Gaining Visibility (2 page)

C
HAPTER
2

T
he following day, Julia sauntered into Room 187 at the Manor Hill Convalescent Center bearing a bouquet of sunflowers in one hand and a box of Godiva chocolates in the other. “I have nipples!” she announced.

At eighty-three, Hettie Berkwith still cut a fetching image in her pink silk gown with her silver braid of hair lying sleekly over one shoulder. “So do I,” she countered. “And I'd show them to you, but at present, they're tucked snugly between my knees.” The stroke, which paralyzed the left side of Hettie's body, might've made her grin one-sided, but it hadn't slowed the speed of her one-liners.

Julia laughed and gave her mother-in-law's cheek a peck before presenting her with the chocolates and arranging the flowers in the vase that always awaited them on Thursday.

“So, do I get to see them?” Hettie already had the cellophane off the box and sat poised to pounce on the foil-wrapped dark chocolate medallion.

Julia set the flowers on the bedside table and eased into the La-Z-Boy. “Not today. The bandages don't come off for a few days, and then I have to keep them protected for a couple of weeks.”

Hettie cocked an eyebrow. “So that would mean no heavy sucking.”

“Not even if there were someone who wanted to.” Julia returned the look with a cocked brow of her own.

Hettie drew a long, dramatic breath. “Man, that just sucks.” She popped the medallion into her mouth and replaced the lid on the box. “So, what other news you got? Heard anything from my son, the prick?”

Julia had grown so used to Hettie's “term of endearment” for Frank, it no longer fazed her. “Sort of.” She pulled the handle to raise the footrest a notch and tilted the recliner back a bit. “I talked to Melissa last night. She said he and his new friend Dawn flew up to see her for a few days. Apparently he looked tanned and fit.” Julia noted that whereas talking about Frank used to stir her anger, now it mostly made her tired. She stifled a yawn.

“Tan and fit, eh? I'd like to tan him. Guess that's what Hawaii does for you.”

This was a day for celebration, not one to dwell on her ex, so Julia eased the conversation in a different direction. “Melissa and Alaska seem to be a good fit. She took that three-year offer they gave her.” She'd advised Melissa against the move—losing her “little girl” to adulthood, a man, and Alaska in one fell swoop was enough to make any mother retaliate. But talking to Melissa last night had loosened the hounds of contrition, and they were nipping at her heart. “I was wrong, trying to talk her out of going,” she admitted, more to herself than to Hettie. “But thank heavens she knew her own mind and didn't listen to me. Following Michael to Alaska was the right choice for her.”

If she repeated it often enough, maybe it would stick.

“Doesn't anybody want to stay at home anymore?” Hettie grunted as she started to work on the box lid again. Julia watched the struggle but knew better than to offer help. If Hettie needed it, which she seldom did, she'd ask. “My son, the prick, in Hawaii. My granddaughter up in the Alaskan wilderness. You traipsing off to Italy.” She shook her head and drowned her disgust in a caramel cream.

“That's still two months away, and I'll only be gone three weeks. Then I'll be back home to stay.” They'd been over this all before, but this was the first time Hettie had acted the least bit upset about the Italy trip. Her mother-in-law was out of sorts about something.

She wagged her finger in Julia's direction. “Just be sure to stock me up on chocolates before you go.”

“I will even splurge on the large box of truffles if that's what it takes to keep you happy while I'm—”

“Good afternoon. Mrs. Berkwith, is it?”

A man Julia had never seen before strolled into the room like he owned the place. Hand extended, he stepped closer to her mother-in-law's bed as Julia brought the recliner to the upright position, quickly taking note of the salt-and-pepper hair framing dark eyebrows and eyes that looked like drops from the Caribbean had found their way to Kentucky. She did a quick check of his hand. No ring.

“I'm Joe Proctor, the new administrator.” His voice was like a toasted marshmallow—warm crust surrounding a tender center—and Julia's mouth watered at the sound. “I'm making my way around, trying to meet everyone this afternoon.” His eyes bounced from Hettie to her, then back to Hettie without so much as a pause.

Invisibility at work
. She sighed mentally and again eased the recliner back.

“Nice to meet you, Joe.” Hettie gestured toward Julia. “This is Julia, my daughter by marriage.”

“Glad to meet you.” He glanced and nodded cordially, but immediately shifted his eyes back to Hettie. “Mrs. Berkwith, if there's ever anything I can do—”

“She was married to my son, who's a prick.” Hettie continued her introduction. “But they're divorced now.”

Joe Proctor's eyes widened ever so slightly at what must have been surprising language coming from one of the residents, but he recouped quickly and smiled. “Well, I'm sorry to hear that. But if there's ever anything—”

“She got new nipples yesterday. So, are you married, Joe?”

Maybe invisibility wasn't as bad as she originally thought, Julia decided as she looked around for a hole to slither into. With any luck this guy would totally forget what she looked like three minutes after he left this room. Which happened quickly.

A shake of his head and a rapid “Congratulations” shot in Julia's direction, then Joe Proctor beat it out of Hettie's room as fast as his long legs could carry him.

Julia lolled her head against the corduroy back of the chair and groaned. “Hettie, why would you say that?”

“Because I can get by with it.” Hettie set the box of chocolates off her lap. “Life's too short to mince words.”

An odd, gravelly texture to the ancient voice made Julia sit up again. “What's up with you today?” She pushed out of the recliner, mindful of her stitches, and cleared a spot to sit on the side of the bed.

Hettie's tone flattened like a deflated balloon. “Thelma from across the hall passed away during the night.”

“Oh, Hettie.” Julia's throat tightened around the words. “I'm so sorry. I know how fond you were of her. You were good company for each other.” She laid her hand on top of Hettie's cold one in a futile attempt to transfer some life and emotion into a soul being weathered away by loss.

But her mother-in-law's eyes were clear, and no tears clouded either them or her voice when she spoke. “Yeah, well, life goes on. People pass in and out and through our lives. It's the ones who stay and visit who leave their mark.” She squeezed Julia's hand with a strength that belied her age.

Julia wished with all her heart she could get Hettie out of this place and take her home to live. But her own home—the one she and Frank had shared—had too many levels and no full bath downstairs. And Hettie's house was built before handicap accessibility was even a term. Not a single door was wide enough for a wheelchair to pass through. Realizing that going home was never going to be an option, Hettie had sold all of the big pieces of furniture. The old, stately home with the shady corner lot now sat shuttered and empty.

Julia rarely drove by anymore. The good memories were too overshadowed by the sad.

“Tell you what.” Julia patted Hettie's hand, trying to conjure enough enthusiasm to raise both their spirits. “It's a gorgeous day, and the peonies have started to bloom. Whatcha say we go for a walk?”

Hettie's eyes flashed with appreciation, and she started kicking the covers off using her good leg. “I can't go strutting my stuff in my gowntail. We'll have half the men here chasing after me.” She eased her right leg off the edge of the bed and reached over to grab under the knee of her left one.

“Be careful.” Julia took a small step back to give her room but stayed close enough to help.

“Quit hovering,” Hettie snapped, and pointed toward the closet. “Grab my turquoise housedress, will you?”

Julia found the duster that buttoned up the front while her mother-in-law struggled to a sitting position on the side of the bed, panting from the exertion. She didn't protest when Julia took over the job of getting her out of her nightclothes and fully dressed. They'd moved her from the bed to the wheelchair and back often enough to know what worked and what didn't.

“Got this down to a science, don't we?” Hettie gave a loud grunt as she settled into the seat.

Julia lifted her foot and set it on the footrest. “That we do.” She shot her a grin as she unlatched the brake. “Ready?”

“More than you'll ever know.”

The trip to the front door took a while since everybody they passed wanted to stop and talk. They all knew Julia, treating her as something special because she chose to take care of her mother-in-law when Frank bailed. But, like with the cancer, Julia assured them she deserved no medals when the subject came up, which it rarely did these days.

She loved Hettie as much as she loved her own mother. When her parents were killed while she was in college, her soon-to-be mother-in-law became
mom
to her in every way except name.

Jim Overby was parked in his usual spot in front of the TV in the lobby. When he saw them coming, he used his good leg to propel his wheelchair toward the front door to intercept them.

“Morning, Hettie. Hi, Julia.”

“Good morning, Jim.”

Jim always spoke to her and Julia always answered, but he seldom looked her way, and when he did, it was merely a quick glance. It was fine to be invisible to Jim. When Hettie was around, the whole world was invisible to Jim. The old man had eyes only for her mother-in-law, and it had been that way since the day Hettie moved in.

“My daughter sent me a new Celtic Woman CD. I'm going to listen to it this afternoon if you'd like to stop by.” The hope in his voice was unmistakable.

Hettie gave a one-shoulder shrug. “We're going for a walk, but I will if I'm not too tired.”

Jim nodded. “Okay.”

To Julia's delight, he actually winked at Hettie before he pushed back. She held her giggle until they got outside in the sunshine. “Oh my goodness, Hettie. He was flirting with you.”

“The doofus.” Hettie chuckled. “He got that CD last week, and we've listened to it at least five times.”

They had a good laugh together as they made their way into the garden at the side of the building.

“Know what you should do?” Hettie tilted her head back to make eye contact. “Find yourself a man in Italy. A good man.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “I'm going to Italy to hike—not to find a man.”

“Three weeks should give plenty of time for both.” Hettie pointed to where the hummingbirds darted around a feeder in aerial combat. “That damn rubythroat thinks he's king of the realm. Runs all the rest of them away. Did I ever tell you I fell in love in Italy?”

The lack of segue caught Julia off guard. “You did not,” she challenged.

“Yes, I did.” Hettie's eyes twinkled as she looked back again, and her cheeks took on a rosy hue that wasn't only from the heat of the sun. “It was before I met Lon. I was there with my aunt. His name was Carlo Panicci, and he was the most handsome man I'd ever laid eyes on.”

Julia couldn't believe she'd never heard mention of this man's name from Hettie's tell-all mouth. “Well, what happened? You can't start a story like that and leave me hanging.” She pushed the wheelchair over by a bench and took a seat. This story needed face time.

Hettie shrugged. “I came back home and met Lon. I stopped answering the letters, and eventually they stopped coming.” She smiled slyly. “But those Italian guys are amazing in the sack.”

“Hettie!” Julia had always assumed her mother-in-law had only been with Frank's father, so this shift in the paradigm hit her from out of the blue.

“Does that shock you?” The glimmer in Hettie's eyes dared her to deny it.

“Yes.”

“Do you think less of me?”

“No.” Julia touched her forehead to her mother-in-law's. “It gives you more . . . dimension.”

“Helps you see me in a new light, eh?”

“Definitely.”

“Good.” Hettie held up her right hand and extended her little finger. “Now pinkie swear the story will never go any further than us.”

“Agreed.”

They hooked pinkies and swore their oath, but when it came time to pull apart, Julia held on. “By the way . . .”

“What?” Hettie's eyes narrowed to wary, thin slits.

“You remember the last time we pinkie swore?”

“Yep.” The silver head bobbed curtly. “My eightieth birthday.”

Julia kept her face straight, not giving in to the smile that tugged at her lips. “And do you remember
what
we swore?”

Another nod. “Yep, to get tattoos before we died.”

Julia gave a triumphant chuckle. “Ha! My dear Hettie, my reconstructed breasts now sport two of them, so it's your turn.”

Hettie's eyes took on an impish gleam, and she crooked her finger tighter. “Okay, so I want to modify the oath a tad. The new agreement is to not only get a tattoo, but to bed a sexy Italian before we die.”

Julia protested. “But you just told me you've already done that.”

Hettie squeezed the pinkies together and then gave them a quick jerk apart to seal the bargain. “And you just told me you already have a tattoo, so we're halfway there and even steven.”