Heart of the Country (15 page)

35

N
OTHING BUT A PURE AND FIERCE TRUST
in God can put a mother’s fears to rest. I’d spend evenings knitting a scarf while I needled my way through the angst I felt for Olivia. She was awkward and self-conscious. Always had been, since the day she managed to catch her reflection in a mirror. She had a hard time making friends but was loyal to the ones she had. She got her hard edge from Cal and her quick wit from me. I knew she could bulldog her way through life, but I wanted her to glide and fly, too. I don’t think she ever saw herself anywhere else but Columbus County. But then again, neither did I. If she ever wanted to go, I hoped that she would.

Then there was Faith, who got everything good about me, if there was anything at all. Her voice, younger and fresher, transcended mine every time we sang together, and I loved every second of it. But she peered into the world with wide, frightened eyes. I wanted more gusto from her. I wanted her to take the bull by the horns, to demand life cough up all it had for her.

The pain was coming and going, but it was distant pain as if my body were miles long and the pain came from the end of the road. It was tolerable and thin if I didn’t choose to notice it.

Slowly I unwound all the vines that wrapped so tightly around me and anchored me to the girls and Cal. My deep love for them, the kind of love that caused my life to have meaning on this earth, had to stay behind. But as my fingers loosened in their fatigue, there was a gift of peace, an assurance that the God who was taking me away would stay present for the ones I had to leave behind. I felt myself rest beneath my fate. Resign myself to the will of the Father, understanding that the pain in their future would eventually lead them to this same door, but that along the way, all the delights of life would be the hinges on which the door hung.

I said good-bye in my heart and expected grief, but instead there was hope and light and well-being. Perfect well-being. I would be unable to give them one final message. All that would be left standing were the minutes that I lived on this earth and the hope that I lived them in such a way that I didn’t need to say more.

I knew suddenly that it was no longer the young man in the ambulance whose hand I held. And like a wave exploding against a rocky ledge, I felt alive, so much so that I wondered how long I might’ve been dead. Pure pleasure that did not exist at all on earth shot through me, except it seemed to have been there all along.

And then, there He was.

36

I
N THE TINY HOSPITAL ROOM,
I kept sipping coffee, little sips, little sips, even though it was barely warm. I was ingesting coffee, maybe thinking it was hope instead. I craved anything that would relieve me from what I faced.

Since the day Daddy turned forty-seven, I had done everything in my power to keep him safe and healthy. I took him to all his doctors’ appointments. Made sure he took his heart pills. Didn’t let him eat cake except on Sundays. There was nothing I’d left undone.

But I didn’t see this coming.

My gut didn’t tell me anything.

Maybe if I hadn’t been so caught up in the whirlwind that was my sister, I would’ve noticed something earlier.

I wanted to stare at him, take in his lovely face. I always thought Daddy had such a kind face. His eyes were pinched and sharp, but he had this wide grin that crinkled all the skin on either side. His broad nose never let me forget he was stronger than me.

I didn’t bother going to hunt Faith down. She had to do what she had to do. If she couldn’t face this, for once I didn’t blame her. I made certain I would no longer be surprised to see her hightailing it away from anything that hurt. But I also made certain that I’d be here if she came hightailing it back.

“Daddy,” I said, setting down my coffee while picking my optimism back up, “we’re going to get through this.”
We
wasn’t quite as defined as I’d have liked, but in our part of the country,
we
was always used, even if you were standing there by yourself.
We’ll
see you later.
It was the way community was acknowledged.

Daddy was fast asleep, his chest rising while the air blew hollowly through his crookedly open mouth.

“We’ll get you the best care, the best doctors. I just read in
People
magazine where this lady got her whole body cut in half, and then they took the tumor out and put her back together, mostly. So we can do this. Okay? We can do this.”

I was back to sipping coffee and pretty soon all that was left was the Styrofoam, so I ended up chewing that all to bits. My fingernails were next, but then Daddy woke up.

He groaned and looked around, disoriented. I scooted
next to him and took his hand. “You’re in a hospital room, Daddy.”

“Why?”

“You collapsed at the house.”

“I just needed a nap, that’s all.”

“And had a seizure.”

Dad’s grogginess lifted like a sundress on a windy day. “Seizure, you say?”

I nodded. “Scared us to death.”

“My head hurts,” he said, blinking at the ceiling. “I remember Lee.”

“Yeah. Lee took good care of you.”

Dad turned his head, looking at me with a seriousness that his playful side rarely let emerge. “So lay it down for me.”

He knew. I could tell he knew. Must’ve been who I got my gut reactions from. “It’s not good,” I said, willing myself not to cry. The tears stung but they didn’t get all bulby.

“Didn’t figure.”

“It’s a malignant brain tumor at the base of the skull. Some big fancy name that only a doctor can pronounce. Lee’s already got an appointment for you tomorrow afternoon at the oncologist. A doctor that specializes in this sort of thing.”

“Big guys with ugly dispositions?”

I cracked a smile, but just as I did, those stupid tears slid down my face. “It’s not going to be easy, I’ll tell you that. But we’ll get through this just like we get through everything else.”

“Where’s Faith?”

How did I know that question was coming? I glanced to the door. Every time I heard footsteps, I thought it might be her.

“I don’t know.”

Dad looked at me with a sad smile. “She’ll come back.”

“She always does.”

“But you’re here,” he said, and he squeezed my hand. “Thank you, Liv. You’ve always taken good care of me.” His eyes watered. “Even when I was unlovable.”

“Daddy, stop that talk. You’ve never been unlovable.”

“I never wanted to be a burden on you girls,” he said, looking away. “I’d hoped to live to the ripe old age of eighty and drop dead of a heart attack in the middle of the field. No thanks to you, my blood pressure is perfect.”

I laughed. He laughed too and gave me one of those Daddy winks that could quiet storms.

“You’re no burden,” I told him. “You never will be.”

He nodded but was already falling back asleep. Except he held my hand tightly and didn’t let go.

37

L
EE SUGGESTED
we go inside to the cafeteria on the first floor of the hospital. It wasn’t crowded, but a number of people sat around at the tables, some eating, some watching the TV. Lee got a small salad and a cup of soup. I decided on a Coke and nothing else. We sat across from one another and I let Lee eat for a minute. I needed to gather myself and decide exactly what I wanted to know. I wasn’t even sure how to ask the questions. Whether I should. Whether I would regret it or it would set me free.

Lee was quiet as he ate, not looking up at me but lost in his own thoughts. Then he said, “I had been on the job for two months.”

I braced myself. It was coming, whether I wanted it or not.

I thought carefully about my first question. “How long did it take you to get there, once you got the call?”

“Thirteen minutes. Back then there was no permanent ambulance service for that side of the county because of how unpopulated it was.”

I nodded. Thirteen minutes. I let a few quiet moments pass.

“What did you see when you drove up?”

“Two pickups. One was on its side in the ditch. The other was in the middle of the road, very crumpled. That was hers.”

“Was she still in there?”

“Yes.”

“Was she awake?”

“No. Not when we arrived. But witnesses said that she’d opened her eyes twice.”

“Where was the man that was killed?”

“He’d been ejected from his truck, along with all his beer cans. He was found twenty-five yards from the intersection. He’d died instantly.”

I took a breath. And another. I looked at Lee, and I knew he wouldn’t go on without me. I had to steer the boat.

“How did you get her out of the car?”

“She was pinned very tightly between the steering column and her seat. The fire truck was coming, but there were three men who stopped and one had a chain saw, so he cut
through the front part of the truck and made some other cuts and we managed to pull off the top of it.”

“Was she awake then?”

“The noise from the chain saw woke her up. But she didn’t know where she was.”

I had to pause. I took a sip of my drink, hardly able to pull the straw to my lips because my fingers were shaking so badly. I decided to focus, to bring to mind the things that I’d always wanted to know, the things that up until now only my imagination had been able to fill in.

“How long did it take you to get her out?”

“I’m not certain. Maybe ten minutes. A lot of people were helping.”

“Once you freed her, you put her on the stretcher?”

“Yes.”

“And she was, um . . .” My voice cracked, for the first time. “Injured badly.”

“She was.”

“Did she know how badly?”

“She couldn’t see her injuries.”

“Was she in pain?”

“I could tell she was in pain. I don’t know how much. Her body had to have been in some shock.”

I steadied my hands on my kneecaps. “What were her injuries?”

Lee paused for a moment. For the first time he looked hesitant. “The steering wheel had crushed her and caused a
large gash through her stomach. My first priority was to stop the bleeding and . . . to just stop the bleeding.”

“And what?” I stared intently at him.

Lee nodded and put his hands on the table. I saw flashes of memory cross his eyes. “And then we loaded her into the ambulance.”

“Was she awake?”

“Sometimes.”

“Did she talk?”

“No. Her, um . . . her jaw was crushed on the left side, so she couldn’t open her mouth.”

“So she didn’t say anything at all?”

“She couldn’t. But she would open her eyes sometimes and look at me, and it was like she was talking with her eyes. I kept myself very close to her so she could see my face.”

“You talked to her?”

“I did. I kept talking to her
 
—I told her to think about her family. To fight for her family. But she would lose consciousness a lot. She was unconscious for most of the ride.”

“Most, but not all.”

“Not all.” He smiled a little at some thought. “I held her hand.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I had one hand on her stomach, holding pressure. And it just seemed . . . like she needed someone to hold her hand.
To tell you the truth, I think it was more that she was holding mine.”

I took another steadying breath. “I know . . . I know this is an impossible question, Lee, but I want to ask it.”

“Okay.”

“Do you think she was scared? Did she look scared?”

Lee took a long moment to think. He seemed to scan all of his memories, examining them like a doctor would. Then he took me in and didn’t hide the fact that he was searching my face. For permission? For a reason? I didn’t know. I just sat there and waited.

“She was confused. Disoriented. I could see it in her eyes. But a lot seemed to be going on inside.” He touched his chest. “Here. I don’t know if she was scared. She didn’t look scared. When she would open her eyes, I’d talk to her and tell her to stay with me, and she looked like she was trying to do that, but then she’d fade back.”

“Did you think she would make it?”

“She was gravely injured. I was surprised she was alive, but some people have a lot of fight in them. I could tell that was true about her. Even as badly injured as she was, I sensed feistiness.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “You sensed correctly.” I looked down at the table. “You know, I always feared I would talk to you and this would be how it would end up.”

“How?”

“I guess I wanted her to say something, you know? Say her good-byes. Wish us a good life. Tell us that she loved
us. Something.” I looked away. The tears finally drained. “Over the years, I sometimes imagined Momma’s last words being, ‘The music is how you live, not what you sing.’” I laughed and blotted my eyes. “I know that’s so ridiculous. I just wanted to be with her in that moment.”

Lee reached across the table and took my hand. “Are you kidding me? You and Olivia and Calvin . . . you were what she was fighting for. I know she was fighting, Faith. I could see her trying to hold on. And maybe she gave you her final words in the way she lived her life.”

I wiped my eyes again, trying to take a deep breath. “She died before you got to the hospital, didn’t she?”

Lee nodded. “She did. It was the last minute of the ride.” He let go of my hand but kept his eyes on me. “But you should know that I am nearly positive even if she’d made it to the hospital, they couldn’t have saved her life. Being an ER doctor now, I know that sometimes there are injuries you can’t recover from.”

“That’s what I feel like,” I said, crying all over again. “That all of this . . . Momma, Luke, Daddy . . . I’ll never be able to recover.”

“You’re hanging in there just fine. Life hurts. But running parallel with all of its burdens and griefs are blessings and delight.”

I stared at Lee, trying to figure out how he could reach so deep, understand me more than I understood myself. Maybe Momma had spoken to me. Maybe that’s what her whole life
was about, to tell me that one thing, to make me realize truth in the only language I knew how to speak well.

I noticed Lee still had half his meal left. “I should let you eat,” I said. “And I should get back to Daddy.”

I stood and Lee did too.

“Thank you, Lee. Thanks for telling me all this. Thank you for being there for her.”

“There’s one more thing,” he said, stepping to the side of the table so there was nothing between us.

I held my breath. I wasn’t sure I could take one more thing.

“Back in New York, there’s a hospital in Midtown called Memorial Sloan-Kettering. That’s going to be his best shot. They’re the best at what he needs. You should take him there.”

“Okay.”

“And he needs to get in as soon as possible.” He rubbed my arm, squeezed my elbow, and started to step back. But I stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. Shock ran through me even before I was able to pull away. I stumbled back a bit and he caught me, I guess afraid I would fall. And maybe I would’ve. Maybe I already had.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Lee didn’t say anything. I suppose there was not much more to say. I exited the cafeteria and hurried to the front desk, where they told me Dad was in room 565.

I got on the elevator, trying not to pay attention to the scent of cafeteria food wafting up the shafts, mixing with
sterile and unsterile smells. The elevator opened on the fifth floor, and my feet felt heavy coming out.

A large window stretched between two long hallways, each with signs indicating which room numbers were where. I was supposed to go right, but instead I just stood there, looking out the window that gave me a spectacular view of my part of the country.

I took out my cell phone. I wanted to call Luke. I couldn’t do this without him. I couldn’t face life without him. Lee was stable, good, decent, present. But Luke had my heart. He had since the night he took me out of that stupid party and onto the rooftop patio.

Everything in me was screaming that I couldn’t handle this, that I needed to run. But it was like telling an animal at the zoo to run for its freedom, even though it was locked in a cage.

I stood there wishing I could feel the warmth of the sun, but being chilled instead by the predicament in which I found myself. Here I stood, but unable to go in and face what terrified me the most. I couldn’t even make a step sideways, toward my father, who was in his greatest time of need . . . again.

Did he know yet what was in store for him? I couldn’t imagine myself saying the words to him.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Olivia.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

I searched her eyes. There didn’t seem to be any sarcasm
in the question. I wanted to say yes because I knew that was the answer she was hoping for. She was so strong, so resolute with everything. Life needed to be tackled, one problem at a time, and she tackled everything that came her way. And sometimes mine, too.

I stood there with my back against the window, with nowhere to run and nothing to say. I’d failed her. Again. And I had nothing to give as a peace offering. It was just me. Pathetic me.

She reached toward me, and honestly, I thought it was to slap my face. But instead she touched my cheek, said, “Come here,” and then pulled me into an embrace. It was almost like she speared me and left a hole because I suddenly started gushing sobs that I couldn’t control. Emotions poured out of me that hadn’t seen the light of day in years.

“I’m sorry,” I said with my head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I can’t be strong.”

“You are strong.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re no Joan of Arc, but you’re strong. You just don’t know it yet.” She lifted my head and brushed my tear-soaked hair away from my face. “I love you.”

“Why?”

She smiled. “Because you’re my sister.” She stepped back but kept ahold of my shoulders. “Now. I have to run home, get my girls and Hardy situated, and pick up some of Daddy’s nighttime things. The doctors are going to release him in the
morning and get him scheduled with that neurosurgeon as soon as possible. Can you stay with him?”

I nodded.

“He already knows what he’s facing.”

“You told him?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that alone.”

“Whatever you were doing, Faith, I know that it’s what you needed to.”

I tried to wipe my eyes.

I watched her walk to the elevator, and then I turned down the hallway toward Dad’s room. My legs felt steadier. A certain resolve set in. Dad was going to be okay. We were going to be okay. I knew it.