by Joyce Magnin
The doctor patted her hand. “No need to make a decision. Let’s get you into a room and settled first. But I really think you should consider letting your son come and drive you home.”
Harriet lay her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes. The bright lights in the room disturbed her. “I guess I am pretty tired, after all.”
“It’s been a long trip,” the nurse said.
An hour later Harriet was tucked into a bed on the third floor of the hospital. It was a private room, and she had more bells and whistles attached to her than she could count. She hated hospitals. Hated being sick and was quite frankly angry she even had the stupid heart attack. So when the nurse came in later to take her vitals and help her to the bathroom Harriet asked, “Why did this happen? I am so healthy, little high blood pressure. But otherwise —”
“Hard to know why. Things happen. Sometimes the body has ways of telling you to slow down.”
Harriet shook her head. “I feel pretty good right now.”
“That’s good. The docs take good care of folks here.”
“Speaking of here,” Harriet said as she adjusted herself and her gown, “where exactly am I?”
“Incline Village Community Hospital.”
“Incline Village? Where on God’s green earth is that? I was in Truckee.”
“Near Lake Tahoe. Not far from Truckee. This is the closest hospital.”
“Lake Tahoe? Isn’t that a ritzy part of the world? Full of movie stars and such?”
“Sometimes. But to us it’s just home. Pretty place. I moved here last year from Grass Valley.”
“That’s where I’m headed.”
“Later. You just get some rest. That sedative will be kicking in any minute. Don’t get out of bed yourself. Call me.”
Harriet immediately defied the nurse and got up long enough to reach her tote bag. She found her phone, and when she unlocked it she saw two missed calls. One from Henry and one from — she could hardly believe her eyes. It was from Lacy — the young woman who helped her buy the Droid and was so sweet and encouraging.
“How did she get my number?” Then she remembered. She practiced calling Lacy way back in West Chester. She wanted to call her back right away, but she had never felt so tired.
Harriet closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but with all the hospital noises it was pretty hard, even with all the drugs she had been given. On the whole Harriet mistrusted drugs and much preferred a warm toddy over a sleeping pill.
She rang for the nurse and waited impatiently.
“Did you need something?”
“I was wondering, could you send a text for me? I’m not very good and —”
“Well, we’re not supposed to use cell phones near the machines but —”
“Can you use it in the lounge or —”
“Okay.”
Harriet handed her the phone.
“Sweet,” the young nurse said.
“Yes. It is. Please text to the number for Lacy. She’s one of the missed calls today. Say, I made it safe and sound. Well, safe anyway. No, don’t say that, just say, Harriet made it. Safe and sound. Thank you.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back. But then the phone gets turned off until you’re released.”
Harriet pushed her head into the pillow. “I made it, huh, not really.” She looked toward the window. “So, hey there, God,” she whispered. “What’s up with this? Did I do something wrong? I thought you were behind me the whole way, and … and now it seems like I’m not going to make it even though I just told Lacy I did.”
“You need to take exit 188B,” Prudence said.
“188B?” Henry said.
“Yes.”
Prudence tapped her phone and waited a moment. “This is Prudence Beamer. I was inquiring about Harriet Beamer, my mother-in-law.”
“She’s resting comfortably,” the nurse said.
Prudence tapped the phone off. “See. She’s okay.”
“Call her room. I want to talk to her.”
“Let her rest. We’ll talk when we get there. It’s safer.”
“Prudence, please. Just call her room.”
“I think we should wait. What if she’s sleeping? Hearing your voice could excite her.”
Henry grew silent. Then a few seconds later he asked, “What exit did you say?”
“188B toward Lake Tahoe.”
“Lake Tahoe. It’s like she’s going backward.”
“It was probably closest from Truckee.”
“Truckee?”
“Yes, everyone goes to Truckee, it seems.”
Forty-five minutes later, Henry pulled into the hospital parking lot. “Come on,” he said.
Prudence patted Humphrey’s head. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she’s okay.”
The dog whimpered and hid his eyes under his long ears.
Henry and Prudence had no trouble finding his mother’s room. He peeked inside first, unsure of what he’d see. The room was dark except for a faint light over her bed and the lights on all the equipment. Henry had not seen so much medical equipment since his father died in a very similar room. He inched closer and stood at her side.
“Hi, Son,” Harriet said as she opened her eyes.
Henry leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Hi, Mom. How ya doin?”
Harriet adjusted herself. “I’m fine, honey. Really. Doctor said it was a little heart attack. Nothing to get excited about.”
Henry patted her hand. “I love you so much, Mom. I’m so happy to see you.”
“I love you too. Now please, bring the back up a bit.”
Henry pushed the button on the side of the bed, and the head section rose.
“That’s good, Henry. I’m comfy now.”
“I’m so sorry this happened, Mom.”
Harriet smiled. “Me too. But the doc says I’m doing great. I’ll be out tomorrow. I think they’re just watching me.”
“That’s good.”
Harriet looked around. “Hi, Prudence.”
“Hi, Mom.” She leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I’m so happy you’re okay. And … and I’m sorry I got angry about the bib. I was oversensitive.”
Harriet smiled. “Oh, it’s over now, dear. It was just me doing some wishful thinking.”
“I know. But …”
“Please. Say no more. Now, how’s my Humphrey? Did you bring him?”
“He’s in the car,” Henry said.
“Ah, you mean he’s right outside? Go get him. Sneak him in.”
“Mom,” Henry said. “That breaks all the rules.”
“Please. It’s late. No one will notice. Carry him like a ba —” She looked at Prudence. “Sorry.”
Prudence kissed Harriet’s cheek a second time. “You hold on. I’ll be right back.”
“Pru, no,” Henry said.
“Shhh.”
Several minutes went by and still no Prudence. “I wonder what happened,” Henry said. “I hope they didn’t kick her out of the hospital.”
“She would have called if that happened … or come back up without him.”
Prudence appeared at the door. She was pushing a baby carriage. She entered the room and quickly closed the door.
“Pru, what the —”
“Shhh, look.” She removed the blanket that covered the carriage, and Humphrey poked his head up.
“Humphrey.” Harriet burst into tears. “You … brought him up here? You really did it.”
“Just for you, Mom. I’d do it for no one else. Thought he’d do you good.”
Henry lifted Humphrey out of the carriage. He held him so Harriet could pet him.
Humphrey whimpered and licked Harriet’s cheek. Then he whimpered some more.
“I’m okay,” Harriet said. “Just a mini heart attack. No worries. Just getting older. The ticker still has plenty of miles to go.” She patted her dog and smiled as he tried to lick her hand.
“Where did you get the carriage?” Henry asked.
“I bought i
t. From a woman in the lobby. She seemed thrilled to get the money.”
Harriet looked at Prudence. “Thank you, Prudence. But now you have a baby carriage to store.”
The door burst open, and a large nurse with a scowl entered the room. “I thought I smelled a dog. How did you get that animal in here?”
“Oh, don’t get so upset,” Prudence said. “She hasn’t seen him for almost a month. It’s … therapeutic.”
Harriet looked at Prudence in disbelief. “Prudence, you … amaze me.”
“It’s against the rules,” the nurse said. “That’s what it is. Now, kindly remove that … that … that beast from these premises.”
“No problem, toots,” Henry said. “Come, dear, let’s get him home.” He put Humphrey into the carriage. “We’ll see you in the morning, Mom. We’ll stay at a motel close by. Get some sleep,” he said. Henry wheeled the carriage out with his head held high and Prudence on his arm. Humphrey held his head high also.
The next morning, the doctor put Harriet through more tests, all of which she passed with flying colors. “I can discharge you today, but … I think you should call your son and have him drive you home. No more buses and trains and —”
“Motorcycles?”
“No. Not even a motorcycle, at least for a while. You need to recover.”
Harriet’s spirits sank again. She failed, or at least that was how it felt. She was so close, yet so far away. “Please, just to Grass Valley.”
“From here? Too far. And besides I think it will take more than one bus.”
“Probably. Okay, I’ll call Henry and tell him to come get me.”
The doctor looked at Harriet. “I’m serious. No bus. Straight home and right to bed.”
“Fine.”
Harriet placed the call in spite of what she was told about cell phone usage. “Come get me. The doctor said I could go home. Straight home.”
“Okay, Mom. We’ll be there shortly.”
“Thank you, dear.”
Harriet clicked off her phone. And then clicked it back on. She needed to tell Martha. Martha took the news pretty well, but she made Harriet promise also that she would stay off the bus for a while. Harriet promised.
“But I was so close, Martha.”
“I know. And you should feel very pleased with yourself. It’s not your fault you had a heart attack.”
“Thank you. But do you think it’s possible I overdid it?”
“Who’s to say. You probably would have had the heart attack at some point.”
“I had a good time, Martha. I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. Ha, ha. Well not the part with Buddy, I think.”
“I am sooo proud of you,” Martha said.
Harriet took a breath. She was still a little shaky and worried whenever she needed a deep breath, like it would cause her heart to stop beating again.
“Martha,” she said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Uh-oh, what did you do now?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I … I used to be jealous of you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because you’re such a fabulous artist; you dress so young and … bohemian. You could make a dead raccoon into a lovely centerpiece if you had to.”
“Well, fortunately, I never —”
“That’s not the point. I used to wish I could be like you. But now, now I don’t have to be like you. I can get along in this world by just being me.”
“Well, sure you can. You never had to be like me. I always admired you too. You could listen better than anyone. You have that discerning spirit; it’s a gift. And you make better cookies.”
“But, Martha, the thing is, I think this trip was good for me. And not just me, but … some others. And even if that heart attack had killed me, that would have been okay too. I think I made a difference.”
“I love you, Harriet,” Martha said. “You’re my best friend. I’m going to miss you. I miss you already.”
“When are you coming for a visit?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Christmas.”
Harriet felt a gush of tears come on. “Oh, Martha. I … I …”
“It’s okay. You’re where God wants you.”
Harriet changed into her street clothes. She took her time though as she filtered through some of the mementos she had collected. “It was a good trip.”
Then she sat in the visitor’s chair and wrote to Max.
Dear Max, this might be my last letter for a while. I guess you know about the heart attack. Well, I would do it all again. I learned so much about people, the country, cowboys and Indians, stars and dolphins and most of all about myself, especially when Buddy, the one-armed country singer … Harriet swallowed. Hard. And then went back to her letter.
… tried to take me away. I stood up to him too, Max. It was like a well of strength burbled up inside of me, and I stood my ground until the police arrive. Poor soul. I will pray for him.
The nurse came into the room with her final discharge orders. Harriet signed a couple of pages, looked over two prescriptions that would need to be filled right away, and then sighed. She went back to her letter.
I learned that I’m strong and capable, Max, and I learned that I can get my own dang salt and pepper shakers, to quote a cancan dancer.
Henry arrived.
“Mom is this all you have?” he asked as he zipped up her suitcase. “This and the tote bag?”
Harriet, who was sitting in a wheel chair, smiled. “Yep. That’s all I have. But say, Henry dear, would you please give me my martens. I’d like to wear them.”
Henry unzipped the case and found the martens. “Eww, Mom, what in tarnation?”
“They’re very classy. Or at least they were back in my generation.”
Henry draped the martens around his mother’s shoulders. He kissed her cheek. “It never occurred to me that you could make a dead marten look elegant.”
That was when a transport boy entered the room. “Ready to go?”
They rode the elevator to the lobby.
“So, tell me, Mom,” Henry said when they were alone again, “are you disappointed you didn’t finish the trip?”
“No, not really. I may not have made it all the way to Grass Valley, but I accomplished so much. I made it to the places God wanted me to. And that’s what’s important. I guess what’s important is not how you get where you belong, but that you get there.”
Henry led her to the car. Humphrey was in the back, dancing and barking to the beat of the band. Harriet was pleased as punch to see him. “I’m coming home, boy.”
Prudence got out of the car and came over to hug her. Then she leaned down and whispered in Harriet’s ear, “I’m glad you’re coming to live with us.” They all got in the car. “I hope you continue feeling that way,” Harriet said.
“Okay,” Henry said. “Let’s go, and please, no more of this nonsense.”
He pulled away from the curb and drove for close to an hour before Harriet said another word. “Do you really think it was nonsense? My trip?”
Henry glanced at her.
“Well, no, Mom, I didn’t mean —”
“Yes, you did. Now, look, Henry. I had a reason to do it. You don’t know what happened in all those days and … and I had a good time — including the snake handlers. The gorge was a little scary, the kidnapping nearly killed me. But that’s water under the bridge. And I met some —”
“Kidnapping?” Prudence said.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you about how Buddy, the one-armed, foot guitar-playing country singer, took —” She sighed. “Oh dear, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you when we get home.” That was when she saw a sign for Colfax, California. “Henry, point this vehicle in the direction of Colfax. I’m getting out there.”
“But, Mom. You can’t. The doctor —”
“I don’t care what the doctor said. I don’t care what you say. Take me to the train station in Colfax.”
“The train?”
“Never mind. I know what I’m doing.”
Henry obliged much to his dismay. “Fine. Suit yourself. I’d rather do this than see you get upset and have another heart attack. I’ll ride with you.”
“You will not.”
Humphrey barked.
“You tell him, Humphrey. There’s donuts in it for you.”
Henry parked the BMW and helped his mother out of the car. He helped her with her tote bag, leaving the suitcase in the car. Prudence walked closer.
Harriet smiled. “I’m getting on the bus. According to my GPS” — she looked at Prudence — “I can catch the Gold Country Stage here. Take me right into Grass Valley.”
“Are you sure about this?” Prudence asked.
“As sure as I was about my broken ankle.”
Then she leaned down and whispered in Harriet’s ear. “We’ll be following right behind. And I’m glad you’re coming to live with us. I can’t wait to tell the baby that his Nana climbed a mountain to come be with him.”
Harriet looked up. Tears flowed down her cheeks. “What? You’re … you’re pregnant?”
Harriet watched Prudence smile at Henry. “Not yet. But we’re working on it.”
Harriet swiped a tear away from her eye. Then she hugged Humphrey. “Ready to go home, boy?”
Minutes later the bus pulled up. “Okay, Mom, we’ll see you at home,” Henry said.
Harriet climbed aboard. The driver smiled. “What about him?”
“My son? Nah, he’s driving.”
“No, the dog.”
“Humphrey? But he’s not allowed on the —”
“Come on. He’s welcome here,” said the driver. The other passengers agreed.
Henry helped Humphrey onto the seat next to Harriet. He kissed her cheek and then left the bus. Harriet waved to him and Prudence.
As the bus driver pulled away he hit a pothole just slightly smaller than the Royal Gorge.
“Ahh,” Harriet said, “now I know what it means to feel God’s pleasure.”
About the Author
JOYCE MAGNIN is the author of five novels, including the popular and quirky Bright’s Pond Series and the middle-grade novel Carrying Mason. She is a frequent conference speaker and writing instructor. Joyce lives in Pennsylvania with her son, Adam, and their crazy cat, Mango, who likes to eat nachos.
