A Life Worth Living

by Lorrie Kruse

  “With the right wheelchair, you wouldn’t have tipped over so easily.”

  He propped himself up on his elbows. “And make this lesson meaningless?”

  She crouched down. “You can’t avoid ordering your chair forever.”

  “Sure, I can.”

  He waited for her to say something cheerful like what a bad sign it was that he’d gone three days now without a recovery. Or that even if he’d had some recovery every day of this last week, it still didn’t guarantee he’d walk again.

  Instead, she straightened and took a few steps off to the side.

  Using the wheelchair for leverage, he pulled himself into a sitting position. Her silence seemed wrong, like she didn’t care what his outcome was, so long as he ordered the damn chair and learned how to use it.

  “You know, I can move all my toes now,” he said, enticing her to say something about his condition and not his therapy.

  “Um hum.” She nodded.

  “All of my sensation’s back.” All was a rather broad usage of the word. It was only his sensation of touch that had returned, not the sensation of hot or cold, or the sensation of pain.

  “I’m going to walk again,” he added.

  She waved at the chair, motioning for him to get back to “practicing.”

  He righted the chair and locked the brake. His “remarkable” recovery didn’t mean diddlysquat. Not if it all stopped here. Ten wiggling toes and the ability to feel someone’s hand against him wasn’t going to get the group home built.

  It was going to help even less if Derrick didn’t reach his father in time and they had an accident on their way. It was bad enough that he was like this. To have his father or brother, or, God forbid, both of them, injured like this would mean an end to his father’s business.

  If only he knew where they were and that they were safe. “I need to make a call.”

  “We’re almost done. You get yourself into the chair, we’ll call it a day.”

  He brought all of his weight on to his arms. Pressure built behind his eyes. He pushed harder, lifting his weight higher. His arms shook from the effort. Just a little further.

  Just when he thought there was no way he’d make it, he lifted himself higher. Throwing his head back, his weight shifted and pulled his body backward. With a little more effort, he got his body positioned. Please, God, don’t let my father or brother have to go through this, too.

  Without waiting for the okay from Esther, he left the gym, mentally cursing himself for not having brought his cell phone with him.

  The hallway between the gym and his room seemed to have tripled in distance. Fifty feet more. That’s all. He pushed harder against the wheels.

  Breathless and tired, he made a sharp turn into his room. His cell phone sat on the over-bed table like a beacon. No messages, he noticed as he snatched it up, unsure if that were a good sign or bad.

  He pushed speed-dial-two. “Answer,” he whispered. “Come on, answer.”

  The phone rang several times and then went to voicemail. He dialed Crystal’s number and his brother’s, as well, before switching to Derrick’s number. He groaned when he got voicemail there, too. He should have called off the visit first thing this morning when he saw the first snowflake.

  §

  Through Abby’s tears, she almost didn’t see the SUV that had stopped in front of her with its turn signal flashing. Her reactions took over, and she stood on the brake pedal. Oh, God. She wasn’t going to stop in time. Not with the weight of the U-Haul pushing her forward.

  “Hold on,” she screamed as she put out her hand to brace her mother. Even with her foot flattening the brake pedal, her car still skidded forward. There was nothing more that she could do but envision the impact and worry about how bad it was going to be. That, and wonder if this was how her mother had felt moments before hitting the tree. Now, she was putting her mother through that all over again.

  The SUV pulled into the intersection at the exact moment Abby’s car finally stopped. No collision. Ignoring the green light, she didn’t move. Her heart thudded. Her muscles liquefied. What if the SUV had waited just one second longer? What if her mother hadn’t screamed?

  The realization that they could have been seriously injured brought on a whole new mass of tears. She had to pull herself together, but she couldn’t.

  The light turned red.

  “It’s okay,” her mother said. “We’re okay.”

  It wasn’t okay. She’d put her mother in danger. Her shoulders shook.

  A soft hand touched her arm. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” her mother said. “Look. We’re okay. Really.”

  Her mother’s impish smile looked so much like the one she’d always had before the accident, reminding Abby of the mother she’d lost. If only her mother could stay this way, like the mother Abby remembered. Even if only long enough for Abby to put her head against her mother’s chest and cry over what she’d lost with Paul.

  “The firefly turned grease,” her mother said. Deep creases formed around Helen’s eyes. In one swift motion, she pulled her hand from beneath Abby’s, formed a fist, and then hit her head, over and over. “Damn words. Damn mixed up pea train.”

  The car behind them honked. Grabbing for her mother’s hands, Abby realized the light had turned green again. The firefly turned grease.

  Her mother struggled against Abby’s grasp. “Get me where they can fix me. Please. Fix me.” All of the fight left her. She slumped in a heap against the seat and whispered, “God, please, fix me.”

  §

  At three-thirty, Matt dialed his father’s cell phone for what felt like the hundredth time. The phone rang once. Twice. He didn’t want to hear it ring a third time. What he wanted to hear was his father’s voice.

  The phone rang again. This time, the tone changed and he heard a tiny voice. “Unka Matyou, we here.”

  “Oh, God,” he breathed.

  “Unka Matyou?”

  “Hey, munchkin.” His voice shook. “Can I talk to Grandma or Grandpa?”

  “Gampa say hold you horses. We parking now.”

  “You’re here? Really here?”

  “I told you aweady. We here.”

  Matt punched end call, tossed his phone onto the bed, and then wheeled for the door. He made it all the way to the lobby before he saw the crowd coming to visit him. His mother broke free and wrapped him in a hug that had never felt better. He squeezed her a little more tightly than he’d intended. “Thank God you’re here.”

  “Missed us, did you?”

  “Where have you been?”

  “Between towers,” his father said, giving him a quick hug. “Changing a flat, taking bathroom breaks. You name it.”

  “You’re okay. That’s all that matters.” His gaze landed on Crystal standing beyond Jenny and Brad, a squirming Kaylee in her arms. Crystal had never looked more beautiful.

  She gave Kaylee a kiss and then set her down. She gave Kaylee a pat to the behind, sending the little one running. Not like the little bundle of energy needed any encouragement.

  “Unka Matyou,” his niece sang as she crawled onto his lap.

  Just saving the best for last. He gave Crystal a final look before he turned his attention to Kaylee. Her bony knees dug into his thighs. It felt like heaven.

  Matt’s mother slid into his father’s arm. His father grinned. He looked better, but not great. It had only been a week. Too quick for miracles.

  Like their parents, Brad and Jenny also stood arm-in-arm. They looked more than happy to be temporarily relieved of their parental duties.

  Crystal stayed in place, much too far away for his taste.

  “Give Kaywe ride,” his niece demanded, pulling his attention away from his fiancée once again.

  “Your ol’ Uncle Matt’s not very skilled at driving this thing yet. But I bet, if you sit nice, we can convince Auntie Crystal to give us both a ride. Do you think?”

  Kaylee nodded and then sat still. Crystal finally moved forward. She h
ugged him from behind with one arm while she brushed her finger across Kaylee’s cheek. A tight band closed around his chest. This is what he wanted. Him and Crystal, with a child of their own. The start of a perfect family, just like his parents.

  Crystal leaned forward, just far enough to give him a light kiss on his cheek. Not quite the kiss he’d been dreaming of all week. He moved his face closer to her, hoping she’d try that kiss again. “I missed you, babe.”

  She nodded and brought her lips toward him. Finally, the kiss he’d been waiting for. She settled in close to his ear and whispered, “Should we do that ride before someone starts bouncing again?”

  The band around his chest tightened another notch. Where was the good kiss? At the very least, where was her I missed you, too? He forced some cheer into his voice. “Think we should move this party down to the family room where there are chairs for everyone?”

  §

  It was nearly four o’clock when Abby turned into the driveway at Hot Springs Villa. Her mother was quiet, her eyes half closed. Peaceful. Abby took her time parking the car, relishing what might be the last quiet moments until she was nestled in her new apartment. Alone.

  Biting her lip, she focused on the building in front of her, a run-down version of the one she’d seen on their website. She squinted and tried to envision a wealth of colorful flowers surrounding the building like the pictures had shown. It didn’t help. She still saw the shingles curling away from the roof, the flaking paint on the window trim, the faded and cracked vinyl siding.

  Coming here was beginning to feel like a mistake.

  Staying at St. Luke’s, where she’d be running into Paul, would have been a bigger mistake.

  With a deep breath, she pushed thoughts of Paul away before they could sink in good and deep. Plenty of time for that later. Right now, she needed to focus on her mother, getting her set in her new home. It wasn’t the building that mattered. It was the quality of care her mother would receive. The success ratio Charles Presthed had quoted. That’s what mattered.

  This move was going to be a good one. For both of them.

  Helen opened her eyes, looked toward the building, and then crossed her arms. “They can’t fix me here.”

  “It’s only a building, Mother. What counts is the quality of the staff.”

  “Take me somewhere else. I’m not staying here.”

  “Give it a chance.” Please.

  “You’ll look for something else if I don’t like it?”

  “As long as you give it a chance.”

  Her mother sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Abby led her mother to the building. Two steps into the lobby, Abby stopped cold. Her lips parted. She felt like she’d stepped into the lobby of a five-star hotel. Soft instrumental music played from hidden speakers. Polished granite topped the reception counter. Gold tassels edged the heavy, burgundy drapes.

  “They made a silk…potato out of a cowboy’s ear.”

  “Purse,” Abby said. “And I think it’s a pig’s ear.”

  “Whatever.”

  A woman stepped through a doorway. She smiled as though Abby were a close friend she hadn’t seen in a while. “Hi. You must be Abby.” The smile broadened. “And you’re Helen.” She held out her hand, not to Abby, but to her mother. “Welcome.”

  This woman obviously didn’t take after the administrator.

  “I’m Betty,” the woman said as Helen took the offered hand. “Can I get you some coffee? Hot chocolate? Muffin? Freshly baked by one of our own.”

  Abby shook her head. “Thank you, though.”

  “I’ll take a damn muffin,” Helen said.

  Abby’s cheeks prickled with heat as though the words had slipped from her own mouth. She glared at her mother.

  “What?” Helen’s eyebrows dipped toward the center. “I figure I may as well get something good out of this place, even if it is only a damn muffin.”

  If Abby could have crawled under the carpet, she would have. Betty’s smile, however, never faltered.

  “We’ll drop off your daughter at Mr. Presthed’s office on our way to the kitchen.” Betty led Abby and her mother through the same doorway she’d appeared through just a short while ago. Like the lobby, the hallway was papered in elegant ivory wallpaper. Richly colored oil paintings hung on the wall. Her mother stopped in front of a painting of a girl enticing a sparrow to sit on her finger. Helen put out her own finger.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” Betty said as though she had all the time in the world.

  Such a difference from Eastlawn. Such a difference from the exterior.

  When Helen let her hand drop to her side, Betty apparently took that as a sign to move on. A short while later, Betty stopped next to an open doorway and motioned for Abby to enter. “Mr. Presthed will bring you to your mother’s room.”

  Abby stood in the doorway and watched as her mother wandered off with Betty without any snide comments. A good sign.

  She finally turned and stepped into Mr. Presthed’s office. He looked like he belonged in a Godfather movie instead of tucked behind a group-home administrator’s desk. Dark hair speckled with silver at the temples. Expertly pressed black-on-black pinstriped suit worn over a black silk button-down shirt. The only thing missing were his henchmen standing guard.

  Without giving her even the merest of glances, he continued jotting notes in a file. “Ms. Fischner, how nice to meet you in person.”

  His reception filled her with the warm and fuzzies. Made her want to sit down across from his desk and spend the evening basking in his company. Not. She remained by the door. “Nice to meet you, too.”

  He paused in his notes and finally peered up at her. He set down his pen and leaned back in his chair, his eyes steady on her. She felt like a specimen under a microscope. His eyebrows rose. “You’re Abigail Fischner?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked down at the file, frowned, and then looked back up at her. “The same Abigail Fischner who attended Rand University?”

  How had he known that? She barely managed to keep from raising her eyebrows in surprise. Her answer came as a cautious, drawn out, “Yes.”

  “The same Abigail Fischner who graduated in the top one percent of her class?”

  Instinct had her wanting to stand tall, proud of her achievement. Except her mind was whirling with suspicion. He’d dug into her past. Her past, which had nothing to do with her mother. Why would he do that? Better yet, what right did he have to do that?

  She did stand tall, with her hands on her hips and her legs slightly spread. “I’m glad you spent valuable time checking out how well I did in school. We know how important that is when it comes to my mother’s care. Speaking of which…” She moved forward, planted her hands on his desk, and stared him in the eye, refusing to look away. “What are your plans for her treatment?”

  His eyes left hers. “I, ah, we have a top notch team.” He leaned further back in his chair, bested in the staring contest. “That’s why seventy-five percent of our residents are released home within months of placement. Three quarters of the remaining twenty-five percent are in less restrictive housing within three years.”

  She forced herself to remain steady. “Her treatment, Mr. Presthed. What are your plans for her treatment?”

  His eyes met hers again. “Have a seat, Ms. Fischner.”

  She stared him down for two more seconds, which felt more like twenty minutes, and then took a seat.

  “Our senior therapist has reviewed your mother’s records. Although your mother has been at her mental capacity for much longer than anyone who’s ever come to us, Jessica feels there’s hope. It might take a bit longer, but I feel quite comfortable saying your mother will be able to move into less restrictive housing when she leaves here.”

  Her mother being anywhere other than a home with constant supervision was a concept difficult to wrap her mind around. Was it possible? Truly possible? She drew in a deep breath and sat tall. “So what do we do to make
that happen?”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we. As I’m sure you already know, since you dug into my school records, my main focus has always been the mentally disabled. I want to be a part of my mother’s treatment.”

  “The first thing we need to do is to start having her do everything for herself that she’s capable of doing.”

  Abby nodded. She’d never dreamed of her mother living anywhere other than a care facility with strict supervision, but the longer Mr. Presthed talked, the more her hope grew. Yes, she thought, coming to Milwaukee was definitely a good move. A fresh start for them both.

  §

  In Milwaukee Spine Care’s family room, Crystal sat beside the toy box with Kaylee. Brad knelt next to his daughter. He pushed a chunky plastic truck toward her while Crystal held out a floppy doll and made it dance. Kaylee looked at the truck, looked at the doll, and then picked up a plastic hammer. Like a true Huntz, she went to work “fixing” the toy box. If she were twelve years older, they might be able to put her to good use. Matt rubbed his thigh. The sensation was still glorious, but it wasn’t enough.

  “How are you doing?” Jenny asked as she claimed the chair next to Matt.

  He watched Crystal for another second before he looked at his sister-in-law. “Great. Never better.”

  She tipped her head and arched her eyebrows, clearly not buying his bravado.

  “Really,” he said. “I’m doing fine.”

  “I know it’s hard for you being so far away, but I want to say thank you for transferring to Milwaukee, for my own selfish reasons.” Her mouth stayed straight, but her eyes gave away her excitement. “We don’t get down here very much to see Faith. Seems wrong, somehow, to use you as a pawn, but I can’t wait to see my sister again.”

  Matt knew exactly how she felt, and he’d only been without his family for a week. “Staying at Faith’s five-star hotel tonight?”

  Jenny nodded. “We brought the air mattress for Brad, me, and Kaylee. Figured we’d let your parents have the spare bedroom while Crystal gets the couch.”

  “Can’t say I’m sorry to miss out on the slumber party,” Matt said as he watched Brad push himself to his feet. His brother stretched to the left and then to the right. He hardly looked like someone who’d make it through the night sleeping on an air mattress. “Sounds like too many people in one apartment.”