Ivan stepped inside and Shelly felt her skin prickle with renewed anxiety. This was the first man besides Father who’d been inside her home. Ever. And it had been three years since he’d last stepped across the threshold, at least in real life. But Ivan continued to speak gently, carefully, as though dealing with a frightened child.
“Your knee, you said?” He gestured at her legs, but her skirt was pulled modestly down. “Would you prefer my mom to take a look? Or Willow?”
She swiped at her embarrassing tears with the back of her hand. “Okay.” It was just a whisper.
“I’m Patti,” the older woman said as she hurried forward, Willow right behind her. “I’m sorry we haven’t met before.” She reached over and took Shelly’s hand, holding it between her two cool, soft ones. “What happened?”
While she explained in clipped phrases about her fall, Willow bent over her, lifting the hem of her skirt just enough to expose her knee, a frown forming between her brows. There was that fragrance again—it actually reminded her of the chamomile tea she’d had this morning, but there was something sweet and exotic over the top of it.
“How long ago did you fall? Was it right after I left?”
Shelly nodded.
“Okay. Can I have Ivan call an ambulance?”
“No!” She stiffened and sat forward, pushing everyone’s hands away. “No ambulance. I’ll be fine. I just landed hard. I don’t need a doctor.” Every time an ambulance came to her house, they took someone away and never brought them back. She knew it was foolish to blame it on the ambulance, but something in her did anyway. If she was going anywhere, it wouldn’t be in a shrieking, wailing, death van. Besides, she couldn’t afford health insurance, but she made just enough money, that she didn’t qualify for government help. She was one of those people who fell through the cracks of a broken system.
“Okay. That’s fine, Shelly. How about if we just make you a little more comfortable? Your backside must be numb by now.” Willow glanced around the small front room of the trailer. “Maybe a cushion? A pillow under your knee and some ice?”
Shelly stared at her knee, a little embarrassed over her outburst. It did look awful. Maybe if they could help her stand, she’d better be able to tell how bad it was. “I don’t want to stay on the floor.”
“No, of course you don’t, honey.” Patti beckoned Ivan closer. “Why don’t you let Ivan and Willow help you up? We can at least get you into a chair. Would you like that?”
It took a few attempts to get her upright, but with her arms around their shoulders, and her weight on her right leg, she gingerly bent her knee a little, then put some weight on her toe to see what she could bear. It hurt, that was for sure, and she wasn’t going to be able to do much more on it for a while, but it wasn’t quite as bad as she’d feared.
Her rescuers helped her hobble to the table and sit, bringing another chair around for her to prop her leg on. Willow tucked a sofa cushion under her knee. She was so relieved to be off the floor, but how was she going to get around? She couldn’t put weight on her leg, not enough to walk on, anyway, and she certainly couldn’t hop around on one foot. How was she going to take care of her kitties?
As though reading her mind, Patti spoke. “Ivan, why don’t you run over and grab one of your dad’s walkers? The one with the wheels. He prefers the other one anyway, and I think the wheels will work better for Shelly.”
“Of course!” Ivan exclaimed, and he was out the door in a flash. Willow laid a hand on Patti’s shoulder.
“Patti, do you think you could make an ice pack while I run back to my place and get some supplies?” She turned to Shelly and explained. “I can make you a compress that will help with some of the bruising and swelling, if you’ll let me. Between that and the ice, you may be okay not going to the emergency room. Although I know we’d all feel better if you went. One of us could take—”
“No ambulance. No hospital. No emergency room. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be fine.”
By the time Willow returned with a basket in her arms, Ivan was back, too, and he and Patti were demonstrating how to use the walker while Shelly sat with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel against the side of her knee.
“I brought over my first aid book,” Willow said, holding up a bright yellow hard-back book. “It says the first thing you need to do is RICE. Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation. So I think we’re on the right track.” She handed it to Shelly and reached back into her basket for a wide elastic wrap bandage. “I didn’t know if you’d have one of these or not, so I brought one from my handy-dandy first aid kit. I’m going to wrap your knee to compress it, okay?”
Over the next half an hour, the four of them worked together to get her as prepared as she could be to face the rest of the day. Ivan gallantly offered to take her files in for her and bring her back her new assignments. “I have to get going anyway. I just came by to have breakfast with Mom and Dad, but I need to get to work now. The hospital is on my way, so it’ll work out perfectly.” As soon as he’d left, Patti and Willow helped her get comfortable in bed, her leg propped on pillows, an icepack on either side of her knee.
“Jasmine.” The word came to her as if on a breeze, and slipped out between her lips.
“Pardon?” Patti asked.
Shelly was embarrassed, but explained anyway. “You smell like jasmine tea, Willow. I’ve been trying to place it all morning.”
“Really? You think so?” Patti glanced over at Willow, then eyed Shelly curiously.
Willow’s eyes twinkled. “Do you like jasmine tea, Shelly?”
“I…I don’t really know. My mom used to have a special box of it in the pantry for when my grandmother visited. I wasn’t allowed to drink it, but I used to sneak in there just to smell that box.” She let herself remember; Grandma Turner and her funny, flappy arms, hugging her too tightly, and kissing the top of her head. “I think I might like it, actually. Maybe I’ll pick some up the next time I go shopping.” A small bird fluttered in the pit of her belly at the thought of straying from her routine, but the jasmine tea had to be close to the chamomile, right?
“Well, you worry about that when you’re up on your feet again.” Willow reached down and patted her hand. “For now, sleep. We’ll be back to check on you this evening after you get up, okay? Then I’ll show you how to make a compress for your knee.”
Chapter 4
Shelly was so tired after the excitement of the morning, she was sure she’d fall right to sleep as soon as the house quieted. But even with her drapes drawn and the room shrouded in shadows, the cats nestled around her, and the pain pills she’d taken, she could not close her eyes without seeing the look on Willow’s face when she’d rejected her invitation earlier this morning. Would it be so bad to have a friend or two? Would it be so terrible to have someone who cared enough to stop in and say ‘hi’ every once in a while? To share a cup of tea together? To—
“Who am I kidding,” she muttered into the still air. “What do I have to offer someone like Willow Goodhope? Even her name is special.” She draped an arm across her eyes. She hadn’t realized what lonely felt like until today. When Mother passed away, she’d been so overwhelmingly relieved, and she’d felt guilty, convincing herself that she didn’t need—or deserve—people in her life. The cats were companions enough. Until today. Until that Willow Goodhope showed up on her doorstep, wanting to meet her, wanting to have a relationship with her.
“Why, Mr. Tibbles? What’s so great about me that some-one like her would want to be my friend?” She stroked the cat who lay curled into her side, and eyed the walker where it waited for her beside the bed, in case she needed to make a bathroom run in the middle of the day. “And why would Ivan and Patti want to help me?”
The cat had no answers, but purred loudly instead, a little motor vibrating against her ribcage. Shelly wondered if sleep would ever come.
When she awoke several hours later, her knee throbbed, and her hip ached from being propped in one position for so
long. She needed more ice, she needed more ibuprofen, and she needed to use the bathroom. Maneuvering herself into position on the edge of the bed, she pushed up and grabbed onto the handle bars of the walker, moaning softly as gravity tugged at her knee. She made it to the bathroom without a mishap, then headed to the kitchen for ice and a glass of water.
By the time she’d taken her pills and reloaded her bag of ice, which she hung from around her wrist so she could keep both hands firmly gripping the walker, she didn’t think she could make it back to her bed. She ended up on the couch instead, and with miserable tears streaming down her face, she propped her leg up the best she could and sank back into the cushions. She’d wait there until help arrived.
They showed up at six o’clock sharp, armed with a large twig basket filled with muffins, a pound of bacon, a dozen eggs, and a little gift bag with her name on it. Inside the bag was a Japanese tea cup with a delicate little lid, a linen draw-string of loose-leaf jasmine green tea, and a tea ball. A Get Well card was signed from both the ladies, and from Ivan and Richard, too, and Shelly kept her head down, not sure how to react. She didn’t receive gifts; she didn’t know how to accept this gracefully.
“Thank you,” she muttered.
She had Willow feed the cats in the bedroom and close the door so they wouldn’t be underfoot during the meal. In the meantime, Patti helped her get comfortable in a chair at the table, handling her so attentively that Shelly commented on it. “Oh, this is what I do all day, honey. My husband, Richard, he’s homebound. I take care of him.”
“My mother was homebound. I took care of her.” She didn’t really mean to say it out loud, but she was tired from her lack of good sleep, and her guard was down. Willow made herself busy with breakfast preparations, but Shelly could tell she was listening.
“Well, then, you and I have a lot in common,” Patti stated. “You would be a good person to talk to when I have those days, if you know what I mean.” She winked at her. “Don’t tell me you never had any of those days.”
Shelly closed her eyes and nodded slightly. “I had many of those days. Mother wasn’t an easy patient.”
“And Richie hasn’t always been an easy patient either. But, thanks to Ms. Goodhope here, he’s behaving a lot better, lately, right Willow?”
“Has nothing to do with me, Patti Davis, and you know it. He just finally realized the treasure he had in you.” Willow looked like she was blushing, but it could have been from the heat that was rising off the pan of bacon sizzling on the stove top.
“Regardless, I’d like to help you, Shelly.” Patti sat down opposite her and laced her fingers together on the table. “Would you let me, since you won’t go to the hospital?”
“Unless you’ve changed your mind and you want to go.” Willow chimed in, but Shelly shook her head.
“I can’t go to the hospital, Willow. I just can’t.” She didn’t say it with any malice; it was simply the truth. “I understand it must be hard to stand by and watch me refuse treatment, but it’s my decision, okay?”
“You’re right, and I’m not arguing with you.” Willow smiled warmly from the stove. “I’m the same way. I always try to treat things at home first. I grew up without hospitals and medical care, so I’m used to doing what I can naturally.”
“You should see the stuff she made for Richie, Shelly. It’s salve for his scars—he suffered pretty significant burns from a car accident he miraculously survived—and it works better than anything you could find over the counter.” Patti leaned forward and plucked a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table, giving her hands something to do. “Will you let me help you? Richie needs me so much less these days, and I’ve been hankering for something to do with myself.”
“I’m not a charity case.” This time her words came out ugly, sounding just like Father. How many times had she heard him say stuff like that?
“I know you’re not a charity case, Shelly, but I need to be needed,” Patti reassured her. “It’s my personality. Some might call it a weakness, but I think of it as my strength. I’m a helper and I do it well. You need help and I can help you.”
“I’m sorry.” The words crawled out of her mouth like a reluctant creature. When was the last time she’d apologized for her own behavior? And meant it? “I wish I knew how to be a better person. I’m used to cats.”
“Oh sweetie, don’t be silly. You’re in pain. No one is nice when they’re in pain.” Then Patti turned and eyed Willow. “Except for you, Willow. You’re always nice, but I know you’re in pain sometimes, too. Maybe not the sprained knee or busted back kind of pain, but heart pain can be just as debilitating. How do you manage to be so kind all the time?”
Shelly watched the two women from the corner of her eye, feeling somehow intrusive, as though she’d just stumbled into the middle of something she knew nothing about. Willow didn’t speak for a long time, but instead of filling the uncomfortable silence with words, Patti sat quietly and refolded her napkin.
“I try to focus on the pain that does heal, or at least the pain that lessens. It gives me something to do. In that way, Patti, you and I are a lot alike.” Shelly heard the dismissal in Willow’s voice. Would the other woman take the hint?
“All pain lessens over time, honey.” Nope.
“Not all pain.” There was an edge in Willow’s voice that seemed incongruous with her soft eyes and gentle spirit. The silence that followed carried echoes of Willow’s suffering, and Shelly felt her own shoulders hunch defensively.
“So, who would like some breakfast? I love breakfast for dinner, but this really is breakfast for breakfast for you, isn’t it Shelly?” Willow had scrambled the eggs in the same pan she’d fried the bacon in, and although she’d drained the bacon grease into a smaller container to cool, the creamy yellow mounds were still flecked with little bits of the meat that had been left behind. They looked delicious.
Not for the first time today, she was glad she still kept the trailer as spotless as it was back when Father was still alive. It helped keep her calm; having order and cleanliness around her. She changed the cat’s litter box daily, she washed their bowls between feedings, and she used odor-neutralizing room spray to mask any lingering smells. Her desk was always organized, with everything in its place, and she paid her bills the day she received them, rather than waiting for any due date.
Shelly liked order. She liked knowing what to expect. She liked to be prepared, even when things didn’t go as expected, like today. Because she was prepared, she was able to tell Willow exactly where her pots and pans and dishes were without being worried about what she’d find inside her cupboards. Because she was prepared, she hadn’t been embarrassed to let the two women help her into bed this morning. Because she was prepared, even though no one besides her and the cats had set foot inside her trailer in nearly three years, she could sit straight in her chair and not be ashamed.
“Thank you, Jesus, for your blessings. So, tell us about what you do for work.” Willow tied the two sentences together as though Jesus was sitting at the table with them. Shelly almost looked over at the empty chair, just in case.
“I’m a medical transcriber. I transcribe doctor’s notes into patient files.”
“Oooooh.” Willow drew the word out, low, almost a whistle. “Top secret stuff. Are you sworn to confidentiality? What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever come across?”
Shelly could feel the smile forming at the corners of her mouth. “I don’t think you really want to know, especially not while we’re eating.”
“Oh, dear me. No. Please don’t. I raised a son. When Ivan left home, I sent his gross dinner conversations with him.” Patti chuckled, and twirled her empty fork in Willow’s direction. “These eggs are wonderful! So light and fluffy and bacony.”
“Thank you. I use water, not milk.” Willow winked. “And that’s my top secret information for the day. Tell us something interesting, Shelly. It doesn’t have to be gross, just interesting. I mean, how long have you be
en doing this? There must be oodles of crazy stories in that brain of yours.”
Shelly grinned self-consciously, and sipped her hot tea, a sense of peace washing over her. This was so pleasant, sharing her table with these two women. “I try not to remember, honestly. I’m always afraid I’m going to be in line at the checkout in the grocery store and the guy behind the counter will have a nametag that matches a patient file. What if that patient had some kind of weird ailment or parasite or something? How could I let him touch my food?”
“Hm. I can see your predicament.” Patti nodded sagely. “Best to forget, I think.”
“I do read some cute stuff about children, though. Things like peanuts in the nose or M&M’s in the ear. It’s always harder for me to forget their stories, especially the sad ones.” Suddenly it felt like all the things she hadn’t said over the years were scrambling at the back of her throat to get out, pushing against that band that always seemed so quick to tighten, to force her into silence. “I hate to hear some of the things adults do to children. And sometimes the things children do to other children are even more frightening. This bullying thing you hear all over the news? It’s almost as if the more we draw attention to it, the more we see it happen. At least, that’s what the charts seem to reflect.” She paused to sip some orange juice. The ibuprofen she’d taken was working better now that she had some food in her stomach.
“I suppose it still could be parents who are abusing their kids and just telling the doctors that it’s bullies.” That was just the kind of thing Father would do. He could be so adamant that it wasn’t his fingerprints on the inside of her upper arms, even she would half-believe him.
“I just don’t understand child abuse. I know not every child is planned, and I can even understand letting anger get the best of you.” Patti was folding and refolding her napkin again, her eyes following the movements of her fingers. “There were times I wanted to beat the living tar out of Ivan, and the worst of it was when I was young and he was little. The older I got, the more control I maintained, but that was a case of maturity on my part, not because I wanted to hurt him any less.” She chuckled softly. “Believe me, when he turned fifteen, I thought he was demon-possessed. He was like a different kid! But I simply handled it better because I’d grown up.”
Elderberry Croft: The Complete Collection Page 11
