***
MISS MILLIE WAS surprised to see me when I walked up to her sliding glass window just before 5:00 PM on Wednesday afternoon. I was on my way to New Orleans and had called Robert Morris before leaving Jean Ville to ask if I could drop by for a few minutes.
"Is Mr. Morris expecting you?" She looked at me over the top of her cat-eye glasses and frowned.
"Yes, he is." I smiled a broad smile and winked at her, which caught her off-guard. She picked up the telephone and punched a couple of numbers.
"Miss Burton, sir." She put the phone down and told me to have a seat, then pushed the window sideways to shut it. Her pouting bottom lip said she was upset. She probably thought she'd have to work late because Robert Morris had an after-five appointment with me. I certainly didn't want to mess up her social life.
I waited about ten minutes, and Morris walked into the waiting room.
"Sissy. Nice to see you. Come on back." He held the door opened, and I walked in front of him. "You can go home, Millie. No need to stay." He followed me back to his office, which, by now, I knew how to get to.
We sat at the round table.
"What can I do for you?" Morris leaned back, stretched his legs out and loosened his tie.
"I was wondering how the investigation is going." I put my purse on the table and folded my hands in my lap.
"Well, I don't really know. I don't keep up with every investigation on a daily basis." He went to his desk and picked up the phone. "Chris, can you come to my office before you leave? Thanks." Morris sat back down.
"Whew. Long day. I could use a drink." He took a deep breath and folded his hands across his chest.
The same detective I'd met on my last visit to the AG's office came in without knocking. I remembered his name, Detective Sherman.
"You remember Chris Sherman, right, Sissy? Detective, this is Abigail Burton."
"Please. Call me Sissy." I stood and shook hands with the detective and we all sat at the round table. He told us that he'd been to Jean Ville several times and, so far, hadn't gotten very far with the people who were at the wedding. He talked to Doctor Cappel and Doctor Switzer, and both were helpful in explaining the injuries Rodney and Susie had incurred, but they had no idea who'd shot the two bullets that hit Rodney.
"Have you spoken with my dad or any of my brothers? They were all there." Although James and Daddy both warned me to say out of it, I'd been feeling rebellious and off-center after overhearing their conversation. "Also, Rodney's family, especially those who live in the Quarters near Shadowland Plantation. And Rod’s brother, Jeffrey, was best man. He walked out of the church before I did."
"What did you see, Miss Burton? I mean, Sissy?" Chris Sherman had a small spiral-bound pad he'd pulled from his shirt pocket. He flipped a few pages and clicked the top of a ballpoint pen.
"All I saw was Lilly screaming and a blue truck speeding away. The tires screeched, and rocks flew."
"A blue truck. This is the first I've heard about the vehicle involved. What makes you think there's a connection?"
"I'm not sure. Instinct? It was sitting still, shots rang out, then it peeled out on the pavement."
"How many people were in the truck?"
"I only saw the one sitting shotgun, and I really didn't see his face. There had to be someone driving. So at least two people."
"Did you recognize anyone?"
"No. It was too far away. I barely saw the side of the guy's head." I thought about Tucker Thevenot standing on James's porch, and wondered whether he was the one, but I couldn't, honestly, make that connection. "Have you spoken with Susie and Rodney?"
"Where can I reach them?" He looked down, ready to write what I said.
"They are both in the hospital in New Orleans. I gave Mr. Morris that list of contacts with addresses and phone numbers." I stared at him as though he were some idiot who couldn't read.
"That file is in my office. I'm handling a number of cases." He seemed apologetic, and I felt bad for my snide remark. I gave him Susie and Rodney's room numbers at Ochsner. I mentioned he should talk to Lilly and Marianne, and suggested Jeffrey, again.
"And Joe. Joe Franklin. Lilly's dad. He walked out with me, a groomsman. He lives in New York City, but his contact information is in your file."
"I'll get right on those interviews." He looked weird, as though he was frightened of something. His eyes darted from me to Robert and back to his writing pad.
"Is something wrong, Chris?" Robert must have noticed it, too.
"I haven't wanted to bother you, but we've had some threats." He stared at Robert a couple of seconds then looked down at the table.
"What kind of threats?"
"Notes left on the windshield, slashed tires, red paint on one of our cars. Stuff like that." He stared at Robert without blinking.
"Where?"
"Jean Ville. Both times we were up there." His feet shuffled under the table and beads of perspiration gathered on his forehead.
"I'll tell you what. You go to New Orleans and follow up with the victims and their family members." Robert Morris stood up, which made Detective Sherman stand, too. "I'll take Lieutenant Schiller and Sergeant Montgomery and go to Jean Ville myself. I'd like to visit with Senator Burton and talk to his son, the lawyer. They don't intimidate me." He sat back down, and Sherman left the room. "Sorry, Sissy. I don't mean to talk about your family in front of you."
"Look, that's okay. I'm just glad you're going to try to get to the bottom of this." I leaned back in my chair and crossed my ankles. "I figured something happened to stall things, or I would have heard from you."
"Yeah, well. I have a number of cases, and I haven't followed up on this one as I should have. I want to visit Borders. And DeYoung. Yep. I need to go up to Jean Ville and shake the bushes. And I have a team of state policemen who won't be put off by bullies and threats." He rubbed his forehead and shut his eyes. It was dead silent for a minute or so.
"Look, I'm beat." He opened his eyes and looked at me. It was as though he'd had an attitude adjustment behind his closed lids, and was back to normal. "What do you say you follow me to my house? Brenda is dying to meet you."
"Sure. If you think it's okay." I stood up. He went to the back of his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed a number.
"Hi. Susie's sister, Sissy, is here. The one I told you about." He paused and listened for a few seconds. "Yep. Right here in my office. What about I bring her over for a drink, and you can meet her." He paused again. "Okay. See you in a few." He hung up, picked up his suit coat from the back of his chair, and grabbed his briefcase. "I'm parked out back, a black Saab. I'll pull out on Third Street and you can follow me."
His house was in Spanish Town, on the other side of the state Capitol, maybe five minutes away, but with traffic, it took us ten. The house was an older, frame house that Robert and Brenda had renovated a few years before, and it was beautiful. We sat outside in a fenced-in courtyard made of cobblestones and bricks that reminded me of New Orleans. I could smell the Mississippi River just over the levee, and every now and then a foghorn sounded in the far-off distance.
Brenda made a pitcher of something with rum and juice, similar to the famous Pat O'Brien's hurricanes, and the three of us chit-chatted about their two children who were in high school, and about Rodney and Susie's progress.
"So, Sissy, I feel as though there's another reason for your visit, although you don't need one." Robert looked at me and winked at Brenda.
"Actually, I need a job. I want to move out of Jean Ville and thought maybe you could help me." I put my drink down and tried to be serious.
"What can you do? Besides sleuthing?" He laughed and took a sip of his drink.
"Mostly, I'm a musician. You have a piano?" I guess I caught them off-guard, but Brenda rose to the occasion and led me inside where a baby grand sat next to the huge glass opening between the family room to the courtyard. Robert stayed in his lounge chair outside, and I hit the keys. First I played some boogie-woogie, then I slipped into, When the Saints Go Marching In, then a version of Beethoven's Fifth. Finally, I played Time After Time, and sang the entire song.
I stood up, took a bow, and returned to the patio.
"Wow! I'm impressed." Brenda had been standing next to the piano the entire time I played and sang. She followed me out and refilled my glass.
"Thanks. I teach piano and voice to kids in Jean Ville. But, really, I want to move away, maybe to Baton Rouge." I sat in one of the iron chairs under an umbrella stuck in the center of a black iron table. We talked a while longer, then their two kids came in.
The Morrises' seventeen-year-old boy, Robert, Jr. whom they called Bobby, looked just like his dad—over six feet tall, brown wavy hair and the build of a football player. He had dark, thick eyebrows, long, curly eyelashes and a regal nose, similar to Michelangelo's fourteenth-century sculpture of David that I'd studied in art history at Centenary College in Shreveport. His lips were full, his bottom lip sort of pouty, and he had a dimple in his cleft chin. When he smiled, two huge dimples, one in each cheek, indented into deep holes and made his cheekbones lift and become even more pronounced.
Their daughter, Jessica, who was fifteen, had blonde hair like her mother and blue eyes that were shaped like sideways teardrops. When she smiled, her nose wrinkled, and her eyes turned to slivers, like wings on a bluebird. Her hair was in a ponytail that hung halfway down her back, tied with a wide navy bow. She was a couple of inches taller than me—everyone was taller than me—and she was very slim and flat-chested, like an athlete. I asked her if she was into sports, and she said she ran track and played softball. But she was feminine and had dainty features, small hands, and a chiseled nose.
I liked both of the Morris kids right away and thought about how much Lilly would like them.
"Have you guys met my niece, Lilly, yet?" I looked at the teenagers, who shrugged their shoulders and eyed their dad.
"No, not yet, but we should have her over one evening. She's at LSU, right?" Robert looked at Brenda, who smiled and nodded.
"Yes, she's a freshman. She graduated from high school a year early, though, so she's your age, Bobby."
"You wouldn't be matchmaking, now would you, Sissy?" Robert laughed at me.
"Nope. I'm just saying…!" I smiled, and everyone started to laugh. I stayed for dinner of lasagna, salad, and hot rolls, plus a bottle of red wine. By the time I left, I was a bit tipsy, and was glad I didn't have but a few blocks to drive to the Capitol House Hotel downtown. Of course, I used my dad's credit card to pay for the room.
*
The rector at the front desk of Lilly's dorm buzzed her room, then told me I could go down the hall to #142. She was on her bed crying, and jumped into my arms as soon as I walked through the door.
"What is it, baby girl?" I held her and whispered words of encouragement, but she just cried and cried. When the sobs finally died down, I got her to wash her face and go with me to get lunch at a local seafood restaurant a couple miles off-campus. We stirred sugar into our iced tea and waited for shrimp poor-boys.
"I hate it here." She stared at her tea as she squeezed lemon into it.
"It's only been a week. What do you hate?" I tried to reach for her hand, but she pulled it away.
"I hate everything except my classes. I like them. I like going to school. I like studying. I like my professors. But I hate living in the dorm with giddy girls who only care about dates and drinking and going out every night." She finally looked at me, her eyes narrowed to slits, her forehead wrinkled.
"Tell me about it."
"Well, to begin with, none of the girls in my suite ever study. They rarely go to class. They stay up late talking on the phone, giggling, trying out different make-up. Stuff like that. Our phone rings at all hours." She took a breath and a sip of tea. I listened. "When I get back from class, they are just waking up. I can't study in my room. I have to go to the library way across campus, and I'm afraid to walk back alone at night."
"Have you told your mom, I mean Susie, about this?"
"No. I've told Marianne a little, but I don't want to bother Susie. She has her hands full with Dad and her own recovery." She took another sip of tea. Our waitress brought lunch, and we inhaled the smell of fresh-baked bread and fried gulf shrimp. I didn't say anything because I wanted her to talk.
"I want to be a doctor. I'm serious about college." She took a bite of her sandwich and stared at me as though I should understand her dilemma.
"Of course you are. And you should be."
"Look. I'm younger than everyone here. I can't get in bars, even if I want to." She put both her hands on the table, leaned forward, and spoke in a low voice so no one would hear. "I don't want to date fraternity boys who think you should have sex with them. That's not what I want. I want to go to my classes, learn, study, and make good grades. My roommates think I'm a geek."
"Do you want to transfer to another college?"
"I don't think it would be different anywhere else." She sat back in her chair and looked deflated. "I mean. I like school. I just don't like living in the dorm."
A light went off in my head. What if I were to get an apartment in Baton Rouge and Lilly could live with me. Susie would probably pay the rent, and I could take some classes at LSU. I didn't mention it to Lilly because I didn't want her to be disappointed if I couldn't make it happen. Meanwhile, I needed to introduce her to some other people; kids who were serious about school; kids like Bobby and Jessica Morris.
We chit-chatted for a couple hours. I mentioned that there were probably other serious students on campus, and she should be on the lookout for them. "Pay attention to those in your classes who stay late and don't rush out of the classroom. Also, in the library. Those who spend a lot of time there are probably serious."
"Good idea. I hadn't thought about looking outside of my dorm."
"My mother used to say girls went to college to get an MRS Degree." I laughed.
"That's about right. Sounds like my roommates."
"Yeah. I think that's why my mother went to college." I wiped the catsup off my mouth and took a sip of tea. Lilly was laughing hard, and I thought how much better she seemed from a few hours before. "Are you coming to New Orleans this weekend?"
"Yes. Will you be there?" She beamed at me.
"Yes, but I'll be in Baton Rouge another couple days. Maybe we can get together again?"
"Okay, yes. I'd like that, Sissy."
The next afternoon, I picked Lilly up at her dorm and we drove to Spanish Town. I parked across from the gated home I'd been to Monday night.
"Is this where Mr. Morris lives?"
"Yep. Do you remember meeting him last year?" I turned the ignition off and reached for my purse.
"Yes, and his wife, Miss Brenda. Very pretty."
"They love your parents, and they've been wanting to get together with you, but didn't know how to get in touch." I opened my car door and stepped into the street. Lilly came around, and we held hands as we crossed. I rang the doorbell and Jessica opened the door.
"Miss Burton. It's nice to see you again." Jessica smiled and swung the door wide so we could walk in.
"Please, Jessica, call me Sissy."
"Okay. If you'll call me Jessie." She laughed and was charming in her fifteen-year-old way.
"This is Lilly. She's my niece." I put my arm on Lilly's shoulder and pulled her into the room.
"Hi. So are you Susie's daughter?" Jessica closed the door and stood facing Lilly.
"Yes, and Rodney's."
"Awesome. We love your parents." Jessica took Lilly's hand, and I walked behind them through the living room and dining room and into the kitchen. Brenda was behind the island with a cooktop in it. There were stools all around, and after we exchanged greetings, we sat around the island while Brenda prepared supper.
Beyond the kitchen was the solarium where the baby grand piano sat in front of the sliding doors that spanned the entire back of the house. When Brenda declared everything was done and she could put things on warm until dinnertime, we walked through the opened glass doors into the courtyard. Lilly and Jessie sat at the round table with the umbrella, and Brenda pointed to a lounge chair where I sat. She sat in one next to it and put a bottle of wine on the small table between our chairs.
We talked about Susie and Rodney, and Brenda said she would come to New Orleans in the next couple of weeks to visit the patients. I told her to let me know when, and I would make it my business to be there, too. "Maybe we could have lunch."
"That would be great!" Brenda took out her calendar and started to flip pages.
"Would you be bringing the kids with you?" I took a sip of my wine and put the glass down on the table.
"If they want to come. Once they are teenagers, they pretty much decide what they want to do on weekends." She grinned at me as though I should know what she meant, but I was probably closer in age to the teenagers than I was to Brenda. I told her how miserable Lilly was in the dorm, and that I was going to talk to Sissy about renting an apartment so I could get her out of there.
"Lilly's a serious student," I spoke softly so Lilly didn't hear me. "There's too much disruption and partying going on in the dorm."
"Oh. She should stay here." She sat up in her chair as though a thought had just occurred to her. "We have plenty of room, and I'll bet Jessie would love to have her."
"You need to talk to Susie about that." I was a bit surprised at Brenda's immediate invitation for Lilly to stay with them.
Robert and Bobby came into the courtyard at about six o'clock. Robert said he'd gone to Bobby's football practice and drove him home. Robert hugged Lilly and introduced Bobby, who joined Lilly and Jessie at the table where they were playing dominoes. Robert kissed Brenda, and she poured him a glass of wine. The three of us went inside and sat around the kitchen island. After a few minutes, I got up and went to the piano. I couldn't resist playing a baby grand.
I played, Billie Jean, then Beat It, both by Michael Jackson. The three kids came inside and stood around the piano while I finished the second song. They asked me if I could play certain songs, and we all sang, Total Eclipse of the Heart, and Never Gonna Let You Go. I banged out, What's Love Got To Do With It, but didn't know all the words, yet I sang every word to Time After Time, and Girls Just Want to Have Fun, by Cyndi Lauper.
Lilly, Jessie, and Bobby loved the music, and all laughed and tried to sing along. Brenda broke up the party by calling us to the table she'd set in the courtyard. We ate shrimp in a cream sauce mixed with pasta. I was impressed with how adult-like the Morris kids were; very much like Lilly. And the three seemed to hit it off famously.
On the way back to campus after such a fun evening, Lilly was happy and talkative. She said she really liked Bobby and Jessie, and felt comfortable at their house.
"What did y’all talk about while you were playing dominoes?" I stared out the front windshield and tried to remember what it felt like to be sixteen.
"We talked about school. Bobby is taking two college classes at his high school." Lilly sat sideways on her seat, staring at the side of my face. Her voice was upbeat, and she seemed excited. "He says he's going to be a lawyer like his dad. He's very serious about school. Jessie is, too. She wants to be a journalist. She says she might go to law school, too, because journalists who have law degrees have an edge."
"So you liked them?" I was close to her dorm and began to look for a parking spot.
"Oh, yes. I like them a lot—more than any of these snobbish college kids. I wish I was still in high school." Her voice fell flat, as though she were remembering something that made her sad.
"Do you miss New York?"
"I miss Daddy." She became pensive and sat with her head bent, her hands folded in her lap. "And I'd like to visit Mama, even if she doesn't know me. But I'm very happy with Susie and Rodney."
"It must be great to have two moms and two dads." I parked the car, put it in park, and kept the engine running.
"It is, but when I'm with one, I miss the others." Her voice was riddled with tears that she held in check, and I was amazed at how quickly she could go from happiness to depression in a few minutes.
"I'll take you to New York when you want to go. We can talk to Susie about it this weekend, okay?" I turned the motor off and reached for the handle of my door.
"Yes. Let's do that." She turned towards me and had a small smile. "Maybe we could go during the Thanksgiving holidays?"
"Sure. Let's see what Susie says." I started to open the door.
"You don't need to come in with me." She put her hand on my shoulder, and I turned towards her. "And, Sissy. Thanks. You're an awesome aunt." She bent over and kissed me on the cheek, and before I could say anything, she was out the door and across the street. I watched her walk into her dorm. She had more of a lilt to her step than she'd had over the past couple of days, and I hoped she could stay positive until we worked things out.
*
Susie's room seemed like Grand Central Station when I arrived at the end of the week. Miss Bessie and Mr. Ray had been there for a few days and had driven Marianne's Datsun wagon down to New Orleans. Lilly was excited about everything: having her grandparents and her aunts with her, moving into a house near the hospital, and seeing Rodney get better every day. She went from Susie's room to Rodney's to the house on Jules Avenue all day.
I heard the jangle of bracelets and the clicking of stilettos when Mama emerged from the elevator and started down the hall to Susie's room on Tuesday. John Maceo, her live-in beau, was with her. He stood in the corner of Susie's room while Mama acted like mother-of-the-year. She kissed and hugged me, then hovered over Susie, gave her sips of Sprite, and read a poem from the small book by Emily Dickinson that she’d pulled from her leather Gucci handbag.
"We're staying at the Roosevelt Hotel in the city. Here's the phone number if you should need me." She handed a card to me, kissed Susie on the forehead and me on the cheek. "I'll be back tomorrow, and we'll have a wonderful visit." The next day I wasn't there when she returned without John. Susie told me that Mama sat in the tall chair next to her bed and read from Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. Thankfully she only stayed an hour or so, then jingled her way back to John and some fancy dinner at some fancy restaurant downtown.
"I was immediately off to visit Rodney." Susie laughed, and I couldn't help but laugh with her.
Susie was ready to be free to go to Rodney's room on her own, without someone pushing her in a wheelchair, which Marianne, Lilly, and I took turns doing—back and forth. She had devised her own therapy for Rodney: a particular speech therapy, a sit-up-straight therapy, a let me pump your legs that you don't feel therapy, and the all-important how to hold a spoon therapy. She was convinced he would get well sooner if she were with him more.
Susie's determination to be normal and to make Rodney recover was the talk of the medical center. Doctors and nurses stopped to speak to her when one of us rolled her wheelchair down the halls.
I walked into her room Thursday, and she was waiting, dressed in slacks, a silk blouse, and sneakers. She had even applied a little lip-gloss and mascara, and was sitting in the tall chair in the corner of her room.
"I'm ready. What kept you?" Susie laughed and pulled the walker towards her. "I'm done with that wheelchair. Too confining, and no one looks down at me." She started towards the door to the hall just as Marianne walked in. Susie strolled right past Mari, who looked at me, her shoulders lifted. I was stuck to the floor, dumbfounded.
"Did Dr. Warner give you permission to amble around this huge medical center on your own two feet, missy?" Marianne tried to catch up to Susie in the hall. I went after Marianne and heard Susie's reply.
"I don't need permission." She turned her head sideways to talk to Mari over her shoulder as we headed down the hall like the follow-the-leader game. When we passed in front of the nurses' station, everyone stood up: the therapists, the nurses, two doctors, and several housekeepers. Susie knew all of them by name and waved at them and smiled as she walked by. They were surprised to see her walk down the hall, even with the support of the walker. I shrugged my shoulders at them as I went by.
When we got to the elevators, I heard a roar of applauds behind us. All three of us turned to see that everyone had filed out from behind the desk and stood in the hall watching us, clapping, whistling, and cheering. Susie was touched, but she acted like it was all in a day's work, and waved at them as Marianne and I followed her into the elevator.
"Okay," Susie said when we walked into Rodney's room. "It's time for you to try to sit up." He was still flat on his back with oxygen in his nostrils, a catheter, and an IV line. He smiled at her and winked. Lilly got up from her chair and rushed to Susie's walker to help.
"Lil, please lift the head of Rodney's bed." She pointed to the crank at the foot of the bed, and Lilly hesitated. "Tell her it's alright, baby." Susie looked at Rodney, and he nodded at Lilly. Lilly started turning the crank, and the head of the bed began to rise. When it lifted about six inches, Susie told Lilly to stop. "Okay. That's good for today. Every day another six inches or so until you can sit up straight. Okay?"
Rodney smiled so wide his straight white teeth gleamed. He nodded again.
"Now, for speech therapy." Susie pushed her way to the side of his bed and asked Marianne to lower it so she could sit next to him. Susie planted her butt at his waist and put one hand on each side of his head, bent forward and kissed him for a long time. He closed his eyes and kissed her back.
When she lifted her head, and their faces were a few inches apart she said, "Say, 'Love.'"
I watched his tongue touch the back of his upper teeth, his lips parted about an inch, as he tried to form the word.
"Push air through your mouth from your throat," Susie spoke softly and was close enough to his mouth to kiss him.
"Luhhhhhhh." Rodney's voice was raspy and deep, but the sound was loud and clear.
"Great job!" She kissed him again and sat straight up. "Now. Try again. Louder."
"Luhhhhhh-bbbbb." He smiled at her then looked at Lilly, who was still standing at the foot of the bed. "Luhhhhhh-bbbb."
"I love you, too, Dad." Lilly held onto the bed to steady herself. Rodney smiled at her and said it again, "Luhhhhh-bbbb. Liiiiiiiii."
"Great. You've got the L's!" Susie laughed aloud. "And that's the most important letter of the alphabet." She kissed him again and pulled her body into his bed so she could lie down next to him, her head on his shoulder, her arm across his chest. Rodney simply smiled and shut his eyes, savoring the deliciousness like chocolate pie.
Dr. Warner walked into the room and gasped. I wasn't sure how much of it he saw and heard, but it was enough to impress him.
"It looks like someone is hampering to get out of ICU and into a regular room." He smiled and walked past Marianne and Lilly, who stood at the foot of the bed. He squeezed Marianne's elbow as he went by, a little gesture I noticed but didn't comment on.
"Let me examine my patient, Susie." He tried to help her out of the bed, but she insisted on doing it herself. "I hear you ran a marathon this morning. You're the talk of the Rehab Unit, young lady." She smiled and shrugged.
"So, Rodney, I see your bed is raised a bit. How does that feel? Does your head hurt in this position? Just blink once for yes, twice for no." Warner shined his penlight into Rodney's eyes.
"Oooooh." Rodney's mouth formed an 'O' as he pushed the sound out. Warner backed up and stared at him, then turned to look at Susie.
"He said, 'No," she laughed at Dr. Warner. "We were having speech therapy. You interrupted us, but I'll forgive you this one time." Warner looked from Susie to Rodney and back and forth a few times, then at Marianne. She shrugged as if to say, "I have no control over this pair."
"Okay. I can see where I'm not needed around here. When you can sit up at forty-five degrees for thirty minutes or more without additional pain and no medical problems, I'll move you to the Neurology floor where you can have visitors all day." Warner knew this was important to Susie, Rodney, and Lilly. Susie was only allowed to see Rodney four times a day for ten to fifteen minutes each time; although she often convinced the nurses to let her stay longer. Lilly was considered his attendant and could sit quietly in his cubicle for two hours at a time, then the staff had to empty drains, take blood, and do all the medical things Rodney needed several times a day. That's when Lilly went to Susie's room.
"Yahhhhhh." Rodney seemed to enjoy pushing air over his vocal cords. Marianne contends, to this day, that his determination was spirited by Susie's positive attitude. Susie didn't buy into that compliment. She believed that if she could get better, he could, too.
Twice a day, Susie insisted on raising the head of Rodney's bed a few more inches and leaving him upright as long as he could stand it. Nurses came in and out, pointing their penlights on his pupils, and agreed he was able to tolerate the new positions. By the end of the week, he was sitting at forty-five degrees for thirty minutes, several times a day and pushing out sounds that almost made words.
*
Marianne and I were at the house on Jules Avenue most of the next day, unpacking boxes, hanging art, putting dishes in cabinets, making beds, all the things you do when you move into a house. Marianne was quiet, and when I tried to chat with her she gave one-word answers.
"I can tell something is bothering you, and I'm wondering when you might spill it." I smiled at her. We were in the kitchen, filling the cabinets with things the interior designer had sent over and stuff I'd brought from Jean Ville. I pointed to the round table in the center of the room, and she sat down. She told me that she'd had an awkward encounter with Dr. Warner at a sports bar on Deckbar Avenue, and that she'd been avoiding him since.
"What happened?" I put water and coffee grounds in the Mr. Coffee and pulled two coffee mugs out of a box.
"He got fresh with me." She had her hands folded on the table in front of her and stared at her fingers as she formed a church steeple, then folded her fingers back into a double-handed fist.
"What's the problem. He seems attracted to you." I rinsed the mugs in the sink and pulled a dishtowel out of a drawer, surprised I remembered where they were. "No one could blame him. You are stunningly beautiful, smart, talented, kind."
"Sissy. You know my history. I've never been with a man." She continued to stare at her hands, fisted so tightly I could see the veins across the tops. "I think he tried to kiss me, and it scared me out of my skin."
"Well, how did it feel?" I stood with my back resting against the cabinet in front of the coffee maker and stared at her, but she didn't look up.
"I felt his breath on the side of my face, and he said that he wanted to kiss me every time he saw me."
"Hmm. Have you thought about telling him?" I turned when the coffee pot sputtered and spat the last of the water through the grounds.
"Oh, no! I couldn't." She started to cry, and I went to the table and put my arms around her from behind, laying my head on top of hers.
"Mari, you need to be honest with him."
"He'll hate me." She whimpered.
"He might." I patted her shoulder. "But it's best to find out rather than keep secrets. They will come out eventually, and the longer you wait, the more invested you will be in the relationship, and harder it will be to lose him. If you're going to run him off, do it now before things go any further."
She didn't respond, and I could feel her whimpers get smaller and further apart.
*
The next day, we were in ICU and Susie had Rodney's bed at forty-five degrees when Dr. Warner rushed in with two nurses behind him.
"I heard you are trying to get out of bed!" He stopped at the foot of Rodney's bed. Marianne was sitting in the corner reading a magazine and looked up over it. His eyes met hers, and she immediately looked down and hid behind the book. Warner looked at Rodney. "What are you trying to do, get me off your payroll?"
Rodney laughed. Susie was in bed with him, reading aloud Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken, very slowly. She'd stop to ask if he understood, and required him to say certain words, like "wood," "fair," and "way." He pushed sounds out that mimicked the words, and she would pat him on the leg and smile at him each time. Lilly would clap her hands when he made sounds, which were deep, throaty, and sometimes sounded, to me, like a foghorn.
Watching Susie and Rodney was enchanting, and I sneaked a peek at Dr. Warner, who was grinning at them. Marianne also watched Susie and Rodney, and Warner caught Mari's glance, winked at her and lifted his chin, pointing it towards the door as if asking her to meet him in the hall. She looked back down at the magazine. I stood next to her chair and pinched her shoulder. She shrugged me off.
"Marianne told me Susie would be the best medicine for you. She was right." Warner looked at Marianne, and she looked up when she heard her name. He winked at no one in particular, and I had to agree with Marianne that he looked pretty sexy. She blushed. He examined Rodney, shined the light in his eyes, ran a sharp object on the underside of his feet, then pulled the sheet back over them.
"Okay, I'm convinced. I'll spring you out of ICU. You're taking up too much of my staff's time." He laughed, went to the side of Rodney's bed, and shook his hand, man-to-man. "Congratulations. If I were a writer, I'd write an article about you two for the Journal of the American Medical Association."
Rodney pointed to Susie and grinned. "Sheeeeeeee. Riiiiiiiiiiii."
"He's trying to tell you that Susie is a writer." Lilly stood on the other side of the bed, watching, smiling.
"Oh, really. What do you write?" Dr. Warner shifted his attention to Susie.
"I only have one published book, The Catfish Chronicles. My second, a sequel, is with the editor." Susie was holding Rodney's hand. "Will you really transfer him to a regular room?"
"Yes. But if there are problems, he's coming back here." Warner shook Rodney's hand again. "Congratulations. Next graduation will be to Rehab. Susie can tell you all about that."
"By the way, when are you going to discharge me? I'm doing fine." Susie got out of the bed and stood facing Warner.
"Well, let me get the reports from your therapists. I'm concerned about where you will go when you leave here." Warner looked at Marianne again, then back at Susie.
"Marianne moved us into a house not far from here. But I'll stay in Rodney's room most of the time."
"That's what I'm afraid of. He needs his rest." Warner looked at Rodney, who was grinning. Susie acted as though she didn't hear Warner.
"It doesn't matter. After you move him to a room, I'll start staying with him as much as I want to, anyway. Whether you discharge me or not." She laughed, and I knew she was pulling his leg, but only a little. She would stay with her husband as long as the nursing staff would allow, and then some. She was not going to be shooed off easily.
"I'll talk to Marianne about this house and make sure you can handle living there." He looked at Mari and motioned with his chin again. "Can I speak with you in the hall?"
I started to laugh, because Marianne was cornered and had to get up and follow him out of the room. That night she told me that he'd apologized for coming on to her and asked for another chance. "He said he wanted to prove he's not a scumbag." We laughed, and she told me that she'd agreed to go out with him again.