“Grandmama?” I’d been sitting at my grandmother’s bedside for more than two hours. She hadn’t stirred in all that time, except for the intermittent buzz of snoring. And the doctor still hadn’t shown.
Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of my voice. She squeezed my hand.
“How are you feeling? Any better?”
She grimaced. “Tubes. I hate all these tubes.” Her voice was weak, barely audible, but if she was complaining, she was definitely feeling better.
“I know,” I said. “You’ve had a bad time of it this week.”
She struggled to sit upright. “Where’s Spencer?”
“He’s at home, still sleeping,” I said. “He had a late night. Flash floods in northern California, mud slides, and a tropical disturbance in the Azores.”
“Old fool,” she muttered. “What day is it?”
“It’s Tuesday.”
My grandmother shrugged but said nothing.
There was a short knock on the door. Dr. Walker, a big, white-haired bear of a man, strode over and took Grandmama’s hand in his, giving me a polite nod.
“Mrs. Loudermilk?” he said, softly. “I hear you had a bad night last night?”
“So-so,” Grandmama said meekly. “Some problems breathing.”
“We’re going to move you over to Memorial Hospital, to do some more tests on you. There’s an ambulance waiting right downstairs. Would that be all right?”
“More tests?” she said, her voice suddenly sharper. “And how much is all that gonna cost?”
Dr. Walker grinned. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack on me.”
“It’s all right,” I assured her, standing at the side of her bed. “You’ve got good insurance. You can afford all the tests they want to run.”
I glanced down at my watch. It was after eleven. I’d already fielded several phone calls from the restaurant, and I still had to figure out how to replace the two employees I’d fired over the weekend.
“She’ll be fine,” Dr. Walker said quickly. “I’ll meet her over there in an hour. I’ve called ahead and let them know which tests I want run. You won’t really be able to see her until she’s back from X-ray anyway, and that’ll be around four.”
“You’re sure?” I asked. “I can shuffle my schedule if I need to.”
“Positive,” he said.
“Go on about your business,” Grandmama said imperiously. “And don’t tell Spencer about all these tests. You know how he gets himself all worked up over nothing.”
“I’ll bring him when I come this afternoon,” I promised. “You sure you don’t need me to help you move?”
She waved me away. “Go.”
It was closer to five by the time I left the restaurant, went back to Magnolia Manor to pick up my grandfather, and then over to Memorial Hospital.
Granddaddy paused outside the door to her room. His face was pale. “She’s bad, isn’t she?” For the first time, he looked really scared.
“Not that bad,” I said. “They’re just being cautious. Just in case. You’ll see. She’s going to be fine. Just make sure you tell her I’m feeding you good, so she doesn’t give me fits about not taking care of you.”
I waited outside in the hallway to give them some privacy. After fifteen minutes, I went inside. Grandmama had a clear plastic mask over her face, with a hose hooked up to a humming machine. Granddaddy was sitting on a chair beside her hospital bed, holding his wife’s hand in his, staring raptly up at the television, watching what looked like a thirty-year-old rerun of Hollywood Squares.
He looked up when I came in, and pointed at the television. “They got the Game Show Channel. Paul Lynde! We don’t get that at our place.”
Grandmama pushed her mask aside. “I told this old fool to cut it off. I’m not paying for deluxe cable. They probably charge you double in a place like this.” She would have said more too, but her tirade was interrupted by a fit of coughing.
A nurse came in then, looked at one of the monitors at her bedside, and shooed us back out into the hallway.
My cell phone rang, and I walked rapidly to the visitors’ waiting area to take the call.
It was Reddy. “Hey, BeBe,” he said. “How’s it going at your end?”
I sighed. “Not so good. They’ve moved my grandmother over to Memorial Hospital, and they’re running a bunch of tests. I don’t really understand any of it.”
“Hang in there,” Reddy said. “Who’s her doctor?”
“Robert Walker,” I said.
“I know Robert,” Reddy said. “One of my sisters was in his class at Emory. He’s the best.”
“Hope so,” I said fervently. “Did you see the insurance adjuster?”
“It’s all taken care of,” Reddy said. “They’re cutting you a check for $18,000 today. I called a floor guy I know, and he says he can do the job for a lot less than that. And the bug guy was here. He sprayed the attic, like you asked. I gave him a check, and he said to tell you he’ll see you next month.”
“You’re the best,” I said, meaning it. “But you didn’t need to pay him. He usually just sends a bill.”
“It was a new guy,” Reddy said. “Your regular guy is on vacation or something. Don’t worry about it, I took care of it.”
“All right,” I said
At eleven that night, I was finally able to ferry Granddaddy home. We were both exhausted. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was fast asleep.
I got a blanket and pillow of my own, and tried to make myself comfortable on the sofa bed, which felt as if it had been designed specifically as an instrument of torture. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep. Which never came.
What did come was waves of anxiety. My grandmother was ill, her diagnosis uncertain. Granddaddy’s snores reverberated off the walls of the small apartment. He’d been worried about Lorena’s condition, but on the trip home he’d blithely assured me that the pills she’d been given would make her “right as rain.”
Rain. Once it started, it never seemed to let up.