Personal Journal Entry
Tuesday, May 8th
SHE felt exhausted. Her entire body ached. If her little girl had to rush to the bathroom one more time and put her young body through that again, Carol knew she would end up in tears over her daughter’s suffering.
Finally, though, Lisa fell soundly asleep. Some color had even returned to her cheeks; not much, but some color. It was after three o’clock in the morning. As Carol adjusted the covers on her bed that seemed to swallow Lisa whole, she felt thankful that her daughter’s breathing sounded steady and deep, and that she was no longer whimpering in her sleep. She turned her morning alarm off, then crawled into bed next to Lisa.
The stomach ‘flu stunk, and she was thankful that she only had one child. She didn’t know how women did this with three or four children while it moved through the house, one child at a time.
She must have dozed because the next time she opened her eyes, Bobby sat in the chair next to the bed writing something on a pad of paper. “Hi,” she whispered, sitting up.
His eyes looked distracted at first when he looked up at the sound of her voice, but they cleared and he gave her a quick smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just getting some lyrics down on paper.”
“I don’t think you woke me. I think I was only out for a few minutes.” She stretched and decided she wanted a cup of tea.
“Can’t you sleep?” she asked as she stood. She’d made up a bed in one of the guest rooms for him a few hours ago.
“I had to write down this song. It’s been nagging at me.” He followed her downstairs and into the kitchen and watched her open and shut cupboards. “What are you looking for?” he asked.
“Tea. I think I have some left, but I can’t remember where I put it.”
“Don’t you keep it in that container?” he asked, pointing to a set on her counter.
“No, I mean herbal tea. Aria likes to drink it so I keep it around, but it’s been a few months since she was here last and I can’t remember what I did with it.” She pushed aside a box of macaroni and spotted the box. “Aha, there it is.” She filled the kettle with water and pulled down a mug. “Do you want some?” she asked.
Bobby gave a small chuckle. “You’re dead set on destroying my image, aren’t you? Violins and herbal tea. What is it, a nice chamomile? Or perhaps rosehip.”
“Wow. You know your herbal teas. Does that mean you want some?” she asked with a smile.
He smiled at her teasing tone. “No thanks. I’m fine. Tea should have ice in it just like grits should have cheese in them.”
Carol moved around the kitchen, making her tea, feeling the tension slip away. Soon she would be just tired, then maybe she would be able to sleep. She sat at the table, and Bobby pushed his pad and pen away.
“When Lisa and I went riding on Saturday, we saw my mother briefly. She had a message for you,” he said after a few minutes of quiet.
Carol grimaced. “I’m not sure I want to hear it,” she said.
He kicked back in his chair. “It basically boiled down to the fact that she’s been a harridan where you’re concerned all these years, and wanted to let you know you’ve done a good job.”
She stopped with the cup halfway to her mouth, processing the information, then she shrugged. “I guess when you’re at your lowest, you start looking for all the friends you can find.”
“Ouch,” he said. “Has it been that bad?”
Carol raised an eyebrow. “You mean, all the years I spent raising our daughter on my own without her father when at any moment they could have changed that?”
He tilted his head and stared at her. “Point taken, counselor. She did not mention that, just the other.”
“See? She still doesn’t think she did anything wrong. She will say they thought it was for the best until her last breath, and that’s inexcusable.”
“It would seem I’m not the only one who needs to work on forgiveness.”
She took another sip of her tea. “I’ve done a lot of healing over the last few weeks, and having you here with me is a major catalyst for that. But right now I’m suffering from the morning after nursing a sick child all night, so I’m feeling a bit catty. I’m sorry you heard me do that.”
Bobby took her hand and kissed it. “Why don’t you go upstairs and try to rest a while. Take the bed you made me. I’ll stay up and listen for her.”
She started to decline, but then yawned so hard she was surprised she didn’t unhinge her jaw. “I think that might be a good idea,” she said.
“HEY sweetie. Let’s move you downstairs to the couch and let me change my bed,” Carol suggested. Lisa was propped up on pillows watching television, but still looked a little worse for wear. She managed to hold down the ginger ale she’d sipped at for the last hour, and Carol thought that they had made some progress.
She helped Lisa to stand and take off her nightgown, then put on a new one. The two made a slow journey down to the living room where Carol already had sheets and a blanket made up for her on the couch.
“Where’s daddy?” Lisa asked as soon as she was settled in. She could barely keep her eyes open, clearly done-in by the movement through the house. Carol moved the coffee table to within her reach and set the glass of soda on it.
“He ran out to handle some errands. If you take a nap, he’ll probably be back by the time you wake up.”
Lisa gave a half nod, then immediately fell asleep. Carol went back upstairs and stripped the bed. She’d only slept about three hours, and wanted to get as much done as she could before she lost her second wind.
She got her bed and Lisa’s bed changed, then went down to the basement to put the bedding in the washing machine. She finished putting in the first load of linens, added detergent, then went back upstairs just as the doorbell rang.
She checked on Lisa on her way to the door to make sure that she was still asleep, then opened the door for Rhonda.
“I brought you the files you called me about,” Rhonda said without any preliminary greetings as she handed over several manila envelopes.
Carol stepped outside and gestured at the porch. “You don’t want to go in there. I don’t want you catching this bug. It’s a killer.”
Rhonda sat in a chair. “Is she real sick, then?”
Carol nodded while she glanced over the files. “She’s getting better now, but we had a pretty rough night.” She looked up at her. “Do you want something to drink, Rhonda? I bleached everything so no worries.”
“No, thanks. I need to get back to work, and you look like you’ve done enough fetching for at least a day.”
“Thanks for bringing these by. I don’t think anyone else would have understood my organization system.”
Wednesday, May 9th
CAROL walked into the coffee shop and spotted Mitch and Jack at a small table. Smiling, she walked up to them and set the pink bag on the center of the table.
Mitch looked up at her and spotted the bag. “What’s this?”
“Blueberry filled doughnuts, your favorite,” she said, pulling out a chair, “from Frank’s.”
“And this means –”
“This means that I appreciate your honesty, but the hearts floating in my eyes aren’t impeding my ability to see anything.” She looked at Jack. “I got you a chocolate éclair,” she said.
“Are you apologizing to me, too?”
“No. I’m just not rude.”
Jack laughed and opened the bag.
Mitch took a sip of his coffee and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “Lisa better?”
“Yes. We made it through the bout.” Carol fielded an incoming text before slipping the phone back into her purse. “I’ve been looking at that security camera footage from our guy buying the hair dye.”
“Yeah?” Mitch asked around a mouth full of blueberry filling and fried dough.
“Yeah. Something’s wrong.”
Jack smirked. “You mean other than the ridiculous camera angle and the lack of face shots?”
“Right. Something other than. Just not sure what.”
Mitch smiled half a smile. “So it feels wrong.”
Carol barked a short laugh. “Exactly. I’ve watched it a dozen times and I can’t put my finger on it. Something about the way he moves.”