I went into Charlene’s room. John had finished his one-way conversation. He is sitting there, patting her hand. I gave a little cough to let him know I am there. He straightened up in the chair. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. “John, we have to talk.” I don’t know if it is in my tone, the words I said, or the fact Char had not shown any improvement, but John already knew what I was going to tell him. He sat there and wept. I couldn’t cry with him right now I have too many things I must do. When John stopped crying, I told him of my plans to take Char home and about Hospice care.
“Damn right she should pass at home. There is something I’ve been working on. It’s a gift for her birthday. I would like to finish it before you take her home. How long do you think I have before they move her?”
“My guess is no sooner than tomorrow afternoon. What are you making?”
“It’s a surprise, my boy. I have to hurry if I want to finish it.” John managed to stand up. The last few days have not been easy on him. He leaned down and kissed Charlene’s forehead. “I’ll give you a call when I’m done and ready to bring it over.”
“John, don’t push yourself too hard. Charlene would not want your health to suffer over a birthday gift for a dying woman,” my voice cracked as I said dying.
“You let me worry about it,” John moved out of the room fired by his purpose.
I placed the picture Timmy had made for her on the nightstand next to the picture my daughter had drawn. I sat down in the torture chair next to her bed. I started telling Charlene about the plans to take her home. I started telling her about Mark Galos’ threat, the fact I can talk to ghosts, and a thousand other details of the last few days. It is like a dam burst, and it was spewing out of my mouth. It is comforting to talk to her. I only wish she could talk back.
Three times a chime sounded over the speakers, and then came an announcement, “Code blue, room 862.” It repeated three times. There is some bustle outside my wife’s room with doctors and nurses running down the hallway.
A man stood in the doorway wearing a hospital gown. He is of average height with graying black hair which needed a comb, and he is also in need of a shave. He said, “Excuse me, buddy. Do you know what’s going on?”
“I don’t know what to tell you. I think someone is in trouble down the hall. I would try to stay out of the doctors’ way.”
The man stood there a second. He cocked his head like he heard something. “I think I hear some music calling me. See you around. Oh, I hope she gets better.” He turned around and started walking away. He gave me a complete view of his full moon. It is a sight I wish I could unsee. As he walked away, he started to fade away with no smoke, no mirrors just gone.
Well, that’s something you don’t see every day. I felt a shiver run down my spine. I pulled out my phone and called Geneva’s Hospice. I made all the arrangements to have Charlene moved to our house and have her needs cared for until the end came. It confused me as to how easy it is to make these preparations for Char. Will her final preparations be as easy? Somehow, I knew they would not.
My phone went off. I saw who the caller is and sighed. “Hello, Detective Hawkins, how are you this day?”
“None of your so-called humor, Embers. Why didn’t you call the moment you left Greentree?” Detective Hawkins’ anger is oozing out of the phone.
“Sorry, Detective Hawkins, but I’ve been a little busy with my wife’s dying and all.”
“Oh…, I’m sorry. You have my sympathy. Still, you should have called. We have a madman to catch.” The tone of his voice changed a bit. Well, what do you know, he’s not a total dick after all. “We want to put a tail on you. We plan to catch him as he tries to kill you.” Okay, he’s back to being a dick.
“I have an idea. Catch Mark Galos before he tries to kill me. You know. Do the whole Law and Order thing.” The theme to “Law and Order” played in my mind.
“What do you think we’ve been doing since your wife was shot? More than half the damn force is out looking for him. This Mark Galos is a ghost. The last sighting of him was your 9-1-1 call. We don’t believe he has left the area either. The letter was not mailed. It was left at the school.”
“What about his parents? Did you stake their house out?”
“We’re not stupid, Embers. His parents say he hasn’t been there. I don’t think they would lie either as they want him caught too. Okay, Embers, maybe you don’t understand how this goes, but I’m the cop, not you. Besides, we have some other ideas beyond putting a tail on you. If Mr. Galos contacts you in any way, let us know and for heaven’s sake, stay away from the school. In fact, best not to go near any schools. If you go near a school and a kid so much as skins their knee, you’ll wish Mark Galos had shot you. We’ll be in touch.” Frank Hawkins hung up the phone. Galos had them rattled. Threatening children like this, he has to be crazy. What the hell did I do to deserve such hate? I put my mind to work on it as I have other problems in the past. Something will spark an aha moment.
“Mr. K R A P playing Aha as requested.”
“…Take me on Take me on…” I grumbled in my mind and the music stopped.
I sat there with Char for most of the rest of the afternoon, but it is time for me to return home. I have to be there when Moiraine is dropped off by the bus.
I waited for the bus by the curb in front of our house. It pulled up right next to me. It is one of those smaller buses more like a van. This van is equipped with a lift and an extra-wide door for handicapped children. The driver opened the door and activated the lift to let my daughter out. I said to the driver, “You know she can get out the regular passenger door.”
The driver answered me by saying, “State regs say we have to use the lift. I don’t think the committee which thought up the rules ever considered a non-handicapped child would ever use it. Our tax dollars hard at work.”
I grunted my agreement. Moiraine is saying goodbye to the other kids on the bus and hugged one young girl in a wheelchair. She stood on the lift and waited.
“Wee,” my daughter invoked as she rode down. It is not exactly an E-ticket ride, but she enjoyed it.
“Come on, Honey, we have to make the house ready.”
“Ready for what, Daddy?”
“Your Mom is coming home for a little while. I’ll tell you more when we are inside.” I turned to the bus driver, “Thank you for bringing her home safe.”
He walked around to the driver-side door and opened it. “It’s what they pay me for.” He drove off to his next stop.
The afternoon and evening were not amusing. Cleaning house has never been my strong suit. Explaining to Moiraine her mother is coming home to die is a misery I would wish on no one. I think she understood as best as a five-year-old can. Still, I think it is not real to her.
When bedtime came around, she wanted to sleep where her mother usually slept. I saw no harm in it, so I let her. I kissed her goodnight then tucked her in on her mother’s side of the bed. Mo had the teddy bear from her ambulance ride with her. I tucked him in too. She took in a deep breath. “It smells like Mommy.” I felt a tear roll down my face. As I made my way out of the room, I could hear Moiraine whispering words of comfort to her teddy bear.
Life is going to be tough without Charlene to help me raise Mo. John had raised Charlene for most of her life without the benefit of her mother. Maybe I can pick up some pointers. These thoughts invaded my mind as I started drifting off to sleep.
Chapter Ten
I could feel myself floating up, yet I stood in my living room. Looking all around me, everything is clear, but there is no light. Looking down at the recliner, I could see myself sleeping with Blossom on my lap. These dreams are the strangest. Walking through the house to my bedroom, I saw Moiraine is asleep with the teddy bear in a death grip of a hug. Is Charlene dreaming of Mo? The instant I thought of Char, but before the thought was complete, I stood in the hospital room where my wife lay. The false sense of movement is going to make me toss m
y cookies one day. Taking motion sickness pills before bedtime is a definite plan if this keeps up.
“I wish I could talk to you.” Her body started to look fuzzy then it is like she lifted herself up, but her body remained in the bed. She is translucent. In fact, more so than the last time, I had one of these dreams. She stood there, smiling at me. I reached out to touch her cheek. My hand passed right through her. You would think I could touch my own wife in my own dream. I screamed my frustration.
“Nathan, not so loud people are sleeping.” Her voice is rapture to my ears, but it is softer than before. I strained to hear her. “Nathan, I’m scared. I’ve tried to wake-up. Nothing I do seems to help. What’s wrong? Why can’t I wake-up?”
What am I to say to my dream? Not only is she dying in the real world, but she is also fading in the twilight world of my dreams. “The doctor says you’re dying.” I couldn’t bear to see these visions any longer. Willing myself to leave, I began to feel the strange moving without moving sensation.
“Nathan, don’t leave me alone.” I could hear Charlene start to cry.
I am in my living room again. My body is still there in the recliner. My heart sank as the words my wife said faded in my ears. Suddenly a notion hit me. Smack right down to the pit of my stomach. I sat back down in my body. My eyes instantly opened. Blossom stirred, and I pick her up off my lap and put her down in her bed. Without any protest, she quickly went back to sleep.
A glimmer of hope sent me on a mission. Quickly I dressed. With a spare blanket from the closet, I bundled Mo up in it. She never even woke up. She nuzzled into my shoulder. Frantically I raced out to the car and put Moiraine in her car seat. I drove like a man possessed for I am possessed with the hope of somehow my wife still lives. We made it to the hospital in record time. Stabbing at the up button of the elevator, I said, “Come on. Come on,” I pushed the button again. It is a futile gesture, but I don’t care. The bell dinged, and the doors opened. The ride up to my wife’s room took forever. My daughter stirred in my arms.
“Daddy, where are we?” She said as she yawned.
“Go back to sleep, Honey.” The bell rang again, and the doors opened. I pushed past the doors as the space allowed. With my daughter in my arms, I ran to my wife’s room. The room is dark, but enough light leaked in from the hallway I could see the shadowy shape of my wife in the bed. I turned on the light and walked up to her bedside. Tear tracks are running down the sides of her head. My wife had been crying. The room started to spin. Putting Moiraine down next to her mother in the bed, she rolled over a bit and snuggled up to her mom. Mo took in a breath.
“Mommy,” Moiraine said.
Setting down in the chair by her bed, I tried to understand it all. Did I talk to Charlene in my sleep? She was crying as I left in the dream. She is crying here in her hospital bed. Dr. Hazer said she is dead and her body just didn’t know it yet. Is my wife dead? Is it why I could talk to her? Is she still alive, and that’s why I could only talk to her in my dreams. Am I grasping at straws? There are so many strange things happening to me. I gazed around the room to see if Rod Serling is talking to the audience. So many questions, and so few answers.
Once I felt my legs were steady again, I walked to the nurse’s station. “Ms., I am visiting my wife. She is the woman in room 865. I think she is waking up; I saw her crying. Please, come check,” there is near panic in my voice.
“Her eyes are most likely irritated. It happens all the time, but I will check on her.” The nurse came into Char’s room. When she saw Mo sleeping in the bed with Charlene, she became frustrated with me. “Sir, your child should not be in your wife’s bed. Please remove her so I can work.” I wondered if they put this nurse on the night shift because she is such a bitch when there is no need. She began doing all those things nurses do. She checked Char’s pulse, looked in her eyes, checked her blood pressure, and tried to wake her. “I am sorry, sir, but there is no change in her condition.” The nurse left. What was I thinking? It was only a dream. I stood there with Moiraine in my arms and looked down at my wife. Grabbing a tissue to wipe the tears off my wife, I leaned down and kissed my wife tenderly on her lips.
Whispering into Moiraine’s ear, I said, “Okay, my little crumb cruncher, let’s return you to your bed.”
“Goodnight, Mommy.” She said with a yawn. Mo had never even opened her eyes.
The switch clicked loudly when I turned the lights back out and closed the door. Driving us home, the song “All I Have to Do Is Dream” by The Everly Brothers is playing gently in the background of my thoughts.
It is my turn for bed. I tried to recapture the magic of my last dream. The dream did not come. I am failing at a great many endeavors as of late.
The alarm on my cell phone went off. It is time to make ready for the day. I got Moiraine up and dressed for school. Breakfast was made and eaten. How quickly I had started to slip into a routine without Char. The thought tortured me with guilt, and I broke down and cried.
We waited for the bus at the curb. It came by shortly, and Mo was off to school. My heart sank, missing the walk to school, with no longer crossing the kids at Greentree, and yes, I even miss my old boring, run-of-the-mill life.
My phone went off with a text from John saying he is on the way over to the house with Charlene’s birthday present. Well, I didn’t want to wait twiddling my thumbs, so I started in on the household chores laundry, breakfast dishes, and the like. At about ten a.m. I phone went off with a text from John asking me to come out and give him a hand with Char’s birthday present. What the …?
There, parked in the street, is a U-Haul truck with John standing beside it. I walked down to the street to see what John had in mind. He looks grave. His face is chalky and had a fine sheen of perspiration. His breathing is a little labored also.
“John, sit down. You look worn-out. Take a rest. They said they are bringing Charlene over later this afternoon. We have hours to unload the truck.” He nodded a couple of times, and I helped him to slowly sit down right there on the curb. “Can I get you a glass of water or something?”
“No, Nathan, thank you. A breather is all I need. I’ve been up all night doing the finishing touches on Charlene’s birthday present.”
“What did you make her?”
“Oh, wait till you see it, son. I made her a bed a fine canopy bed. I made it with these.” He held up his hands. “They had the magic last night my boy. I have been working on the bed off and on since Charlene was about Mo’s age. I never had the time to finish it. I never made the time to finish it. I was too busy with life. You know getting food on the table. Making sure Char had all the things she needed. But I finished it last night. Well, early this morning.”
“John, you worked yourself half to death. Is it so important?”
“Important!” John raised his voice and started to stand. I gently pulled him back down. “I promised her the bed, and by God, I am going to see she got it! I had promised her the bed, but I kept finding things more urgent. Now it is the most urgent thing I could do for my little girl. Lord knows I tried to do right by her my whole life. It is the one promise I ever made to her I never fulfilled. I am going to keep my promise to her even if it killed me.”
“John, you look like it almost did. You sit there awhile. I’ll get her bedroom ready for the bed.” He shook his head yes and sat there. I went into my bedroom and stripped the bed of the sheets and blankets. I dismantled the bed and took the pieces and placed them out of the way in the living room. I looked at the space where the bed was expecting to see a warren of dust bunnies. There is not one bunny. “My God woman, did you ever do anything in this house but clean?” Then I remembered a few things we had done in this house which weren’t cleaning. I smiled. A cold shower is in order, I think.
I started the process of unloading the truck and moving everything into the bedroom. The bed is a huge California King. How did John load it onto the truck by himself? I remembered my own musing on women and the strength they give m
en. It seems it is not only the woman we share our life with who gives us strength, but also our daughters who can give us strength. I understood how he loaded the truck. As I unloaded the truck, I refused any help from John. He has me worried. I am going to need his wisdom and insight if I am going to raise Moiraine by myself, so I promoted him to a supervisory position.
The bed is made of a luxurious walnut wood deep and rich. It is solid too, and the whole thing fits together like a giant three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle. The really amazing thing is it doesn’t need any bolts or screws, no hardware at all. All the seams met perfectly. There are no gaps. You could not fit a sheet of paper between the boards. He even managed to align the grain of the wood to match up. I put the bed together, and if I didn’t remember how it all came together, I could not find the joints. The headboard is a marvel. It is one large piece, carved with a beautiful mural. Beginning on the left is a depiction of a young John and Marlene looking down into a crib at Charlene as an infant. Next, there is a little girl at play in a room filled with dolls. As my eyes followed the scenes, moments appeared in the wood from Charlene’s life. The first day of school is next. Then a scene where she is as a young teen with two faces back to back with one side playing with dolls and on the other side looking into a mirror and putting on make-up. The next scene is Charlene as a young woman wearing a cap and gown with a diploma in hand. Next, there is a scene of Charlene in her wedding dress. You could clearly see the detail of the lace in her gown. John captured her beauty too. The last scene of the mural is of both Charlene and me looking down into a crib with Moiraine fast asleep.
The Forging Page 15
