by Beth Duke
“In a few minutes. I came to tell you something, Violet. An old...friend...of yours is in the medical wing, and...”
“It’s Chet,” Violet interrupted, standing and dropping the book. Ronni pulled her back down.
“He’s not doing very well,” she told her gently, squeezing Violet’s hand. “He’s recovering from a heart surgery. I think his wife is with him, and will be until at least eight o’clock.”
Violet looked puzzled.
“Visiting hours,” Ronni explained.
Violet asked quietly, “What do you mean by not doing well? Is he dying?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Ronni said. “But he’s very weak.”
“I have to see him, Ronni. I have to go to him.”
“The doors to that area are locked at eight fifteen every night,” Ronni said. “You can’t just walk in there, Violet, you’ll have to wait for visiting hours.”
“With his wife clutching his hand?” Violet answered. “No, you have to get me past that door, Ronni. You have to take me to Chet tonight.” She gathered the dropped book and delivered it to the proper shelf, then started on a new stack without looking up. “I’ll knock on the door at eight fifteen, Ronni.”
Ronni hesitated and said, “Don’t use the main doors. I’ll meet you at the one by the garden, where we won’t be seen. If I’m not there, give me a few minutes. I might be with a patient.” She walked away cursing herself for not insisting Violet visit like everyone else. There would be days, surely, when Chet’s family wouldn’t come. No matter how much she loved Violet, she needed to keep her job. She would put an end to this tonight.
Ronni stayed in the doorway as Violet walked to Chet and took his hand. His eyes opened and fixed on her.
“Am I dreaming?” he blinked. Ronni saw a tear trace its way to his smile. Chet’s hair was gunmetal gray and he lay weak in a hospital bed, but she could easily see the beauty of his face when he looked at Violet. He was still a handsome man by any measure.
“No, darling, I’m close by. I always will be. I’ll visit you every chance I get.” Violet sat on the bed and put her hands on either side of his face. She leaned to kiss him and then reached into her handbag and produced something small. “I have a present for you,” she told him, and placed a glittery gold rock into Chet’s outstretched palm.
He shook his head slowly. “Better than gold,” he whispered.
Violet laughed and leaned to kiss him again. “No more born too late stuff, Mister. You’re looking pretty mature these days.”
“And you look like the same girl I met all those years ago. Lovely as always,” Chet gazed into Violet’s eyes as if they held the answers to every question he’d ever had.
Ronni went out into the hall, hurrying from the sensation she was not needed or wanted in the bubble of their little world.
She walked in an hour later to get Violet to leave, which she did with much fanfare and dramatic promises to return soon. Afterward she checked Chet’s vitals and was astounded at the improvement in his heart rate and blood pressure. There was no doubt time with Violet was good for her patient. “Thank you,” Chet told her. “She told me you’re like the daughter she never had. It means a lot to me that you arranged for her to visit, and that you care so much about her.”
“I do,” Ronni replied. “I love Violet.”
“Everybody loves Violet,” he said, closing his eyes with a smile.
That was how it began. Ronni used her key to let Violet steal a few minutes with Chet, holding his hand, reading to him, eventually making him laugh as he got stronger. Chet never was able to leave his bed, but Violet came to him as often as Ronni worked a night shift and could help. Ronni made sure she had charge of Chet’s care and kept everyone else away. It worked perfectly until she walked in near midnight, long after Violet was to have left, and found her curled against Chet, sound asleep.
She woke Violet gently and whispered, “You can’t be here, Violet. You know this is against policy. I could lose my job. Please go home now and be careful you’re not seen on camera.” She and Violet had scoped out a route that avoided all the security cameras Ronni knew of. They used a back door that was largely ignored except by nurses sneaking out for cigarette breaks.
Violet stretched sleepily and nodded. “I’m sorry, Ronni. I won’t do it again.” She kissed Chet’s sleeping face and left without a backward glance.
Violet was true to her word for weeks. Her days were filled with the men at her Cool Kids’ Table and she looked forward to the nights she could visit Chet. They’d reminisce and laugh for an hour, then Violet would tenderly kiss him goodnight and return to her apartment. But Ronni found her and Chet asleep in each other’s arms early one morning and began to fear for her job all over again.
Ronni went to Violet’s apartment after work one day and asked to come in.
“Come sit down, honey,” Violet waved her to the living room sofa. “Would you like a Coke or something? I think I have some cookies.” She started for the kitchen and Ronni grabbed her arm gently and eased her back to sit.
“No, no thank you, Violet. I’m going to eat dinner soon.”
“I hope it’s with someone good looking.”
“Oh, yes.” Ronni thought Halle was an exceptionally good looking cat. “Anyway, I stopped by to tell you that our Director of Nursing is paying more and more attention to every detail in the medical wing, Violet, and you can’t...”
“No,” Violet interrupted. “I have to see him.”
“I understand, but you can’t spend the night anymore. I’d lose my job if anyone knew I let you in there, Violet, please understand.” She held Violet’s cool hand in hers.
“No one will ever know you let me in, Ronni. And I have to be in his arms whenever I can. It’s the only place I feel safe. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt safe.” She began to cry.
“Violet, after an hour you have to leave. You have to promise me, because I can’t always get to Chet’s room and make sure you’re out of there. I have other patients and they need my attention, sometimes for hours.”
Violet stared at her, tears rolling down her cheeks. “You have to understand. I need him and he needs me. You know how much better he’s doing since I’ve been staying with him.”
Ronni steeled herself. “I can’t let you in the door anymore unless I know you’ll leave in an hour or two. It’s risky enough for you to be there in the first place without spending the night. Promise me.”
Violet nodded yes and Ronni reached out to hold her, knowing she’d keep her promise for a week or two at most. Violet would do as she wanted, no matter what. And she had to hope no one would find out how badly she’d been breaking the rules for months.
Johnny came down with a flu-like sickness one day and didn’t improve. He was taken by ambulance to St. Vincent’s Hospital. Violet waited anxiously for news and when she heard nothing she drove to Birmingham to see him, just like almost seventy years before. She arrived to find Rose Perkins crying quietly in the hallway, her children gathered close. Rose stood to greet her, shaking her head. Violet held her and cried, whispering, “I’m very sorry, Rose. He loved you so much.”
She told Sam as gently as she could, watching the life drain from him before her eyes. She spent as much time as she could with him now, at a small table for two in the corner of the dining room, on her sofa watching television, walking slowly through the gardens. One day at lunch Sam asked her to please visit him in his room, which she’d never seen. “I don’t feel like getting out much,” he said simply. “Don’t have a whole lot of energy these days.” She walked in and found herself surrounded by photos of Deborah; in her twenties on a beach wearing a modest black bathing suit, gray-haired and heavyset in Paris, leaning to kiss a red-haired baby, riding a carousel horse with a laughing boy beside her. She picked up each one and asked Sam about it, seeing his face light up as he talked about his wife. She sat by his bed and listened to him tell her about Deborah and their life together, and she lear
ned. Just as Ronni said, she learned from Sam. She learned what a good husband was like.
When he died, she cried for him and even more for herself. Chet was all that remained, and she went to him every time she could. Violet was so heartbroken Ronni began to pretend she didn’t know she slept with her arms around Chet Wilson and sneaked out in the early morning.
One night a fierce Alabama thunderstorm rolled in. Ronni ran from room to room answering call buttons, reassuring frightened patients. Some were like toddlers, pitifully begging to sleep with their parents. The hallway lights flickered and an emergency generator kicked on.
As rain pounded the roof and lightning cleaved the weeping willow in half, Chet’s heart stopped beating. And as she’d promised him long ago, Violet’s did, too.
thirty-seven
RONNI
Rick sat on the edge of my bed, his back outlined in the soft dawn light. I raked my fingernails down his spine and he turned to kiss me.
“Why are you up so early? I whispered.
“I’m going to visit the boys today. Jeremy’s in some kind of play at school this morning.”
“Will you stay in Tuscaloosa for supper?” I was grateful Victoria had returned to her wealthy gasbag husband, and even more grateful to know they were expecting a little gasbag.
“Probably,” he answered. “But I’ll be back by bedtime.” Rick threw my t-shirt upward and cupped my breast in his hand, trailing kisses up toward my neck.
“You’re not getting away with that.” I pulled him on top of me. “This will just take a minute or two.”
“Hey, I resent your implication, lady,” he said.
Kait was in the tiny break room when I arrived for work and her eyes were red. I knew immediately a patient had died. “Who?” was all I said. We had a shorthand after years together in this place.
“Audrey. I can’t believe I’m crying over the hateful, nasty-tater-growing, bossy old plantation queen who made our lives miserable,” Kait covered her face with her hands and I hugged her, tears of my own falling fast. Any time we lost a patient was hard, but Audrey was a special combination of venom and honey. I realized I’d miss her a lot. We allowed ourselves another minute and headed off to fix our makeup and start rounds.
“We should go to the funeral,” I told Kait, pushing the med cart to the end of the hall as she reviewed the tablet computer for instructions.
“I’m just going to send some sort of vine,” she answered.
We walked over to check on Violet’s activity room just before lunch. Construction was almost finished, and I loved seeing her vision come to life. Here was a big red soda fountain counter where we’d hand out ice cream, and the jukebox was already playing some fifties song I didn’t recognize. There were small tables and booths for residents to gather and an area at the end of the room with leather couches and a big open space in front of three TV screens. There would be virtual bowling and tennis. Fairfield Springs couldn’t have had a nicer gift. I wished Violet could’ve had some time in that room, the perfect place to have fun with her friends.
Rick and I spent our Saturday afternoon at an old country church thirty miles away, Rick clasping my hand as we sat to honor Audrey Marie Haynes Ledbetter. I hadn’t fully believed her tales of inherited fortune but the Haynes nieces and nephews decorated the tiny gravel parking lot with incongruous new Range Rovers, BMWs and Mercedes. They decorated the church pews with expensive custom suits and antique diamond jewelry.
I had never seen one of them at Fairfield Springs.
Kristin, my banker, arrived with her husband and sat next to me. “What a crowd, huh?” she whispered. “I should tell you right now, I’m related through the far more humble Ledbetters. My car is out there crying in embarrassment between a Jaguar and a Cadillac.”
I snickered and patted her arm. “I hear you. I’d wait until they’re all gone before walking to mine, except we’re in Rick’s car today. Although it is a few years too old for this crowd.” Rick smirked at me for a few seconds, then waved at Kris with a smile and reached across to take her hand for a quick shake.
The church was tiny. Its hardwood floors were carefully polished to a bright gleam, and the old-fashioned windows were a swirl of pale purple. Huge bronze stained glass lamps of green and deep purple dangled at the front of the sanctuary while the rest of it glowed with harsh modern fluorescence. The pews were padded with deep green velvet cushions. A green runner ran the length of the center aisle. The worn hymnals were purple.
Audrey’s family might not spend a lot of time in this, their ancestral church, but they knew the color scheme well. Almost all the massive floral arrangements were made of purple flowers, from gladiolas to tulips. Audrey’s casket was blanketed in green roses.
The service was a typical Southern Baptist one, with several hymns sung by the congregation. Most stood and sang along with no need to consult the lyrics. The preacher, who’d never met Audrey, praised her strong faith. He told us of a husband who’d left her widowed at forty-two and son and daughter who’d preceded her to Heaven.
I understood Audrey better after listening to this man who never laid eyes on her.
He preached a sermon full of Bible verses warning against the wages of sin and the promise of rewards for the faithful and virtuous. Then, as all Southern Baptist preachers do with rare results, he called all the sinners among those present to the altar for a chance to repent. After a one hour and thirty minute service, it would’ve taken a very brave person to go forward. When no one did, we all breathed a sigh of relief and slowly followed the crowd behind Audrey’s pallbearers down the steep front stairs.
Kristin waited until we four walked alone to speak. “Hey, Ronni,” she said. “How is your book coming along?”
“It’s been written and rewritten and rewritten. I think I’m pretty close to finishing it,” I said. “Thank you for asking. I still don’t know if it will be published.”
“Of course it will. I’m looking forward to it!” she called, turning toward her car.
“So am I, Kristin. So am I.”
“It has more twists and turns than Chubby Checker in a maze,” Rick added. We stared at him blankly. “Children,” he muttered. “Y’all are children.”
The letter was waiting when we got to my apartment, addressed in Bettina’s perfect script with no return address. I hurried to the kitchen to open it as Rick tapped a drumroll.
“Well,” I said, “this is it.” I slit the envelope with a sharp knife as Rick watched from across the kitchen table. The smaller envelope within was the color of weak tea, taped twice with flaking cellophane. The back flap read “CeeCee, please give this to Violet only after I’m gone.”
The seal was undisturbed and I had to open it very carefully. I pulled out the typewritten pages and gasped as I scanned them.
“What? What is it?” Rick jumped up and came around to read over my shoulder.
March 23, 1958
Dearest Violet,
You are always on my mind, no matter where I go or what I do.
The thought of you brings light into the darkest day.
There is something I have to tell you. Nothing happened the way it was supposed to, Violet. I was a stupid, heartsick kid at the time.
Please understand. I was ten years old, longing to go home with you every time you left. I only wanted to look at your face and stroke your blonde hair. I would’ve done anything, given anything, to hear you laugh at my jokes. To notice me. To need me for something. For anything.
You were the only world I wanted to live in.
Over and over I watched you get into Johnny Perkins’ shiny black car, the one that cost more than my family’s house. I saw Johnny kiss your lips. I saw the light beaming from your eyes when you talked about him.
One Friday after school I walked the half mile to Uncle Chunk’s garage.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said. “You wanna Coke?”
“Sure,” I told him. I sat down on a stack of tires. “I was wonderin’
if you could teach me about cars.”
“What is it you want to know, boy?” Uncle Chunk let loose a river of tobacco juice onto the cement floor, smacking his wrench against his greasy hand. “You gonna grow up like your favorite uncle and fix cars? There’s good money in it. You could do worse.”
I nodded at the Pontiac hovering on a hydraulic lift. “Could I get under there, and you maybe show me what’s what?”
Uncle Chunk grinned with teeth the color of my baseball mitt. I think he was pleased to see his nephew admiring his career instead of my dad’s at the train station window, apologizing for a living. “You got it. Man’s gotta know about engines and what makes ‘em work.” He waved, inviting me into the cool cave under the car.
For the next thirty minutes I asked questions about the snake’s nest of hoses and belts. My uncle answered patiently, and even drew a diagram for me to take home and study. He handed it to me with an extra Coke to take home for later. “Don’t tell your mama or CeeCee. That’s just for you, now.”
I smiled and thanked Uncle Chunk.
Late that night, I pulled the warm bottle from my bottom dresser drawer and crept into the kitchen to open it and grab a stale sausage biscuit from the counter. My parents and sister were sound asleep. I could hear Dad’s snoring all through the house. I went back to my room and eased the window open, sliding my legs out and falling to the soft red clay with a thud. I threw the empty Coke bottle into the woods and set out for the Perkins’ house. I tossed little bits of sausage at the dogs along the way to keep them quiet.
