“So you’re flexible, then,” Dr. Anderson said.
Bubba John heard the disapproval in his voice and, forgetting the goal was to get Sweet home, added, “But it has gotten pretty busy lately. I just picked up a job remodeling a house.”
“Okay then, we’ll get approval for the rehab center and see if we can’t get you moved over there in a couple of days,” Dr. Anderson said and made a note on the chart.
“Wait, wait,” Sweet said, glaring at Bubba John before turning her attention to Dr. Anderson again. “What if we got someone to come in and help, and I promise not to overdo it? Could I go home instead?”
“What kind of help?” Dr. Anderson asked.
“Well, I’m sure there are some CNA’s in the area who are looking for work. And I can ask at church, too. Surely someone will be willing to come in until I’m better.”
“I can’t make a decision based on possibilities. I need to be sure you won’t be picking up children, or laundry, or casseroles, for that matter, and you absolutely must not drive a car until I specifically clear you to do so.”
“I promise I won’t. Lord knows I do not want to deal with you if I break my promise, either.”
For the first time since Sweet laid eyes on her stern young physician, Dr. Anderson broke into a grin and emitted a guttural blast that passed for laughter. His nurse struggled to maintain her all-business composure, and tilted her head toward the floor so as not to give away her smile.
“Ha!” Sweet said and pointed gleefully at her doctor. “I made you laugh! Does that mean I get to go home?”
“I’m not promising anything,” Dr. Anderson said, shaking his head in mock defeat, “but here’s what we’ll do: I have a couple of days to clear everything with the insurance company and see if they have a bed over at Southland. If, in that time, you arrange for reliable, around-the-clock help, I’ll discharge you to go home. If not, you’ll go on over to Southland to finish your rehab. Deal?”
“Deal,” said Sweet.
“I’ll come back tomorrow and see what you’ve come up with and we’ll go from there, okay?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Sweet said.
Dr. Anderson slapped the chart closed, hung it back on the end of Sweet’s bed and nudged his nurse toward the door.
“Let’s get out of here before she talks me into something else.”
He brushed past her, nodded at Bubba John, still sitting mute in the chair by Sweet’s bed. The nurse followed, but spoke on her way out, “I’ll let the front desk know you need a bed change.”
The room was quiet for a minute. Bubba John broke the silence.
“Sorry, hon.”
Sweet sighed. “I just want to go home.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you say that about your so-called new job? How in the heck am I supposed to find ‘around-the-clock’ help?”
“Sweet, please don’t fuss at me. I’m sorry, all right? I just didn’t want him thinking I was…you know…lazy or something. I work hard.”
“I know you do,” Sweet said. And she did know, though it probably didn’t show.
Bubba John sat staring at his hands, which he worked almost incessantly whenever he was uncomfortably idle. Sweet loved his hands, despite their sandpaper texture. They were the hands of a working man, and one would only have to glance at them to know. And Sweet knew.
She was forever after him to fix one thing or another inside the house, or pick up the kids, or stay home when one of them was sick. The truth was he did work hard. Their yard was always mowed, and one acre of the property was routinely planted with crops that fed her family throughout the year. Bubba John was better at canning and freezing than she would ever be and, though Sweet was inclined to complain about the time her husband spent at the hunting camp, she wasn’t sure what she’d do without the supply of venison he provided each season. Sometimes the work he did on the side wasn’t exactly income-producing, but Sweet couldn’t ignore the fact that Bubba John bartered land-clearing often enough for them to have a full side of beef or a butchered hog, and even once lamb meat from the Wiley’s farm. Even so, it was impossible to pay the mortgage and insurance and gas without cash, so to keep from hiring a full-time clerk at the store, she relied on Bubba John to help when she needed him. And she knew it embarrassed him for people to think he was lazy, when exactly the opposite was true.
“Honey, it doesn’t matter what Dr. Anderson thinks. You don’t have to explain a thing to him or anyone else, for that matter.”
Bubba John sighed and worked his hands harder.
“What’s wrong?” Sweet asked.
“I’m trying to think of someone we can get to help. I think I’ve probably exhausted every willing person at church. I can’t think of a soul who could work full-time.”
“There has to be someone.”
“Well…” Bubba trailed off.
“Spit it out,” Sweet said.
“I hate to even mention it, but Beanie’s the only one I can think of who doesn’t have a full-time job, but has the experience you need. She took care of both of her parents and never put them in a nursing home.”
“I thought she was working at The Château,” Sweet said.
“She is, but I think they’re pretty slow now. Will’s started renting out by the month, which doesn’t include breakfast, and she could still help him on weekends if he needed her.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” Sweet said.
“Have you got a better plan?” Bubba asked.
“No, but I bet we can think of one if we try hard enough,” Sweet replied.
“What’s wrong with Beanie helping us?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Bubba, the whole town thinks you’re sleeping with her.”
“Do you think I am?” Bubba asked.
“No, but I’ll be darned if I’m going to add fuel to that blaze. No way. No. Freaking. Way.”
For someone who truly hated lies, he was sure tangled in a slew of them. What was that old saying about desperate times? Because he sure felt desperate right now. He was either going to confess the entire thing, lottery, house and all, or he was going to have to break a few of his own rules.
“Sweet,” he said, “I need you to trust me. You and the kids are all I’ve got.”
“You got a funny way of showing that,” Sweet said, her head cast sideways toward the wall.
“I’m going to tell you something, but you have to swear you won’t repeat it. Beanie’ll kill me.”
Sweet snapped her head up and glared at her husband. You have got to be kidding me!
“Just listen,” Bubba John said, throwing both hands up in mock surrender. “Seriously, Sweet, listen. Beanie is seeing someone, has been for a while.”
“Who?”
“I’m not sure exactly, but it isn’t me. That’s all you need to know.”
Sweet stared hard at her husband.
“Wow,” Sweet said. “That’s all I need to know? Really?”
“What do you want me to do, Sweet? I’m doing the very best I can. You know…?” Bubba stood and picked his car keys off of Sweet’s tray table. “You aren’t the only one this happened to, honey. We’re all doing the best we can. Maybe Dr. Anderson is right. Maybe rehab is the best option right now, because quite frankly, I’m all out of ideas.”
He made it to the door before Sweet spoke.
“Fine,” Sweet sighed. “Do you want to call Beanie or should I?”
Will Thaxton
I have never loved anyone remotely like Beanie Bradsher. It is an incomprehensible thing, and I’m hard-pressed to make sense of it myself, let alone explain it to anyone who knows me. There aren’t many who know me, though. Especially not here.
I am a foreigner, an outsider, a Yankee for heaven’s sake, though the term itself seems incongruous, old-fashioned, absurd. My wife brought me here and convinced me to stay. We fell in love with the river and this old rambling building that is in no way what she dreamed we
would make it. She did all this not knowing if she would survive to see it through. And she was gone before I grasped that I might lose her.
I loved Marie. I miss her like you might miss an index finger. You can get by without it, but it is always going to feel strange. Well, that sounds clinical, doesn’t it? What I mean to say is my wife was like a part of me. We did everything together, including raising our daughter. I had my own career, of course, but I managed it on her schedule. I may have it wrong, though. Perhaps I was her index finger. Lord knows she was the driving force behind everything we did. Wow, I just keep sinking lower and lower into this abysmal recollection of a marriage that was far more than a schedule.
I miss the easy friendship, and knowing that I was part of a relentlessly loyal team. I miss the laughter that was always close to the surface. I miss the noise of living with Marie. She was exceedingly upbeat, thoroughly outgoing, never met a stranger, and never pulled punches - except even her punch felt like a caress, a pat on the back, an encouragement to do better. I liked myself around her. The thing is, I find that I still like myself, even though I’ve settled into the quiet that is life without her.
And now there is Beanie, but there isn’t Beanie at all. The girl makes a statement without saying a word. For someone with little to say, she speaks volumes. Her education is woefully inadequate, yet I have never known anyone who could make me feel more like a fool without even trying. She is an enigma, a paradox, a puzzle with no solution. She loves someone, but it is not me.
I could pack up and leave; I know this. I could sell The Château, though I can’t imagine what kind of fool would buy it. A fool like me, I suppose. Anyway, what I’m getting at is, I don’t want to leave. I promised Marie I would see it through and I intend to do just that. As for Beanie, I don’t know. A man can hope, can’t he?
21
Beanie Says Goodbye
Will Thaxton did not take Beanie’s news well. Despite the fact that business had been slow for over a month, Will was accustomed to Beanie’s help with cleaning, cooking and general upkeep of The Château. More importantly, he was happy.
She broke the news just as the breakfast hour was ending on Monday morning. Will brought in the last of the dishes from the table while Beanie rinsed and loaded them into the dishwasher.
“What’s on your agenda today?” Will asked, scraping all but the meat scraps into the compost bin.
“Suvi and I thought we’d ride over to Carrabelle for some seafood. I’m not too crazy about shellfish, but Suvi likes raw oysters and crab and you cain’t get those anywhere in this county. I’m mostly goin’ along for the ride.”
“It’s a pretty day for a drive,” Will said. “When are you heading over?”
“Soon as Suvi gets back from the farmers market, I reckon.”
“I take it you guys got everything worked out now,” Will said, clearly fishing.
“Well, I wouldn’t say everything just yet. We ain’t exactly advertisin’ it yet, but things is goin’ along okay.”
“That’s good,” Will said, stacking the last of the plates beside the sink.
An awkward silence followed. For nearly five minutes, neither of them spoke a word, just washed and dried and restored the kitchen to order.
Beanie was the first to speak.
“They’s somethin’ else I got to tell ya,” Beanie said.
“Okay…” Will braced himself for the worst.
“Sweet Atwater called me last night…” Beanie hesitated, searching for the right words to soften the blow.
“Oh, yeah? How’s she doing?” Will allowed himself to relax a bit.
“A little better, I reckon, but she’s kind’ly got a long row to hoe. Doc ain’t gonna let her come home less’n she has somebody to take care of her and the kids.”
“I guess I didn’t realize she was that sick,” Will said. “I hope they find someone.”
“Well, that’s what I’m tryin’ to tell ya. They did. It’s me.”
Will looked confused.
“I hate to just drop it on ya like this, Will, but I’m gonna stay at their house for a while. I don’t wantcha to think I’m ungrateful or nothin’ but things’s gotten kindly touchy here, and I think it’s prolly for the best, don’t you?”
Will wiped down the counter for the third time in several minutes. Then he turned to face Beanie.
“You want my honest answer? Not really. I mean, I thought we were doing fine.”
“We are, and I’d like to keep it thataway.”
“I guess I just don’t understand, Bean. Isn’t there somebody at their church or something?”
“Shoot, Will, them church ladies is good to bring casseroles and such, but ain’t nobody can possibly manage two families at once’t.”
“But why you?”
Beanie shrugged. “It’s kind’ly what I do. Mommer was the same way, ‘cept she used to birth babies, too. I ain’t never been too keen on that, though I helped with a few when I was little.”
“Your mother was a midwife?”
“Shoot, no…my mama couldn’t be bothered to take care of me half the time, much less somebody else. Mommer and Diddy was my granny and grandpa. They took me and Mama in when my daddy left.”
“Ah, I see,” Will said, though he wasn’t sure he did.
“So anyways, I’ll be leavin’ this weekend.”
Will’s shoulders dropped. “I hate it, Beanie. I really do. I…I got used to having you around, you know?”
“Well, I was thinkin’ of leavin’ anyway. I gotta figure out what to do with my winnin’s.” Beanie said. “Speakin’ of which, I think it’s time I done somethin’ with that check, too. Suvi said he’d take me by the SunTrust in Tallahassee tomorrow morning so I can open an account. Says that’s the onliest way to keep the locals from knowin’ my business.”
“I think that’s a good idea, Bean.” Will dropped the kitchen towel into the garbage can.
Beanie frowned and cocked her head slightly.
“You okay, Will?”
“Fine, why?”
“Oh, nothin’.”
Beanie waited for Will to turn his back and scooped the towel out of the trash.
Will peered into the refrigerator as if he lost something.
“Whatcha lookin’ for?”
“Coffee,” Will said. “Would you drink another cup if I made half a pot?”
“Um…sure, but…um…Will? The coffee’s right here.”
Beanie pointed to the canister, which sat right by the coffee pot and always had.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Absolutely.” Will took the milk from the refrigerator, leaving the door wide open. “Never better.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
“Matter of fact, I’m thinking of getting a dog.”
“Oh, really? What kind of a dog?”
“I’d have to say the friendly and loyal kind. The kind that will stick around awhile.”
“Oh,” Beanie said, and closed the refrigerator door.
***
Over the course of the next week, Will helped Beanie pack and occasionally hinted that she might want to stay.
When the day came for her to leave, he offered to take her out to the Atwater home, but Beanie said Suvi would be by later to help her move. This, Will thought, was a bit like rubbing salt in his wounds, but he said nothing. He poured a cup of old coffee, heated it in the microwave and went upstairs to his room without so much as a fare-thee-well.
Beanie puttered around the kitchen, which seemed like a cave without Will sharing the space. She felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify. The Château had become her home and, quite frankly, a sanctuary. Beanie’s world was never exactly normal, a fact which was not lost on her, but moving into The Château provided her with more than stability and a routine – it gave her a purpose, made her feel useful, wanted, happy.
Well, she would be useful and wanted at the Atwaters’ house, too. And maybe the next move
she made would be a permanent one. It could happen.
A short blow of a car horn shook Beanie from her thoughts. She patted the worn kitchen tabletop on the way out of the kitchen and went to greet Suvi at the door. In short order, Beanie’s bags and boxes were neatly tucked into the back of Suvi’s truck, and they were ready to go. Will did not come down to help, even though Beanie was sure he heard Suvi arrive.
“Ready?” Suvi asked, sliding into the driver’s seat beside her.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Beanie meant to sound enthusiastic and bright, but her words fell flat and both of them noticed.
“You okay?” Suvi asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You sure? ‘Cause you don’t really sound--”
“I’ll be right back,” Beanie said, and bolted from the truck without waiting for Suvi to respond.
She found Will sitting, not in his own room upstairs, but hers. Her old room, that is.
“Will…” Beanie sat on the bed beside him, tucking her arm through his.
“I’m sorry, Bean.”
“You ain’t got to apologize, Will. I’m the one should apologize, leaving you out of the clear blue. I just…” Beanie struggled to find the right words. “I just think it’s for the best, ya know?”
“It isn’t my call. It’s yours. I hope you’re doing the right thing, I think I understand, but if I’m honest, I don’t think it is – for the best, I mean. And I’m rambling. Why am I rambling?”
Will stood and faced Beanie.
“Maybe I’m being selfish. I got used to you being here and, quite frankly, I don’t like being alone. But it’s more than that, Bean. I like your company. You make me laugh. You light up a room the second you walk in. And, dammit, I’m going to miss you.”
Will raked his forearm across his eyes, then held his hand out to Beanie and helped her rise.
“Suvi’s prolly wonderin’ what’s takin’ so long.” Beanie could not bring herself to look at Will’s face, so she stared at the floor instead.
What Matters in Mayhew (The Beanie Bradsher Series Book 1) Page 12
