Sweet groped for a tissue on the bedside table and shoved it toward Beanie, who took it with a mumbled, “Thank you.”
“Then why in the world did you come in here the other night saying you were having feelings about Bubba John?”
Beanie, by now in the midst of blowing her nose, snapped to attention.
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“The other night!” Sweet said, as if the repetition cleared everything up. “When you were talking about being in the kitchen with Bubba John and you realized you were having feelings for him. And the guilt and all that…”
“I was talkin’ about Will Thaxton!” Beanie hiccupped and swiped at her nose with the tissue.
“But…you never once mentioned Will’s name,” Sweet protested. “I thought you were talking about Bubba.”
“Why in the world would I do something so awful?”
“Well, I wondered the same thing,” Sweet admitted.
“Exactly! I wouldn’t. That’s my whole point. I. Would. Not.” Beanie punctuated each word slapping the footboard with her fingertips. “And I ain’t havin’ you thinkin’ I would. I don’t know what it’s gonna take to convince you, but if I cain’t, and if you still think I would sneak around behind your back with your husband, then I’ll just up and leave today. I don’t know where I’d go, though I’m sure Will would take me back in, but that’d be a whole nother can of worms, I’ll just tell ya. Anyway, I can find somewhere to go if I have to, but honestly Sweet I wouldn’t let that happen if I were you, because it smells really bad in here and I’m a’thinkin’ it’s because you need a bath. Whew…that’s awful.”
Sweet laughed then, but stopped abruptly. “Ow,” she said, holding her belly low and tight. “Something’s wrong. That really hurt.”
“How long has it been smelling like that?” Beanie scrunched her nose up and winced. “I think we need to call the doctor, Sweet. That ain’t right.”
Beanie looked at Sweet long and hard. She hadn’t noticed when she came in; she had avoided looking at her, out of embarrassment she supposed. Sweet’s cheeks were flushed bright red. Beanie leaned forward and put her hand on Sweet’s forehead.
“You’re burnin’ up. Can you stand?”
“I don’t think so. I just feel…weak.”
“You stay right there, then. I’m callin’ the amb’lance.”
Beanie left then, bolting out of the room at a run.
37
Lord Help
Bubba John and B-Kay were still sitting at the table when Beanie came flying down the hallway.
“Where’s the phone?” they heard her say as she passed the dining room door.
“What’s the matter?” Bubba John asked, but did not rise.
Beanie reappeared in seconds, telephone in hand.
“Here,” she said, thrusting it toward Bubba John. “Dial nine-one-one. I’m shakin’ too bad to see the numbers.”
B-Kay stood, knocking the ladder-back chair to the floor. Without a word, she rushed down the hallway to her mother’s room.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” Bubba John said, punching the numbers without knowing why.
Beanie grabbed the phone from him and listened for the dispatcher to answer.
“Sweet’s real sick,” she said, covering the mouthpiece with one hand. “Oh, Lord, I think I done killed her.”
Bubba John pushed past Beanie and headed for the bedroom.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” came the voice on the other end.
“I need an am’blance to Sweet Atwater’s house, out here by Miller’s Dairy.”
“What’s the address?”
“I have no idea. Bubba John, what’s the address here?” Sweet looked around and realized he was no longer in the room.
“Never mind, I’ve got it now,” said the operator. “What’s the problem?”
“Well, Sweet’s real sick. She’s just outta the hospital, you know, and she was doin’ fine, honest she was, and I’m s’posed to be takin’ care of her, but she ain’t been really talkin’ to me for a few days, and I guess nobody’s been doin’ her repackin’, and it smells real bad. Real bad.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…calm down a second. I need to ask you some questions…”
“Is the am’blance comin’?”
“I’m dispatching it now, but I need to know what’s going on. Is the patient awake and breathing?”
Beanie headed back down the hallway.
“Well, she was talkin’ to me a minute ago, so yeah, she’s breathin’ okay. But she’s burnin’ up and she cain’t hardly move for the pain.”
“Where is she hurting?”
“Her gut, I reckon. It smells real bad.”
“You said that. What smells bad?” the operator asked.
“Where they cut her for the surgery,” Beanie snapped. “They was treatin’ her for infection ‘fore she came home, and Bubba’s been takin’ her over to Tallahassee for wound care. They’ve had a drain in, but they took it out a week or so ago. We was just packin’ it with gauze.”
Beanie entered Sweet’s bedroom to find Bubba John kneeling beside Sweet’s bed and B-Kay packing an overnight back with clean underwear and nightgowns. A washcloth lay across Sweet’s forehead and her eyes were closed.
“What kind of surgery was it?”
“The female kind,” Beanie said. “What’s it called, Bubba?”
“What’s what called?” he asked.
“Sweet’s operation.”
“She had a hysterectomy. Are they coming? I can load her up and take her over there myself if I need to,” Bubba said, standing up.
Beanie waved him back down.
“Hysterectomy. That’s what she had,” Beanie said into the phone.
“Okay. Is the patient alert? Is she able to walk? I’m trying to determine if she really needs an ambulance or if you should take her to the hospital yourself. We only have one crew working tonight and they’re coming back from Suwannee County right now.”
“I thought you said they was on the way.” Beanie’s voice rose to near panic level.
“I said I was dispatching them, and I am, but it could be a good thirty minutes before they get there. I can send first responders if she’s unconscious or having trouble breathing.”
“Naw, she’s awake,” Beanie replied, then covered the mouthpiece and spoke to Bubba John. “They said least thirty minutes. What do you want to do?”
“Tell ‘em never mind, I’ve got her.” Bubba John didn’t wait for a response; he wrapped the top sheet and comforter around his wife, lifted her from the bed and carried her to his truck. B-Kay followed with Sweet’s overnight bag and tucked it into the back seat.
“I’m going with you, Daddy,” B-Kay said.
“I need you to stay with the kids,” Bubba John closed the passenger door and crossed behind the truck to get to the driver’s side.
“Why? Miss Beanie’s here…”
“Go back inside, B. I mean it.”
B-Kay spun away from the truck, then turned back and wrenched the front door open.
“Mama?”
Sweet reached up and cupped her daughter’s face with a feeble hand.
“Be strong for me, okay? Help Beanie…” Sweet said. Her hand flopped back into her lap and she moaned weakly.
Bubba John settled in beside his wife and reached to fasten her seatbelt.
“Daddy, please…” B-Kay begged.
“She’s fine, B. Stay here.”
“Mama?”
“Close the door, B-Kay. Close it.”
B-Kay, wild-eyed and shaking, closed the truck door and turned to find Beanie with arms outstretched.
“Come on, baby, we’ll make some coffee and wait for your daddy to call us, okay?”
Beanie led the frightened girl through the back door and into the kitchen as Bubba John’s truck sped down the driveway toward the paved road.
“Sit down at the table and I’ll make you something to eat
.” Beanie guided B-Kay to a chair and pushed her gently into it. B-Kay had not uttered a word since her father left with his sharp rebuke. “You’re shakin’ like a leaf. Are you cold? I’m gonna get you some coffee. Do you drink coffee? How ‘bout some tea? Now where does your mama keep the tea bags?” Beanie rummaged through the cabinets while B-Kay sat at rigid attention, neither moving nor speaking.
“Here they are,” Beanie crowed, holding a box of Earl Gray in one hand and a handful of stray packets in the other. The child still did not move.
“Tea, B-Kay, can you drink some? B? Answer me now, you’re scarin’ me.”
Beanie threw the tea bags on the table, pulled a chair from the side of the table and placed it in front of B-Kay. Then she sat in it and pulled the chair closer, so their knees were touching.
“B…look at me. Your mama is gonna be fine. Your daddy will have her to the hospital in no time and they’ll get her fixed right up, you hear me?”
Two tears rolled down B-Kay’s cheeks and plopped onto her t-shirt.
“Oh, honey, don’t cry…don’t. It’s go’n be okay.”
“How do you know?” B-Kay finally spoke.
“Well, I don’t know how I know. I just believe she will be, that’s all.”
“I’ve been praying and praying and she just gets worse, Miss Beanie. Do you think God is mad at me or something?”
“No, I don’t! And I don’t think God works that way, honey. I just don’t.”
B-Kay leaned forward on her elbows and dropped her forehead into her palms with a soft groan. Beanie just sat without speaking and patted her softly on the back as her shoulders shook and tears landed on the floor between her feet.
Moments later, Bitty appeared in the doorway of the dining room.
“What’s wrong, Sissy?”
Beanie rose quickly and ushered Bitty back to the living room.
“Come on, baby, let’s find something else on TV. You tired of SpongeBob? What do you wanna watch now?”
“Why is Sissy crying?” Bitty’s lip quivered.
“Sissy’s fine, baby. Are you hungry? Did you finish your Cheerios?”
“Chee-ohs,” Daisy piped up.
“I’m hongry. I want some shaushage.” Tater staggered to his feet and headed for the kitchen.
“Lord help,” Beanie said, meaning it. She picked Daisy up off the floor and swung her to one hip. “Okay, everybody to the table. Tater, go get your brother up and tell him I said to get in here now. Bitty, you collect all them bowls and cups and bring ‘em with ya. We gotta have a family meetin’ this morning.”
Shortly thereafter, all five children were seated at the table, though Bitty’s head was lolling so much Beanie thought she was going to fall back to sleep sitting up. B-Kay had gotten a grip on her tears, but still sniffled every few minutes.
“What’s going on,” T-Ray asked, annoyed that his one day to sleep in had been disturbed.
Beanie shushed him before sitting in Bubba John’s seat at the end of the table.
“Okay, listen up. Your mama’s had to go back to the hospital. Your daddy’s takin’ her over there himself, and we don’t know exactly when they’re comin’ back.”
The table erupted.
“Is she okay? What’s wrong? What’s the matter with Mama?” All at once.
Beanie held up both hands. “Shhhhh! Listen. Just listen. I don’t know exactly what’s wrong, but I do know this…your mama’s in good hands at the hospital. We’re just gonna sit here and have a little prayer together, and then we are going to get busy doing something to take our minds offa this thing until we hear from your daddy. Ever’body bow your head. Who wants to start?”
When no one piped up, Beanie led the way.
“Lord, we got a problem this mornin’ and we’d sure like some help, if’n ya got some extry time. We all been worryin’ about Sweet Lee – she sure needs a healin’ hand today. These babies been doin’ all they can while their mama lays sick in the bed, and now it just seems like she’s a’gettin’ sicker by the day. Lord help us, if you will. Help us with the worry and the fear, help us get right ever’ which-a-way we can. And I ask a special prayer for sister B-Kay here. You know what we talked about, Lord, ‘cause you know ever’thing. She’s a good girl, Lord, and I know she don’t mean no harm. Help her feel better in her heart, like I do. I know it’s gonna be all right, ‘cause you got us in your hand and on your mind. Amen.”
Beanie took a deep breath and smacked both palms lightly down on the table.
“Now, I’m gonna fix y’all some breakfast and then we’re gonna tackle that laundry out there. It’s piled up outta control. Ain’t no reason y’all can’t help with that. And then we’re gonna clean the house, and ever’ able body is helping.”
“Daisy, too?” Bitty snapped to attention.
“Daisy, too,” Beanie said.
“She’s just a baby,” B-Kay protested.
“She can learn to fold socks’s good as the rest of ya.”
“I don’t know…” B-Kay shook her head.
“Well, we’re gonna find out, aren’t we?” Beanie said.
It was chaos in the Atwater kitchen for a few minutes, until everyone found something they could do to get food on the table.
***
Bubba John swung his truck through the Emergency Room entrance, took one look inside the sliding double doors, and pulled right on out again. He’d been to the ER on many a Saturday morning when Bitty or Tater had been up all night wheezing, or that awful time the twins both had croup and he and Sweet were just young, inexperienced parents. In a county with only ten-thousand people, there was never a pediatrician close by. When you couldn’t leave other children home alone in the middle of the night, you went to the ER the next day. This was the closest hospital around for at least two counties, and it showed this morning. He could clearly see a waiting room filled with sleep-deprived parents and lethargic, nervous, and/or weeping children. He weighed his options within a matter of seconds. He could go in and hope they would airlift her to Tallahassee right away, but that would take every bit of an hour and more. He could drive her there in forty-five minutes.
“Baby, I’m taking you on to Tallahassee, okay?” Bubba John scanned the divided highway for oncoming traffic, then pulled out into the center turn lane. He glanced at his wife when she didn’t respond.
“Sweet? Honey? Are you okay?” To which she responded with a low moan.
Bubba John punched the gas and felt the truck surge forward. Too rough, he thought and eased off a bit. Just a few miles down the road he could take the cutoff over to the interstate highway where he would make better time and not have to fly through the series of small towns along the way.
Sweet moaned again and tried to open her eyes. She reached out a weak hand and dropped it onto Bubba John’s lap. Her fingertips dragged down the side of his thigh as her wrist continued its downward motion toward the seat.
“Baby, we’re headed for Tallahassee, is that okay?”
No response. Bubba John was clearly not a man of many words, but at this moment he could think of a thousand things he wanted her to know.
“Sweet Lee Atwater, don’t you leave me,” he began. “I don’t know why I don’t tell you this, but I would be lost without you. Jesus, God, please don’t take her from me. Sweet, stay with me, honey. You’re gonna be fine, I promise, and when you get well, you’re not going to believe what I have for you. It’s a surprise…I know you don’t like surprises, and I know you’ve thought the worst, but really, Sweet, you’re gonna love the new house. It’s gonna have everything you wanted. And you’re not gonna have to worry about anything else, ever again.” Bubba pounded the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. “Sweet, wake up. Talk to me, baby.”
Sweet turned her head toward him, but did not open her eyes, nor utter a word.
“C’mon, c’mon, people, get out of my way.” Bubba John braked behind a car in the left lane, riding directly beside a furniture truck in the right. There
were no other cars visible in front of them, yet still the car would not budge. Bubba John flashed his bright lights off and on, then switched his caution lights on. No luck.
“Dammit, move!” Bubba John yelled. Using the heel of his hand, he pressed hard on the center of the steering wheel. The horn blared long and loud. Sweet mumbled something he could not understand. He saw the truck driver lean toward his side view mirror, checking to see what the noise was about, and they made eye contact long enough for the driver to realize something was wrong. He slowed immediately, allowing Bubba John to pull into the right lane ahead of him. Bubba John held up one hand, fingers splayed, by way of a thank you salute to the truck driver. He considered throwing an entirely different kind of salute at the offending car, but thought better of it and focused on the road ahead.
“Slow down.” Sweet’s weak voice was barely audible, but he understood her this time.
“I can’t slow down, baby. I gotta get you to the hospital. Are you okay?
“I don’t think so,” she managed to mumble before closing her eyes. She did not wake again on the long ride to Tallahassee.
38
The Lay of the Land
The next morning was crisp and cool. The sky overhead was bright blue, though the horizon sported a shelf of dark clouds that might have discouraged a visiting golfer. Suvi, however, had checked the weather before he left home and the storm hovering over the coastal waters two counties over was moving more north than east and would most likely miss them. Wind would be a factor, both for golfing and comfort. Still, a light jacket was all he needed and he slipped that on and pulled his golf bag from the back of his truck.
Gabe’s dark Mercedes coupe slid into the parking space opposite him just as he shouldered the bag.
“Morning!” Gabe called. “You beat me here.”
“By two minutes at most,” Suvi said. “Competitive much?”
Gabe’s laugh was so loud and abrupt that it startled them both. She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry!”
“Can I get your bag for you?”
“Never,” Gabe said, still smiling. “The day I can’t carry my own bag is the day I don’t need to be golfing anymore.” She popped the trunk of her car and slid her hefty leather golf bag out as if it weighed no more than a grocery sack.
What Matters in Mayhew (The Beanie Bradsher Series Book 1) Page 20
