Eleven

On a record-breaking cold Saturday morning when she could have stayed home relishing in long uninterrupted hours of playing with clay, Adele drove down the county highway. The north wind howled across barren fields on her right, dusting the blacktop with snow, rattling her car, lengthening the trip by seven minutes. At last she pulled into Fox Meadow’s parking lot, continuing the dialogue begun at four-thirty that morning.

I have a legitimate reason for being here.

On normal weekends she didn’t go in to work, but there were often situations that required her attention.

In her opinion anyway.

All right. So she was a little too hands-on for some people. What did it hurt? She loved Fox Meadow as if it were her own home and loved every facet of caring for the residents. What did it matter that her job description did not specifically prescribe that she give tours, do the necessary paperwork with relatives, welcome newcomers at the door, change linens, or show up on Saturdays? Or tuck in the new guy and have dinner with his close friend?

“Oh my.”

She left the car and walked across the lot, holding her hood tight against the icy wind.

There were official reasons for her creative schedule. She had no assistant and only a part-time secretary. The center was short-funded and understaffed, which meant sacrificing those special TLC touches. Adele refused to let that happen. They were what made Fox Meadow a special place. She jumped in, running herself ragged at times, turning reports in late, not returning phone calls in a timely manner.

Then there was Chelsea’s growing independence. Her daughter was smart and artistic. She would easily receive grants and scholarships and in 18 months head off to college. Adele’s stomach hurt when she thought about that fact, but she had long ago vowed to never lay a guilt trip on her daughter. Their relationship was not going to resemble the unhealthy one she’d had with her parents.

“Adele!”

She looked up to find herself standing in the middle of the lobby facing Gracie, the weekend supervisor, whose demeanor didn’t begin to approach the promise of her name. Another reason for Adele’s creative schedule.

As usual, Gracie’s hands were planted on her ample hips and her gray-streaked black hair was pulled back severely in a bun. “Except for Mrs. Cantrell’s nonstop jabbering, there’s no wind blowing in here.”

“Huh?”

“You’re standing there all bundled up with your hood on.”

“Oh. I am!” She chuckled, pushing back the hood and fluffing her hair. “How did Mr. Jennings do last night?”

“Fine, far as I know. Friendly buzzard, isn’t he? He made it to the dining room for breakfast.”

“Great.”

They chatted about business for a few minutes and parted ways. After tossing her coat on a chair in her office, Adele headed out to make the social rounds. Saturday was a good day to touch base with a large group of residents and their visiting relatives. Room 212 seemed as good a place to start as any.

Rand Jennings was sitting in the armchair and looking out the window. Black slacks, a bright yellow cardigan, and a plaid shirt hung loosely over his gaunt form. She was glad not to see him in pajamas. It meant the pain was still tolerable…there was still a reason to get up in the morning.

She knocked on the open door. “Mr. Jennings?”

He turned his head and smiled. “Adele! Good morning. You look especially lovely today. Have a seat.”

She dragged a straight-backed chair nearer to him and sat in it. “How are you doing? Did you sleep all right?”

“I slept like a baby.” He smiled, his dark eyes nearly squinting closed behind the thick bifocals. “It’s a comfortable place you have here.”

“Thank you.”

“How’d you get to be director?”

“Hey, I came to talk about you.”

“No, you didn’t. You came to make me feel better. I’ll feel better if I don’t talk about me. It’s getting to be an overdone subject. Now, how did you end up here?”

“Well, I started out as a nurse’s aide.”

“Baths and bedpans?”

“You got it. And I fell in love with the place! I spent any time I could spare here, learning all I could about nursing. But I found out I wasn’t as interested in the medical side of things as in the people themselves. I went to school part-time and eventually got a degree in sociology. In the meantime, I became receptionist, then file clerk, then assistant to the director. I learned about administration, the ins and outs of insurance, and state aid and social work.”

“And dying.”

She stared at him.

“You must have.”

She nodded. It had been the hardest part. Still was.

“Your Fox Meadow is more than likely the last stop for all of us. The only thing that matters is that we’re ready. If it weren’t for Jesus, I know I wouldn’t be ready. I met Him about two years ago. It’s been a crash course, making up for lost time and getting to know Him better. How about you? Have you met Him?”

She smiled, thinking about how Graham considered her direct. “Almost seventeen years ago, since the moment I saw my newborn baby’s face.”

He raised his arm slightly, haltingly, as if to reach out to her. The pain would be too sharp. Graham told her the cancer was in his spine. Adele covered his hand with her own.

He smiled. “You’re a believer. I hoped you were. My wife was, but I wouldn’t listen. Graham never gave up on me, though. Thank the good Lord. Do you go to a church in your town?”

“Valley Oaks Community. Though sometimes I come here. We have a service at nine. Friends and relatives are welcome to attend.”

“Which one are you going to tomorrow? So I can tell Graham.” His laugh was rough-sounding.

Adele stared at him, unsure how to respond.

“Don’t mind me. I’m a meddler. Always have been. Thing is, he’s been lonely for a long time.” His voice was growing raspier, but still he talked. “Tell me about that baby.”

Safer ground. Her turtleneck was beginning to feel tight at the throat. “Um, her name is Chelsea. She’ll be seventeen in three months. She looks an awful lot like me. Do you want to lie down?”

“No. But maybe I will. Morning nap time for this baby.”

She helped him onto the bed and covered him with a soft afghan that had been folded neatly at its foot. It wasn’t Fox Meadow issue. They must have brought it from home. For a couple of men, they seemed to have taken good care of the homey details. She noticed a plant on the chest of drawers and an eight-by-ten framed photo of an ocean sunrise hanging on the wall. A shiny new television with built-in VCR.

“Shall I close the blinds, Mr. Jennings?”

“No, thank you. But you could call me Rand.” He smiled.

“You got it, Rand. Sleep tight.”

Adele walked down the hall, pulling at the neck of her sweater.

She had known Graham was a believer. She had known he was kind and thoughtful and funny. He had apologized for being rude, paid for her dinner, and made her laugh, all in one day. And he could eat an all-vegetable meal and drink her herbal tea without a hint of complaint. He had great hair, but if it all fell out he would still have that intriguing cleft in his chin.

She had known all of that.

Now she knew he was a devoted friend, evidenced by the good care he took of Rand. By how he hadn’t given up on him. By how he rearranged his work and living situations in order to be near him. By the attention to detail in a drab nursing home room.

And now she also knew that he was lonely.

She had no idea any such man walked the face of the earth. Not that she was looking. She wasn’t, was she? She hadn’t been for 17 years. No reason to start now.

Was there?

Graham entered Rand’s room Saturday afternoon and found him sitting up in bed, the afghan tucked around his legs, the television tuned to a basketball game.

“Hi, Pops.”

“They don’t have cable.”

He set down his briefcase and sat on the edge of the bed. No need to remind Rand they knew before the move that Fox Meadow was low-rent district. Hence, no cable. “I’ll get some video tapes of your favorite preachers.”

“That would be nice.” Rand closed his eyes, his pale, skeletal hand clutching the blanket. “Sorry for grumbling.”

“When did you take your pill?”

“Thirty minutes late.”

Graham’s blood did a slow boil. Low rent didn’t have to mean shoddy. They had to stay on top of the pain or somebody would have to answer to him.

“She came in.” A smile tugged at his mouth.

“Hmm.”

“She is a lovely young woman, isn’t she?”

“She is.” But if she couldn’t get the morphine distributed on time, her dimpled smile wasn’t going to help.

“Her church is Valley Oaks Community. I don’t know the time.”

“So you think I should go to the same service, do you?”

Rand didn’t respond.

Panic clutched at Graham’s chest and he leaned forward. Was Rand asleep? He detected his shallow breathing. Graham’s own evened out again.

Lord, please don’t take him too soon.

Ridiculous prayer. God would accomplish what needed to be accomplished. Time meant nothing to Him.

He eased himself gently from the bed and sat in the armchair. He pulled the Valley Oaks Times from his briefcase and opened it in search of a local listing of church services.

He wasn’t so sure about Rand’s hopes that he and Adele would become close friends as quickly as possible. Pops said it would make him happy to be able to leave this world knowing that someone near would offer comfort.

The trouble was, Rand didn’t know just how lovely she was. Nor just exactly how available she was, despite that photo of the guy on her desk. Nor had he taken into account exactly how vulnerable Graham was, something Graham himself hadn’t even known until last night.

The problem was, he and Adele had blown right on past close friendship status by the time the pizza was gone. By the time they finished the tea, the air between them crackled.

And that simply was not going to work.