Griselda Takes Flight

by Joyce Magnin

  I looked behind me, to the left and then to the right. The hall was empty. "OK, let's go."

  There were stacks of papers and True Crime magazines on Mildred's cluttered desk.

  "What a nice mug," Stella said. "It's from the police academy."

  "Of course it is. What'd you expect? Barnum and Bailey Circus?"

  "Hey," Stella said. "Look at this." She picked up a yellow legal pad. "She scribbled something. Looks like Darn Leapin'."

  "What?" I took the pad. "Dabs Lemon. It says Dabs Lemon."

  "That reporter fella?"

  "Yep. I talked to him when we were in Shoops for the pumpkin festival. He said we should look out for her but nothing else. I bet they went to see him."

  "What should we do?" Stella asked. "Should we go to Shoops?"

  I touched Dabs's name on the paper and considered our options. "Nah, I think we should go to Greenbrier and wait. Just our luck we'll drive down there and miss them. Nah, let's just wait it out with Walter."

  That was when Eugene Shrapnel appeared from a side office. He was his usual gargoyle self in a dark suit leaning on his fancy, goose-head cane.

  "Griselda Sparrow," he said. "At least someone else is in this building. The place is a ghost town."

  "Eugene," I said ignoring his remark. "You didn't happen to see Mildred when you came in did you."

  He glanced past me at her office door. "Why are you looking for her?"

  "We just are," Stella said, "Have you seen her or not?"

  "Whoa, back off. I just came in here to argue this here trash collection bill. But I can't find Boris. I waited a little while but—"

  "Did you see her or not?" Stella said. This time her voice sounded even more demanding.

  "She was leaving with that pilot fella when I got here."

  Stella and I looked at each other. "But he just flew overhead."

  "She's probably with him," Eugene said. "That would figure now, wouldn't it?"

  "Looks like we were right," I said. "They're tracking down something."

  "Like a couple of hound dogs," Stella said.

  "Say," called Eugene. "How is Ivy's mutt?"

  I turned around. "What? Since when do you care?"

  For a second I thought I heard a twinge of compassion in Eugene's voice. "I just do, OK? How's he doing?"

  "Why Eugene," I said. "You might actually care."

  He snorted and wiped his bulbous nose with the back of his hand. "I'm just asking, that's all."

  "He's doing fine. Ivy said he took to having only three legs right off, like he doesn't even miss the fourth one."

  Eugene's head bobbed up down like he was having a small attack of some sort. "Good." Then he walked past us. "Glad to hear it."

  "Did that just happen?" I asked when he was out the door.

  Stella who still had her mouth open said, "Yeah. Eugene Shrapnel sounded concerned about another living creature—a dog no less. He hates dogs."

  "It's getting weirder all the time around here."

  Walter was nearly wide awake when we arrived. Sally was with him.

  "Take small sips, Walter," I heard her say. "Your throat is going to be sore for a while."

  Stella stopped short. I grabbed her wrist and could feel her heart beating like a trip hammer. "It's OK," I whispered. "You made your peace."

  We crept closer and Sally moved out of the way. "Hi. He's doing much better. Better than we expected."

  Stella stood at the end of his bed. I watched them make eye contact like they were seeing each other for the first time.

  "Walter," Stella said. "It's me, Stella."

  "I know," he said with a painful swallow.

  "It sounds like someone sandpapered your vocal cords." Stella smiled.

  "Don't make him talk too much," Sally said. "Yes and no questions. He can nod his head, but his memory is a little fuzzy. He doesn't remember what happened the day of the accident. But that's normal. It might come back. It might not."

  "Doctor Silver told us," I said.

  "Good, so he must have filled you in on things."

  "A little bit," I said. "What I know about comas you could fit on the head of a pin, but I'd say he looks pretty good."

  "He looks great," Sally said. "Now you all have a nice visit." She patted Walter's hand. "I'll be back in a little while, honey. You just take it easy and push that button if you need anything."

  I walked with Sally to the door and whispered, "Has Gilda been here?"

  We walked into the hall. "Haven't seen her, and I am quite surprised. I thought she'd be here banging down the door to get hitched to that poor sweet man."

  "That's exactly what she's doing. She's getting set to come out and marry him today."

  Sally put her hand to her mouth. "You don't mean it. She is brazen."

  "We think she's got something up her sleeve. A couple of people are looking for answers as we speak."

  "I hope they find them," Sally said. "I have a bad feeling about this, had from the very beginning and let me tell you, you don't work in a nursing home as long as me and not learn a few things about families and human nature, and that Gilda woman, she has got some kind of nature—the worst kind."

  "We need to prove it or Walter is going to be married to her and her nature by sundown."

  "Well good luck, honey," Sally said as she was interrupted by a resident looking for a key. "I know that cranky Mr. Stanilovsky stole it," I heard the resident say. "He's always taking my stuff."

  I went back into the room. Stella was sitting close to Walter and they seemed to be talking, getting along all right.

  "I'm Griselda Sparrow," I said. "Stella's friend."

  A confused glaze fell over his eyes. He looked first at Stella and then me.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I should have introduced myself sooner. I've been here so much with Stella that it's like we already know each other."

  This time he smiled and tried to speak. I put my hand up. "It's OK, just talk with your sister."

  "She's been a good friend, Walter. It was Griselda who convinced me that I should come see you. I was a little afraid at first—considering."

  Walter looked away and then back at Stella. "I'm sorry."

  I had no trouble understanding that Walter was apologizing for the deeds of his past.

  "I've missed you," Stella said. "I got married." She held up her left hand and modeled her silver wedding band. "His name is Nate. He's a farmer."

  Walter's eyes lit up. He pointed at his chest. "Me too. Getting married."

  Stella twisted her mouth and then put on a happy, brave smile.

  "Do you love her—Gilda?"

  His eyes softened. He smiled. "Yes."

  I watched Stella's already sunken countenance fall even further. Walter averted his eyes to me. I said nothing. I only shrugged even though I wanted to shout that Gilda was no good. I just couldn't. Walter loved her.

  Sally returned to the room carrying a little white cup. "Time for your Milk of Magnesia."

  Walter made a face.

  "I know, I know," Sally said. "But it's important. Doctor wants to get all your parts moving again"—she turned to me—"if you catch my drift."

  Walter swallowed the liquid. It looked like it was a hard swallow, not only because it tasted like rotten fish but also because his throat was still so raw from the breathing tube. But he got it all down and looked quite proud of himself when he handed the cup back to Sally.

  "Good boy," Sally said.

  Stella seemed to be getting a little misty eyed and although that was the first time I ever saw a laxative bring out the love in a person, I understood her feelings. It was a little like the times I watched Agnes recover from a major asthma attack. All I could do was cry and thank Jesus.

  "Should I leave you two alone?" I asked. "I can go visit Agnes."

  Walter's eyes grew wide as silver dollars at the mention of Agnes's name.

  "He knows about her," Sally said. She was still attending to him. "The other residents w
ould come in and tell him stories about her while he was still unconscious. We think he heard a lot of it."

  "Then I guess you heard me the other day." Stella looked out the window.

  He looked at me—confused.

  "It's nothing," I said. "You two visit a while. I think I'll go on down the hall and visit Agnes."

  "What if you-know-who comes in?" Stella asked.

  I knew she was talking about Gilda. "Stall her," I said.

  Agnes was still in her bed. She wore a flowered nightgown that had a small tear on the collar. My first instinct was to take it home and sew it, but it would only get torn again. Agnes had a way of getting her nightgowns stuck under her massive girth and then yank on the material so hard it ripped.

  "Morning, Griselda," Agnes said. "Did you hear the good news?"

  "You mean about Walter?"

  "Yep. He's doing well. Real well."

  I sat in the visitor's chair. "I did hear. That's why I'm here. Stella is having some private time with him."

  "That's sweet," Agnes said. "I hope she can convince him to not marry that woman. You think she can?"

  "No. He says he loves her."

  "Oh gee willikers, he's a goner then. If he loves that barracuda there ain't nothing we can do about it. He probably won't care a lick about what she did or when she did it."

  "If she did anything at all. We still don't have any real facts."

  "Something will turn up," Agnes said. "It always does. I hope it comes in time though and maybe, maybe it will be enough to stop the marriage."

  "But, like you said, if he loves her then it might not matter."

  I yawned and stretched my arms. "All this running around is getting the best of me."

  "You do look a little piqued."

  "I'll be fine. But hey, this is odd. Walter seems to know all about you."

  "He does?"

  "The nurse told me the other residents had been telling him about you."

  Agnes sighed deeply. She pulled herself up on her triangle bar. "You don't think they told him I was responsible for him coming out of the coma do you?"

  "I wouldn't doubt it."

  "Do you think they'll ever stop?"

  "Someday, maybe. But how are you doing?"

  "Doctor was in yesterday. He said I sounded good. They still got me on that crazy diet and I am so hungry, Griselda. I just want one meal. One good meal. That will keep me going a while. I actually dreamed about a meatloaf special, well dreamed I was the meatloaf swimming in Zeb's gravy."

  "That's weird, Agnes. And no, I won't bring you one. You need to do what the doctor says."

  Agnes looked sad a moment. "I know, but sometimes I wish I could just get out of here. I miss . . . home."

  "I know. But look, if you lose enough weight I'm sure they'll let me take you home for a visit. Wouldn't that be nice?"

  "Sure. That'll be the day. I made my peace with never seeing home again."

  "But that's not the case. You'll be back to town. Just keep doing what you're told and I'll come pick you up and drive you back to town. The folks will come out for that Agnes. I bet they give you a parade."

  Agnes slapped her knee. "Oh for heaven's sake, I don't want a parade. They'll drive me through the center of town like I was a Rose Parade float—stick some flowers in my hair and dress me up in a Hawaiian hula outfit. I can just see it in my mind. No thank you."

  I laughed. "You're probably right."

  "Of course I am. Now tell me, what is else is happening. Anything with you and Zeb?"

  "Oh, I don't know. One day he seems OK and the next he's all jealous again of Cliff. I don't think he likes the idea of me flying, even though he says he's OK about it."

  "So you're still flying?"

  "I've been up a couple of times, but ever since Walter woke up I've been running around trying to stop Gilda. I think Cliff knows something about her. I've been looking for him all day, but he flew off earlier. I think he had Mildred with him."

  "Maybe he's just taking her for a ride."

  "No, don't think so. He started to tell me something the other day and I'm fairly certain he was referring to Gilda."

  "Yeah, you're right. Mildred is not the joy ride type."

  "I hope they find whatever they're looking for soon and get back here with it. Gilda is fixing to marry Walter the second she can. She has the license and—get this, Agnes—she even finagled Boris into doing the ceremony. Here. At Greenbrier. Maybe even today if we can't stop it."

  Agnes clicked her tongue.

  "I don't want to see him get hurt. Him or Stella."

  "I know what you mean. Stella has had a rough life. Lots of heartaches. I'd hate to see more get piled on."

  In all the years I had known Stella she didn't tell me much about her past. I know she confided in Agnes but Agnes never told me much, if anything. All I knew was that her father ran out on them when she was nine years old and that Walter did something to cheat her and her mother out of a lot of money. She told Agnes and me that when they got word that their father had died there was a large insurance check that Walter somehow scammed away from them.

  Agnes sipped her water. "What's going on with the treasure?"

  "Don't know. Some of the folks were going back up there to hunt some more. But they won't find it."

  "Fools. But I guess if they're having fun."

  "Yeah, maybe one of them will actually find it. I kind of hope Ruth does—if there even is a treasure. Walter's doctor, Doctor Silver, says it's real. Never been found."

  I looked at the clock on Agnes's bureau. "I better get back to Walter's room. Gilda could be there by now."

  "Let me know if you need me."

  Stella stood with her back to me, looking out the window. Walter's eyes were closed. I hoped he was asleep. I guess it would be weird for a while, every time the man fell asleep we'd wonder if he slipped back into a coma.

  "Everything OK," I asked.

  Stella turned with a start. "As OK as it can be," she whispered. "He really wants to marry her. There's nothing I can do to convince him. I didn't have the heart to tell him what we know."

  "We don't really know anything."

  "That's the trouble. If Cliff would come back. He might save the day."

  33

  Sally told me that he'll sleep a lot," Stella said.

  "It hard to understand why a man who's been asleep for five weeks can be so tired," I said feeling a little stupid once the words left my mouth.

  "She said that because one of the things about a coma is that the patient doesn't really sleep, not like we do. There's no sleep cycle, and that's tiring, I suppose."

  "Geez. Who would have thought that it would be hard to be in a coma."

  "I know. She said the next thing to do is to get him on his feet. They already got him sitting on the bed."

  "You mean walking."

  Stella nodded. "Oh, Griselda, I don't want him to marry that woman. I know it ain't right. And it doesn't matter what he did to me in the past. He's still my brother and I guess I . . . I love him."

  "Well sure you do. I remember times when I was so angry with Agnes I wanted to run away. Just up and leave her for good. But I love her. She needed me."

  "She still does, maybe not as much, not in the same way. But she needs you."

  "Oh, I don't know. Maybe. But that's OK too. It's different now, and I kind of like being on my own."

  "And learning to fly," Stella said. "I would never have the guts to go up in that little bitty plane."

  "I don't think I would have had the courage when Agnes was still living at home. It would have been too scary I think."

  "Scary? Really?"

  "Well she never liked it when I was gone—even just to go to the movies with Zeb. I can only imagine how upset she'd be if I was going flying. She'd be so afraid I'd never come back."

  "I've been meaning to ask you about him. What's the deal? Are you two an item or what?"

  "Oh, he's part of the equation, but I want to
take it slow."

  "I don't blame you. But with all this talk about getting married. I was wondering if—"

  "If he asked me to marry him?" I chuckled. "Nah. He hasn't asked me. I don't think he'd ever come right out and propose. If we do get married I think it will be something that just happens, like an understanding."

  "Nate proposed to me in the pumpkin patch. 'Stella,' he said, 'whatdaya say you hitch yourself to my star and we raise prize-winning pumpkins together?' "

  "That was it? That's what he said?"

  "At the time I thought it was the prettiest sentence ever spoken. But now? I think he only married me for my weed-pulling skills."

  We talked for a few more minutes before Sally came in. "I think he'll probably sleep for a while now. Maybe you girls should come back later."

  "I think I'd like to wait here," Stella said. "Just in case Gilda comes."

  "Okie dokie," Sally said. "I was hoping you ran her out of town by now."

  "Nah, she is fixing to marry him the instant she can," Stella said. "Say, I don't suppose you could do something to stop it."

  "Me?" Sally said. "Not if he doesn't want me too."

  I looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly two o'clock, and I was getting tired myself. I had not been at the library all day and we really had no clue if Gilda was coming or not.

  "Look, Stella. Let's go home."

  "No. I want to stay. I want to be here when she comes and sets her claws into him."

  "Then I'll sit with you."

  We pretty much watched Walter sleep for another forty minutes or so, not really talking about anything when we heard a commotion outside his door.

  "What in tarnation is going on?" I said.

  Walter's eyes opened obviously startled by the loud voices.

  "Gilda," he said. "Gilda?"

  Stella went to his side. "No, no it's me, Stella."

  "Gilda," he said.

  "She's coming," Stella said. "Probably on her way."

  I left the room closing the door behind me. A small but rowdy group had gathered at the end of the hall. I mostly saw residents in their robes and sweat suits, canes and walkers.

  "Let me through." I heard a woman's voice.

  "This is unlawful." I heard Boris Lender's voice and my heart raced.