I don’t know what to do. I’m in the greenhouse, but I’m not really focusing on my work. I keep hoping to feel my phone buzz in my pocket, to hear Kitty’s voice, but she meant it when she said a break. My deadline for arranging the farmers’ market is coming right up. I know Betty, the organizer, and I need to call her and tell her the plan is off.
Every time I’ve gone into town this week, people have been stopping me to ask when our next pop-up night is, and I haven’t been able to tell them, just to direct them to our website or to our Facebook page. I wanted to be able to say Next Saturday, be sure to come! or something similar.
And I worry about Kitty. Monday night she sounded utterly exhausted, more than I’ve ever heard her sound before. More exhausted than after cooking Saturday night, or even after any usual work night for her. I shake my head. I shouldn’t even be thinking about her. I should have known a city girl would choose her city life over me. They always do. And with her job, with it being so all-encompassing, I really should have known better. I let our casual thing become a lot more, got swept up in the excitement of Kitty, of the pop-up, of finding a real partner and a real passion.
* * *
Alice and I get into Calgary early, early enough that I can deal with the traffic downtown, find a spot outside Kitty’s building, and grab two punnets of raspberries to take up to her. I had thought about it and decided not to bring her anything, but Alice encouraged me to do so anyway. “If you let her know you still care, then maybe she’ll figure out what’s truly important.” Typical Alice. I’m not so certain, and once I pull up outside the building, I sit back in my seat. I shouldn’t be going up there. I should leave Kitty alone, let her work. Get her out of my mind and my heart. But Alice waves me on when I continue to sit there.
“I’ll just relax here—you go on. Remember what I said. She’ll come around.”
“I don’t think she will.” But I undo my seat belt and take the punnets with me.
I’m wearing my nicest jeans and a clean shirt, but I feel utterly out of place next to all the executives and lawyers in the elevator and then in Kitty’s law firm as the receptionist calls back to let her know I’m here. In a few minutes, I spot Cindy coming out from the depths of the office. She smiles at me, but her smile doesn’t stick. She looks a bit harried, a bit overtired. Like she’s been burning the candle at both ends.
“Hi, Lucy,” she says, giving me a brief, gentle hug. I hug her back.
“I thought I’d surprise you two,” I say. I hold up the raspberries. “Just a little something to help you through the day.”
Cindy smiles again, this time a little more widely, a little longer.
“You are a lifesaver,” she says. “I feel like I haven’t seen real food since Saturday. And Kitty is stuck in meetings. I’m sure she’ll be disappointed to miss you.”
“I don’t know that she’d want to see me at all.”
“What do you mean?” Cindy looks shocked. She takes my arm and we walk out into the hallway, then into a stairwell. “What’s going on?”
I swallow back the lump in my throat, blink back the tears. “She wanted a break. From everything. I don’t know what’s with her. It’s hot and cold. I thought…well, I’m sure you can guess what I thought. I don’t know why.”
Cindy shakes her head. “I had no idea. But at work, it’s a long story,” she says. “Kitty’s under a lot of stress, a lot to handle to make things right.”
I wish Kitty had confided in me more. I feel unimportant, unwanted. “I see. I guess I’ll be on my way. We’re at the farmers’ market today and need to go get set up.”
We move back into the hallway. “Maybe the berries will bring her back to her senses,” she says. I shake my head.
“You can keep them. I have to go.”
* * *
When we get to our spot at the market, Alice puts out a framed copy of Monday’s article from the local paper, proudly displaying it for all to see.
“When did you do that?” I ask.
“When you were in the greenhouse yesterday,” she says. “Your mom found the frame.” She adjusts it slightly on our table. “You and Kitty should be proud.”
“We are,” I say, “but I don’t know when we’ll be able to do it again. If ever.” I bite my lip.
“You’ll figure it out,” Alice says confidently. “Maybe the rarity will add to Ming Kitty’s cachet?”
“Maybe.” I hadn’t thought of that. But I doubt it will happen at all.
After that, I don’t have much time to think of anything but getting Country Mouse’s produce into the hands of our customers. It seems that the review has brought more attention than I’d expected, and we quickly sell out of raspberries and strawberries, and our stock of vegetables is quickly depleting. I feel my phone buzzing, but my hands are full with two bags of salad for my latest customer, a woman with two young kids who fuss as she pays with her debit card. It’s late in the afternoon, and I’m sure they are about ready for their naps.
I come out from behind my table, blueberries in hand. I signal to the mother what I’m about to do, and she nods approval. “Do you like berries?” I ask the kids. They both go surprisingly quiet, eyes wide. They look up at their mother, who nods.
“Brett, Sherri, what do you say?” she asks.
“Yes, please,” Sherri says. “And thank you,” Brett adds.
I hold out the punnet, and they each take a small handful of blueberries. Sherri stuffs hers into her mouth, eyes closing. At that moment, she reminds me of Kitty, of the first time she had one of my blackberries. Brett slowly eats each berry, savoring every bite.
“Thank you,” their mother says. “Add that to my bill.”
I wave it off. “Tasters are free,” I say.
“Mom,” Sherri says, hooking her arm around her mom’s leg. “Can we have more blueberries?”
“Next week,” she says. “We have all we need today.” She gives me a smile and leads her kids away. Another customer takes her place, and it’s a good half an hour before I get a chance to check my phone.
There’s a missed call from home. That’s not usual—Mama knows when we’re busy, and she wouldn’t call to chat if she didn’t need to. I notice there’s a voicemail icon flashing, so I dial in. The reception isn’t very good, and the market is loud, so I move a few paces away, putting my finger into my free ear to block out some of the noise.
It’s not Mama’s voice on the message. It ends, and I hit the button to repeat it. This time, I catch more of the words.
“This is Tony, I’m one of the paramedics here. Your mother has had a fall, and it seems that she may have broken her ankle. We’re taking her into the hospital in south Calgary. You can meet us there. We’ll be in the emergency department.” The paramedic rattles off the phone number for the hospital. I grab a pen and find a scrap of cardboard, scribbling down the number. When I hang up, I feel queasy, lightheaded.
“What’s wrong?” Alice is ever perceptive.
“Mama’s going to the hospital. That was a message from a paramedic.”
“Let’s go,” Alice says immediately. “We’re almost sold out—there’s no harm in leaving now. This is way more important.”
We pack up in a rush, and when we’re in the van, I pull out my phone and look up the route to the hospital. My hands are shaking, and Alice takes the phone from me, tapping in the information.
“She’ll be fine,” Alice says. Her calm voice is soothing somehow, but I can’t wait to get moving. Alice passes the phone back over. “We can get out to Deerfoot Trail, and it’s the Seton exit,” she says. “Easy.”
The drive passes in a blur, though I know I’m being careful. My knuckles are white from clutching the steering wheel, and I feel like we’re going far too slow. Once we get to the hospital, it’s hard to find parking. The surface lots are full and once in the underground parkade, it feels like we’ve driven kilometers before I find a spot.
Alice unbuckles her seat belt and we meet at the hood. I hit the button on my fob to lock the van, and we find the nearest elevator. Alice is leading the way and I have never been more thankful for her presence. We follow the signs to the emergency department, and after Alice inquires with the triage nurse, we’re led into the back to a bed. Mama’s lying there, her face pinched and pale. She smiles wanly at us.
“I was clumsy,” she says before we can say anything. She waves a hand at her foot, carefully braced. “Tripped on the stairs and fell.”
“Can you come home soon?” I ask.
A nurse sticks her head in. “Are you Mrs. Shen’s daughter?” she asks. I nod. “Your mother has to have surgery on her ankle, so she’ll be in for a long while yet. We are still waiting for the surgery to be scheduled.”
Alice frowns. “How long will it be?”
The nurse shrugs. “When we know, we’ll let you know. Hopefully by tomorrow, if not earlier.”
“Tomorrow?”
“We’re a busy hospital. She’s stable, and we just had two people from a collision come in, so she’s not the highest priority. But I can promise you we’ll get her in as soon as we can.”
The nurse leaves. I sink down into the chair next to Mama’s bed. Alice perches on the side of the bed opposite Mama’s broken ankle.
“I can take the van back to the farm if you want to stay here,” Alice suggests. “And I can come back in the morning and spell you.” She shakes her head. “I sure hope we’re not going to be here too long. Are you doing all right, Michelle?”
“Been better,” Mama says. She indicates the IV in her arm. “They gave me something for the pain. It helps, somewhat.”
“Are you sure?”
Alice bends to hug Mama and then pats my arm before she leaves, van keys in her hand. I move to take her place on the edge of the bed.
“I will be fine, Ming Nhon,” Mama says. “The doctors have assured me I will be.”
“I should have been there,” I fret.
“You would have caught me from falling?” Mama asks. “No, these things just happen. I made it to the phone and called. I am fine,” she repeats.
“But what if it had been worse?”
“It wasn’t,” Mama points out. “And I have always managed. Just like how I came from China to marry your father. If I could come that far, what’s a broken ankle?” She takes hold of my hand. “I will be fine. But you can’t blame yourself.”
I nod, though I’m not sure I can make myself blameless. I should have been there.
“How is Kitty?” Mama asks after a short time of quiet, as we listen to all the bustle of the emergency department around us.
“Busy,” I say and relate my earlier visit. “But that’s typical.”
“She will come to her senses,” Mama says.
“I’m not going to wait on her to do that,” I retort, more sharply than I intend.
“She needs to find her way. I know she will.” Mama is a lot more confident than I am, but then, I’ve kept the worst from her. She wasn’t the one who had to hear Kitty’s words over the phone, the finality of them.
“You should text her,” Mama says. “She will be worried if you don’t.”
I don’t know that she would be, since we didn’t even see each other today, but I pull out my phone and send Kitty a long text, letting her know what’s happened to Mama. If nothing else, Kitty has been kind to Mama, and I know she’d want to know.
I set my phone on the bed beside me, though it doesn’t sit there long. It buzzes, and I see that it’s Kitty calling.
“Will your mom be okay?” she asks as soon as I pick up. “I can come help.”
“We’re just waiting for her to be cleared for surgery,” I say, “And it might be a while. They’re busy here.”
“Do you need anything to eat?” Kitty asks. “It’s dinnertime, and I’m almost finished here and can come down.”
“Whatever you want to bring,” I say. “I’m not picky.” I look at Mama. “You?”
Mama shakes her head. “The doctor told me I can’t eat until after the surgery.”
“I’ll pick up some takeout and then be down as soon as I can. Hang in there, Lucy.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I’ll be there in a bit.”
“She’s the best girl for you, even still,” Mama says after I hang up. She squeezes my hand. “Maybe we can give Cindy some free fruit every month for bringing her along that day to meet you.”
I chuckle. “I’m sure she wouldn’t say no to fruit, but she might not take it. I don’t think that was a setup.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Mama says. She lies back and closes her eyes. “Wake me when Kitty gets here.”
I move back to the chair. If Cindy really did set us up, I sure owe her. Although with what’s happened, I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not, no matter what Mama says.
* * *
I’m exhausted when I walk into the hospital, peering at signs, trying to find the emergency department. I’ve picked up some Chinese takeout—perhaps not the best choice, but the restaurant was close and I was craving. I just hope Lucy likes chop suey Chinese food. Until I met her, I had no real idea how different the Chinese restaurant food was from what she and Michelle made at home, from what was in all those cookbooks that Michelle had collected over the years. In some ways, the food is completely different, yet in others, close to the same.
I have chow mein, almond soo-gai, ginger beef, and a mixed vegetables selection in my bag. I’m not sure how we’ll eat all this, but I picked up some paper plates and made sure the restaurant threw in a few pairs of wooden chopsticks. I may have overdone things. I hope she wasn’t expecting a sandwich and a can of Coke. I take a deep breath. It’s silly to be worrying about this, of all things. There’s work and Michelle to worry about. Real things, not this silly thing about food. Lucy and I might have taken a break, but Michelle’s still one of the best people I’ve ever met.
I take another deep breath as I come to the entrance of the emergency department. The triage nurse eyes me; her glance is at once skeptical yet welcoming.
“I’m here to see Michelle Shen,” I say. The nurse looks at her computer, then presses a button that opens the door next to her. I walk through.
“Mrs. Shen is just through there,” she says, pointing at a long hallway with curtained beds.
“Thank you.” I walk slowly down the hallway, glancing back and forth, not seeing them yet. When I’ve nearly reached the end, I hear Lucy’s voice. She must be on the phone, because I don’t hear Michelle replying.
“We’re still waiting. I don’t know when the surgery will be.” I hear Lucy sigh. “I’ll be here as long as I need to be. We can skip the market tomorrow.” She pauses, and I take that moment to pull back the curtain and slip inside.
Michelle is asleep, and Lucy is turned away, her cell phone to her ear. “Alice,” she says, “Mama is more important, and it’s too hard for one person to work the market alone.”
Alice must say something forceful, because Lucy sighs again. “All right, you can do it. And I’ll come home as soon as I can.” She hangs up the phone and turns back to the bed.
“Hey,” I say. “How’s your mom?” I lower my voice. “I’ve brought Chinese.”
“She’s all right, but we’re still waiting for the surgery time. I think I’ll end up being here all night. And Chinese sounds great. I’ll take anything. The vending machines are lacking.”
We maneuver the tray over Michelle’s bed. Lucy perches on the edge of the bed, carefully avoiding jostling her mother. I perch on the edge of the chair, sliding it as close as I can. We lay out the containers on the tray, and I hand Lucy a plate and a pair of chopsticks.
“Serve yourself. I’m not sure we can eat all this.”
Lucy gives a low chuckle. “Probably not, but it looks delicious.”
I try not to overload my plate; the paper is flimsier than I expected. We eat slowly, trying to stay quiet and let Michelle sleep without interruption. When we finally finish all we can manage, I package everything back up in the bag and find a garbage can for our plates and chopsticks.
“Do you want to come home with me and rest for a while?” I ask quietly. “I can have you back here first thing in the morning.”
Lucy shakes her head. “I’d like to, but I should stay. I don’t want to leave Mama alone.”
Michelle shifts on the bed, opening her eyes. “You should go home with Kitty,” she says. “You need your rest. They aren’t going to do anything bad to me.” She smiles tiredly.
“It could be anytime,” Lucy objects. Michelle shakes her head.
“Go ask the nurse,” she says. “If they don’t know about surgery yet, then you should go and rest. It’s getting late.”
Lucy rises and leaves. The curtain falls back into place.
“Thank you for coming,” Michelle says to me. “And for taking care of my girl. She works too hard sometimes.”
“Don’t we all.” I shake my head. As if on cue, my phone buzzes. I check it and see a new email from a client.
“You work too hard too,” Michelle observes. “You’d be better working at the restaurant, or even the farm.” She smiles. “You look happier there than looking at your phone.”
“I’m close to making partner,” I tell her. “So close. But I have some work to do to make up for a big error.”
“Partner,” Michelle echoes. “Isn’t that just another way to get you to work even harder?” She pats my hand. “I know it’s hard to establish yourself. Even when you’re close to forty. Younger than Lucy, though.”
“Not by much,” I say.
Michelle smiles again. “It’s like having a second daughter,” she says. “I couldn’t have more than one. But Lucy’s father never minded.” She shakes her head. “I’m getting old, though. Never would have fallen like that if I’d been younger.”
“It could happen to anyone,” I say. “A friend of mine fell and broke hers, and she was in her early twenties then.”
“Bad luck,” Michelle agrees.
Lucy comes back around the curtain. “It won’t be until morning at the very earliest,” she says. “They’ll keep you here until then, though, because there aren’t any beds available in the ward yet.”
“So you go home with Kitty and come back tomorrow,” Michelle says. “I will sleep and the nurses can keep an eye on me.”
Lucy glances at me, then back at her mother. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Michelle’s tone is final, yet kind.
“All right.” Lucy sounds uncertain, but she gathers up her hoodie, then bends to kiss her mother. After, Michelle waves me over and I come close. She tugs me down and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“See you two tomorrow,” she says.
“See you then,” I reply.
“Bye, Mama,” Lucy says. We slip out from the curtained alcove and into the hallway.
“It’s a bit of a drive to my place from here,” I say, “but not too bad. Are you tired?”
Lucy nods. “It’s been a long day.”
I lead her out of the hospital to where I’ve parked in the underground parkade. I pay, and then we’re off, driving back down the freeway toward the inner city. When I pull in to my space at my condo, Lucy is dozing in the passenger seat. She wakes when I lay my hand over hers.
“We’re home,” I say. We head upstairs, Lucy leaning against the wall in the elevator. I’m feeling tired too, and I know that I can’t go to bed yet. That email still needs to be read and possibly answered. And I’ll have to make sure to set my alarm bright and early, earlier than usual. Driving Lucy to and from the hospital will eat up a good hour or more of my morning. I’m calculating it in my head as the elevator makes its way up to my floor. I should text Cindy, let her know what’s going on.
We reach my floor, and I lead Lucy down the hallway. Once inside, she settles on a chair at the breakfast bar.
“Heimei looks just right here,” she says.
“She scolds me for working too hard,” I say.
Lucy turns to me. “You have been working a lot more lately. How come?”
I sigh. I didn’t tell her yet about Jack, about the client, about what happened. I’m embarrassed that I made such a mistake, but I know I shouldn’t be hiding it, not from Lucy. I give her the rundown, though I step into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea just to keep myself doing something, trying not to feel as utterly useless as I did when Jack reprimanded me.
“Oh, Kitty, I wish you’d said something to me,” Lucy says. I take down two mugs from the cupboard as the kettle heats.
“Green tea or something else?”
“Earl Grey,” Lucy says. “Or whatever you’re having.”
“Earl Grey too,” I reply.
“Why didn’t you tell me about work?” Lucy asks.
I shake my head. “Felt like an idiot. I should have known better. And now I have so much work that there’s nothing I can do but work my ass off. And what I really want to be doing is making Ming Kitty awesome.” I pause. Did I really just say that?
Lucy pauses. “We all have to do what we have to do.” She sounds a bit resigned. “With Mama and her broken ankle, I won’t be able to do much for the next while. I know I have Alice, but with the farmers’ markets and all that entails, along with Mama out of commission, I’m not going to have much time either.”
I pour the boiling water over the tea bags in our cups and then bring the cups over and sit in the chair next to Lucy. It’s hard not to sigh.
“We’re going to have to talk to Beatrice about backing out. And it’ll cost us some money to do that,” Lucy says.
“I can cover it,” I say immediately. It’ll help with the guilt I feel for not being there for Lucy, for the pop-up.
“We should split it,” Lucy says. “It’s both of ours, after all.”
“But it’s my fault,” I argue.
“Things happen. Life happens,” Lucy replies.
I know she’s making sense, yet I still think that it is my fault. I totally screwed up at work. Lucy’s mom didn’t purposely break her ankle. There’s a major difference. I absolutely could have kept this mess from happening.
Lucy nudges me. “Don’t get so down,” she says. “I can tell from your expression, you know.”
I shake my head. “I hope my boss can’t tell.”
“I doubt it,” Lucy says. “It’s subtle, but it’s there, at least for me. I know you, remember?”
She does. She knows me better than anyone.
“You don’t have to be perfect at everything,” Lucy says. “No one is.”
“I know I’m not perfect, but I could have done a lot better.”
Lucy picks up her mug, and mine, now empty, and takes them around to the sink, rinsing them out. Then she comes back to my side. “We both need to rest,” she says. “Things will seem better in the morning.”
“My grandmother used to say that,” I say as I follow Lucy down the hall to the bedrooms.
“So did my grandmother,” she says. “And Mama says it now and again too.”
“Do you want pj’s?” I ask.
Lucy nods. “I probably should. I guess I should be in your spare room, shouldn’t I?”
I waver. I want her in bed with me, wish she could be next to me, but it wouldn’t be fair to either of us to pretend that we’re together. I nod. “There’s clean sheets on the bed. And I have an extra toothbrush, a new one, in the bathroom that you can use.”
We get ready for bed, and there’s something comforting about having Lucy here, even if she’s in the spare room. Too many things to worry about, too much to do. I try not to toss and turn, but it’s midnight before I finally manage to fall asleep.