The Vigil

by Marian P. Merritt

  She glanced toward me and then back at Carlton. “I do.”

  He smiled. “I dreamed of...this day.” He turned to me, winked, and tilted his head toward Mama. “She’s beauti…ful. My daughter.”

  I locked gazes with Mama. “She is, Carlton. She is beautiful.”

  Mama returned my gaze with tear-filled eyes. “Why?”

  He reached once again for Mama’s hand and then closed his eyes and opened them again. His head lolled to the right, and I saw the effect of the emotional turbulence from this morning. He parted his lips but no words bellowed forth. I knew how much the effort cost him. He wanted to answer Mama, but fatigue conquered.

  “Carlton, secrets have been kept for a long time. Do you mind if I share them and your medical history with Mama?”

  “Share.” He lifted his left hand, reached for mine, closed his eyes again, and then lowered his head onto the pillow behind him. I removed one of the pillows and lowered the head of his bed. Once I arranged his bedding and ensured he was comfortable, Mama eased her hand out of his, stood, and headed toward the door. I followed with the ribbon-tied bundles of Mawmaw’s letters.

  Mama sat in the same kitchen chair as earlier, staring out the window. Her rosy cheeks were now a lighter shade of pink. I sat next to her again and handed her the bundles. “You’ve read the letters from Carlton to Mawmaw. These are Mawmaw’s letters to Carlton.”

  With shaking hands, she reached for the letters. “He’s my father, Cheryl. I can see so clearly that he is.”

  “I think he is. You have the same features and, of course, the eyes.” I placed both my hands on hers and looked into her eyes. “Mama, there’s something you should know. He takes the same type of medication you do.”

  As the words sank in and realization dawned, her eyes softened, and she pressed her lips together. I reached across the table and hugged her neck. “I’ll come over tonight after my shift. I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t be much more than you’ll know after you read the letters. Will you be at the hospital?”

  She continued to stare out the window. “All this time, Mama kept him from me. Why would she do that?”

  “Read the letters. Some of the answers are there.”

  She simply nodded and stood as though she were a marionette controlled by invisible strings.

  “Will you be all right to drive or should I call Anthony?”

  As though a hand pulled her strings, she straightened to her tallest, pushed her shoulders back, and smiled. “Cheryl, I’ll be fine. Maybe for the first time in my life. I’ll be just fine.” She reached for my hand. “I want to come back and visit him. Would you ask him if that’s OK?”

  “Sure, Mama. I’ll ask, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be fine with you visiting. I believe he would like that very much.”

  She strolled to the door and turned back toward me. “Cheryl, thank you for taking such good care of my father.” She smiled. “Your grandfather.”

  I nodded and pushed back the tide of emotion threatening to take over.

  Her car kicked up dust plumes as she drove down the long driveway.

  Oh Mama, will you still feel the same once you read that last letter?

  Vingt-Sept

  Darcy arrived early for her shift. We spent a few minutes exchanging information. I shared the events of the day with her and told her the truth about my relationship with Carlton. She’d been as surprised as all of us, but responded differently than I expected. As I drove home, her words lolled through my brain.

  “Cheryl, there is a reason for everything. God has a way of putting us just where we need to be.” With that, she’d given me a hug and ushered me out the door.

  Carlton had not awakened after Mama left, and I didn’t want to wake him to tell him good night.

  Had God placed me in Carlton’s care so the truth could be revealed? The chain of events that happened with me in the middle brought us to where we were today. It began with Jarrod and coming back home. When I thought of all that’d been revealed and how I understood so much more than when I arrived, I had to thank God.

  I thought of Beau and remembered Annie passed away yesterday. My heavy heart sagged when I thought of his loss. And Steven’s.

  Chuck’s church loomed ahead, and I took the exit. Hopefully, he’d be in his office. I sat in the parking lot staring at the large cross affixed to the front of the building. That cross symbolized so much. It represented the ultimate sacrifice and redemption. Lord, thank You for what You’ve shown me. Guide me through all that’s happened. Let me be strong for Carlton, for Mama, and for Mawmaw.

  The silence in the car allowed me to focus on thoughts of Christian love and forgiveness. I felt, for the first time, that I had let go of the resentment and anger toward Mama and toward Carlton. Would I have been as charitable had he not had his illness? Had Mama not had hers? Guess that didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom from the burden I’d carried for so many years. When I remembered the brief light that sparkled in Carlton’s eyes when he saw Mama, I suspected he’d been released from the prison he’d condemned himself to all those years.

  I leaned back onto the headrest and closed my eyes. The air conditioner blew cold air on my face. Lord, please don’t take Mawmaw or Carlton until they’ve had an opportunity to forgive each other. A calming serenity replaced the jittery nervousness I harbored since Mama knocked on Carlton’s door.

  I drove to the hospital enveloped in peace. One that I couldn’t understand until I remembered the verse Beau had told me about. The hospital parking lot sported fewer cars tonight than last night, which meant a closer parking space.

  When I entered the intensive care waiting room, Mama and Aunt Melanie sat next to one another in the far corner of the room.

  Aunt Melanie knitted the turquoise afghan she’d been working on, and Mama thumbed through a magazine. There was little resemblance between them. They shared the shape of Mawmaw’s nose, but that was it. The more I looked at Mama as Carlton’s daughter, the more I saw the similarities they shared.

  They both looked up as I approached.

  “How is she? Any change?” I slid into an opposite chair.

  Mama rested the magazine on her lap. “She woke up this afternoon and went right back to sleep.”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall near the nurse’s station. A few more minutes before visiting hours. A leather satchel rested at Mama’s feet. The ribbon previously tied around the bundle of letters stuck out the top.

  I didn’t know if Mama had shared this afternoon’s events with Aunt Melanie, so I didn’t say anything. Mama’s stoic posture and graceful stance seemed dreadfully off kilter. Last time we were here she was a mess. Today her demeanor exuded strength and poise.

  I didn’t understand the changes. Yet, maybe I did. This time she’d been consistent with taking her medication and her new faith sustained her.

  “Cheryl, would you like to see Mawmaw first this evening?” Aunt Melanie asked.

  “No. You and Mama go, I’ll see her after.”

  Mama turned toward me and smiled. “Honey, you and Aunt Melanie can visit with her. I’ll wait for Anthony. He should be here in a bit, and we’ll visit her together.”

  “Sure, Mama.” I sat next to her. “Would you like to go out for coffee after visiting hours?”

  Her lips spread into a smile that reached her beautiful eyes. “Yes, I would like that. We have some things to discuss. Don’t we?”

  “Only if you want to.”

  “I do. I need to.”

  “Very well.” I rose and extended my hand to my sweet Aunt Melanie. “Shall we?”

  She placed her hand in mine, and we walked together toward Mawmaw’s room. “Cheryl, I’m a little concerned about your Mama. She seems a little too calm. Is she all right?”

  “I think so. I’m hoping to talk to her when we go out for coffee. Maybe, thanks to you, her newfound faith is responsible for her behavior.”

  “I bet you’re right. She has been reading her
Bible a lot.”

  We reached the door to Mawmaw’s room.

  Aunt Melanie glanced toward me and inhaled deeply. “Here we go. It’s so hard to see her like this.”

  I squeezed her hand gently. “I know. And worse, she would hate for us to see her this way.” Lord, have mercy.

  We walked through the glass door and passed the curtain surrounding the foot of her bed.

  To my surprise, Mawmaw lay in bed with eyes wide open. She smiled when we came into her view. A lopsided grin. Joy bubbled inside me. Thank You, Lord.

  “Mama, you’re awake. How are you?” Aunt Melanie released my hand and reached for Mawmaw’s.

  An incoherent guttural reply gushed from her lips. Her gentle eyes, marred with frustration, focused on Aunt Melanie as though begging to be understood. I placed my hand on the foot of the bed to steady myself. Watching her struggle so hard to speak felt like claws ripping my heart to shreds. That she would lose her ability to speak seemed so unfair. Mawmaw’s words had always blessed.

  Aunt Melanie brought Mawmaw’s hand to her lips and showered tender kisses on her knuckles. “It’s all right, Mama. I can see you’re feeling better. Give it time. The words will come.”

  Mawmaw’s gaze softened and the earlier fear drifted away. A settled calm was apparent in her tender eyes. She nodded and a small asymmetrical smile appeared, causing her eyes to twinkle. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Mawmaw was still there. Behind the paralysis and aphasia her spirit burst through. Thank You, Lord.

  Her eyes met mine, and I languished in its bathing warmth.

  Aunt Melanie stepped back and ushered me in the spot she’d occupied.

  “Hello, Mawmaw. You had us all worried. I’m glad to see you’re getting better. Hang in there. Aunt Melanie is right. Give it time, the words will come.”

  She nodded and her lids slowly lowered. I kissed her cheek causing her to awaken. “Mama and Anthony are waiting to see you, so I’ll step out.”

  Aunt Melanie kissed her, too. “Sleep well, Mama. I’ll be here in the morning for the next visiting hours.”

  Mawmaw’s garbled reply drifted toward us as we left the room. The muscles in my shoulder and neck tightened. I turned and blew her a kiss. Much to my surprise she mimicked the action. A good sign. I smiled and waved good-bye.

  ****

  As I drove to the coffee shop to meet with Mama, I stopped at the local florist.

  “Cheryl, it’s good to see you. I heard you were back in town.” Angie Boudreaux stood behind the counter. While we hadn’t been best friends, we had been together for all twelve years of school.

  “Hello, Angie. This your place?”

  “Yeah, bought it from Mrs. Waguespack about four years ago. Can I help you?”

  I smiled. “Yes, I’d like to send something for Annie Battice.”

  Angie nodded and wrote on the order pad on the counter. Once we’d settled on what type of spray and price, I paid the total and signed the card. In a strong hand, I simply wrote: Praying, Cheryl.

  Angie looked up at me. “Ya know, Cheryl, I thought for sure you and Beau would’ve gotten married.”

  “Yeah, so did everyone.” Including me. I thanked her and headed for the door.

  I dialed Beau’s number, expecting to leave a message just to give him my condolences.

  “Hello. This is Beau.”

  “Uh...uh...Beau?” His voice made me pause. I stopped on the sidewalk outside the florist. “It’s Cheryl. I just wanted to say how sorry I am about Annie. How’s Steven holding up?”

  “He’s upset, I know, but trying so hard to be brave and not show it. Continue to pray for us. We feel all the prayers and love.”

  “I will.” I got the details on the funeral time and told him I’d see him there. “Hang in there, Beau. I know this is hard.”

  “We’ve expected this for a long time, but the reality still comes crashing in. I heard about your grandma. I’m so sorry. How is she doing?” Just like Beau to think of my grandmother in the midst of his grief.

  “She’s awake and trying to communicate. Her speech has been affected.”

  “Well, if I know Clarice, she’ll figure out a way to overcome, or for sure, compensate.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, I’m sure she will. Take care of yourself and Steven.”

  “You bet.”

  ****

  Mama sat across the tiny bistro table sipping on an espresso as I slid into the opposite chair. I clasped the latté she’d ordered me.

  “How was Mawmaw when you saw her?”

  “She was awake and trying to speak.” Mama’s clipped tone lacked her usual emotion.

  I paused. Should I be bold enough to ask her what was going on? But how would we ever get past our family’s issue if we didn’t change how we approached things?

  “Mama.” I reached across the table and brushed my fingertips along the top of her hand. “What’s going on?”

  She met my gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t been your usual self, and I’m just curious.”

  She sighed. “First, my new medication is working really well. And second...” She flipped her hand over and grasped my fingers and squeezed. “...I’m finding peace in my faith. Trusting God is giving me strength to continue taking the meds and to rest in His hands through this craziness. Also, meeting Carlton seemed to free something inside of me. It was so nice to just be...accepted. He looked at me as just his daughter and was proud of me.”

  When I looked at her, I saw newfound confidence—in her erect posture, in her direct gaze, and in her words. A long bound part of my heart released, and a love I have never known for her burst forth. I gently squeezed her hand to encourage her.

  “All my life, Mama treated me like a porcelain doll that would break at the slightest bump. I always felt when she looked at me, she didn’t really see me.” She pointed her index finger to her chest. “Now I know why. I’m sure I served as a constant reminder of Carlton. She couldn’t accept me as just me. Carlton, did that today, and it felt good.”

  “How do you feel about her keeping this from you?”

  “I’m upset with her, but for now, I can’t vent that anger. She needs my support, not my condemnation. I refuse to let my feelings get in the way of her progress. When the time is right, I’ll talk with her about this.”

  “Mama, you do understand why I didn’t say anything about Carlton, right?”

  “I understand your patient confidentiality, but I’m also a little upset you didn’t tell me.”

  “I know. When you called me over is when I found out for sure. I’ve been reading those letters to him, but never knew Lady S was Mawmaw. Speaking of letters, have you read them yet?”

  “Some of them. I’ll read the remainder later tonight.”

  A sliver of fear pierced. Would Mama feel the same after she read the last letter?

  “Mama, there is something I’m concerned about. I’m afraid that Carlton will pass away before he and Mawmaw can reconcile and she can forgive him. He needs her forgiveness so he can forgive himself. No one knew he was ill.”

  Mama’s gaze blanketed me with warmth and tender understanding. She patted my hand. “Wow, that’s a tall order. You know there would have been a time not too long ago when I would have gone marching into her room demanding answers. Even gone so far as to drag her over to Carlton’s. But this, I’m afraid, is something we can’t orchestrate. Death is in God’s hands. I’m starting to accept that all we can do is pray on this one and be there for them as best we can.”

  This lady who sat across from me was a new Vivian. One I liked. A lot. Loved, even.

  It was the Mama I craved all my life. One who gave uncritical advice, was calm and peaceful, and who offered to walk the journey beside me. This was the Mama I dreamed about and once when I was a little girl, had asked God to send me. Gratitude, strong and bold, washed over me. For the first time, I felt that our roles were right. I didn’t feel the need to reassure and comfort her. She had comfort
ed me.

  I reached across the table and hugged her, spilling my latté in the process. Laughter erupted between us. “Hey, laughter laced with tears, that’s my trademark.” She wiped her fingertips gingerly across my cheek then mopped up the spilled coffee. Some things were the same, and I found great comfort in that. They were the things we loved.

  The new things would make us even better. In that, I found greater comfort.

  Vingt-Huit

  A week flew by. I’d arrange for Anthony to meet his grandfather. He and Carlton had much in common and told fishing stories. Well, Anthony told most of the stories, and Carlton nodded and laughed.

  Mama spent as much time with Carlton as possible.

  I spent as much time at the hospital with Mawmaw as I could. My time was certainly not my own. Poor Mr. Bojangles began to think I’d abandoned him. I hired a student to care for him in the afternoons and take him out for his daily walks. At least he was getting exercise. I wished I could say the same for me. Aside from an occasional stroll down Carlton’s driveway, I stayed sedentary.

  Mawmaw made steady, but slow, progress. This stroke had been more severe than the last one. Her speech continued to be impaired, but with the help of physical, occupational, and speech therapy she improved and learned wonderful compensation techniques.

  The Fourth of July fais do do had been a hit, according to Debra, a small part of me regretted missing it and honoring Mawmaw. I’m not sure the truth would have come to light had I not foraged in those trunks for a costume. Guess I could thank the fais do do for finding my grandfather.

  A week of Mama’s daily visits gave Carlton a stronger will to live; he laughed more and the etchings on his face seemed to lose their depth. I walked into his room on Wednesday at noon to find Mama sitting at his bedside reading the letters to him.

  “Hey, my lil...lady.”

  I tugged at his toe—our morning ritual. “Hey, yourself.”