DELLA
At the hospital, Della called her husband and filled him in on what had happened. “Lish wants you and me to drive up to Atlanta and tell Drew in person.”
“Okay.” Peter exhaled. “Let me tell Joe I need the rest of the day off.”
Next Della called Anne in England and had to leave her a message about what was going on. Then she drove over to 18 Legare to see if Rosetta could stay the night with the kids. When she arrived, she found the older woman brooding on the porch swing of the front piazza with Baby Cecilia asleep in the bouncy seat next to her.
“This is my last day, Miss Della.” Rosetta stood slowly before placing her hands firmly on her hips. “I told them both in October that I’ve got a new job come the first of the year.” She sucked her teeth. “But I’m not sure neither of them heard me.”
Rosetta leaned toward Della. “Now I was going to work one more week, but today I’ve missed my bus and my doctor’s appointment, and I’m not happy.” She gently pointed her finger toward the bus stop. “It took me three months to get in to see that orthopedist, and I’ll have to wait three more months thanks to Miss Lish.” The woman reached down and picked up her brown velvet hat that was resting on the top of the rocking chair. Then she placed it squarely on her head and whispered in Della’s ear, “Something’s not right with her. And I can’t bear this burden any longer.”
“I’m so sorry, Rosetta.” Della wasn’t sure what to say. She knew she should persuade Rosetta to stay, but she clearly saw that the woman was worn out and fed up. “She’s sick, you know. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s serious.”
Rosetta nodded and pointed to her head. “I do. It’s something up here,” she whispered again. “But Mr. Drew doesn’t. Or he doesn’t want to, anyway.”
As the city bus pulled up at the corner, Rosetta adjusted her hat. “The school called and said the preacher volunteered to bring them home. I said okay, so they should be here soon.” She turned toward the steps and then back to Della. “I pray they get things straightened out around here, but I can’t be the one to do it.”
Della reached out to give Rosetta a hug. “I understand, Rosetta. Thank you for all you’ve done. I’m sure no one will ever know how much.”
Rosetta nodded. “Tell Miss Lish to mail me a check, all right?”
“Okay.”
The older woman reached down and squeezed the baby’s round foot. “God bless you, sweet girl.” Then she hobbled down the steps toward her bus.
As Della watched Rosetta ride off in one of the front window seats of the big green bus, she spotted a young, barrel-chested man on the sidewalk in a dark suit and a collar, and she wondered which church he belonged to.
The children ran through the gate and toward Della where they both jumped into her arms. She hugged them back, and then Mary Jane pulled away and said, “Mama didn’t pick us up today. We were the last ones on the playground, and they called Daddy’s old office and nobody came.” She pointed to the priest and a pretty little black-headed girl beside him. “Rose’s daddy brought us home.”
Della looked up at the priest and nodded. Anne had told her a few weeks ago that the priest at St. Michael’s had been writing to her and that he had a little girl named Rose. Della said to the children, “I’m sorry you had to wait.” She reached out and clasped both of their shoulders. “Your mama wasn’t feeling well, kids. But she’s going to be okay, in time.”
Andrew stepped back and threw a rock he must have been holding all along. It hit the front steps and bounced down into the grass. Della came up behind him and leaned down toward his cheek. She kissed it. “I’m going to help y’all until she gets better. Don’t worry, baby.”
Then she smiled at the little girl named Rose and back to her niece and nephew and said, “Y’all take Rose in the house, and I’ll fix you something sweet after I have a word with her father, okay?”
Andrew’s eyes lit up. “Can we have a Popsicle?”
“Sure.” Della patted his back. “Get you and the girls a Popsicle and eat it in the backyard.”
“All right!” the little boy said. He ran toward the kitchen with Mary Jane and Rose scurrying behind him.
Della looked at the man. He had warm brown eyes with long dark lashes, and he looked a little uncomfortable in his suit and collar. Kind of like a weight lifter in a tuxedo one size too small.
“I’m Della Limehouse.” She shook his hand. “Have you been corresponding with my cousin Anne?”
He smiled and nodded. “That’s me. Roy Summerall. Call me Roy.”
She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Well, I can’t believe it. Maybe Anne heard right after all.”
“I’m sorry?” He had a confused look on his face.
She shook her head and waved him off. “Nothing, nothing. It’s been a tough day, and I’m a little fuzzy right now.”
“I hope everything is okay with Dr. Sutton,” he said.
She looked up at him and though she had her frustrations with God, she sensed something in this man. Something larger and more pure than the life around her. And she knew it was safe to confide in him. “She tried to jump off the Cooper River Bridge this morning.”
Roy leaned against the piazza railing as if to steady his large frame. He groaned.
“A security guard on his way to work pulled over and yanked her down before she got all the way over.” Della bit her lip hard as the children giggled and carried on in the backyard. “Maybe there is a God, Roy Summerall.”
Roy took a deep breath and regained his composure. He looked down to meet her eye. “There is, Della.” He tugged at his collar. “What can I do to help?”
“Well, can you stay with these four children this afternoon while my husband and I go to Atlanta and tell Drew what’s going on?”
“I’d be happy to,” he said. “There’s nothing I can’t push back on the schedule for the next day or so.”
“Thank you.” Della felt a lump in her throat. She swallowed hard and said, “I’ll get the bottles and some food ready. Come on in.” As she held open the door, he insisted that she go first. And she turned back and said, “Oh, and call Anne, will you?”
“Okay.” He pulled out his cell phone and hit the button for his contacts. “She gave me her number last week, but I’ve been too nervous to call her. The e-mail has been going so well.”
Della nodded and couldn’t help but smile. “Call her and tell her to come home, Roy.”
When Della and Peter arrived in Atlanta, it didn’t take them long to find the address of the Courtyard Marriott where the CDC was putting Drew up.
Della saw his Volvo sedan parked in front of one of the efficiency suites, so she and Peter walked up and knocked on the door.
“Room service. Hot dog!” they heard Drew’s voice call from behind the door. When he opened it, he was in a thin white towel wrapped loosely around his waist. He looked at them, his unshaven jaw dropping slowly, as though they both had three heads.
“What?” a female voice called from the bathroom. The shower stopped and the voice called, “Can you bring me my hair brush, babe?” When he didn’t respond, the bathroom door flew open, revealing a young woman draped in a towel. The wet tips of her long blonde hair dripped on the tile floor causing a little pool of water to form at her bare feet.
Della, still in the doorway, crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Drew. “This is not so sublime,” she said.
The woman—Melanie from the carriage house—looked up, shrieked, and quickly closed herself back in the bathroom.
Drew raked the top of his salt-and-pepper curls with both of his hands. “What are you all doing here?”
Della cocked her head and stepped inside. She was grinding her teeth so hard that her head ached. “Well, we’re not having as much fun as you.”
Drew clenched his hands and leaned toward Della, who was balling her own little hands into tight fists. But before Drew realized what had hit him, Peter pinned him against the adjacent wall with force. A framed print of Stone Mountain just to the right of the two men fell to the carpeted floor.
“Watch yourself,” Peter whispered sternly to Drew. Peter stood a head taller than Drew, his muscles taut, and ready to throw a serious punch if need be.
Della exhaled for the first time since she stepped into the room. Her temples were throbbing, and she felt her heart catch in her throat. Thank God for Peter, she thought. Thank Roy Summerall’s God. She didn’t deserve her husband, but she was overwhelmed by how much she cherished him—a man who understood right from wrong instinctively, a man who would protect her from the dangers of this world— including her own hot head and her likeliness to mishandle a just rage.
When Peter released him, Drew pushed him back. Then he quickly grabbed his towel which was coming untied. He pulled it tight around his waist.
“What are you two doing here?”
Della stepped in front of Drew, took a deep breath, and tried not to grind her teeth too hard. “Your wife is in trouble, and we came to tell you.”
He wiped his nose with his forearm. “What do you mean?”
Della narrowed her eyes. “She tried to jump off the Cooper River Bridge today.”
Drew looked away from them. His eyes were on the closed bathroom door, moving back and forth as a shadow crossed the threshold. He pulled at his hair and looked down at his bare feet.
“Why?” he shouted. “Why is she doing this!”
Della grabbed his arm firmly. “She’s not doing this, you idiot.” She pressed her fingernails into his skin, but she stopped herself from puncturing him good like every cell in her body wanted her to. “I’m no physician, but even I understand that.” She shook his arm until he looked at her. “She’s sick, Drew. She’s contracted a disease, like cancer, only it’s in her brain, and she needs serious help to get better.”
He bit his lip. Something plastic toppled to the tile floor in the bathroom.
Della let go of his arm and met his gaze again. “You need to come home right away and take care of her.”
“This can’t be happening,” he said, looking away and toward the window. Outside a bright yellow truck with a Domino’s Pizza sign was pulling into a nearby space. “Not right now. We’re just getting started. There’s a weird flu in Mexico, and we’re in charge of working with labs around the world to create a vaccine.”
“It is happening,” Peter said. His voice was deep and full, and it jolted Drew into looking at him. “It may not be convenient, but it’s happening right now. And your wife needs you to man up.”
Della nodded. She felt like she and Peter were of one mind and heart. Like they were in the same skin. It was an intimacy she treasured in this moment, and she vowed never to take it for granted. Then she and her husband walked toward the door before she turned back. “She’s on President Street. If I were you, I’d get there tonight.”
Drew took a seat on the unmade bed and looked back at them. He was still clutching his towel. When he nodded, Peter closed the door. Then he and Della drove back down the highway home.