CHAPTER 14
When we got to the hospital, I expected Grandma to be better. The sight of her stopped me in my tracks. Tubes hooked to a plastic bag above her head ran to a needle sticking in her arm. Another line fed from a round tank tied to the bed to a mask over her nose and mouth. The sign read OXYGEN—NO SMOKING. Her face was pasty, and red veins ran like a grapevine across her cheeks. Grandma looked as if she’d aged twenty years in a day. The silver hair that was always tight and neat lay spread across her pillow, strands sticking up at angles. It was scary seeing such a strong woman looking so frail. I took her hand. “Hey, Grandma.”
When she opened her eyes, they were weak and glassy as flat water. She tried to speak, but the mask muffled her words.
Mrs. Wilson came to stand beside me. “Don’t try to talk, Rosa Belle, you rest.” She patted Grandma’s arm and smiled. Grandma nodded her head and closed her eyes.
I dragged a couple of extra plastic chairs from the hall into the light-yellow painted-concrete block room. A nurse came by to check on Grandma’s temperature and listen to her chest. She said the doctor should be around before lunch.
The room across the way was crowded with women, each one trying to talk louder than the others, while three little kids ran up and down the hall raising hell. I figured the sick lady must be their momma, because every once in a while she would yell at the younguns to shut up. It looked like the room was on fire from all the cigarette smoke.
“Them children need a good ass whooping,” Mr. Wilson said. Mrs. Wilson slapped his arm for cussing. The clock on the wall read eleven when an older, very tall doctor stooped through the door. His black hair was gray at the temples and he wore heavy brown glasses. He introduced himself as Dr. Murray and listened to Grandma’s chest and back, made some notes on the chart at the foot of the bed, and then motioned for us to step outside.
“Mrs. Hurley is a very sick lady. She’s got a bad case of pneumonia, and our best chance is the antibiotics we’re giving her.” He was kind, but all business. “She’s a strong woman and that is in her favor. If she can hang on for another twenty-four to forty-eight hours, her odds will go up.”
I stared at him. He was saying Grandma might die. Mrs. Wilson put her arm across my shoulders.
He looked down at me. “Do you have any questions, son?”
“I need my grandma to get well. She’s all I got.”
“We’re going to do our best.” He stuck out his hand and we shook. “If there’s anything you need, ask the nurse to call me.”
The hours stretched long as we waited through the afternoon, taking turns walking up and down the hall to stretch our legs. The visitors across the hall finally left, dragging the kids crying and hollering with them. A nurse’s aide brought Grandma soup and Jell-O for dinner, but Mrs. Wilson couldn’t rouse her enough to eat, so Mr. Wilson ate the Jell-O. “No use wasting it,” he said.
It was getting toward five o’clock. Mr. Wilson said, “We need to start home so I can get the animals fed and shut up before dark.”
“Mr. Wilson, y’all think you’ll come tomorrow?”
“Sure, Junebug, we’ll be back in the morning.”
“Then I’m staying the night.”
Mr. Wilson looked a little irritated. “Junebug, these doctors and nurses will make sure she’s looked after. Miss Rosa Belle will be all right.”
“I want to be here every time she opens her eyes so she knows she ain’t alone.” I hoped my tone let them know there wasn’t going to be any arguing.
Mrs. Wilson spoke up. “I understand. Come on, Clyde, he’ll be fine.”
“Anything need doing at the house?” Mr. Wilson asked.
“No. Fancy is going to take care of milking the cow and see to the other things for me.”
He pulled out his wallet and handed me a five-dollar bill. “When did you talk to her?”
“She stopped by real early this morning before she went to school.” Hell of a place to tell a lie.
“You take this so you can eat something.”
I took the money. “Pay you back soon as I get home.”
He headed toward the door. “All in due time, Junebug.”
After they left, a pretty blond nurse came in the room, made notes, and checked the medicine bags. She had a nice smile. “Is Mrs. Hurley your only family?”
I nodded. “Do you think she will be all right?”
“We’ll take care of her real good, don’t you worry.” The name on her tag said Nurse Freymuth. An hour later, she came rolling in a big easy chair. “Thought you could use something more comfortable in case you want to get a little sleep.” She showed me how to use the handle to make the back go down so I could stretch out. “The cafeteria is down on the first floor and opens in a little while if you want some supper.”
I sat and listened to Grandma’s breathing. I was exhausted, and nodded on and off. Once I caught Grandma watching me. She smiled, then drifted off again.
It was getting dark outside the room window, and I went hunting for that cafeteria. A plate of spaghetti cost a dollar and a carton of milk was twenty cents. It turned out I wasn’t very hungry. A cigarette machine was against the wall in the hallway. They were expensive at forty cents a pack, but figured I needed the smokes worse than the money. I decided to take a break from the hospital stink, and stopped the elevator at the main floor. Stone benches sat along the brightly lit sidewalk outside, and the night air felt good. A few other people came along, and we smoked and chatted for a while.
After two cigarettes’ worth of conversation, I went back to Grandma’s room. Her hand felt chilly so I tried to warm it in both of mine. She opened her eyes. Her hand reached to move the mask to one side. “Junebug, I need to talk to you.” She seemed stronger, and her eyes looked clearer.
“Grandma, you shouldn’t be taking that thing off.” I got up to help her, but she pushed against my hand.
“Hush and listen.” She sounded cross. “There’s things you need to know in case the Lord calls me home.”
I shook my head. “No need. You’re going to be well in a few weeks and up and around.”
“Junebug, I know I’m bad off, and should’ve had this talk with you before now.” Her voice trembled like a person would if they were cold. “Out in the pack house cellar there’s money the family has been keeping a real long time. It’s hidden in mason jars. When you go in the door, they’re buried in the rear left hand corner under an old barrel.” She stopped and coughed hard.
I put the mask back over her face; she took some deep breaths and removed it again. “I got a plot at the church beside your granddaddy already spoke for.” Grandma talked fast, like she needed to get everything said. “My will and the deed to the farm are at Lawyer Stern’s office in Apex.” She struggled for air. I started to say something, but she moved her finger to my mouth. “You guard that money, Junebug, but use it if you need to. The farm is free and clear, so as long as you keep it, you’ve got somewhere to live and be able to fend for yourself.” She started coughing bad and had to stop. I held a cup for her to spit in, but didn’t look at it. “Use that Hurley hardheadedness, and you’ll make out. You know I love you and I know you’re man enough.”
Her face was pale as a daylight moon. I couldn’t shake the dread that came over me. “Junebug, there comes a time the Lord sees fit for us to take new reins and go in a different direction.” She held my eyes with the tears in hers. “Life don’t always play out the way we think it should. If it’s my time, I’m not afraid and don’t want you to be either. Whatever plan God has, I’m willing to accept it.”
My voice choked. “Grandma, you’re going to get out of this bed and come home. I’m not ready to be done having you around yet. I don’t think I can do the lonesome.”
Eye water soaked her cheeks. “I’m proud of you, Junebug, always have been. You keep believing in yourself, that how you see the world is right.”
I lifted her hand to my face. “Whatever I am, I got it from you.”
I put her mask back on, and in a few minutes, she was asleep again. I went to stand at the window and whispered, “Lord, if You’re up there, I’ve listened to the preacher, and Fancy, and Grandma say all things are according to Your Plan. I’ve swallowed everything You’ve dished out up ’til now, but You know Grandma’s all I got left, and I’ve about had a belly full of Your plans.”
I sat down beside Grandma. The lines and wrinkles of hard times were etched into her face like a sharp knife on bread dough. I tried to remember a time when she didn’t look old. I had no idea what I would do without her if she died, how I would live, or if I even wanted to. But she would consider giving up a sin just as bad as stealing or lying or using the Lord’s name in vain. Grandma was my only ally, understanding I struggled with conflictions about God, about how I didn’t think things I saw were right, and especially Fancy. I needed to believe her spirit would stay with me, and all I could hope was for it to be enough.