, almost more like a shudder. “That man.”

  Obviously her mother didn’t like what he’d had to say. The thought almost made her smile. “Well?”

  “He said I’m healthy as a horse and to get out of bed and back to living.” The words came out in a grumbled, angry rush. “He just doesn’t understand.”

  “Understand what?” Gillian leaned forward, elbows on her knees, coffee mug between both hands, and stared at her mother over the rim of the cup.

  “I’m dying, that’s what.”

  “Far as that goes, Mother, we are all dying. And none of us knows the day nor the hour.” Where had that come from? Sounded an awful lot like a Bible verse she’d memorized oh so many years ago. What was going on? Coming back to this house, she found herself praying more than she had for years. Sure, she prayed in church, when she attended, but this was uncanny. Knowing she needed to ponder on this strange behavior, she turned her focus back to her mother.

  “You didn’t have a stroke.” The whine was back.

  “No, I didn’t. Tell me what it was like.”

  “No. I’m exhausted.” Dorothy held out her half full cup. “And if Enzio comes, tell him I am—I am…oh, I don’t know. All of you, just leave me be.” She slid down and pulled the covers over her head.

  “I’ll be back with breakfast, or rather brunch, after I shower and get ready for the day. What would you like?”

  “Nothing,”

  “Sorry, that’s not on the menu.”

  “Go away.”

  “Then you’ll just have to eat whatever I bring you. There’s a male hummingbird outside your window. He sure is beautiful.” Gillian waited a moment in hopes of a reply, but when it didn’t come, she left and went to her room to unpack. Sliding open the closet doors, she groaned. There was maybe two feet of space to hang her things. Though it had been fine before, it wouldn’t work now. She checked the drawers. The top one was the only empty one. She checked the closet in the other, smaller room. Full. Dresser, full. Her mother’s sewing machine sat against one wall, protected by a quilted cover. The chest of drawers next to that held sewing supplies.

  Okay, she’d have to clear out enough space in her room to hang her things, but where would she find clothes hangers? Back to her mother’s room to check the closet. There were a few empty hangers, but not enough. That would be at the top of her list to find. Opening the closet door in her room, she hauled the coffeemaker box out to the kitchen, three other boxes into the sewing room to set in the middle of the floor, and a tall plastic container of wrapping paper beside the boxes. She’d sort later. Although crammed in, the hangers she had held the clothes from one suitcase. Her underwear went in the drawer and her shoes on the floor. One suitcase could go out to the garage. When she came back in, she peeked into her mother’s room. Dorothy was sound asleep; gentle snores attested to that.

  What sounded good for breakfast? She glanced at the clock. The day was flying by and she couldn’t figure out how to catch it, or at least slow it down. Out of the shower, dressed, makeup applied, and ready for the day, Gillian returned to the kitchen. She set a pad of paper and a pen on the counter to start a shopping list. Hangers, a plastic crate, answering machine. She erased the last item and added a note to check with the phone company. Both hummingbirds sat on the feeder in front of the window. Other than the roses, there was nothing else for them to feed on.

  Setting the oatmeal to boil, she brought out the tray and set two places, one for her mother and the other for herself. Outside again, she checked the roses. No buds left, so she cut a full-blown creamy blossom with brilliant pink edges to put in the bud vase. With an unfolded napkin as a miniature tablecloth, the tray looked very nice, if she did say so herself.

  The ringing of the phone made her stop stirring the raisins into the oatmeal. “Hello.”

  “Oh, pardon me, I must have the wrong number.”

  “No, you don’t have the wrong number, Allie.”

  “Gillian?”

  “Was the last time I checked.”

  “You don’t have to be sarcastic. When did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? How long are you staying?”

  “Have you checked your messages?” At that moment, Gillian wished she had told her sister about the company takeover. But she hadn’t so now she’d have to deal with more questions than she wanted to. “Look, I have breakfast about ready for Mother. Where are you?”

  “Just turning on to Morello.”

  “All right, I’ll tell you the whole story when you get here. Are you drinking coffee?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then I won’t make more. See you in a few.” She hung up the phone, dished up the oatmeal, and carried the tray into the bedroom. Top priority had just become to get her mother out in the kitchen to eat. Clicking into cheery, she set the tray on the dresser. “Breakfast is served, madam.” While the French accent sounded cheesy, she would give anything to make her mother smile, let alone laugh. How long since Dorothy had laughed?

  “Go away.”

  “Nope. Come on, our food is getting cold.” She pulled back the covers and reached for the opposite pillow. “I am here to help you.” Stroking her mother’s bare arm, she cringed inside at how thin it had become. “Come on, Mother. Let’s get you sitting up.”

  Dorothy huffed, but she sat up and pushed herself back against the pillows. “Anything to get you…”

  Gillian’s mind finished the old saw. “…off my back.” Mother, you’ve not seen anything yet. She set the tray on her mother’s lap and picked up her own bowl and utensils before sitting on the chair. “There wasn’t any bread or I would have made toast.”

  Dorothy picked up her spoon. “Is there brown sugar on this?”

  “Yes, it melted in.” Gillian ate a few spoonfuls. “What kind of rose is that?”

  “A very poor specimen of Double Delight.”

  “It smells wonderful. Let’s leave it in here so your room smells good.” She heard a key in the front door. “Allie is here.”

  Dorothy closed her eyes and shook her head. But at least she kept eating, slow as she was.

  “I’ll tell you, hearing your voice on the phone gave me a shock.” Allie neglected to even say hello.

  “Sorry, it’s a long story.”

  “Hello, Mother.” Allie came around the bed to halfway hug her mother. “I see you are eating. How wonderful.” She kissed the top of her mother’s head and turned to Gillian. “Okay, what gives?”

  “First of all, I lost my job.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I never had much of a chance, and I was reeling from it myself.” She glanced at her mother, who was staring at her.

  “So why did you go back to New York?”

  “I had to empty my office and sign some papers, plus a meeting with Scot, my former boss. I finished that on Wednesday morning, but all I could think of was Mother here by herself.”

  “You did not need to come back for me,” Dorothy grumbled.

  “You’re right, Mother, I did not need to, I wanted to.”

  “So.” Allie stretched the word into three syllables.

  “So, I did what I had to do, closed up my condo and caught the last flight last night.” Gillian finished her oatmeal and wiped her mouth with her napkin, outwardly trying to look as calm as if it had been a normal day.

  “How did you get here?”

  “Adam met me at the baggage claim area and brought me here. We thought sure our banging around with the luggage would wake Mother, but it didn’t.”

  “I didn’t know until the phone rang and rang.” Dorothy took a sip of coffee and made a face.

  “That was me. I figured you would call me back like we usually do if you heard the ph
one ring,” Allie added.

  “I heard a voice say hello. Scared me half to death. Someone was in my house.”

  Gillian rolled her lips together to keep from smiling. Those were the most words she’d heard her mother utter at the same time since she’d come back to Martinez last Friday.

  “So now what?” Allie sat down near the foot of the bed.

  “So now I’m not sure.” Gillian caught her mother’s glance and picked up the tray, setting it in its usual place by the door. Do I tell them about the month I have or not? “I just knew that I had a job to do here and the sooner I could get back, the sooner we’d get Mother back on her feet.”

  Dorothy shook her head slowly from side to side. “But what if I don’t want to get back on my feet?”

  Gillian shrugged. Please, God, let me be the winner in this battle.

  Chapter Seventeen

  But why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  “I left you a message on your phone. Have you checked lately?”

  Allie sputtered, then had the grace to look sorry. The two sisters had moved to the kitchen after their mother had ordered them out of her bedroom. Gillian dumped the coffee grounds in the trash under the sink.

  “Mother saves those for the compost pile or to spread under her roses.”

  “Really.” Gillian looked in the bag to see coffee grounds scattered all over the trash. “Then I will next time. Thanks.” She refilled the basket and set the percolator on the burner. “This isn’t bad coffee, you know.”

  “Actually I prefer flavored coffees, but I drink this when I am here. Or tea. There’s herbal and black teas above the stove.”

  Gillian sat down at the other end of the table so she could watch her sister more easily. “Back to your question. I tried to tell you about my job when I was here, but, Allie, you were so rarely here there was no time.” Might as well lay it out on the line. “And then you never returned my calls. So I just had to go ahead and do what I could.”

  Allie stared down at her hands. “You could at least have told Mother.”

  “I could have, but when I left here, I wasn’t sure when or if I was coming back. Had the new owners offered me a job, I would probably have taken it.” She snorted gently, more like a huff. Shaking her head, she nibbled on the inside of her cheek. “I’m neither old enough nor ready to retire.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “Like I said before, I really don’t know. And I haven’t had a lot of time to give it much thought.” And if I start thinking on it, I want to either sob or run screaming. “I had my life all planned out.”

  “Well, at least you’ve had a life.”

  Gillian stared at her baby sister. “What do you mean? I thought you loved your life.”

  “Nothing.” Allie pasted a smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just a smart remark. I do love my life, my husband, my children.” She glanced at her watch. “I can’t stay too long, I…”

  “Allie, what are you running from?”

  “What do you mean? I’m here for ten minutes and you are already criticizing me?”

  Had Gillian been standing she would have taken a step back, or two. Where had that come from? She raised her hands, palm out in the surrender salute. “I give. Let’s talk about Mother and what has to be done here.” She watched Allie’s shoulders slump and her eyes lower to return to staring at her hands. Think on this later, Gillian told herself. That is the same thing Mother does. “Did anyone tell you what went on at the doctor’s?”

  “Mother just muttered when I talked to her yesterday. Said she was too tired to talk.”

  “Well, when I asked her this morning, she said he said she was healthy as a horse and then ordered her to get out of that bed and get back to living or something along those lines. I’m expecting Enzio to call any time, but he wouldn’t have gone into the examining room to see the doctor with her. He was just the transportation. Have you talked with him?”

  “No. I think the coffee is ready.” Allie got up to pour. “Sugar or cream?”

  “No thanks, black is fine.” Gillian watched her sister as she added sweetener to her own and brought both mugs to the table. Something was bothering Allie, but at this point she had no intentions of talking about it. The signs were the same as when they were younger. But Miss Perfect Allie shouldn’t be bothered by anything really important. She had everything she wanted. “Thanks.” Gillian stared at her mug. “Any suggestions on how to get Mother out of bed?”

  “You really believe she is not sick, not really dying?”

  “That’s what I think, but until I talk with Dr. Isaacs, how would I really know? I know she can eat and feed herself. She can walk to the bathroom and back to bed. Once she has more nourishment, she should get stronger. Enzio spent the last two days with her just to make sure she was all right physically.” Gillian heaved a sigh. “But she still thinks she wants to die. All because she had a small stroke. There must be something else going on here; we just have to figure out what it is.”

  “What if I look up TIAs on the med-line and print out what they say? Perhaps reading about it would help. Or if we read it to her.”

  “Good idea, anything is better than watching her get weaker and weaker. Mother has always been such a strong woman that this just does not make sense.”

  “I’ll do that this evening. Do you have your computer here?”

  “Nope, the buyout company wanted it back and I’ve not purchased a new one yet. That’s another thing on my to-do list. In the meantime, I get e-mails and such on my cell.”

  “Then I’ll bring the information by tomorrow. What else?”

  “I’ll put in a call to Dr. Isaacs. He’ll probably return it after seeing patients. I would have assumed he would order more tests, but mother didn’t mention that. If he wrote a prescription it would be in her purse, right?” The thought of going through her mother’s purse or any of her private things made Gillian cringe. Nobody looked in her mother’s purse.

  “I’ll check.” Allie got up and went to the bedroom, returning with a black leather handbag that had seen better days. She sat down and began rummaging, then looked up, shaking her head. “Nothing.”

  “Well, is that good or bad?”

  “Good. He must have checked heart, lungs, blood pressure, eyes, ears, and so on. Did you ask if he ordered blood drawn for a blood panel?”

  “No. Didn’t think of it.” Since when did her little sister talk as if she knew a lot about medical things? She’d always shuddered at the sight of blood and always said she knew nothing about medical procedures. Come to think of it, she’d acted dumb about medical things when Gillian had been there last week. Something strange was going on. “But I will.”

  “I’ll ask her. I’m going to wake her before I leave so she knows I was here. Sometimes when I’ve come to visit, she doesn’t remember.”

  “Often?”

  “No, just recently. That’s why I called you. Sometimes I couldn’t wake her up all the way.”

  Gillian started to ask why she didn’t call the paramedics but knew that would sound like an accusation. Besides she remembered Allie saying Mother would refuse to go, and the EMTs wouldn’t force her.

  Allie returned the purse to the bedroom and tried to wake her mother. “Mother, I’m here and we need to talk. Mother.” The tone changed slightly from sweet to demanding. “Mother.”

  “You have to shake her shoulder.” Gillian raised her voice to be heard down the hall.

  “Mother, you need to wake up now.” The enunciation was sharper and Allie had slipped into her scolding-the-children voice. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay long.” The sweet tone returned, so obviously she’d managed to wake their mother.

  Gillian debated going back to the bedroom or outside where the sun shone warm and the birds sang. How could her mother stand to stay in that dark room? What would happen if she took down the drapes and the blinds? Said they had to be cleaned and just didn’t get around to put
ting them back up. She added to her list: Buy basket of flowers to hang outside Mother’s window. Perhaps the hummingbirds would appreciate that, too. After all, now she was going to be here to water things.

  “Gillian?”

  She headed for the bedroom on command, stopping in the doorway. “What?”

  While Dorothy was still lying down, she at least looked alert. “When did you come?”

  “About three a.m. You didn’t stir.”

  “Why did you not let me know you were coming?”

  “I told you. I called three times but you never answered. That’s why we’re getting an answering machine or service. Who do you have for your server?”

  “She means who do you pay your telephone bill to?” Allie spoke gently.

  Thinking she needed interpretation zinged Gillian, but she ignored it. Anything to communicate.

  “AT&T. I’ve always been with them.”

  Gillian came around and sat on the foot of the bed. “Where do you keep a copy of the bill?”

  “What are you going to do?” Dorothy’s voice quavered.

  “Look, if I am going to be here a while, an answering service is important. If you don’t want to pay for it, I will. It can’t be more than five dollars a month. If you don’t like it, we’ll take it off when I leave.”

  “You’re not leaving now, are you?”

  “No, Mother, I can be here as long as you need me.” And by then I have to have figured out what will happen next. Unless Scot comes through like he said.

  “What about your job?”

  At last, interest in something besides sleeping. “My company was bought out and they let all the management personnel go. The takeover was last Friday. I went back, did all the things required, closed up my condo, and here I am.” You’re stuck with me.

  “But you have worked there all your working life.”

  “I know.” And I planned to retire from there at age fifty-two with a sound pension, sufficient investments, and a plan for the rest of my life. Not rich but indeed comfortable. Now here we are, six years early with a buyout but no job.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”