Emmie sat on the edge of the tub watching the water swirl and splash. She continued to stare at her feet and hands. For a month, she’d noticed that at the end of the day, her feet and hands ached and were a little puffy. She’d ignored it just the way she tried to ignore the pain in her back. Now, she could no longer ignore her condition. What would happen in the morning if the swelling didn’t go down and she couldn’t get her boots on? Don’t borrow trouble, she cautioned herself.
She looked at the time before she removed her watch. She had forty minutes before it was time for Willow to call. Maybe she should bring the portable phone into the bathroom so she could continue to soak while she talked to Nick’s wife. All it took was three steps across the bathroom before she found herself on the floor, a look of shock and pain on her face. She crab-crawled into the bedroom and reached for the phone. It slipped out of her hands. She pushed it forward as she crawled back to the bathroom. She cried then as she pressed 0 for the operator. “Please, I can’t dial the numbers. Will you ring the Inn and ask for Mrs. Littletree’s room. This is Emmie Coleman. Yes, thank you.”
Emmie almost fainted when she heard her mother’s voice. “Mom, there’s something wrong with me. You have to come out here now. Please, Mom. I’m in the bathroom, and I can’t move. Hurry, Mom.”
“We’ll be right there, Emmie. Stay where you are. I’ll call the doctor on the way.”
The phone slipped away from Emmie. She cried harder when Cookie waddled over to her and flopped down next to her, waiting for Emmie to scratch his ears. “I can’t, Cookie.” Her tears soaked into the bathroom carpet just as the tub overflowed. It took every ounce of strength in her body to get to her knees and turn off the faucet, using her wrists. She was soaked to the skin when she fell back onto the mat that was by then dripping wet. What is wrong with me? Hurry, Mom. Please hurry.
Twenty minutes later, Nealy flew up the steps, calling her daughter’s name as she went along, Hatch lumbering behind her. She ran straight to Emmie’s bathroom and almost fainted at the sight of her daughter. Emmie’s name ripped from her soul.
Hatch bent down to pick up his stepdaughter. He carried her to the bed and lowered her gently. “The doctor is on his way, Emmie.”
Nealy sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her daughter’s head. “Emmie, oh, God, Emmie, how did this happen? I know this might be a stupid thing to say but did you eat something that might have caused a reaction like this? You were fine, earlier.”
“No, Mom, I didn’t eat anything different. I wasn’t fine either. When I took off my boots, my feet started to swell. Sometimes they get puffy at the end of the day, my fingers, too, but never like this. The pain in my back has been getting worse. I’ve been hurting for a long time, but I didn’t want you to know. You know your motto has always been work through the pain. I tried. I gobbled aspirin by the handful and took hot baths. Nothing seemed to work. Honest to God, Mom, I tried. I was going to go to the doctor tomorrow because it’s been getting worse. What’s wrong with me, Mom?”
“Emmie, I don’t know. The doctor should be here any minute now. Hatch, go down and wait for him. Bring him right up.”
“If I was a horse, what would this be, Mom?”
“Off the top of my head, I’d say arthritis. Emmie, I just don’t know. Why did you wait so long, honey?”
“I guess I was stupid and thought it would eventually go away. Mom, I can’t get sick. I have Gabby to take care of. I’m all she has. Oh, God, you don’t think this is God’s way of telling me I should have told Buddy about our daughter. Am I going to die, Mom?”
Nealy sucked in her breath and was saved from a reply when Hatch ushered in the doctor. She stared at him. “Where’s Dr. Ward?”
“Dad’s on a fishing trip, ma’am, and won’t be back till the end of May. It’s his first real vacation in fifteen years. I’m Luke. I’m an internist and practice in Lexington. It might be a good idea for you and your husband to wait outside while I examine my patient.”
Nealy nodded.
“He’s too young, Hatch. My God, he looks about Emmie’s age. What’s wrong with her, Hatch? You don’t think it’s serious, do you? She said she did what I told her to do, which was work through the pain. Never give in. I didn’t mean for something like this. I meant for an ache or just plain old tiredness. I think she’s saying this is my fault.”
“That’s not what she’s saying. Young is good, Nealy. That means he’s up on all the latest medical news. Sometimes the older doctors are so busy they tend to let things slide. I do think it’s serious, and I think it’s rheumatoid arthritis. A lot of the elders on the reservation have RA. She’s not going to die if that’s your next question. I’d say she’s had this for a while and ignored it. That’s just my opinion, Nealy.”
“That means she’ll be crippled. Like Maud. Like Sunny. Oh Hatch, she’s too young for something like this.” Nealy threw herself into her husband’s arms and wept.
“Nealy, honey, children get rheumatoid arthritis. It doesn’t just strike old people.”
Nealy whirled around when the door opened. She wiped at her eyes, knowing her heavy makeup was going to get smeared—the makeup prescribed just for her, to cover the scars from all her facial operations because of the fire at Blue Diamond Farms. Her eyes were full of questions.
“I’m going to admit Emmie to the hospital. We need to run tests, do a lot of blood work, and try to reduce the inflammation. We’ll be testing for rheumatoid arthritis.”
“How could she get something so serious, just like that?” Nealy said.
“No, not just like that. She’s had a lot of symptoms she tried treating with aspirin. Sometimes people think if they ignore something, it will go away. This is not going to go away. She doesn’t want to go in an ambulance to spook the workers, she said. So, Mr. Littletree, if you can carry her down to the car, I’ll take her in myself. She wants both of you to stay here with her daughter.”
“She doesn’t want us to go with her?” Nealy asked, dismay written all over her face.
“She wants you to stay with her daughter. She said there’s nothing you can do for her at the hospital, and she’s right. The little one might wake during the night. She’ll want you even though she has a nanny in the next room. Stress is not good for someone with RA. Can I tell her you agree?”
“Yes, of course,” Nealy said.
“Mr. Littletree, if you’ll do the honors, we can be on our way.”
“Mom, I don’t want to go to the hospital. One day, that’s it. Mom?”
“Emmie, you have to do what the doctor says. A day, two days, even three. We need to find out what it is so you can be treated properly. Don’t worry about anything.”
“Hifly?”
“I’ll take good care of him, Emmie. Just do what the doctor wants. We’ll see you tomorrow. It’s going to be all right, Emmie.”
Nealy was standing by the front door when the phone rang behind her. She walked over to the little alcove and picked up the phone. “Hello.”
“Emmie?”
“No, this is Emmie’s mother. I’m sorry, but Emmie is on her way to the hospital. Can I take a message?”
“The hospital?” the voice queried. Nealy frowned.
“Just for some testing. Can I ask who’s calling? I’ll be happy to give her a message in the morning.”
“Just tell her Mary Ann called. I’m a friend of hers. I’ll call again.”
“All right, Mary Ann.” Nealy replaced the phone, a frown building on her face. She looked at her husband. “I don’t know anyone named Mary Ann, but her voice sounded familiar.” She shrugged. “I guess she’s a new friend. Or maybe she’s with the film crew.”
“Come on, honey, let’s make some coffee and sit on the porch. Like it or not, Nealy, it looks like you’re back in the saddle. We need to talk.”
“Yes, I guess we do,” Nealy said, reaching for the coffee canister.
Hatch watched his wife from a distance. He knew she was in her elem
ent but sad and unnerved at the same time. She was back—back where she felt she belonged. He’d taken her away after her recovery from the awful burns, and she’d gone with him willingly. Never by word or deed did she even allude to the possibility she might be sad or that she was homesick for Blue Diamond Farms. But he knew, because you always know when the one person you love more than anything in the world is hiding something from you. Even when it was as simple as an emotion or a smile.
Nealy looked up, shading her eyes with the palm of her hand. She motioned him to join her. He did.
“How’s everything looking, Hatch?”
“Great. The porch is done, everything is scrubbed and sparkling. The flowers are blooming just the way they’re supposed to. The gardens are really pretty. The girls did a good job. I think your family will enjoy sitting out on the porch. You might need a few more chairs, though. I checked the barbecue pit, and everything looks good to go. I told Aggie to come and fetch us if the doctor or hospital calls. How’s it going down here?”
“I’m too old for this, Hatch. My stamina is gone. I’m good at supervising, but that’s about it. Emmie has some good people here. They know what they’re doing, and they’re dependable. Everyone on the farm is rooting for this runt.” She grinned as she pointed to Hifly. “They all know how much she loves him. He’s starting to grow on me, too. We should have heard something by now, Hatch.”
“Maybe later when we go into the hospital they’ll tell us something. It’s only been a few days. Sometimes they have to wait for the blood results. You know, it has to sit or mix or they have to put stuff in it. It all takes time. RA can go along nicely for periods of time and then flare up into full-blown episodes like what Emmie is going through now. There are medications, and I’m sure they’re doing everything humanly possible for her. If they definitely diagnose her with RA, then we can, if you want, find a specialist, a top man in his field, to have a look at her. We’ll get a handle on it, honey. Think about it, Nealy. After the fire when you were so horribly burned, you almost gave up until Cole Tanner told you about Dr. Vinh in Thailand. Look at you now. You’re beautiful. We’ll find someone to help Emmie. It might be rough going for a while, but I think your daughter is up to it. Look who her mother is.”
Tears burned Nealy’s eyes. “Maybe that won’t be enough, Hatch. She feels about that horse the way I felt about Flyby,” she said, pointing to Hifly in the paddock. “I don’t want that taken away from her. I won’t let it happen,” Nealy said fiercely.
“I guess that means we’re staying on as we planned.” Hatch grinned.
“Do you mind, Hatch?”
“Nealy, this is where you belong, and nothing will ever change that. If you need me to say we can stay forever, then I’m saying it. I just want to be where you are. I only want to help. Semiretirement leaves me a lot of free time.”
Nealy threw her arms around her husband. “I was hoping you would say that. I think we can pull it all together until . . . until Emmie gets on her feet. If . . . if it proves to be . . . more serious than we thought, then we’ll deal with that, too.” She looked across the land dressed for summer. The rolling hills, the luscious bluegrass and the barns that housed her beloved horses. This was where she belonged.
“I finally figured out a word to describe Emmie’s horse. He’s stubby. Each time I look at him I either smile or laugh. Emmie was right, he’s got heart. This is just a guess on my part but I think he’s going to be easy to train. I’ve never seen a meaner horse than Gadfly. Emmie was right about that, too. Sometimes you get one like that. You hardly ever get one like Hifly. The bloodlines are too clean. I keep thinking about John Henry. Hifly could be his twin. What do you think, Hatch?”
“What I think is it’s time for lunch, and then a trip to the hospital. Come along, Mrs. Littletree.”
In the kitchen, while they waited for Gertie to set lunch on the table, Nealy called out to Aggie, “Were there any calls, Aggie?”
“One, ma’am. I gave her Emmie’s number at the hospital. Said she was a friend of hers. The other calls were farm-related. There’s a huge bouquet of flowers in the foyer for you to take to the hospital. The girls picked and arranged them. Tell her we all hope she gets well soon.”
“I’ll do that, Aggie. Was it Mary Ann who called?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Has she ever called here before?”
“As a matter of fact, she called yesterday. Do you know her?”
“No, I don’t think so. Her voice did sound familiar, though. I’ll tell Emmie she called. I’m not sure her phone is connected yet. They want her to rest, and talking on the phone isn’t considered rest according to the doctors. I think dinner around six-thirty will be good, Gertie.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I hate hospitals, Hatch. I swore I would never go into another hospital as long as I live. So, what am I doing? I’m trooping through a hospital is what I’m doing. I hate the smell, I hate the blue chairs in the waiting room. Most of all, I hate the tattered magazines and the smell from the coffee shop. All they sell in the way of food in hospital coffee shops is egg salad and tuna salad sandwiches. I didn’t know that until someone told me. And licorice. They sell a lot of licorice in the gift store. I didn’t know that either. Did you know that, Hatch?”
“I think I did. People do get better in hospitals, Nealy. Everyone doesn’t die. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
“More or less. It’s almost impossible not to think things like that when you come here,” Nealy said, jabbing at the elevator button. “We should have brought something besides these flowers. Why didn’t we, Hatch?”
“Because we brought everything yesterday. Candy for Emmie’s sweet tooth, magazines, books, lotions, clean gowns. I don’t think you missed anything.”
“Do you think we should have called Mitch Cunningham ? I had this feeling Emmie wouldn’t want him to see her . . . not looking her best. I think she has a bit of a crush on Mr. Perfectly Wonderful.”
“A person’s first reaction to something is usually the right one. I say we keep quiet unless Emmie instructs us otherwise. Wait, we’re going the wrong way. We should have gone right instead of left. We need to follow the red arrows. Be cheerful, Nealy.”
Nealy took a deep breath before opening the door to her daughter’s hospital room. Before she could say hello, Emmie spoke. “They don’t know why I puffed up like this, Mom. Maybe a bad reaction to the meds they’ve been giving me. They’re running more tests. I know I look like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Some of the inflammation in my joints has gone down but not enough. I hurt, Mom, all over.”
“It’s always worse before it gets better, Emmie. Has Dr. Ward been in yet?”
“Around six this morning. He comes back either before or after office hours. How’s Gabby? Does she miss me? How’s Hifly? I know he misses me. You should give him something of mine to smell, Mom.”
“I did, Emmie. He snorted and tossed his head a bit. Yes, he misses you. And Gabby misses you, too. She sang ‘Hey Diddle Diddle the Cat and the Fiddle’ for me last night. Of course she giggled all the way through it. The flowers are from the girls. Oh, by the way, Aggie said your friend Mary Ann called twice. She gave her your number here in the room. Is the phone connected?”
“Yes, but no one has called.”
“Is Mary Ann a new friend? Her voice sounded familiar the night she called. She called just as Hatch was carrying you to the car. I don’t know if I told you that or not. Do you want me to call her for you? Do you want me to call Mitch Cunningham?”
“No, Mom, don’t call him. Mary Ann will call back. It’s not important. She’s someone I bowl with. It’s not like we’re best friends or anything like that,” Emmie lied. “I want to go home, Mom.”
Nealy looked around the hospital room. No matter what the hospital volunteers did in the way of decorating, it was still a hospital room. The floors were still hospital floors that were mopped twice daily with disinfectant and the hospital
bed was still a hospital bed even though it had a flowered blanket. The colorful drapes were on steel rods with no cornice board and no sheer curtains underneath. The brown-leather chair was ugly as were the sink and the steel-framed mirror over it. The flowers on the windowsill gave off a sickly, funeral-like odor. She breathed through her mouth.
“Emmie, it’s not like you have some bug that is going to go away in a day or so. We have to find out what exactly is wrong with you. For now, and I’m sure it won’t be too much longer, this is the best place for you. If it’s any consolation to you, I felt the same way you’re feeling when I was in here.”
“Mom, what if I can’t walk? What if I end up in a wheelchair? I’ll be no good to you at the farm. I won’t be able to pull my weight. That means you’re either going to have to hire someone or do it all yourself. I know you can’t do it anymore. All those operations took their toll on you.”
“Let’s not worry about that now. We’re managing just fine. You hired good people, and they’re loyal and dedicated. We can always call on Ruby and Metaxas if we get jammed up. Or I can call my brothers.”
“Mom, your brothers are older than you are. I think you need to call Nick.”
“No, Emmie. Calling Nick is not an option. I don’t want you worrying about this. We’ll deal with everything as it comes up. Are you hungry, honey?”
“No. I’m on a restricted diet. No root vegetables, no this, no that. I eat a lot of Jell-O. They’re experimenting on me. I know that’s what they’re doing. When I ask questions no one has the answers, and that doctor doesn’t have any answers either. They can send someone to the moon, but they can’t interpret my blood work. Explain that to me, Mom. I want to go home.”
“It sounds to me like you’re whining, Emmie,” Dr. Ward said from the doorway. “We’re treating her like royalty, and she still complains. I have good news, and I have bad news. The good news is you had a bad reaction to one of the meds we gave you yesterday. The swelling and puffiness will start to dissipate rather rapidly since we took you off it right away. You only had one dose. The bad news is your blood work came back. You do have rheumatoid arthritis. We talked about this yesterday and the day before. It’s going to take some time for the inflammation to subside, and it won’t go away entirely. I’m working up a course of treatment, and you will have to be monitored very carefully. You’ll need blood and urine tests once a month. Sometimes more than once a month. I want to see you once a week until we get this under control. In time, Emmie, you’ll be able to pick up your life, but that isn’t going to be for a while. I will discharge you tomorrow, but only if you agree to a wheelchair for the time being. I want you to stay off your feet until the major part of the swelling and inflammation subsides. I’ll send a physical therapist who will work with you daily out to the farm.”
Kentucky Sunrise Page 6
