What Matters in Mayhew (The Beanie Bradsher Series Book 1)

by Cassie Dandridge Selleck

  “I told that woman. I told her, but would she listen to me? Oh, no, she would not. Dammit to hell, she better not die on me.”

  They all laughed about it later, but once Dr. Anderson came back into the room prepped and ready for surgery, it was back to the business of saving lives.

  18

  Lost in Translation

  After a week in Intensive Care, and three days back in a private room, Sweet was finally recovering from her ordeal. As sick as she was, to hear it told at the Mayhew Junction Café was another story entirely. At first she wasn’t expected to live at all, then she suffered amputations of both legs and would be in a nursing home for months, none of which was true.

  LouWanda Crump and Randy Kerner nearly came to blows at the round table.

  “LouWanda, for crying out loud, I talked to Bubba John myself. Stop blowing this out of proportion,” Randy said, reaching for a piece of bacon on the side of LouWanda’s plate.

  LouWanda, feeling slighted from every direction, slapped the offending hand a little harder than she intended.

  “I’m saving that for Duke,” LouWanda snapped. “And I don’t know how it could be out of proportion. She liked to have died right there on the operatin’ table. I know, ‘cause we got her on the prayer chain and I stood in for her at church. They laid hands on me and everything, and I know somebody was prayin’ over my legs, whether she lost ‘em or not.”

  “Well, she hasn’t lost her legs. Bubba said she was out of the coma and the infection was getting better by the day.”

  “And, praise the Lord for that, I’m tellin’ ya. Just praise – the – Lord,” LouWanda said, raising one hand in the air.

  “Bubba said his Aunt Dilly was only going to be around another couple of days and then she’s going back to Alabama. I don’t know how he’s going to deal with all those kids without Sweet there. He said she’d be in there another week for sure.”

  “Dottie’s got a signup sheet started for meals, I think. I know the ladies at our church are taking turns now, sending casseroles and what-not out there. Well, speak of the devil…”

  Dottie Brentwood, looking utterly exhausted, pulled out a chair at the round table and sank into it with a sigh.

  “Lord, I have never worked this hard in my life,” Dottie said, waving a hand at Sissy and then tipping an imaginary cup to her lips to order coffee.

  “Be right with ya, Dottie!” Sissy hollered on her way to the kitchen with a pile of dirty dishes.

  “I am awful glad Sweet doesn’t open on Mondays or I think I would be tearing my hair out right now,” Dottie said, to no one in particular.

  “How’s Sweet doing?” LouWanda asked. “I heard she lost both her legs.”

  “Lord, LouWanda, where’d you hear such a thing? No, she did not lose her legs. She lost her u….well, you know, her female parts,” Dottie said, not wanting to offend the menfolk at the table.

  “What female parts?” Randy asked, horrified.

  Dottie dropped her forehead onto the table.

  “I give up,” she muttered into her napkin. “I just give up.”

  “What’d I say wrong?”

  “Nothing, Randy. Nothing. She had a hysterectomy, okay? That’s all. She can’t have kids anymore.”

  “Well, praise the Lord for that,” LouWanda said, and meant it.

  “That’s an awful thing to say, LouWanda!” Dottie raised her head abruptly.

  “Why’s it awful? She’s got five kids already. She don’t need to be worried about havin’ no more.”

  “It’s still awful. Sweet loves those kids.”

  Randy stood, swiping his hat off the table beside him.

  “On that note, I’m going to go see what’s shaking at the courthouse.”

  “You don’t want to know what’s shaking, Randy. Trust me on that one.” Dottie smirked at LouWanda.

  “Have a great day, ladies.” Randy shoved a dollar bill beneath the rim of his breakfast plate and joined the line at the cash register.

  “Lord help Sissy if that’s all the tip he’s leaving,” Dottie said under her breath.

  “Oh, that’s all we ever leave,” LouWanda said in full voice. “They’s eight of us here most mornings, why that’s eight dollars an hour for one table.”

  “Shhhh…” Dottie whispered as heads turned across the restaurant. “First off, most of you are here at least two hours in the morning, and longer on the afternoon shift.”

  “So?”

  “Never mind. Y’all are awful, I’m just saying. You try busting your butt waiting on people who tip a dollar no matter what, and see how you like it.”

  “Sissy don’t seem to mind, Dottie. What is wrong with you today?”

  “Oh…I’m just tired is all. I’ve been having to keep Sweet’s dress shop open all by myself. I thought about asking B-Kay to come in, but she’s got her hands full with the little ones. And I hate to complain because there isn’t much Sweet or anyone else can do about it, but I don’t make as much money at the shop as I do waiting tables for Suvi.”

  “I thought you said…”

  “Not everyone in this town is a cheapskate, LouWanda.”

  “Well, fine then,” LouWanda plucked a dollar and a quarter out of her ample bra and slapped it down on the table.

  “Jesus help me,” Dottie said, and laid her head down again.

  19

  Family Meeting

  At the Atwater home, things were not going well. A week without their mother took its toll on everyone. Bubba John’s Aunt Dilly was a blessing at first, but she did not have the constitution for chaos, and everyone was happy to see her go. Unfortunately, Bubba John got a big dose of reality Sunday morning not long after Dilly was out the door.

  Bubba John called a meeting with the twins while their younger siblings napped.

  “When’s Mom coming home?” B-Kay asked.

  Bubba John absent-mindedly rubbed his hand back and forth over the top of his head.

  “That’s what I need to talk to you about,” he said. “I talked to the doctor this morning and he thinks it could be another week, maybe two.”

  “Two weeks?” T-Ray snorted. “Aw, man, that’s not good.”

  “We can’t see her for two more weeks?” B-Kay asked.

  “Well, maybe not that long, but it’ll be a while, B.”

  “But why, Dad? I don’t understand.” B-Kay looked stricken.

  “I’m trying to tell you now. Just listen, okay?” Bubba John struggled to find the right words. “So, you guys know Mom had two surgeries, right? She had the one when her tube ruptured that first day, then she got an infection and they had to do a hysterectomy.”

  “I know that’s what you said before, but what does that mean, actually?” T-Ray asked.

  “It means she can’t have any more children, for one thing,” Bubba John said.

  “Okay…but that’s not a terrible thing. I mean…we have enough, don’t we?” He asked quickly when his sister glared at him.

  “Well, yes and no,” Bubba John said. “But that’s not even the worst of the problem now, though your mama might beg to differ. The problem now is, the infection is not cleared up. They’re trying some new antibiotics today, but they had to put some kind of drain in yesterday, and it just needs extra care. And right now they don’t want any kids coming in. So, I know I promised we’d all go over today, but we just can’t.”

  “I talked to her yesterday, Dad. She needs underwear and stuff,” B-Kay said.

  “Right, I know. I’m gonna take her what she needs this afternoon. Right now, I just wanted to make sure you guys knew what was going on. I think we’re on our own for a while, so I just need to know I can count on both of you to help.”

  Bubba John paused a moment to let that sink in. He was fairly certain neither of them realized what all that would entail. He wasn’t completely sure himself. Fortunately, he underestimated his wife’s mini-me. B-Kay morphed into her mother right before his eyes.

  “Aunt Dilly did the l
aundry before she left. Said to tell you there’s a bag of Mom’s clothes sitting on top of the dryer.” B-Kay said. “And don’t forget those library books on the kitchen table.”

  “Got it,” Bubba John said, as if he’d remembered the books, which he did not.

  B-Kay grabbed a pencil and notepad from the side of the refrigerator.

  “What’s that for?” Bubba John asked.

  “We have to make a list.”

  “A list of what?”

  B-Kay looked at her brother and rolled her eyes.

  “Everything, Dad. Pick up times, schedules, school projects. These things don’t happen by osmosis.”

  T-Ray snorted again.

  “What’s so funny?” Bubba John asked.

  “Dad,” T-Ray shook his head.

  “Never mind,” B-Kay held up one hand to silence her brother. “I gotta think. Let’s see, I think Bitty has early dismissal on Wednesday and goes to dance right after. I’ll call Samantha’s mom and see if she can take Bitty, too. Then I’ll pick her up when we get out.”

  “We’ll pick her up,” T-Ray interjected.

  “Whatever, T. That leaves Daisy and Tater, and that’s where it gets a little hairy.”

  “Right,” T-Ray said. “Tate gets out early, too.”

  “And Daisy only goes to daycare half days,” Bubba John said. “I know all this, so y’all don’t need to act like I’m totally clueless.”

  “Sorry, Dad.” T-Ray tried to smooth it over. “We don’t think you’re clueless, just…”

  “Clueless, I get it. Well, I’m not,” Bubba John said. “I can pick them up sometimes…”

  “Shhh…I’m trying to think,” B-Kay said. “The problem is not just pick-up, Dad. Who’s going to take care of them while we’re in school? We don’t get home until almost four. Mom usually keeps them at the store with her, but Dottie can’t watch the kids and the store by herself.”

  “Well, I can watch them, I guess, but I’m supposed to be working on the…um…project.”

  “What project?” T-Ray sat straight up in his chair, suddenly interested.

  “Nothin’, Tee.” B-Kay said, with a bit too much pride for her brother to let it slide. “It’s a secret.”

  “That’s not fair, Dad! How come B-Kay knows and I don’t?”

  “Because I can keep a secret and you can’t, that’s how come.”

  “Are you kidding me?” T-Ray protested. “Dad!”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s not really a secret anymore,” Bubba John said.

  B-Kay sighed.

  “We’re fixing up Mam and Pap’s old house,” Bubba John said, then added “so we can sell it.”

  “I don’t get it. What’s the big deal?” asked T-Ray.

  “What?” B-Kay interjected. “You said it was a Christmas present!”

  “Aw, man,” Bubba John said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m never gonna keep this straight.”

  “I’m confused, Dad, which is it?” B-Kay asked.

  “Okay, listen, y’all have to help me and not breathe a word of this to a soul. I told your Mom I was fixing the house up to sell, but it’s really for us, and I only have until Christmas to get it done.”

  “Damn, Dad, that’s some Christmas present.” T-Ray leaned his chair back on two legs.

  “Watch your mouth, Son,” Bubba John said. “And seriously, please don’t tell your mother. It’ll ruin everything.”

  “So,” B-Kay said, getting back on track. “Who’s keeping the little ones until Mom comes home?”

  “I’ll ask around in town. Surely somebody can give us a hand,” Bubba John said. “Make sure you both remember. Don’t mention a word about the house to your mother.”

  “We won’t.” The twins answered in tandem and rolled their eyes at each other in uncharacteristic solidarity.

  20

  Decisions to Make

  A few hours later, Bubba stood at Sweet’s bedside with a large bag of books, but no laundry.

  “What in the world is that?” Sweet asked.

  “The ladies at the library all send their love,” Bubba John said. “Apparently they know what you like.”

  “How thoughtful of them; I have been just about to crawl out of my skin from boredom. Let me see…” Sweet stretched her hands out to receive the plastic library bag. “Oh, wait, better put them here beside me. I’m not supposed to lift anything more than a dinner tray.”

  Bubba John placed the bag on the bed beside her, and leaned down to kiss her.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey, yourself,” Sweet said and smiled.

  “How you feeling?”

  “Better today,” she said. “Yesterday was rough. They cleaned the wound before they put in the drain tube. That was not pleasant.”

  “I bet.”

  “Did you remember to bring clean underwear?”

  “Aw, crap!” Bubba John said.

  “Bubba…” Sweet said.

  “Oh, no, I brought the bag. I just left it in the truck. I’ll run back down in a minute.”

  “I almost called B-Kay to make sure you brought it with you.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith.”

  “Oh, I have faith alright,” Sweet grinned.

  “What’d Ms. Janice send you?” Bubba asked to change the subject.

  Sweet opened the bag and peered inside.

  “Oh, yay, my favorites. I guess they’ve met me before.” Sweet laughed. “I can’t believe they sent this one over. There’s usually a waiting list for new releases.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Bubba said. “Ms. Janice said to make sure you send the Jan Karon book back as soon as you get through. They bumped you up on the list.”

  “I’ll give her a call tomorrow. You’ll probably be able to take it back by Tuesday. Lord knows I don’t have anything else to do.”

  Sweet reached for the cup of water on her tray table, but winced in pain just as her hand connected. The Styrofoam cup tilted, spilling half its contents on the bed and half on the floor.

  “For cryin’ out loud, look what I’ve done,” Sweet said. “Can you get me some of those paper towels, please?”

  Bubba John spun around, looking for the dispenser.

  “By the door, by the door,” Sweet said, the cold water spreading beneath her.

  Bubba grabbed a few towels and handed them to Sweet, then went back for more.

  “I’m so sorry…” Sweet said, mopping at the bed while Bubba John wiped at the puddle on the floor.

  And this was how Dr. Anderson found them when he and the charge nurse stopped by for afternoon rounds.

  “What in the world?” The nurse was the first to speak.

  “Oh, I knocked my cup over,” Sweet said. “My bed is soaked.”

  Bubba stood and carried a dripping wad of towels to the garbage can, squeezing awkwardly by the doctor to grab another handful of towels. The nurse stopped him on his way back with one hand on his arm.

  “That’s what the call button is for,” she said. “Sit. I’ll get housekeeping in here when we leave.”

  Bubba did as he was told.

  The relationship between Sweet Atwater and Dr. Anderson did not improve much during her time in recovery, so Sweet was glad her OB-GYN physicians alternated rounds.

  Leave it to perfect timing, though, thought Sweet. I am so busted.

  Dr. Anderson’s grim-lipped look of disapproval spoke volumes.

  “I wanted to talk to you about when we might send you home, but I think I just got my answer. I hoped you’d be ready within the next week, but I need to be absolutely certain you won’t overdo it when you get there. I have a feeling it won’t matter a bit what I say; you’ll overexert yourself the first day home.”

  Sweet didn’t bother to argue. She relaxed back into her pillow and covered her eyes with one arm, the wet paper towels still clutched in her fist. He was right, and she knew it.

  “It’s a little dicey with your insurance company. I can get approval to move you to the re
hab center for a couple of weeks, but you’d still have a pretty hefty bill, which I know is a concern for you.”

  “Which rehab center,” Sweet asked.

  “There is one in particular I’d prefer for you; their wound care is excellent, which we really must consider in your case.”

  “It’s in Tallahassee?”

  “Yes, a couple of blocks from here, actually.”

  “I haven’t seen my kids in forever…” Sweet trailed off, close to tears.

  Dr. Anderson sighed and thought for a moment.

  “I could set you up with a home care nurse, but that only covers coming in to check the wound and repack the dressing. You’d have to travel back to Tallahassee at least twice a week for a while. But I cannot, in good conscience, let you go home unless I know for certain there will be someone there to help.”

  “The older kids do help,” Sweet offered weakly.

  “Remind me how old your children are?”

  “Daisy’s three, Tate is almost six, Elizabeth is eight, and the twins are sixteen.”

  “Do all of them attend school?”

  “All but Daisy, the youngest. She goes to daycare half days, though.”

  “And who watches her the rest of the time?”

  “Well, normally me, but Bubba John has been filling in since his aunt left.

  Dr. Anderson wrinkled his brow and glanced sideways at Bubba John, who sat mute since he’d been chastised by the nurse.

  “How is that working for you? Are you taking sick leave or something, or do you just have an understanding boss?”

  Bubba John and Sweet answered the question simultaneously.

  “I set my own hours.”

  “He’s self-employed.”

  Dr. Anderson glanced from one to the other, sizing up the too-quick answer and deciding two euphemisms at once was a clear indicator Bubba John Atwater was unemployed.

  “What kind of work do you do?”

  “I’m in construction mostly,” Bubba John said. “I work shut-downs at the paper mill when they need me, and I fill in for a couple of construction companies in Suwannee County, but mostly I work odd jobs - deck building, land clearing, tree trimming, stuff like that.”