by Lisa Samson
Even swollen, Mother looked so small and battered there in the bed. “Is that a respirator?”
“Yes. We’ll start weaning her from it this evening. She’s already taking some breaths on her own.”
It was just plain creepy with that tube down her throat, stretching her mouth down to the side, revealing her tongue. Oh, Mother, Mother!
God, this all had better work. She had better be up and at ’em, or I’m going to be so ticked.
Extreme anger enveloped me for the first time in my life. It’s hard to believe, but before, I had always felt scared. Not now.
I mean it, God! You’ve got to bring her through.
And I cried.
Flannery still cried, so I put my arm around her and squeezed. “Is that swelling normal?” I asked several minutes later after we’d calmed down a bit.
“Oh yes,” Janet said. “They give them a lot of fluid during surgery.”
Prisma, still resembling a plus-sized mannequin, clutched her purse more tightly. “Okay then. That’s good that it’s normal.”
The nurse began washing her hands at the sink. “The visiting time is up. It’s quite short in this unit. But you can come back tonight from 8:00 to 8:30.”
Prisma kept hold of that purse and nodded decisively. “We’ll be here.”
At eight o’clock Prisma and I stood by Mother’s bedside. Thank You, God, she had awakened, her hazel eyes brighter than her bodily form otherwise implied.
Prisma gathered her hand. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Summerville?”
She shook her head and shrugged, unable to say anything due to the ventilator.
I smiled at her. “Well, you should be glad you didn’t get your hair cut like mine, Mother, or you’d be a human hairball like everyone else in these other beds. Instead you look neat as a pin.”
Mother smiled and rolled her eyes.
We laughed.
“Are you sore? In pain?” Prisma asked. “Because if you are, just say the word! I’ll make sure they give you something.”
She shook her head and lifted a graceful hand as if to say, “I’m fine.”
Prisma nodded once. “Good.”
I held her other hand. “Flannery was so upset by the sight of you out cold this afternoon she couldn’t bring herself to come in. She said to tell you she’s sorry.”
Mother grimaced and waved my statement away.
“You understand?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I knew you would, Mother. But I’ll tell her you’re looking more like your old self, and I’m sure she’ll be in tomorrow.”
Johnny entered the ward as we walked back through the automatic door. “I’m glad I caught you.”
“How’s she doing, Doctor?” Prisma asked.
“Fine. We’re about to take her off the respirator. She should be moved back up to the fifth floor tomorrow. A lot more visiting hours up there, of course, and then further upstairs to rehab. She’s in good shape. That will stand her in good stead.”
The sight of him thrilled me. So stable and sure. And as foreign as all this felt to me, it was an everyday occurrence to him.
He reached out and squeezed my arm. “I’ll take good care of her tonight, Lark.”
When we left that evening, Prisma navigating the old Duster back down Charles Street, I said a silent prayer of thanks for second chances and for Johnny Josefowski. Sometimes God gives us exactly what we don’t deserve. Obviously, He decided to lend me an extra hand, to extend a heaping portion of grace to me and Mother.
So take a big bite, Lark. Take a giant mouthful, savor the flavor and enjoy the rest of the meal because you don’t know how much time will pass before this particular plate gets whisked away.
“Did you get more of those albums for Mother yet, Prisma?”
“Not yet, baby.”
“Why don’t we swing by the craft store on the way home?”
“You got it.”
“Hello?”
“Prayer Lady?”
“Hi, Gene.”
Hi, Gene. Hygiene. I wanted to laugh myself silly.
“Guess what, Gene?”
“What?”
“My mother made it fine through her bypass today.”
“Great. Let me tell you what happened at work!”
Wow. They really don’t give a fig about me, do they?
“Hello?”
“Lark?”
“Johnny?”
“Yeah.”
“How you doing? Long day?”
“Very. Just wanted to let you know your mom’s doing fine. They had her walking the hall about a half an hour ago.”
“No kidding!”
“Nope. Par for the course for the healthier patients. She’s obviously taken good care of herself over the years.”
“She has.”
“Well, I just wanted you to know all that.”
“Thanks.” Should I do it? Should I invite him over for a walk and a cup of coffee?
“Would you like to come on down and take a walk?”
He hesitated, and I froze. Oh man! Darn.
He cleared his throat. “I think that would be great.”
“Good! See you in a little bit.”
“Okay.”
And I jumped up from my desk, turned on the answering machine for the prayer line, and ran upstairs to get ready. This was almost like being in love.
Oh yeah?
Really, Lark?
H’m. I guess I’ll have to think about that one a little more.
September
Flannery
WHEN IT’S RIGHT, YOU KNOW IT.
So get this. James and I are going to get married! It’s a small, quiet surprise sort of thing. “Let’s get it over and done with,” I tell James as we go up to a coffee shop in Bel Air to listen to some live music. “I just want to be with you.”
He grins at that, and then he kisses me. “You wanna get married at Stoneleigh House?”
“Of course. With Father Charlie presiding, and Miss Marsha can sing. And we’ll just walk Grandy in from her bed at the den. Although maybe she’ll want to dress for the occasion. And Prisma will plan some kind of little party afterward.”
He squeezes me. “You sure you want to do it this way?”
“I am, James. If we wait, I might let you do something I regret.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
I cross my arms and stare up through my lashes. “Well, am I right or am I right?”
“Even if there’s the most remote chance you are, I say let’s go for it.”
“Me, too.”
And we kiss again.
We go down and get the license, and it’s quick because Maryland doesn’t require a blood test. And Father Charlie is all smiles as we sit with him in the sanctuary at St. Dominic’s.
“A surprise wedding, Flannery? Are you sure?”
“Definitely.”
“Why?”
“Can you imagine what it would be like planning a long, drawn-out thing with those women?”
“Not really. No.”
“And it could take away all the progress they’ve made these past couple of months.”
“You think so?”
“Maybe not. But it’s not worth the risk. Besides, Father Charlie, it’s different. I like to be different.”
“Well, okay, but it’s the first surprise wedding I’ve ever done.” And he runs one of his hands over his head.
Miss Marsha is at her real estate office over in Timonium, and she starts shouting and says, “Of course I’ll sing!”
And it’s tomorrow!
Mrs. Quigley James Smith.
Flannery del Champ Smith.
Flannery Smith.
Yeah, just plain old Flannery Smith. That suits me fine. Flannery plus del Champ is way too much name for one person.
Yesterday Grandy said, “This is the first time I’ve had a good appetite in years!” Is that cool or what? You should see her and Mom going at it fo
r afternoon snacks. The two of them remind me of comic strip girl Cathy and her mother now. Yep, I can get married and move out with a very clear conscience.
Lark
JOHNNY AND I SAT ON THE BENCH by the fishpond. Twilight purpled the sky, and the September breeze scented the air with the first tinge of dying leaves.
“She’s looking pretty good, Lark, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“It was a clear-cut surgery. No surprises going in. And her recovery has been textbook.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
Johnny never tries to impress me with medical jargon. He just tells me what I need to know the way I need to know it. I like that.
Bradley called the day after Labor Day. I told him I needed until the end of the week. And tonight is Thursday, which means I’d better tell Johnny because tomorrow, we might all find ourselves in the midst of another Pompeii.
“I need to talk about something important, Johnny.”
“Okay. It sounds scary by the tone of your voice.”
“It might be.” How to do this? Just plow on forward. “I’m divorced. My husband didn’t die like everyone thinks. I’ve been lying for years.”
I concentrated on the bubbling fountain on the outskirts of the pond. Fish swam within their simple surroundings, just swimming away, not married fish, not divorced fish, just fish. Why couldn’t it be like that for us?
Johnny cleared his throat. “Well, I guess I should feel complimented by the fact that you feel the need to tell me.”
Definitely not the answer I expected. Now why didn’t I have that kind of outlook?
“I guess so.”
He took my hand. “Do you want to expand on that thought?”
“Yeah, I do.”
So I told him everything. Even the mess I was about to get myself into with Flannery.
He whistled low and long. “Oh, Lark. How in the world are you going to tell her?”
“I have no idea. If you think of anything, let me know.”
He looked up into the darkening sky. “I have a small suggestion if you want to hear it.”
“I sure do.”
“Why don’t you ask your mother?”
“Mother? What would she know about it? She had the perfect marriage. I don’t know if she would begin to understand what I’m up against.”
Johnny shook his head. “I don’t think it’s so much that she understands from a personal point of view, Lark. It’s just that she loves you and she’s a pretty wise lady. We’ve had some neat conversations since the surgery.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. I call her every day to see how she is.”
“She hasn’t said a thing about it.”
He shrugged. “Funny, isn’t it? Your mother actually has a life of her own.”
H’m. Well.
“Talk to her, Lark.”
Prisma called from the screen door, “You all want some ice tea?”
“We’ll be in in just a minute!” I hollered back. Then I turned toward Johnny. “So, what about it? Do you still want to date a divorcée?”
“It was infidelity. You had grounds.”
“I didn’t have a choice. He left me. I would have forgiven that man anything.”
“Do you forgive him now though, Lark? He’s put you in a real predicament.”
The fish swam before my gaze in happy circles. “I haven’t decided. I guess the talk with Flannery will decide that for me.”
Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I erred. Forgiveness was something you decided for yourself despite the circumstances or the offense. Johnny knew that too but was kind enough to leave it alone.
PRISMA
I TELL YOU THE TRUTH, sometimes in life the word bittersweet fits with such perfection you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or to somehow do both at the same time.
My time on Greenway is coming to a close after all of these years. Half a century I’ve lived my life behind these stones. We weathered the Korean War and Truman’s H-bomb and rejoiced over the polio vaccine. Mr. Summerville and I shook hands when we heard Stalin had passed on. I cheered on Rosa Parks and the Hungarians who gave it their best shot. The USSR launched Sputnik. NASA was founded, men made their way to the moon, and yet I stayed on here in Stoneleigh House, our own milestones achieved with the birth of Lark.
Poor Marilyn Monroe died a year after the Bay of Pigs, only to be followed by JFK a year later. And Lark started nursery school that year and sang her first solo, “Jolly Old St. Nicholas,” at the school pageant. Newly arrived a year later, howling and screaming, affronted by his removal from the womb. Vietnam, the Six-Day War, all sorts of history going on even as we made our own. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. assassinated. Man walking on the moon.
So if anybody says I should be ready to go, I can honestly say, it just isn’t that easy. And yet, I’m so happy for Mrs. Summerville. Yesterday when I helped her into the guest room for her afternoon nap, she said, “Prisma, you’re my best friend.”
“Well, Mrs. Summerville, you’re mine.”
And I can tell you, that is the truth.
Mr. Charles, you’re dead and gone, and you can’t be my best friend anymore.
Yesterday I okayed a large check to help with the new wing of a children’s hospital in Birmingham. I love it when Days of Summer helps children. So much ahead of them, so much history painting the backdrop of their lives.
Who is going to take over for me when I leave? I’ll just leave it in the hands of the Lord, for now. I’m sure He’s got plans of His own. Better plans than mine, too.
My list of thankful things stretches a mile tonight, so I just want to leave it at this: Thank You, God!
Leslie
ONE OF THE MORE AMUSING THINGS about my stay in the hospital was the way Lark, Prisma, and Sweet Pea snuck decent food up to my room.
One night, on my fourth night in the hospital, Lark came in with a bowl of Prisma’s cream of crab soup. When the tech arrived to take my vitals, Lark thought it was the nurse and threw the entire bowl into her purse.
I haven’t laughed that much in years!
I honestly don’t know who I’m trying to stay so thin for anymore. I’ve been positively thrilled at being away from the country club, the horse farm, and Jacob Marley (I have no idea what that little foray was all about). I’ve been piddling away at little charity functions when right before me Days of Summer goes on without any sort of attention from me. I could have been helping thousands.
Breakfast seemed like a good idea now that I was back home on Greenway, but I didn’t feel like getting up yet. Lying in my bed talking to God in the mornings is a wonderful thing. I was in the guest bedroom on the main floor, and I had decided to redecorate and make it mine. No, I didn’t share it with Charles. But it was time to get on with my life in ways that I’m sure Charles himself could have hardly imagined. And yet he’d be proud.
Are you looking down, Charles? Do you see what God has done?
As I imagined him in heavenly form, his portliness gone, a light knock vibrated my door. “Come in.”
“Mother?”
“Come in, Larkspur. I’ve been awake. I’m just lying here in the quiet.”
Larkspur hadn’t looked this relaxed in years. But something bothered her this morning. “Are you all right, Larkspur?”
“Not really, Mother. I need to ask you something. I need some good advice.”
Well, miracles never cease! But, my stars! Was I ready for this kind of responsibility again? Out of the blue?
I suddenly hoped and prayed I wouldn’t fall short.
I held out my hand. “Come and sit on the bed, dear, and tell me everything.”
“Mother, Bradley is still alive. I’ve been lying to you all these years.”
I smiled, sat up, and pulled her into my arms. “I know, Lark.”
Tears erupted from deep within my daughter’s soul, and I cried with her, wishing as always that I c
ould bear the pain for her.
After several minutes she surfaced. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”
“I was afraid you’d get mad at me. I ran into Bunky del Champ years ago in Boca Raton. Your father wanted to confront you, but I told him you must have had your reasons. And then I overheard that phone call that first night, and I prayed I was just imagining things. That it wasn’t really Bradley.”
Larkspur reached across me to the bedside table where she plucked out a Kleenex.
“Larkspur, I need to say something, and it’s not easy. But I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past month. Actually, ever since you’ve moved back.” Libby Lee Strawbridge reared her ugly head for an instant saying, Mothers should never apologize; it weakens them! Oh, stuff it, Libby! “I need to apologize. For some reason the lines between us frayed. I don’t know where or when it happened, but I sort of gave up on you.”
“Oh, Mother, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. I figured you’d come around when you’d want to, and I’d be there. But you really didn’t come around, and I’m sorry. I should have followed your father’s advice. I should have been there more for you.”
“You were there.”
“Only when you wanted me, but not when I knew you really needed me. So, I’m sorry.”
And we cried some more. Oh, we did, and my heart puffed up like a warmed pastry filled with the sweetest things life could offer a woman. My arms circled my baby once more.
And we cried even more. It certainly hurt my incision. But that didn’t matter one whit. Oh, Larkspur. Oh, my sweet Lark.
“I was so scared you were going to die, Mother.”
“Me, too!”
“Just when things were going so well.”
“I know.”
And then the moment ended. But not with a finality. The moment itself ended, yes, but its vibrations would power our hearts for years.
When Lark pulled away, she asked, “So what should I do about Bradley?”
I shrugged. “You have to tell Flannery.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Let’s just pray God clears the path for you.”
