by Lisa Wingate
“Oh,” Teddy said, and that was the end of the conversation. We stepped into the elevator, and he was fascinated by the buttons and the lights above the door.
As we drove down the street, Teddy asked questions about how the elevators worked at the hospital, what stopped them from bumping into the roof, the floor, and each other. At the nursing center, Ouita Mae Barnhill was sitting outside the front door in her wheelchair, her purse clutched in her lap. It seemed strange to see her there after having run across her at the hospital the day before.
“We just seem to show up at all the same places,” I commented as the automatic door on the wheelchair ramp opened, and a worker came out, pushing an empty laundry cart. Teddy left me and walked up the ramp, craning to observe the top of the door frame. Inside, he looped around, came back out the center door, and headed up the wheelchair ramp, one careful step at a time, waiting to see if the door would open on its own again.
“There it go!” He cheered, fanning his hands in the air.
Ouita Mae laughed. “It’d be good if we could all get that excited about an automatic door, now wouldn’t it? He’s sure enough a cheerful chap.”
“He’s Hanna Beth’s son.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. “Teddy.”
“Oh.” Ouita nodded. “She’s asked about him. This morning, she woke up fussing about Teddy. I reckon she’d had a dream or something. She’ll be glad you came today.”
At a loss for how to respond, I changed the subject. “Are you headed out to lunch?”
Tipping her chin up, she smiled and nodded. “My grandson’s taking me. He ought to be along any minute.” She checked her watch and glanced expectantly toward the door. “Lands, I’ll tell you, I can’t keep up with that boy—so many things to do and people to see, and every time I turn around, his beeper is going off, and he’s rushing here and there. I just have to sit down and wait, sometimes.”
“I guess it would be that way.” In a sense, I could relate. The more successful the law practice became, the more it seemed as if I ended up catching Kyle on the fly. He was always on his way to somewhere, in a hurry, overbooked, late for a consultation, a meeting, a mediation, a court date, an opportunity to schmooze with corporate executives in charge of big real estate deals. I loved the fact that he was successful, confident, good at what he did, but there was always that part of me whispering in my mother’s voice that I should be keeping up, preparing to take care of myself and Macey, that I shouldn’t make the mistake of leaning too much on Kyle.
Perhaps he sensed that. Maybe that was why he was attracted to Susan Sewell. Maybe she made him feel needed… .
The door swished open, and both Ouita Mae and I looked up. A doctor stepped out, slipping off his lab coat.
Ouita Mae smiled. “Well, there he is, finally,” she said loudly enough for him to hear. He’d turned to look over his shoulder, watching as Teddy raised and lowered his foot on the mat by the handicapped entrance, setting off the chime that warned of the door opening.
The doctor finally turned away, pulled his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on. “Ready?” he asked, then noticed me and paused.
“This is my grandson.” Ouita Mae tried to move her chair forward to make introductions, but slid in the seat instead and ended up teetering on the edge.
Both the doctor and I stepped forward to help. He ended up with the chair and I with my hand under Ouita Mae’s elbow.
The rush of assistance embarrassed her. “I’ll be glad when this leg gets stronger,” she complained, situating herself in the wheelchair. “It’s time I got back to normal.”
The doctor gave me a covert look, and I understood the meaning. He was afraid his grandmother wouldn’t be getting back to normal anytime soon. Steadying the wheelchair with one hand, he extended the other to me. “Phillip Barnhill.”
“Rebecca Macklin,” I introduced myself and shook his hand. His grip was warm, strong, steady. A nice sort of hand for a doctor.
His grandmother smiled proudly up at him. “The nurses call him Dr. Phil.”
Letting his head fall forward, he grinned sheepishly. “All right, I’m sure she doesn’t need the whole history.”
“I was just trying to make her laugh,” Ouita Mae defended. “She’s had a tough go the last few days. We had a chat about it last night at the hospital, didn’t we, dear? The two of us almost wrecked on the plane together coming into Dallas.”
Dr. Phil turned to me curiously, and I blushed. “It’s a long story.” No doubt Dr. Phil’s life was filled with long stories of aging parents and caretaking dilemmas just like mine.
“There’s room for three at lunch,” Ouita Mae offered, then glanced toward Teddy. “Four, I mean. You’re welcome to join us.”
“We can’t,” I said. “But thanks. I’d better take Teddy in before he wears out the door.” There was more weariness in the comment than I’d meant to convey.
Ouita Mae smiled indulgently in Teddy’s direction. “Hanna Beth will be so tickled to see you both.” Glancing over her shoulder at her grandson, she said, “Rebecca belongs to Mrs. Parker— Hanna Beth. She flew here all the way from California to see about things.” She turned back to me. “Phillip is your mother’s doctor, you know.”
I blinked in surprise. A million questions ran through my mind, but by the door, Teddy’s investigation was causing the chime to ring incessantly.
“We can talk later,” Dr. Barnhill offered. “If your mother knew she had visitors out here and I was holding them up, she’d bust my chops.”
“Phillip!” Ouita Mae scolded. “Mind your language!” As they started down the sidewalk, she stretched upward in the chair and snatched at his earlobe. He ducked away playfully, and they continued across the parking lot.
CHAPTER 14
Hanna Beth Parker
I fell asleep after another morning session with Gretchen, and when I woke up, Teddy was sitting by my bed. He’d bent forward over the rail and taken hold of my hand. His cheek was resting lightly on my fingers, and he was just watching me.
“Hi, Mama,” he whispered, smiling, his sweet, soft eyes looking into mine.
Teddy, I thought, oh, Teddy, if you’re a dream, I don’t want to wake up. My heart filled with a rush of love. I couldn’t have forced words past my lips if I’d wanted to, but I was afraid to speak anyway. Disturbing the air might cause my Teddy to vanish like a mirage, and once again I would be alone in the room. I lay there and held his hand. It felt real. It felt so real… .
“Don’ cry, Mama,” he whispered, then took a tissue from the box and clumsily dabbed my cheek. “Don’ cry.”
They’re happy tears, I wanted to tell him. These are the happiest tears. I gazed at Teddy, taking in the look and feel and scent of him to make him real. He’d been in the sun too much without his hat. His forehead and cheeks and the back of his neck were burned, his skin dry and leathery. He smelled of wood and soil and growing things— the damp, earthy odors of the garden house. His hair needed washing and a trim, but his clothes were clean. I was glad, because it meant someone was taking care of him.
I looked around the room, expecting to see Kay-Kay, or Edward, perhaps Rebecca, but there was no one. My mind succumbed to the fact that Teddy probably wasn’t there, either. He couldn’t possibly have come alone. My fingers squeezed tighter around Teddy’s, as if that could keep him from vanishing when someone came in and woke me up.
I heard voices in the corridor, but I couldn’t make out the words. They came closer, and I caught fragments of conversation.
“… really doing better. You’ll be …” It was Mary’s voice. Perhaps I wasn’t dreaming after all.
I couldn’t hear the answer or identify the other voice. It was a woman’s. Rebecca’s? She was speaking in hushed tones, trying to keep the conversation private.
“She’ll be glad,” Mary replied. “… missed him. But I wouldn’t tell …” The word “her” and whatever came afterward were muffled.
Wouldn’t tell her what? I though
t. What?
The answer was shrouded in a grave tone. A few moments later, Mary was gone, and Rebecca entered the room wearing a cordial smile and offering a pleasant greeting. “You look like you’re doing better. Your nurse and your therapist are giving good reports. They say you’ve come a long way in the past few days. That’s good, because Teddy has seedlings potted everywhere. I think he’s counting on you to come home and help plant the flower beds. Isn’t that right, Teddy?”
“Tha’s right.” Letting go of my hand, Teddy sat back in his chair and started cataloging flowers on his fingers. “I got mar-gold, and batch-er butin, see-nas, got butin mum, divide the iris and the daffy-dill …”
I laughed when he said “daffy-dill.” That was one of Edward’s words. The trees in the front yard were surrounded by daffodils. Edward always made nonsensical jokes as we worked out there.
Hey, Teddy, do you know what the silliest flower in the garden is?
Huh-uh, Daddy Ed. I don’ know. Even years after he’d memorized the punch line, Teddy always answered the same way, so as not to spoil Edward’s joke. What the silly f-ower?
Why, the daffy-dill, of course.
Teddy always threw his head back and slapped the ground, as if the joke caught him by surprise every time. Oh, that a good one, Daddy Ed! That a good one! He laughed and snorted until both of us laughed with him. Teddy loved to make people laugh.
A smile tugged my lips as I savored the memory. I tried not to imagine how the smile looked from the outside, my mouth hanging slack, my cheeks hollow. It felt like a smile on the inside, which was all that mattered.
“We gone go Wal-Mart,” Teddy offered, his eyes widening with anticipation. Teddy enjoyed Wal-Mart, especially the gardening center with its rows and rows of flowers. Sometimes he would wander among the plants for an hour while I did my shopping. He talked to the employees, helped them with watering, pruned dead leaves, picked up spilled grains of fertilizer and fed them to the plants. “Gone go Wal-Mart, get some Mir-cal Go.” He glanced at Rebecca for approval, and she nodded. “And some pizza. I like pizza. Got the flat meat.” He held up his fingers with about an inch of space in between. “Little flat meat. Tha’s good.”
“Pepperoni.” Rebecca shook a finger at him. “Last night, you stole all the pepperoni.”
Ducking his head, Teddy honked and laughed. “No, I did,” he said finally, his head and shoulders swaying back and forth as he smiled adoringly at Rebecca.
A pang of jealousy sliced through me, sharp and unexpected. I wasn’t accustomed to having to share Teddy with anyone. Even though he and Edward loved each other, they were never close in the way Teddy and I had always been. Kay-Kay was pleasant with him, but generally she stayed about her business. Keeping the house and taking care of Edward occupied most of her time.
“Tonight, I’m guarding the pepperoni,” Rebecca went on, and Teddy laughed again. I wondered if she was mocking him, if all of this was a performance for my benefit. Was it really possible that Rebecca, who’d resented Teddy all her life, could have developed an affection for him?
I reminded myself that to believe anything less was selfish and petty, not in Teddy’s or Edward’s best interests. We were, after all, at Rebecca’s mercy. There was little choice but to hope Teddy’s magic could win even her.
The conversation ebbed, and Rebecca’s gaze flitted nervously over me. I searched for the truth in her face. What did I see there— resentment, fear, pity? How did she feel about her father, now that they had spent some time together? Why hadn’t she brought him with her today? Getting Edward out of the house was a challenge, but between Rebecca, Kay-Kay, and Teddy, they could have done it. What if something was wrong with Edward? Changes of any kind were difficult for him. He relied on his daily routine, the same people present, the same things to do. How had he reacted to Rebecca’s presence? Did he know who she was?
Gathering my courage, I made up my mind to try the question. But the words were a jumble in my head. Nerves pulsed in my throat. What would they think when they heard me like this? What if Teddy was frightened by it? I formed the words very carefully in my mind. Edward. Where is Edward? “Derrr-d, ger-ble Derrr-d?” It was only nonsense sound. The muscles in my jaw tightened in frustration. Where is Edward? “Derrr-d?”
Sensing the rising tide of emotion in me, Teddy patted my hand. He hated to see anyone upset. “It okay, Mama. It okay.”
Rebecca fiddled with the strap on her purse, and she glanced toward the door, as if she were considering leaving. “Don’t try to talk, Hanna Beth. Teddy just wanted to see you. To make sure you were all right. We’d probably better let you rest.” She checked the door, took a step away.
“Nnnooo! Derrr-ddd!” I sounded like the screaming woman down the hall, like a deranged old person spitting out gibberish. “Derrr-ddd!” Grinding my teeth, I closed my eyes, tried to be calm, to relax, picture the sounds, do the things the speech therapist had taught me. I’d named, with some clarity, twenty-one cards today— comb, brush, car, boy, dog, milk, and a host of others. Now I couldn’t manage to ask after my own husband? Was there no point at which I would finally become functional again?
“We’d better go.” Rebecca put her hands on Teddy’s arms to guide him out of the chair.
“Nnnooo!” I hissed. “Nnnooo!”
Teddy pulled inward, kneaded his fingers against his chest, his eyes darting toward his lap. Swiveling away from Rebecca, he curled into the chair. She froze, uncertain of what to do, then grabbed the nurse’s call button and pressed it.
Mary came in the door. “Is everything all right?”
“She’s upset about something.” Rebecca held up her palms in a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t know what to …”
Mary glanced at Teddy, folded in the chair, worrying the front of his T-shirt, then she leaned over the bed. “What’s the matter, Mrs. Parker?”
“Derrr-ddd,” I said again. Even with imagination, no one would ever decipher Edward from that.
Mary smoothed sweat-matted strands of hair away from my face. She took a washcloth from the nightstand, dampened it, and wiped my forehead. “All right now, Mrs. Parker. Stress only makes things worse. If you want us to know what you need, you have to calm down.” The cloth felt cool and calming against my skin, soothing the heat in my cheeks. “Take some deep breaths, and really think about each sound, all right? You can do it. There’s no hurry. We’ll all wait until you’re ready.”
I closed my eyes, relaxed against the pillow, nodded, breathed in, breathed out, tried to clear my mind, then looked at Mary again. “Airrr? Wh … wh … airrr?”
Her head inclined to one side, her thin brown eyebrows arching together. “Where … all right. Where’s what?”
“Derrr-ddd.” Edward’s name was no clearer than before. “Derrr-ddd.”
Mary frowned. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Parker. I didn’t understand that part. Do you want me to go see if the speech therapist is still around? You might be able to point it out on her cards.”
I shook my head. There was no card for Edward in the speech therapist’s bag of tricks. I took another breath, tried to think things through. “Howww-t,” I said finally. It was a word I knew I could make. One Mary would understand. We’d been through this conversation before. “Wh-errr … howt?”
Mary considered the question for a moment. “Where’s your house? Are you asking if you can go home now?”
I shook my head. Even I wasn’t addled enough to believe I would be going home today.
Mary contemplated again. “Are you asking about your house? How things are there?”
“Yesh!” I exploded, my hands shooting off the bed in a moment of Herculean triumph. “Yesh, yesh, yesh! Howt?”
A buzzer going off in the hallway snagged Mary’s attention. Someone else needed her. “Well, I imagine Rebecca and Teddy can tell you all about that. I’ll leave you three alone to talk, all right?”
Rebecca gave Mary a grateful look. “Thank you for helping, Mary.”
“Oh, sure.” Mary pulled the front of her button-up sweater together, seeming embarrassed by the compliment. With her slim figure and no makeup, she looked like a shy teenager in a woman’s clothes.
“Tanks, Mar-eee.” Teddy crossed the room, grabbed Mary’s hand, and shook it. As he’d grown into a man, we’d tried to teach him that hugging people wasn’t usually an appropriate way of showing gratitude. Even his exuberant handshakes sometimes put people off.
Mary didn’t seem to be bothered. She closed her free hand over their intertwined ones, smiled at Teddy, and said, “You’re welcome, Teddy.”
“Mama don’ talk good,” he observed.
Rebecca blanched.
Mary’s gaze flicked in my direction, then back to Teddy. “Your mom’s getting better. Sometimes after a stroke people have to work really hard for a while.”
Teddy shrugged, blissfully unaware of the emotion in the room. “It okay, sometime I don’ talk good, too.”
The four of us laughed, and Teddy came back to the bed and sat down, smiling. He had a way of easing the most difficult situations. He responded with humility and love when other people were afraid to act.
“I’ll leave you all alone,” Mary said, and left the room.
“By-eee, Mar-eee!” Teddy called after her.
Teddy began telling me about the plants in the backyard, and how he’d gathered pots in which to start the seeds we’d saved from last year, and how he’d found some good dirt and carried it home in a bucket.
“Ere?” I asked. Teddy turned his head aside and ducked his chin the way he always did when he wanted to avoid answering a question. He knew I was wondering where he’d found pots and dirt. We hadn’t been to the garden center to buy those things yet this spring, and last year, Edward had thrown away the box of seedling pots by mistake. I was beginning to suspect that Teddy had been out of the yard. His look of avoidance confirmed it.
