It was a warm day with clear skies, and a nurse told me that my sister was in the courtyard, sitting in the shade of her favorite tree.
“It’s an apple tree,” the nurse said. “She says it smells good.”
She walked with me outside, and I hesitated as soon as we stepped out the door, my legs feeling as if they’d turned to lead, my stomach upset.
“That’s her,” she said, pointing. “Right there.”
We continued on, my feet falling heavy on the cobblestone walkway, my shoes making loud noises.
“Wait here.” The nurse grabbed my arm, stilling me. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”
I stayed in place like I’d been told and watched the nurse approach Clara. So gentle, so kind.
“Miss Clara?” the nurse said, her voice full of sweetness. “You have a visitor.”
She pointed in my direction, and Clara turned her head.
At first her expression held no recognition and I feared that whatever treatments they’d been giving her had ruined her brain. But then she breathed in and tried for a smile, even as much effort as it took.
“Birdie,” she said.
My shoes clonked on the stones and I was glad when I stepped off into the grass. It was too peaceful of a place for such a hard sound. Clara moved to one side of the bench so I’d have room to sit beside her.
“You came.” She looked at me with eyes round with surprise. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”
“But Clara, I was here just last week,” I said. “Don’t you remember?”
She blinked hard a few times, wrinkled her brow.
“Are you all right?” I asked, putting an arm around her and pulling her close to me, if only for a moment.
“I’m fine.” She opened her mouth as if adjusting her jaw. “How’s Hugo?”
“He misses you,” I said. “I brought some pictures he made for you. The nurse said she’d take them to your room.”
“Maybe she’ll tape them to the wall.”
“Would you like that?”
She nodded. “That would be nice.”
Her lips twitched to the side and she shrugged. As far as I could remember, I’d never seen her behave so fidgety before.
“Did you get to see the eclipse?” I asked.
She shook her head. “We stayed inside.”
“That’s too bad.”
Clara folded her hands in her lap, and I tried not to stare at her wrist. The wound was healing, I could see. But it would leave an angry-looking scar. I turned away from it when I realized she was watching me.
“I brought a photo for you,” I said, unclasping my purse. “Hugo said you’d like it.”
It was a square, glossy print of Hugo in his Sunday suit, standing next to the front yard flower beds. Flannery was perched in the window, staring at him, her mouth open mid-meow.
Clara held it on her open palm, not blinking as she drank the image in.
“My handsome boy,” she whispered. “He looks so grown up.”
She smiled even as a tear tumbled down her cheek.
“He needs a haircut,” she said. “Can you take him to a barber?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Don’t try to do it yourself.” She turned her attention to me, her eyebrows raised high. “Last year when we were low on money, I decided I would cut it. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to get it even. I had to shave it all off.”
She caught a giggle in her hand.
“He was bald as a cue ball,” she said. “I felt terrible.”
Her laughter shifted to crying and her smile dropped. She held the picture to her chest so hard that I worried she’d wrinkle it beyond recognition.
“I’ve been such a horrible mother,” she said between sobs.
“No, sweetie,” I said, putting an arm around her.
“I don’t deserve him.”
“Please, don’t cry.” I bent at the waist so I could talk into her ear. “Do you remember the tree in the park when we were younger? The one you named?”
She nodded. “Roberta?”
“That’s the one. You loved that tree, didn’t you? You’d climb it and stay in her branches for hours on end.”
“She was beautiful.”
“Yes. She was,” I said. “And remember when you heard they were going to cut it down?”
“They had no right,” she said between gasps. “There was nothing wrong with her.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I tied myself to her trunk with twine.” She turned her face toward me. The old spark of determination was there in her eyes, even if it had grown dim. “I told them they’d have to cut me down first.”
“You always were a firecracker.”
She raised her head. “I knew they’d cut her down anyway. I just wanted to fight them.”
“And you did,” I said. “You’ve always been a fighter.”
She nodded.
“Now you have to fight, all right. You have to fight to get better.” I used the pad of my thumb to wipe away a tear from her face. “Can you try?”
“I won’t win,” she said, her voice so small I nearly didn’t hear it.
“You might.”
The nurse came around and told us that our time was up. Before I let her escort me out, I put my arms around Clara, feeling more sharp edges under her skin than I had just weeks before.
“Please try to fight,” I whispered in her ear before kissing her on the cheek. “I love you.”
I turned around once before I was out of the courtyard to see that she’d watched me walk away.
I kissed the tips of my fingers and blew it her way.
By then, she’d turned away from me.