"I've taken the liberty of Xeroxing this entire ledger for your benefit. There is a copy for each of you. I'm sure by day's end you'll see that this wonderful government we live under.. . goofed. I thank God it did, because I don't have time for promises and red tape and committees that will only spawn other committees to look into things. Minnie Mae and Jethroe, like myself, are on borrowed time."
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for allowing me to speak here today."
And thank you, God, for giving me the time, she said silently.
She was outside in the hall when she heard the applause. It didn't sound as though they were going to arrest her. She needed air, fresh air. She felt light-headed, and the dancing in her chest was a cramp now, cold and hard. She almost fainted when she saw the horde of reporters coming toward her. From out of nowhere Thad materialized. Even from here she could see the tears in his eyes, or were they her own tears? She allowed herself to be shepherded down a maze of corridors, and finally she was in a dim, paneled room with Thad and several of his aides.
"How'd I do?" Amelia gasped.
"You blew their socks off." Thad grinned. "Mine, too. I didn't know about that money."
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"I asked Billie not to tell you. I talked to all of them before I made this decision. Sure, it would bail us out of our present predicament, but this is more important. They agreed. You'll do it, won't you, Thad?" Amelia pleaded.
"Amelia, I'd be honored to monitor the committee; it's something I can do after retirement."
"Wonderful. Now, do you think you could get me out of here? I think I'd like to take a trip to the zoo and just walk around. It's a nice day, and I'm not ready to go back to Georgetown." She had to get out in the air so she could breathe, so she could unwind and pop the pills she was clutching in her hand.
"Absolutely." Thad turned to one of his aides and motioned to the door. "I have to get back for a vote. I'll see you at home this evening. Amelia, well done! I don't know when I've had a prouder moment."
"It was my pleasure."
Outside, in the fresh air, Amelia tried to draw a deep breath, but the vise clamping her chest prevented it. She reached out to... nothingness. She felt herself begin to sink to the ground.
In the ambulance, she prayed. You cut it a little close there, didn't You? Thank you, God, thankyouthankyouthankyou-thankyouthankyou.
Billie sat in the breakfast nook watching a precocious squirrel hobble up and down the back steps. She could tell he was old by the way he moved and by his sparse coat, which was straggly and thin. She wondered what he would do when he could no longer forage and dig for the acorns he stashed in the autumn for his winter food. Would he starve or would he lie down and die? She'd been watching this particular squirrel for years now—ever since she and Thad had moved into the Georgetown house.
Billie shook herself. God's creatures had a way of fending for themselves. Weren't people God's creatures, too? Lately, because of Amelia, she'd been thinking more and more about old age and the awful things that happened to people.
A gust of wind slapped against the casement window. Startled, Billie stepped backward and took notice of the day for the first time. Typical March weather, blustery and cold, forty degrees, according to the thermometer on the back porch.
She'd been jittery these past days. Thad had noticed and
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had commented on it, last night in bed. She realized now that her jumpiness had started when Amelia arrived. It had gotten steadily worse.
She should be doing something: paying the bills, reading, dusting, something to keep herself busy. For the life of her, she couldn't remember if she'd made the bed or not. She looked down at the breakfast dishes. Amelia had barely touched her scrambled eggs. One corner of a piece of toast had been nibbled. The orange juice hadn't been touched. She'd passed on the coffee, saying she was in a hurry. Billie tried to bring Amelia's face into focus. She couldn't even remember what she was wearing.
She'd never been big on premonitions, but she had the awful feeling something was wrong somewhere. To shake off the feeling, she bustled about the kitchen, clearing away the dishes and tidying up the breakfast area. She threw some laundry into the machine, not bothering to separate it, as she usually did. Thad's underwear, as well as her own, went in with the towels she'd carried down earlier. She opened all the curtains and turned on the stereo. The cat leaped off the mantel at the burst of sound. Now she'd make the bed and take a shower. After that, maybe she'd try sketching some new designs until Amelia returned. Perhaps they could go out for lunch.
Halfway up the stairs, she turned around and walked back to the kitchen. She rummaged in the cabinets till she found the bag of walnuts left over from Christmas. She rummaged some more till she found one of the metal pie tins Sara Lee donated with each pie. She poured out the nuts and set them on the back porch. She stood up, her eyes sweeping the yard. As usual her favorite old squirrel was perched on the lowest branch of the old oak. Even from here she could see that the animal's eyes were dull, as though a film covered them. She felt foolish when she whistied softly and clapped her hands to gain the squirrel's attention. She felt even more foolish when she went inside and hid behind the sheer kitchen curtain. She watched as the squirrel crept up the porch steps, sniffed the nuts, and then scooped one into his two front paws. He stopped a minute and looked back toward the door. Billie stepped back from the window, afraid that if the squirrel saw her, he'd leave the nuts. "I just want to help, little fella," she whispered.
When the phone rang she nearly jumped out of her skin.
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Before she picked it up, she had a feeling she was going to hear bad news. She took a deep breath before she answered. She listened to the words but didn't comprehend their meaning at first. "Where is she? I'll be there as soon as possible. Tell her I'm on the way."
Amelia. She'd been doing so well. Now some unknown voice from George Washington Hospital was telling her Amelia was in the intensive care unit. She'd collapsed.
"Amelia?" Billie whispered an hour later. "The nurse will only allow me to stay for ten minutes." Not Amelia; please, God, let her be all right.
"My chest hurts. I think it's nerves. I was so keyed up. I overdid it. They're going to run some tests. They took one cardiogram and they have me hooked up to the monitor. Not a word of this to Cary. Promise me, Billie." Her voice sounded frail and thin, as though it were coming from far away.
"Cary will never forgive me if I don't call," Billie cried. "Amelia, don't you want him here?"
"Promise me, Billie." Reluctantly, Billie nodded. "Call him and tell him I can't make it to Hawaii. You'll have to make up some sort of story. I can't think right now. The medication is fogging things up. I'm not going to die, Billie. I think I'd know if I was. Not yet, anyway."
Billie tried for a cheerful tone. "Of course you aren't going to die. Don't even think like that. I'm sure it's what you said, nerves and stress. Everyone is talking about how powerful you were. You were on the news twice today. I'm so proud of you. Thad said you were eloquent. He led the cheering section. Did you see him?"
"When I was finished he... came up to me and ..." Amelia didn't finish her sentence.
Alarmed, Billie searched frantically for the nurse.
"She's asleep, Mrs. Kingsley," the charge nurse said quietly as she led Billie from the room. "She'll sleep for a few hours. I can have Dr. Katz call you, if you like, since Mrs. Assante listed you as next of kin."
"How serious is it? Is there anything I can do? Should I stay here?" Billie asked fearfully.
"Doctor will talk to you when he comes in. The best thing you can do for Mrs. Assante and yourself is to go home."
"But when she wakes up, I want her to know I'm here, that someone is here."
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"I'll tell her I sent you home. She'll understand," the nurse said firmly.
In the end Billie went home. She sat, waiting, by the front window and was out the front door with tears
streaming down her face when Thad's car swerved to the curb.
"We'll go back after dinner, Billie. For now, we have to carry on as we always do. Don't let this cripple you. If Amelia said she's going to be okay, let's go with that."
"She just said that to make me feel better," Billie cried.
"Then you'll have to pretend to feel better for her sake. Come inside, it's cold out here. We'll have a drink and decide what to tell Cary. That's the part I don't like, but we have to respect Amelia's wishes."
Together the Kingsleys came up with what they hoped was a suitable story: more meetings with Congress, meetings with different senators, and a possible meeting with the president himself. It was decided that Thad would make the call and deliver the message, making it sound more true.
It took three days to get in touch with Cary. When his voice finally came over the wire, he thanked Thad for calling and didn't leave a message for Amelia. Thad's face was expressionless when he repeated the brief conversation to his wife.
Billie went into his arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. Thad rubbed her hair while he made soft, soothing sounds in her ear. "It will be all right, Billie."
They had their coats on, ready to leave for the hospital, when a yellow cab pulled up in front of the house. "It's Rand and Maggie," Thad called. He raised his eyes upward. "Thank you, God," he whispered.
Maggie and Billie sat in the back of the car, Thad and Rand in the front seat, for the drive to George Washington Hospital. Thad briefed Rand on his mother's condition.
"Did you get in touch with Cary?" Maggie asked.
"Just today. We've been trying for three days." Billie went on to tell Maggie about Amelia's wishes.
"How serious is it, Mam?"
"Serious enough. She's going to need a nurse when she gets home. Lots of bed rest."
"An invalid?" Maggie asked fearfully.
"It's a possibility, darling."
"Does Amelia know?"
"I don't think so. She's been sedated. Most of this is guesswork on my part."
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"Amelia always said she didn't want to end up like Grand-mam Jessie. Powerless. Helpless, like a baby."
"Don't cry, Maggie, or you'll have me crying. I put loads of mascara on so I wouldn't be tempted to cry."
"It was something in my eye," Maggie gulped. She whispered to Billie, filling her in quickly on the last difficult days in England and Chesney's visit. "It was awful, Mam. You would have thought someone physically whipped Rand. Now this. I know this sounds crazy, Mam, but there are times when I think this family is doomed. Do you ever feel that?"
"My faith in God is too strong to allow me to think thoughts like that. I will admit there were times, years ago, when I thought so. I don't want you to think like that anymore, Maggie."
"We always seem to be in a state of crisis. Something's bothering Cole. Riiey is torn in two directions. Amelia is ill, a possible invalid. Me and you, Mam. We have to hold it together."
"That's the key, darling. Together." She leaned closer to Maggie. "The dear, sweet, wonderful men in the front seat think they do it, but we know better, don't we?"
"Right on, Mam." Maggie linked her arm through her mother's. She laid her head on Billie's fur-clad shoulder, something she hadn't done in a long time. Sometimes nothing else would do but the comfort of one's mother.
Back in Georgetown, Billie busied herself making coffee and sandwiches. Maggie popped a cake from the freezer into the microwave. She couldn't bear watching her husband cry. Thad was doing his best to console him, but failing miserably. Only Billie would be able to make Rand come around.
At the table it was Billie who spoke first. "Rand, the fact that Amelia is still with us is a plus. None of us expected her to come through her first heart attack, but she did. She said she had something to do, and with the help of God, she did it. She knew what the stakes were, but she felt God gave her a second chance and she took it. I am so proud of her," Billie said in a choked voice. "I want you to be proud of her, too, Rand. Don't turn this into a wake. Amelia will sense it. She's alive. We have to thank God for that and take it one day at a time. Rand, are you listening to me?"
"Yes, Billie, I am. I thought the first time was bad, but this time, I don't know, it seems worse. Cary should be here. I
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think we should call him and tell him to come home. The hell with the business deal. There will be other deals."
"Amelia doesn't want him to come home. She'll never forgive us if we go against her wishes. Please, Rand, don't do anything foolish. The doctors are hopeful that she can leave the hospital in another week if she progresses. Thad and I want her to stay here with a nurse until she's strong enough to be flown back to Texas. We certainly have the room. There's no way in hell," Billie said vehemently, "that I will allow Amelia to go into a nursing home; I don't care if it's one of those country club places."
Rand nodded. "We'll stay on, too. We can get a hotel in the city."
"No you won't." Thad spoke up. "This house has four bedrooms. One for Amelia, one for the nurse, one for you and Maggie, and one for Billie and me. Four. You're staying with us."
Maggie's eyes thanked Thad.
"Company, Thad. Isn't it wonderful?" Billie said. "We just rattle around this house by ourselves. We're so glad we can help."
"You're always here for us, aren't you, Mam?"
"I try, Maggie. Come along, we'll have to make up the bedroom for you and Rand."
"Thad," Billie called, "show Rand the videotape of Amelia. Thad made six tapes, one for everyone. Amelia was so wonderful. She really did what she set out to do. I cried when I watched it. Some of those austere congressmen were crying, I could tell."
"And some of the senators, too," Thad said quietly.
Rand had never felt such devastation. It seemed that the world and everyone in it was ganging up on him. First his daughter turned her back on him, and now his stepmother lay critically ill. Except he never thought of Amelia as a stepmother. From the time he was five years old, when his father was killed and Amelia took over his care, he'd never once thought of her as a stepmother. She was his very own mother; his father had said so when he was barely old enough to understand. She said so, too—and still did, every once in a while.
Amelia had never failed him, even once. No matter where she was, no matter what she was involved in, she'd stop what
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she was doing and come to his aid, saying, "What can I do, son?"
What could he do now, for her? Pray for her recovery? Wish for her recovery? He wondered if he'd been a good son, or could he have been better? He flashed back over his life and decided he'd been the best he was capable of being. He had no regrets. He mustn't get maudlin over Chesney or his mother. Amelia would hate it. She'd come down hard on him for what she would call his 'feeling sorry for himself attitude', and she'd tell him to pull up his socks and get on with his life. Everything before the present, she'd say, is history. If you look back, you see only ghosts and shadows, and pretty soon they start to chase you, and then you're forced to run. Live life for the present and the future; the past is gone. Maybe she wouldn't actually say those things to him, but she'd be thinking them.
What would his life be like without his mother in it? Amelia would say you look it square in the face and you deal with it. Death is final, so you have to handle it. No choices, no options.
He wondered about that final moment when the casket was lowered into the ground and the first handful of dirt was thrown in. Could he handle that? He shuddered violently. There was something barbaric about funerals, something ritualistic. Maybe it was better to be cremated and cast to the wind. But then there'd be no special place to go to visit, to talk, to hope that a spirit hovered about to hear one's anguished words.
Rand wept for his impending loss, and for the others who would grieve for his mother. He spread his hands out, palms upward, turning his mother's life into Other hands.
{<{{{«{{ CHAPTER SIXTEEN
»))»»>
Warm trade winds rustled the silky, sheer bedroom curtains, wafting in the heady, hypnotic scent of plumeria. Early-morning sunshine crept into the room along with the scent from the fragrant blossoms. The warmth from the sun created lacy pat-
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terns on Cary's bare legs. He inhaled deeply and then smiled. Heaven? Paradise?
Cary scrunched the two oversize pillows into a ball. He propped himself up and leaned back. This, he decided, was something he could get used to. No wonder Rand and Maggie were so happy here.
What a golden day it was! From his nest in the pillows he could catch glimpses of the Pacific each time the curtains billowed apart. It made him want to get up—almost.
A dip in the ocean, a tepid shower, clean clothes, and breakfast out on Kam Highway would be a great way to start the day. A day that was to be all his. The only decision he had to make now was what to do with the rest of his time in Hawaii since Amelia wasn't going to join him. Alan and Marty had left on the evening plane, their briefcases bulging with canned macadamia nuts, chocolate-covered macadamia nuts, and macadamia nuts in the shell. He hated to see them leave, but life in the legal fast track demanded they return to New York's cold, blustery weather. Alan had grinned when they stopped at one of the airport kiosks to buy leis. He'd winced when Cary kissed him on both cheeks as he draped the garland around his neck. Marty bought two extra ones for his wife and daughter, but danced nimbly away when Cary tried to buss him on the cheek. When he waved to them for the last time, Cary knew his business interests were in good hands. His and Rand's, that is.
He didn't know if he was annoyed or angry that Amelia wasn't going to join him. Until this morning, he'd barely given her a thought. If Thad hadn't called and said she was tied up in D.C., he probably would have forgotten to call her. Now that he had free time, he could think about her broken promise. He realized he wasn't just annoyed, he was pissed off—big time. He'd be damned if he'd leave early to go to Washington. This was the first real vacation he'd had in five years, and he was going to enjoy every goddamn minute of it. If Amelia's affairs were more important than he was, let her attend to them.
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