Mama's Comfort Food

by Rhett DeVane

  Dawn chuckled. “I think it’s so the patient will hurry up and get well enough to go home. Keep on trying with the food and liquids, Mary. The sooner you eat and drink and move around, the sooner you can break out of this joint.”

  “You have to perform the three P’s, too,” Hattie added.

  The nurse supplied the explanation: “Pee, poop, and pass gas.” She glanced around the room. “Look at all your flowers and plants! I don’t believe the Pink Ladies could stuff one more arrangement in here.”

  “This isn’t all of them,” Hattie said. “Our friend Jake Witherspoon is the main florist in Chattahoochee. He’s holding orders at his shop until she gets home.”

  “Probably a good thing. Too many more obstacles and the IV monitor pole wouldn’t fit in here. Is your mother going to stay tonight, Mary? If not, I can call to have the cot taken away to give you a bit more room. I’m going to remove the catheter in a bit, and you’ll have to maneuver your way to the bathroom.”

  “Knowing Mama, she’ll be here.”

  Hattie said, “Actually, I’m staying tonight. I’m sending Ev home. She wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but she’s dead on her feet. The only way she would agree to go home is if I stayed.”

  “I’m sorry, Hattie. This whole thing has been so disruptive for you and my whole family.”

  “They never left my side when I was in here. It really helps to have someone to get your wobbly self and that dang rolling pole contraption crammed into the bathroom. Trust me on this one.”

  “I’ll leave you ladies for now. Mary, I’d like for you and Hattie to go for a little stroll this afternoon after I remove the catheter. You’ll need to slip the leg sleeves off—they’re held together with Velcro strips. Take it slow and don’t feel like you have to go a mile. Just get up and stretch some, even try sitting up in the recliner instead of the bed. It will help everything wake up and start to move, if you catch my drift.”

  “One more thing,” Karen added. “I’m really starting to itch.”

  “That would be the morphine. Itching is an unfortunate after-effect. I’ll contact Dr. Strathmore. If you aren’t experiencing a lot of pain and can switch to oral meds, I don’t see why we can’t get rid of the pump, or he may order Benadryl in your IV to help with the itching.”

  “Thanks, Dawn.”

  Hattie settled onto the side of the bed. “How big’s your incision? Have you seen it yet?”

  “There are three. The one on my breast is crescent-shaped, about three inches long. I have two railroad-track cuts under my armpit where they took the lymph nodes. I have a feeling those are going to be the sore ones. Also, the drains—pretty creepy. They are leaking mostly bloody-looking fluid now, but Dr. Strathmore said it’ll run clear soon. I suppose a nurse will give me drain-care instructions before I leave here. I will have them in for a week or longer. In the meantime, I suppose I’ll just sit around and ooze.”

  “Nice visual, Karen. Thanks for that.”

  “You’re most welcome.” Karen glanced around the small private room. “Who are all these from? Mama was reading off the cards last night, but I was so groggy on the morphine I don’t remember.”

  Hattie picked the florist cards from each arrangement, one by one, reading the typed inscriptions. “The peace lily plant is from the prayer circle at the Morningside AME church. African violet basket—the Chattahoochee Woman’s Club. Elvina’s the president. Assorted spring flower bouquet from . . . Wanda Orenstein and Pinky Green. That’s sweet. Hanging fern, First Baptist Church Adult Women’s Sunday School Class—your mama’s friends. The basket of daisies is from your coworkers at GMPTV. They’ve all signed the card. See?”

  Hattie held a small planter aloft. “Here’s the plant Holston and I ordered—a miniature rose. I didn’t know it had arrived. I thought Evelyn could transplant it for you later into a larger container. They work well indoors.”

  “It’s beautiful, Hattie.”

  She plucked the Dragonfly Florist card from a plastic stake. “I’ll bet even money this one came from Jake.”

  “Looks oriental.”

  “His specialty. Jake has this thing for asymmetrical arrangements. He says that since his leg was damaged from the assault, his body is not even. So, he’s drawn to finding balance that’s off-center. Does a great job, don’t you think?”

  Karen pointed to a glass vase containing a dozen long-stemmed red roses and fern. “Who sent those?”

  Hattie carefully lifted the heavy vase from the top corner shelf and opened the card. “All my love and best wishes for a speedy recovery. Donald.”

  “Oh.”

  “Your mom said he’s called twice since the surgery to check on you.”

  Karen’s expression darkened. Tears appeared at the corners of her eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you by telling you that. I promise I won’t mention him again.”

  Karen waved her hand dismissively. “It’s not you, Hattie. It’s me. I don’t really know what to do about Donald. The woman he thinks he loves doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “Have you ever thought maybe he loves you, regardless of who you really are?”

  She sighed. “That’s just it. I don’t know myself. How can I possibly have anything to offer another person?”

  “You’ll figure it out. The one thing I found out about my run-in with cancer, it whisks away the chaff in your life pretty quickly. The real you will come shining through.”

  “I’m going to set up with a counselor Daddy’s found after I recover from surgery.”

  “Not a bad idea. You feel it will help?”

  Karen shrugged, then winced at the tug of the stitches beneath her arm. “My thoughts are so muddled. I feel like if I just had someone who could direct me, I might have a better chance of unraveling this web I’ve created.”

  “Knowing when to ask for help is half the battle, my mama used to say.”

  “Baking was my mother’s specialty. Cakes, pies, bread. She wasn’t much for making big family dinners—save for Thanksgiving and Christmas, maybe. But she would get in one of her baking moods and there would be two or three cakes and pies before she wound down. Afterwards, she would always send me or one of my sisters to deliver one to a neighbor’s house. Good baking is made better by sharing, she always said.”

  Dr. Joe Fletcher

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Less than a week after surgery, the cave dream returned in vivid detail. As soon as she drifted off to sleep, Karen’s dream-self stood at the mouth of the earthen room. The mingled scent of magnolia and gardenia blooms permeated the misty mountain air. She looked behind for the mystery hiking companion. The series of sharp boulder-strewn switchbacks revealed no movement save the fleeting flash of a lizard scampering for shade.

  A faint shuffling noise caused her to spin around. Karen squinted into the murky cool darkness. The scuttle was followed by periods of profound silence. An oversized insect head appeared in the dim light, and Karen inhaled sharply, inching slowly backwards toward the dirt clearing at the cave entrance.

  Two multifaceted globe-shaped eyes gleamed in the reflected illumination, and a set of willowy feelers whipped the air. The creature moved steadily toward freedom. Karen tripped backward and fell onto her side, and then shifted to the protection of a granite boulder. The insect staggered fully into the daylight, all six legs carrying the body forward until the segmented tail cleared the cave opening. Four iridescent wings unfurled with a snap like sails committed to a stiff sea breeze. Sunlight reflected from the sequined wing panels in jewel shades of purple, blue, and green.

  Karen gasped. The head swiveled in her direction. A sensation of benevolence exuded from the exquisite winged creature. Karen felt the tension ebb from her sore muscles.

  No need to worry. The sentence came into her awareness, spoken from wordless lips. We are watching over you.

  The five-foot double wings vibrated, and the creature lifted effortlessly from the ground. It hovered moment
arily above the spot where Karen huddled before rising smoothly into the sky. She followed its departure until it was a darting speck above the tree line.

  In moments, the clearing was awash with normal-sized dragonflies: legions of multi-colored winged creatures. Some rested on the tips of branches and overturned boulders, others sailed and danced on the mountain breezes.

  Far away, the insistent jangle of a shrill bell shattered the peace. The mystical valley disintegrated into dim fragments as Karen fought to regain conscious thought.

  Disoriented, she peered into the room. Tall plants and multiple clusters of fresh flowers decorated the low light.

  “I’m in the garden room at Mama’s,” she said out loud.

  She uncurled from one end of the wicker loveseat where the tortuous night had finally surrendered to sweet dream-laced sleep. The dual incisions in her armpit stung slightly as she sat upright. Someone was moving stealthily in the kitchen in the main part of the house.

  “Mama? Daddy?”

  Evelyn appeared at the doorway. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry I awakened you.”

  “Was that the phone?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. I tried to catch it before it rang too long.”

  Karen glanced at the luminous dial on a miniature crystal clock on the wicker table in front of the loveseat. “It’s two o’clock.”

  Her mother descended the steps down to the garden room, clutching her chenille robe to her throat. “It was your Aunt Diane up in Virginia. I’m afraid your Grandma Fletcher’s suffered a stroke.”

  “Is it bad?”

  Evelyn perched on the edge of the chair opposite of the loveseat and absently pushed a stray hank of sleep-tousled hair behind one ear. “I’m afraid so. Diane didn’t know whether or not their mama would make it through the night. She tormented herself about calling so late, but wanted Joe to check with the airlines as soon as possible to see how quickly he could get home.”

  She fidgeted with her wedding band, twirling it around on her finger until the skin reddened. “Mama used to say things happen in clusters—good and bad. You just have to keep your head above the surface and tread like the dickens until the bad clusters pass you by.”

  Karen reached over and grasped her mother’s hand. “We’re in one heck of a cluster here lately.”

  “Sad thing is, we had planned on going up to Virginia sometime this year to spend a few days with Mildred. Joe was going to close up the shop.” Her mother’s eyes watered.

  “I’m so sorry I ruined those plans.”

  Evelyn squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Oh, no, honey. That wasn’t aimed in your direction at all! Joe’s mama wouldn’t set foot on an airplane if she heard it went straight to glory. I can think of only one time she ever ventured farther south than the Virginia state line. That was when your daddy and I got married up at the church in Alabama.”

  Evelyn shook her head. “Joe and I have seen her a handful of times in the past ten years—all when he got a few days off from work and we could drive up. She was a dear sweet woman, your Grandmother Fletcher. She didn’t take much to travel; she only saw you and Byron in person twice.”

  “Mama, you’re talking about her like she’s already dead. She could pull through this.”

  “No, honey. Not from what your Aunt Diane told me. Mildred’s on life support now, just so your daddy can see her before . . .” Evelyn hung her head.

  “You are going up with him, of course.”

  “Oh, no. I couldn’t leave you alone.”

  “I’ll be okay, Mom. It’s not like this is a big unfriendly city. I have the follow-up with Dr. Strathmore early next week to remove the drains. But I’m sure I can drive myself over.”

  “You’ll do no such! I’ll call Elvina.”

  “Why don’t you let me worry about that? It’ll work out. Your place right now is with Daddy. You’ve gotten me out of immediate danger. Now, it’s just a waiting game until I start radiation therapy.”

  Evelyn frowned. “I just don’t know—”

  “I do. If Grandma Fletcher is so near death, then you’ll need to stay on for the arrangements and funeral, maybe longer. I assure you, I can’t even so much as check the mailbox out by the road without someone spotting me and setting off the little-old-lady-hotline alert.”

  “That Elvina is a dear, isn’t she? Those women all check in with her. So much like Mama used to be—so full of concern for other folks’ well being.”

  Her mother smiled. “Mama used to say Elvina was a pea-shade shy of a busybody. I hated to point it out, her being my mother, but that sure was the pot calling the kettle black.”

  “You need me to help you and Daddy pack?”

  “No. Your daddy’s on the computer with the airlines right now seeing to a flight. I’ll go tell him to reserve me a seat, too. I never flew until we all went on the cruise a couple of years back, but I surely love it. I just hate that it’s under such conditions as this.”

  “Maybe you and Daddy can plan a fun vacation soon.”

  “Maybe so. We’ll just have to see what fate sends our way. Do you need anything? I could brew you a cup of chamomile tea. Maybe that would help you regain sleep.”

  “No, Mama. You go be with Daddy. I can fend for myself.”

  Evelyn reached over and hugged her daughter gently before slipping back into the main part of the house.

  Elvina Houston dabbed the beads of perspiration from her brow with an embroidered handkerchief.

  “Lordy be! It’s just now seven thirty and already the humidity’s setting in! I swannee, the summers seem to get longer and longer every year.”

  She reached down and plucked a beggar weed from the edge of the Piddie Longman Memorial Daisy Garden.

  “Piddie, I know you’re looking down on your daughter, especially now. She and Joe have surely had a tough row to hoe here lately with Karen’s cancer and now Mildred’s passing. You always were fond of her, as I recall. Didn’t see much of her over the years, but y’all wrote regular, and you were always commenting on some book she’d mailed you or one you were sending her way.

  “She went peaceful; Evelyn told me when she called last night. Never regained her senses once the stroke came on her. Joe got to sit by her bed for a while afore she passed. Evelyn was glad of that.

  “The graveside service is set for day after tomorrow to let any of the rest of the family come in. They’re scattered all across the globe, save Joe’s sister, Diane. One cousin is flying in from Germany!”

  She patted the damp skin beneath her bodice and fanned furiously. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was having a hot flash.” Elvina chuckled. “But that ship sailed many moons ago.

  “We’ve all been taking turns checking in on Karen. She’s doing all right rattling around in that big old house by herself. I offered to stay over with her at night, but she said she wasn’t the least bit scared. Folks still bring food by to her, as they always do around here in times of trouble or need. It kindly blows Karen away that people have been so generous toward her. I explained that her mama and daddy are always among the first to come to someone’s aid, and it’s just our way to look out for one another. Reckon she forgot all that, living up in the big city.”

  Elvina watched two chickadees squabbling over a perch on one of the three bird feeders.

  “Karen’s took up drawing to pass the time. Said she used to do it a lot back in college, but fell out of the habit. The pictures are pretty fantastical. Gobs of dragonflies and mountains and such. Don’t much understand it, but it seems to be helping her.”

  She pitched a peanut to her pet squirrel. “I didn’t think you were coming this morning. Here, go on and take the rest I brought out for you. I can’t sit out here too long this morning.

  “I’ve volunteered to drive Karen over to have those drains removed first of the week. She wants to make a stop by the art supply shop and get some brushes and paints.” Elvina smiled. “Remember when all our gang—Betsy Witherspoon, Sissy Pridgeon, you, and me�
�used to get together and paint by numbers? I still have that barn picture you did hanging right over my mantle in the living room. I cherish it like it was made out of pure gold.

  “Anyway, I figure to pick up some fresh supplies, too. I think I’ll try my hand at painting again. Since you been gone, I’ve been hard-pressed to fill time on the weekends and they just drag by. Me and Angelina talk on the phone regular, but it just ain’t the same. You and me was always up to something or other.”

  Her voice grew low and conspiratorial, as if the shrubs and song birds had ears. “I talked to Karen’s beau on the phone yesterday. He’s been calling the Triple C to speak with Evelyn about Karen’s progress. I told him about Evelyn and Joe being gone up to Virginia for the funeral.

  “He’s a nice young man, and I do believe he holds love in his heart of hearts for Karen. I gave him a little pep talk. Couldn’t help it. The boy sounded so low he had to look up to see the bottom. I told him not to give up, that Karen was sorting herself out. He asked a pile of questions about the family, so I filled him in. Piddie, you don’t reckon anyone will mind, do you?”

  Elvina swatted the air with one hand. “Psshaw! It’s like you always maintained, even Cupid needs a swift kick in the patootie on occasion.”

  “The Countess, Betsy Lou Witherspoon, barely knew where the kitchen was, much less how to actually pick up a pan. When I think of comfort food, it doesn’t send me into spasms of homesickness like it does other folks.”

  Jake Witherspoon, owner of The Dragonfly Florist

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Whenever there is a pause, it’s your turn,” Karen quipped.

  Simpy grimaced. “Keep your panties on, sister. True cinematic genius takes time.”

  “Do you need me to move more to the side?” asked Heidi Parker, Dr. Strathmore’s nurse practitioner.

  Simpy looked pensive. “I’m trying to figure out—would it better to actually see the drain coming out? Or, would that be too graphic?”