Griselda Takes Flight

by Joyce Magnin

  "You said you'd handle it, Dot," Zeb called.

  "You better get back to your scrapple," I said.

  "OK, I'll see you later, Grizzy."

  12

  No sooner had I set foot in the library than the phone started to ring. It sounded like a desperate ring to me. Not sure how I knew, I just did and ran to grab it.

  It was Stella Kincaid. She sounded out of breath and frazzled.

  "Slow down, Stella," I said. "What's wrong?"

  "It's Nate. He just keeps getting himself all worked up over Bertha Ann. I can't wait until the weigh-off is over. And when he isn't tending to her he's with that pilot fella out in the barn. I heard them shooting guns last night. Probably shooting cans, but it could have been possums and coons."

  "Well why do you sound all upset? I was just with Cliff and I got to say he is one of the nicest folks to drop by Bright's Pond."

  "Ah, Griselda, I guess it's not just Nate. I just keep getting myself all worked up over this thing with my brother. I can't sleep, can't eat—well not like I'm used to—and Nate and me keep getting into spats about it."

  I sat at my office desk and flipped on the small desk lamp. The sky had grown gray and overcast quickly. Clouds always made the already dim library even darker and mysterious. "You and Nate need to come to some sort of agreement about this."

  "Well we did, only it's not the one he wanted."

  "What are you saying?"

  "Can you take me over there? To Greenbrier, I mean."

  "Really? You mean you're going to visit Walter?"

  "Let's just say I'm going over there whether Nate agrees or not and maybe I'll take a peek, Griselda. Just a peek."

  "It's a start. I can come by after lunch, maybe around two. Is that OK?"

  "Sure, that's fine, it will give me a chance to jump in the shower and do some housework. I was out tending to Bertha this morning. Fertilizer day and I smell to the high heavens."

  I hung up the phone and set about with my usual library routine. There were some books to replace in the stacks and magazines to log in and put in the periodicals section. It was quiet that morning, not even Mildred Blessing showed up looking for a supply of crime novels. But that was par for the course in Bright's Pond. Sometimes I didn't even think we needed a library what with the big one in Shoops being so close.

  By one o'clock I was ready to head home and check on Arthur, maybe get a bite of lunch and then head over to get Stella. I was pleased that she was ready to take this first step. I turned off the lights, and just as I locked the door, the ominous clouds of earlier finally burst in an autumn deluge with thunder and cracks of lightning. I spotted Mickey Mantle under some bushes cowering, I thought, from the thunder.

  "Come on Mickey," I said. "I'll take you home."

  He wouldn't budge. He only looked at me, his head drooping and his eye brows raised.

  I grabbed his collar. "Come on. Let's go. It raining." I had to drag the poor beast to the truck, but once I opened the door he leaped in, glad to be out of the rain and safe from the thunder.

  Ivy was standing on her porch calling his name when I pulled up. I pushed open the passenger door and out he romped straight for Ivy. I waved.

  "Thanks, Griselda. Where'd you find him?"

  "Library. I don't think he likes the thunder." But I doubted she heard me over the thunder that rolled overhead. So I waved goodbye and pulled the truck door closed and went home.

  After feeding Arthur his second meal of the day, I changed into a dry sweater and made myself a tuna sandwich. I checked the mail and separated the junk from the bills and a magazine—Family Circle. I never knew why it kept coming to my house. I never subscribed to it.

  I patted Arthur's head. "Okay, I need to run. Stella has agreed to see Walter." He purred and slinked off to find a comfy corner. Cats didn't seem to mind thunder the way dogs did.

  Stella waited on her porch. I pulled up as close I could so she wouldn't have to get soaked. She ran toward me with an umbrella shielding her from the now pummeling rain. Large heavy drops clattered the roof of my truck like bullets.

  "You sure you don't mind?" she asked at the door. "It's raining something fierce."

  "No, I don't mind, come on. It's just a shower. The clouds are rolling pretty fast so it'll probably blow over before we get to Greenbrier."

  "Okay," Stella said and she climbed in next to me. Shook her umbrella outside and then tossed it onto her lawn.

  "Why'd you do that?"

  "Ah, they're a pain in the neck."

  We drove quietly for a few minutes down the Main Street of Bright's Pond. We passed the Full Moon and I couldn't help thinking of Zeb. Stella did also.

  "So I guess you and Zeb are getting pretty serious," she said.

  "Oh, I don't know. He's been acting weird. I think he's jealous of Cliff."

  "Cliff? The pilot? Why?"

  "He just doesn't like me talking to him. He's jealous."

  "Well he is a big hunk of a man, Griselda. You gotta admit."

  I swallowed. "He is. But Zeb is being silly. Silly and stupid. And he is none too thrilled about me going up in his plane."

  "What? Are you going for a ride with him, really? When?"

  "When he gets the plane fixed."

  "No kidding. You're braver than me."

  I looked ahead and then stopped at the sign just before we pulled out on the major road. The traffic picked up and the rain slowed down revealing some patches of blue sky. "There, see that," I said. "It's clearing already."

  Stella stared out the window.

  "You OK?" I asked. "Are you sure you're ready?"

  "I guess I'm nervous. I was trying not to be. The whole way here I was trying to be brave but now that I'm here, I feel sort of wobbly inside. Do you think he's hooked up to stuff, machines and wires?"

  "I don't know. But they must be feeding him somehow, and the only way to do that is through a tube, don't you think?"

  She winced. "Hadn't thought of that. Boy if that don't give new meaning to drinking through a straw."

  The rain stopped completely when we pulled into the Greenbrier parking lot. I was thankful for that, but we still had to dodge some mighty serious puddles on the way to the front doors. "Geez, you'd think they'd fix these potholes," I said.

  Stella stopped dead in her tracks at the doors. "I can't do it, Griselda. I changed my mind."

  "Oh, no, Stella. You're getting cold feet now. It's normal under the circumstances. Just a peek, right? You said you'd take a peek." I grabbed her hand. "Now come on. It can't be that bad."

  Once again the smell hit me like ton of bricks. The smell and the noise. I heard what I thought was someone crying—no, more like wailing—down the hall. Agnes had told me there's a woman who seems to cry and sob all day long. The thought made me sad.

  The halls were empty except for passing nurses and aids. The man with no legs who flits around in his wheelchair passed us. "Varoom. Varoom," he said. An older gentleman stopped me. "Want to go on date," he asked looking me straight in the eye.

  I shook my head and kept walking.

  "What room is Walter in?" I asked.

  Stella took a deep breath. "One sixty-eight."

  "It's around the corner, just past Agnes's room.

  "Should we stop in there first?"

  "Do you want too? You can use all the encouragement I can find."

  Agnes was in her bed. He eyes were closed so, thinking she might be asleep, I crept slowly toward her. Her eyes popped open. "Griselda, I wasn't expecting you. And Stella, hello."

  She sounded hoarse. The way she did sometimes after an asthma attack. I kissed her cheek. "You OK?"

  "Darn fool pickles. They gave them to me. So I ate them and, well, you know what pickles do to me."

  "Why would they give you pickles? Don't they know they set off your asthma?"

  "I think they know now. Had me on the nebulizer for a long time.

  "Guess what, Agnes," I said. "Stella has come to see Walter."


  "Well glory be, ain't that a knee slapper? I'm so happy for you. And him."

  "Don't get too excited, Agnes. I told Griselda I'd take a peek, that's all."

  "A peek is good, Stella."

  "We thought we should stop in to see you first," I said.

  "I'm glad you did."

  I watched her take a labored breath.

  "Are the docs taking good enough care of you?"

  "Not like Doc Flaherty used to. The docs around here seem to rush in, rush out. They listen to my heart and leave. No talking. No gossip. No news. No prayer requests."

  "Well, you can pray for me," Stella said. "I'm scared nearly half to death about seeing Walter. I don't know what to expect."

  "Don't expect anything, Stella," Agnes said. "Expectations cause the most trouble. The truth is you don't know what to really expect. You know what I'm saying? So it's best not to let your imagination run willy-nilly over your good sense. Imagination can be a powerful thing."

  "I suppose," Stella said. "I guess maybe I'm scared."

  "Course you are. If you were all excited about running in there like you can't wait to see a man in a coma I'd think you had problems—serious problems."

  We talked a few minutes more until Agnes shooed us out the door. "Now go on. Go see your brother and then come back and see me if you want. I'll be praying." Then she closed her eyes and settled back into her pillow.

  "I guess she's right," Stella said after we took a few steps down the hall. "Being scared is normal."

  "Sure she is. You can do this. I know you can."

  Stella and I found Walter's room. We stopped outside. The door was closed most of the way—opened just a crack.

  "You go first, Griselda," Stella whispered.

  I pushed on the door and it opened slightly more. Stella grabbed my arm. "What if she's in there?"

  "Who? Gilda?"

  Stella nodded her head. "I don't want to see her, not yet. Not with Walter."

  "I'll check."

  I pushed the door until there was just enough space for me to get through. Walter lay in the bed flat on his back like a cadaver. He was covered in white blankets. I could see a tube protruding from his throat, it was thick and nearly white, more like pearl with a blue clamp. I followed it with my eyes to where it was attached to a machine with dials and buttons. The sound was of artificial breathing and it made me cringe to know that a machine was breathing for him.

  Gilda was not in the room although there was chair pulled close to the bed where I thought she probably sat when she visited. I pictured her sitting there, holding Walter's hand under the blanket, perhaps resting her head on his arm, hoping he'd awaken.

  "She's not here," I said. "Come on in."

  But when I turned around Stella had vanished.

  13

  Oh gee, Stella," I said.

  I bolted down the hall and found her standing near the exit surrounded by three female residents in housecoats.

  "What gives?" I said.

  "Agnes said if we saw this woman trying to walk outside we were to stop her," said a small, slight woman in a yellow robe. Her hair was mussed and flattened in the back like she had been sleeping. Her eyes were like two bright stars set against a desert landscape.

  Good old Agnes.

  "I can't do it," Stella said. "I can't face him. What if he wakes up? What if he never wakes up? What if he's drooling and breathing weird and has tubes stuck in him?"

  "It's one tube, helping him breathe. I didn't notice any drooling but I didn't really look."

  "Is she in there?"

  "No, Gilda was not in the room."

  Stella ran her fingers through her hair. She looked at me a little wild-eyed.

  "You best be getting into that room," said the yellow-robed woman. "You need to face things in life or you get to be my age and have nothing but regrets, regrets and memories that have no good endings."

  Stella looked at the woman. "How much did Agnes tell you all?"

  "Enough to know you need to do this," she said.

  "Oh, this is ridiculous," I said. "Come on." I grabbed her hand. "The man is in a coma for heaven's sake. He probably won't even know you're there."

  "I wouldn't count on that," said yellow-robe woman. "I was unconscious after one of my spells and I heard every word my good-for-nothing daughter was saying about me. So you better be careful what you say."

  I pretty much dragged Stella into Walter's room. She stood there like a totem pole at the foot of Walter's bed, staring at him. Her bottom lip quivered.

  He seemed an attractive man with a square jaw and probably a day's worth of whiskers. It was eerie and quiet save for the whoosh-pop sound of the ventilator.

  "It's so, so weird," she said after a minute or so. "It's like he's asleep but different from sleep, deeper, he's farther away like he's standing on one side of a wide river and I'm on the other."

  I watched her swipe a tear from her cheek. "He looks younger than I remember. He looks like he did when he was a teenager, seventeen or so."

  A nurse in white walked into the room. "Oh," she said looking at Stella. "You're not that other woman, Gilda."

  "No, no. I'm his sister, Stella."

  "Nice to see you," the nurse moved closer to Walter and held his wrist. "She hasn't been here for a day or so. I thought—"

  "Day or so," I said. "She says she's been here watching over Walter every day."

  The nurse clicked her tongue. "I heard there was a sister. Glad you finally came by. I know seeing Walter like this must be hard."

  Stella blew her nose into a tissue she pulled from a box on Walter's tray table.

  "How long has he been here?"

  "Only a couple of weeks." She adjusted something on his neck and tucked the blankets around him. Then she turned to the ventilator and twisted a small dial.

  "When was the last time you saw Gilda?" I asked.

  "I shouldn't say," the nurse said. "I just shouldn't say but that woman came by a few times, stayed all of three or four minutes unless she had a call to make and then left. She spent most of her time yakking on the phone."

  Stella and I exchanged looks.

  The nurse, a tall woman with curly blonde hair and a smile that added a much needed cheeriness to the darkened room touched Walter's cheek. "Glad somebody else will be coming by to visit him. Sometimes all the patients need is to know someone on the outside cares about them."

  "But Gilda is his fiancée," Stella said. "You sure she doesn't stay longer?"

  The nurse shook her head. "I better get back to the front desk, probably said too much as usual. But look if you need anything just ask for me, Sally Pinwhistle. I'm his nurse when I'm on duty. I got other patients, but Walter has a special place,"—she touched above her left breast—"right here."

  "I knew it," Stella whispered once Sally was gone. "I knew that woman was up to no good. Mildred Blessing knew it too, and she knows about these things."

  "Now you don't know that. Maybe it's just too hard for Gilda to stay here. It isn't very pleasant you know."

  "It's not that bad either. You'd think she'd stay longer than a few minutes. And who is she making calls to from her fiancé's sick room."

  "Don't go jumping to any conclusions. There could be any number of explanations."

  "Well I don't like it. I don't want that woman doing anything to hurt my . . . my brother."

  I smiled. "So, now everything is all right? Now you care about him?"

  Stella looked at her brother. She moved closer and stood at his side. "He looks so quiet, safe. I wish I could say peaceful. But it's not. He's in there, Griselda. Walter is inside all that quiet, inside the distance, you know. I can see him standing way far away, on the other side of that river, jumping up and down saying I'm here. Come get me."

  Tears welled in my eyes. I wrapped my arms around Stella. "I'm glad you came."

  "Now that I'm here I can't still be angry. What good will it do? I reckon there are times in life when you have to get ov
er your own foolishness and your own pride and put away those childish things you know."

  "I'm glad to hear that." I put my hand on her shoulder. "I think he needs you Stella."

  She patted Walter's hand. "It's warmer than I thought it would be."

  "Well he ain't dead."

  Stella and I both looked up and saw Gilda Saucer standing at the doorway.

  "Why are you two here?" she asked. "I mean not that I mind so much. It's good for Walter to have visitors, but why?"

  "Because he's m—"

  I nudged Stella. "Because we were here visiting my sister, Agnes, and I remembered you told me about your fiancé so we just stopped in to see him. For company, you know."

  She smacked gum against her teeth. "Yeah? Well, OK. That was pretty nice of you. Poor baby just lies there all day long. It's hard to watch but I come all the time and sit for hours sometime hoping and praying, asking the good Lord to wake him up."

  That was when I nudged Stella again before she could say another word. "We better be going, Stella."

  "Now don't go running out on my account," Gilda said. "We can all have a nice visit if you want. You can even have the chair, Stacy."

  "Stella. My name is Stella."

  "Oh, sorry, honey. I knew it was an S name, but I've been so distraught since Walter's unfortunate accident."

  "I was thinking about that," I said.

  "What?" Gilda said. "About me being distraught?"

  "No, no about Walter's accident. What exactly happened?"

  She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Nobody knows for a fact. The cops said they found him lying there on the ground at the bottom of a pile of junk. He fell so hard it made his brain swell so much that he shut down like this. That's what's going on. Swelling and bleeding and, well, they're just hoping it will settle down and he'll wake up."

  "Wonder what he was doing that made him take such a terrible fall?" Stella asked.

  "Got me, sister. I think it must have something to do with that treasure. Maybe he thought it was up on top of that hill, buried under the rubble."

  "Yes," Stella said. "But—"

  "Well but nothing," Gilda said. "That treasure is mine—mine and my dear sweet Walter's. I'd go looking for it myself if I knew anything about looking for treasures. Walter had all kinds of fancy equipment that was stolen while he was lying there in a heap waiting for help to arrive—least that's what the cops think."