Jimmy (45 page)

Mr. Robinson called the group to order.

“Before I welcome all of you to the class, I want us to pray for Jimmy's grandfather.”

Jimmy bowed his head, but instead of praying, he felt tears rush to his eyes. In the light of a new day, the shock of the accident faded, but the depth of feeling he carried for Grandpa could not be silenced. Jimmy sniffled, rubbed his eyes, and, not wanting to be embarrassed, hoped the judge would pray a long prayer. Too soon, the judge said, “Amen.” Jimmy kept his right hand over his eyes for a few seconds and then blew his nose on his handkerchief.

Mr. Robinson began the lesson, but Jimmy didn't listen. He couldn't think about anything or anyone except Grandpa. The aching desire to put his head on Grandpa's chest and listen to his heart was more than he could bear. Several times during the fifty-minute class, tears welled up in Jimmy's eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He gave up trying to hide his feelings but managed to sit still as the tears fell from his face into his lap. Jimmy didn't know if Grandpa's heart was okay. His own heart was breaking.

At the end of class, Mr. Robinson asked Denise McMillan to pray. When she finished, the judge looked at Jimmy.

“Jimmy, please stay after class for a minute.”

As the other children filed out of the room, Jimmy spoke in a tremulous voice.

“I'm sorry, I tried to listen, but—”

Mr. Robinson interrupted. “That's not why I want to talk to you. I'm very sorry about your grandfather. Is your daddy with him?”

“Yes, sir,” Jimmy sniffled. “And Grandpa was supposed to be in church today because we came in second in the fishing contest.”

“Fishing contest?”

Jimmy told the judge the terms of his partnership with Grandpa and his prayer that Grandpa might come to the church service and become a Christian. When Jimmy finished, the judge cleared his throat and blew his nose.

“Jimmy, you don't have to be in a church to get saved,” he said. “It's something God does inside a person.”

“But the reason we have church is so people can get saved.”

Mr. Robinson managed a slight smile. “Yes, that's one of the main reasons. But let's look at it another way. What if we took church to your grandpa?”

“How would you do that?”

“I'll ask Brother Fitzgerald to visit him this afternoon. He might be going anyway, but I can make sure it happens.”

Jimmy nodded. “Yes, sir. That would be nice. Mama is taking me to the hospital at two o'clock.”

The judge nodded. “We'll meet you there.”

“You're coming too?”

“Yes. If you can pray, I can help.”

Jimmy hesitated. “And could we sing a song?”

“What would you want to sing?”

“Brother Fitzgerald will know.”

“All right. Don't worry. Leave everything to me.”

Jimmy and Mama sat close together, the lone occupants of the Mitchell family pew. The empty seats on each side emphasized the sense of separation from the other members of the family; however, Jimmy's reserve of tears was completely dry. When Brother Fitzgerald mentioned Grandpa during the pastoral prayer, Jimmy sighed deeply but didn't cry. Mama reached over, took his hand in hers, and squeezed it.

At the end of the service, Jimmy saw Mr. Robinson walk up to Brother Fitzgerald. Mama answered questions from people who asked about Grandpa. Others wanted a closer look at Jimmy's head. In a few minutes, Mr. Robinson parted the crowd.

“Ellen,” he said, “Brother Fitzgerald was going to visit Jim tonight, but he's agreed to cancel another meeting and join me at two thirty.”

“That's not necessary,” Mama began.

“Yes it is,” Jimmy blurted. “Grandpa couldn't come to church, so we're taking church to him. I want Grandpa to have church at the hospital so he can get saved. Mr. Robinson told me you don't have to be inside the church to get saved.”

“We talked about it after Sunday school,” Mr. Robinson added. “And I thought we ought to find a way to honor the spirit of Jimmy's hopes and prayers.”

“I understand,” Mama said. “Jimmy takes everything literally. His grandpa isn't conscious and may not be able to respond to a visit, but at the least, Lee, his mother, and Jimmy will appreciate it.”

—
Thirty
—

J
immy and Mama ate lunch at home before going to the hospital. Jimmy picked at his food and looked at the clock. After he helped Mama clear the table, he followed her around the house asking every two or three minutes if it was time to go to the hospital. Finally, Mama sent him outside to make sure Buster had plenty of food and water, but he was back within a minute.

“Come into the living room and sit down,” Mama said.

Jimmy followed her. They sat beside each other on the couch.

“Tell me what happened from the time you left Webb's Pond until the ambulance arrived.”

Jimmy took a deep breath and did his best. When he mentioned getting into the back of the truck, then changing his mind, Mama shook her head.

“Praise God,” she said quietly.

“I remembered what you told me about riding in the back of the truck,” Jimmy said. “So I got inside and fastened my seat belt.”

“Something good did come out of the hearing with Vera,” Mama said quietly.

Not understanding, Jimmy waited.

“Go ahead,” Mama said.

Jimmy reached the point when he passed out.

“Everything went black, and I don't remember what happened next.”

Mama was silent for a moment.

“Did you see a Watcher?”

“No, ma'am.”

“One was there, keeping you from getting into the back of that pickup. You would have been thrown out and killed.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Mama leaned over and gave him a hug.

“Do you see the Watchers less than you used to?” she asked when she released him.

“I don't know,” Jimmy replied. “What about my bike?”

“I don't know where it is. We'll have to check on it later.”

Mama looked at her watch and stood up.

“It's one forty-five. We'll go, but they won't let us in until two o'clock.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jimmy replied as he shot toward the front door.

Jimmy was inside the car with his seat belt on before Mama could lock the front door. She backed up the car and turned it around.

“Jimmy, I need to explain what you're going to see when you go into Grandpa's hospital room. He will
be lying on the bed asleep, but you won't be able to wake him up.”

“I couldn't wake him up after the wreck.”

“That's right. He's been sleeping the whole time since he had the heart attack.”

“He was tired after we stayed up all night fishing. Sleeping all night helps. I don't feel tired now.”

“No, this is a kind of sleep that's caused by the heart attack. His body is asleep because he's sick. He will have a needle in his hand like the one the nurse put in you at the hospital, and he will be hooked up to some machines that check on him when no one is in the room. You can't touch the machines.”

“Yes, ma'am. I promise.”

“His face is pale, uh, whiter than usual, because his heart is having trouble pumping blood to his body, and there is a tube in his nose giving him extra oxygen to help him breathe. He needs it because he's too weak to breathe very well on his own.”

“I won't touch any of the tubes.”

“Your daddy will be with you to show you what you can do.”

They rode in silence until pulling into the hospital parking lot.

“Will you sing?” Jimmy asked.

“Sing what?” Mama asked in surprise.

“A song, so we can have a church service. Brother Fitzgerald will tell us what to sing. I talked to Mr. Robinson about it.”

J
IMMY FOLLOWED
M
AMA TO THE ELEVATOR.
T
HE CATTALOOCHIE
County Memorial Hospital had three floors. She pushed the button for the third floor. They stepped into a broad hallway. To the left was the nurses' station for the general patient population, and to the right, a door marked “ICU Waiting Area.”

They went into the waiting area. It was a rectangular room with vinyl chairs and couches facing each other. A large clock with a second hand hung on one wall. Small groups of people stood in different parts of the room.

Jimmy saw Grandma, Daddy, and a few people from the church in the corner. When she saw him, Grandma came over to them. She looked sad and her face seemed to have more wrinkles. She gently touched Jimmy's head.

“Are you hurting, dear?” she asked.

“A little bit.”

“I'm so thankful you weren't badly hurt. Your grandpa couldn't have stood the thought of it.”

“How is he feeling this afternoon?” Jimmy asked, trying to sound grown-up.

“Not very well.”

“Can I see him?”

Grandma pointed to the clock. “In a couple of minutes, but you'll have to be careful not to touch anything.”

“I've explained the rules to him,” Mama said. “And I'll be with him.”

Grandma nodded. Her eyes became moist.

“Jimmy, I wish your grandpa could talk to you, but you'll have to use your imagination to fill in the blanks of a conversation. That's what I've been doing.”

“What do you mean?” Jimmy asked.

“He's not able to talk, and the doctors aren't sure how much he can hear. But that doesn't mean you can't talk to him. You and I know him well enough to have an idea what he would say to us if he could.”

Jimmy thought for a moment.

“I know what he would say if I asked him to bait my hook for me.”

“What?” Mama asked.

“No, but I'll show you how to do it,” Jimmy answered.

“That's it,” Grandma said, glancing up at the clock. “I'm sure Lee will want to go back to see him with you.”

At 2:00 p.m., Daddy, Mama, and Jimmy passed through a door at the left end of the waiting room. There were only eight rooms in the ICU area. The doors to the patient areas were open, and in one room Jimmy could see a skinny old woman in a bed. In another room, a man's head was puffy and purple.

“That young man was in a bad car wreck,” Daddy said in a low voice. “He came in during the night.”

Jimmy followed Daddy into the room and stopped. Grandpa's face had lost its usual color and looked white like it did in the middle of winter. Jimmy stood at the foot of the bed and looked around the room. There were tubes and machines everywhere. Daddy stood close to Grandpa's head and spoke.

“Dad, it's Lee again. Ellen and Jimmy are with me.”

Not taking his eyes off Grandpa, Jimmy inched down the side of the bed. When he stood beside Daddy, he looked up.

“Can I listen to his heart?” he asked.

“Okay,” Daddy said. “But be careful not to touch any of the tubes.”

Daddy pulled away the sheet. Grandpa was wearing a pale green hospital gown. Jimmy lowered his head. Grandpa smelled different today. Jimmy turned his head so his ear would hit the proper spot on Grandpa's chest. He pressed his ear lightly against the gown and closed his eyes. He couldn't hear anything.

Jimmy jerked his head up in alarm.

“I can't hear anything!”

“It's there,” Mama said in a soothing voice. “The sound of the machines is making it hard to pick up his heartbeat. Try again.”

Jimmy repeated the process, pressing his ear tighter against Grandpa's chest. This time he could hear a faint
thump, thump, thump
.

“Yes,” he said softly. “I can hear it.”

Daddy put his hand on Jimmy's shoulder. “That's enough.”

“No! I want to listen some more.”

Daddy removed his hand. Jimmy pressed his ear closer.
Thump, thump, thump
.

The comforting sound brought back memories: the front-porch hello on the day Jimmy proudly showed off the bicycle he bought at the yard sale, a hug at the end of a long hike in the woods when Jimmy wanted to quit but kept going because of Grandpa's encouragement, and a night lying on a blanket under the stars at Webb's Pond when Jimmy fell asleep with his head resting on Grandpa's chest.

Jimmy breathed in unison with Grandpa and let the simple, pure union that had bound them together for as long as he could remember wash over him. Daddy touched his shoulder again.

“Jimmy, we have to go now. We're only allowed to visit for a few minutes every half hour.”

Jimmy raised his head.

“Yes, sir.”

He could go now. He'd seen his grandpa.

Returning to the waiting room, they found Brother Fitzgerald and Mr. Robinson talking to the church members who had come to visit. All the men shook hands. They had serious looks on their faces, but Jimmy felt at peace. He stood beside Mama and held her hand.

“How is he?” Mr. Robinson asked Daddy.

“About the same.”

“What are the doctors telling you?”

“He has extensive damage to the left ventricle. The cardiologist says it's an anterior infarct that involves the scar tissue left four years ago, along with new damage. They started him on beta-blockers and other meds in the ER, but he's lost a lot of heart muscle.”

“What's the prognosis?”

Daddy shrugged. “Because he survived the heart attack, there's hope he will slowly improve, but he'll never be able to live at home. There's no way my mother
could take care of him by herself. At best, he'll be in a nursing home.”

Jimmy stepped closer to the men and pulled Mama with him. Brother Fitzgerald moved over and joined them.

“When can we have church?” Jimmy asked.

“At two thirty,” Brother Fitzgerald said.

“Only three people can go in at a time,” Daddy said.

“How can we have church for Grandpa with just three people?” Jimmy asked.

“‘Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them,'” the preacher responded. “That's what the Bible says.”