The Lavender Hour (16 page)

“It's not the money.”

“What, then?”

I hesitated. “It's Luke. I can't leave him now.”

“Who the hell is Luke?”

“Luke Ryder,” I said, barely concealing my impatience. I'd told Ashley his name, told her about Nona. “My hospice patient.”

“The fisherman with cancer?”

“Yes.”

“And you can't leave him for a weekend to meet your future husband, the future uncle to my boys? I don't mean to sound callous, Jess, but have you lost your mind? Just get your ass on a plane and get yourself down here. So you'll come, right? I can count on it?”

I didn't answer.

“What?” Ashley said into the silence. “What's going on?”

“I just can't, Ashley. That's all.”

My sister gave a little laugh. “Have you fallen for this guy or what?”

The wire hummed between us.

“Oh God,” she said. “You have, haven't you?”

I struggled to keep my voice light. “Oh, you know girls like me. That's what we do. Remember how you used to say I could create a relationship standing in line at the grocery store.”

“Oh, Jess, honey,” Ashley said, not fooled at all. “Don't do this to yourself.”

I started to cry.

“Oh, baby,” Ashley said. “Listen, would it help if I came up?”

“No.” I inhaled, concentrated on making my voice steady, persuasive. “I've had a bad day, that's all. Really, I'll be fine tomorrow.”

Ashley wasn't convinced. “Tell me,” she said. “Tell me you aren't in love with him.”

“I'm not in love with him,” I parroted tonelessly.

“Oh, Jess, you sweet, foolish baby. There's no future in this. You know that, don't you? Come home. Promise me you'll at least think about coming home.”

“I'll think about it,” I said. A lie, and we both knew it. I thought suddenly of that one-month therapist who'd said I had to fall in love with a guy before I could break up with him. Would he consider
this progress? For the first time in my life, I wasn't going to leave a man before he could abandon me.

I
TOSSED
in bed half the night, Ashley's words echoing in my head. There's no future in it. Well, I knew that. I wasn't completely stupid. Later, in the fall, I would tell myself I should have resisted when in fact, I did the exact opposite, gave myself over, fung myself straight into the heat of desire. But this wasn't about being smart or foolish. Some things you couldn't control. I couldn't help myself, people said when rushing headlong into folly, as if possessed of madness. And it was a kind of lunacy, a passion that took over, erasing reason, wanting only to be fed. In retrospect, I would see that it was inevitable. It is always what lies beyond our grasp that we lust for most.

R
AIN LASHED AGAINST
the windowpanes, and it was a moment before I understood that it wasn't the storm that woke me but the phone.

“Jessie?”

“Yes.”

“Can you come?” Nona's voice was so weak, it took me a moment to recognize it as hers.

“I'm on my way,” I said. I threw on the first thing my hands landed on and rushed off without stopping to wash up or brush my hair. On the way over, I whispered every prayer I knew. I switched the wipers on high, but their metronome beat was half that of my heart's, thumping inside its cage of ribs. As soon as I turned onto his street, I saw the ambulance, its flashing lights, greasy and myopic through the rain-blurred windshield. “Oh God,” I said for the umpteenth time, my heart beating even faster, though I wouldn't have thought it possible.

No siren. That was a good sign, wasn't it? Wasn't it? I jumped out of the car—key in ignition, door open—and caught sight of a face peering from behind curtains in the neighboring house. I tore past the ambulance idling in impatient silence and ran to the house. A paramedic stood inside the door, jotting notes on a clipboard.

“I'm from hospice,” I said, the words so rushed they came out as one. “Where is he? How is he?”

The EMT stared at me. I must have looked frantic, mad, my hair so wild it looked electrocuted. And then I saw Nona. She was stretched out on the plaid couch with two paramedics bent over
her, so big and burly, their presence filled the room. One knelt at her side and was strapping a blood pressure cuff around her arm; the other was rooting around in a defibrillator case.

“Nona?” I said, confused. Luke sat at his mother's feet. I crossed to him. “What's going on?”

“She woke up about an hour ago with chest pains. Some dizziness. She was having trouble getting her breath.”

I lowered my voice. “Heart attack?”

“They're not saying anything.”

The man with the clipboard turned to us. “She's stable at the moment, but we're going to take her up to the hospital,” he said.

“What's wrong?” Luke asked.

“Her blood pressure is elevated, and her pulse is slightly irregular.”

“Has she had a—”

“Like I said, things are stable now. The best thing is to get her up there where she can be evaluated by the doctors.”

“And then what?”

“They'll run some tests, take it from there.”

Two of the medics returned with a wheeled stretcher.

“Luke?” Nona said.

“Right here,” he said. “How're you doing?”

“Such a ruckus over a little dizziness,” she said. “I shouldn't have called them. Just a foolish old woman.”

“You did the right thing.”

“I hate all this fuss over me.”

“They're going to take you up to Hyannis, to the hospital.”

“Oh Lord,” she said, her eyes panicky. “There's no need of that.”

“Just a precaution,” he said.

“I feel so foolish. All this commotion.”

I took her hand. “Do you want anything to take with you? Your handbag?”

“Oh yes. I'll need that,” she said. “And my watch. My glasses. Everything's upstairs.” She clung to my hand, pulled me closer.

“What is it?” I said.

“My teeth,” Nona whispered.

“What?”

“I'll need my teeth. They're in a glass upstairs.”

The medics moved a chair aside to make room to bring through the stretcher.

“For heaven's sake, I don't need that,” Nona said, sounding for a minute like her old self. “I can walk.”

“It's regulations, Mrs. Ryder.”

Luke rose unsteadily. I ran upstairs and got Nona's black plastic purse, her watch, her glasses, found the dentures in a glass by the bed. A partial plate. I had to close my eyes while I fished it from the solution, wadded it in tissue. On the way down to Nona, I used my shirttail to clear the film from the lens of the glasses. She took the purse from me, tucked the glasses, teeth, and wristwatch in an inside pocket, then pulled me close again and whispered in my ear.

“What is it, Ma?” Luke said.

Nona released my hand and reached over and patted his cheek, as if he were a boy. “Now don't you go worrying about me.”

“Should Jessie go with you? Or follow the ambulance up to Hyannis?”

She turned to me. “You stay here with Luke.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, you know hospitals. I'll probably be stuck in a cubicle somewhere; they'll take their own sweet time before they get to me.”

“You shouldn't be alone. How will you get home?”

“Will you call Helen?” she said. “Oh, and Paige. I suppose someone should let her know, so she won't come by and go hysterical when she hears where I am.”

One of the medics indicated that it was time to go. They lifted her, hefting her from couch to stretcher as if she weighed no more than a Christmas ham. She gave a last, nervous look. Within seconds, they had her out the door and in the ambulance. The siren
screamed to life, startling me. We didn't speak until the last echo of it had vanished, leaving a hollow emptiness in its wake. I helped Luke back to his bed. When the phone rang, he indicated that I should answer. It was a neighbor. She had seen the ambulance and wondered if there was anything they could do. I thanked her, promised I would call if we needed help.

“I'm sorry about all this,” Luke said.

“All what?”

“Getting you over here. Nona should have called Jim or Ginny or one of the staff. She shouldn't have burdened you.” Burdened.

“That's ridiculous,” I said. “I was glad to come. You know that.”

“This is too much for her.”

“Has she had heart problems before?”

“Not that I know of, but she wouldn't tell me if she did. I didn't learn about her cataracts until after she'd had the operation.”

“I still think someone should have gone with her.”

“Would you call Helen? What time is it, anyway?”

I checked the kitchen clock, amazed to see it was only a little before seven. I felt as if I had been up for hours. When I got through to Helen, she was clearly shaken and asked about three hundred questions, none of which I had an answer for. Before we hung up, she promised she'd head directly to Hyannis and said once she'd seen Nona, she'd call with an update. Luke decided there was no point in phoning Paige until after eight.

I put on a pot of coffee and made hot cereal for Luke. I found half a loaf of bread in the breadbox—the white, squishy kind I hadn't had since I was a child—and dropped a piece in the toaster. I found a tray and brought the cereal to him, nibbled the toast while he pretended to eat the Cream of Wheat.

“What did she say?” he asked.

“Who?”

“Nona. Before they took her. What did she whisper to you?”

I smiled at the memory.

“What was it?” he said.

“She was worried.”

“About me?”

I shook my head. “About her legs. She hadn't shaved, and she didn't want the paramedics to see her hairy legs.”

He stared at me. “You're kidding.”

“Cross my heart.”

We started to laugh, breaking the tension.

After breakfast, I did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. It felt cozy there, the two of us, the rain outside. When I was finished, I went back to Luke. “Do you want to get shaved?” I asked. I had never shaved a man in my life, but I wanted to now. It seemed an intimate thing, as personal as bathing.

“Jim's coming around eleven,” he said. “He'll take care of it.”

“Anything you need?”

“I could use a Dilaudid.”

“One?”

“Yes.”

I didn't hesitate but went to the kitchen and opened the prescription bottle, handed him the orange tablet. He turned on the Today show, and we watched together while the rain lashed against the window. At eight thirty, he phoned Paige, but there was no answer. “I wonder where she is?” he said.

You don't even want to know, I thought, but said only, “Probably sleeping with the phone turned off.”

“I worry about her. She's had a tough time of it. First the divorce, and now this.”

“She seems pretty strong to me,” I said.

“You think so?” I could see he wanted to believe it.

W
E WATCHED
the rest of Meredith and Matt, and then turned to a game show. A little after ten, Luke asked if I'd bring him the walker. He needed to use the toilet. There was a portable commode in the room, but he was embarrassed to use it. “Call me if you need me,”

I said. I was afraid he'd fall while in there. I wasn't strong enough to lift him. I was fretting about that when Helen phoned.

“How's Nona?” I asked.

“I'm right here with her,” Helen said, and passed the receiver to Nona.

“Luke?” she said.

“It's Jessie,” I said. “Luke's in the bathroom right now. How are you? What did the doctor say?”

“All the folderol they put a person through. You wouldn't believe it.”

“Are you okay? What did they say?”

“I'm just fine,” she said.

“But what did they say about the chest pain, the dizziness?”

Nona snorted. “They think it was an anxiety attack. Anxiety. I swear, they make me sound like a nervous old lady. I told them I've never had an anxiety attack in my life.”

“Will Helen be bringing you home now?”

“They insist on keeping me overnight. For observation, they say. If you ask me, they just want the money. Do you have any idea how much it costs? I hope to heaven Medicare takes care of it.”

The bathroom door opened. “Wait a minute,” I said. “Here's Luke. Let me put him on.”

“Well, she sounds better,” he said when he hung up. “Like herself.” I could see he was relieved.

Jim arrived shortly before eleven, and I explained the situation.

“It doesn't surprise me,” he said. “She's been under a hell of a lot of stress. I'll take a run up there tonight and check on her. Have you made arrangements here for Luke? There are respite nurses who can come in for the night.”

“Everything's taken care of,” I said. “Listen, while you're here, I'm going to run out and pick up a few things. It won't take more than forty-five minutes.”

He checked his schedule. “Let me make a couple of calls. Then I'll be able to stay here for an hour.”

T
HE CAR
door was still wide open—a reminder of my frantic run into the house earlier—and the driver's seat was rain-drenched. Water seeped through my jeans as I drove back to the cottage. I took a quick shower, shampooed my hair. I didn't take time to blow it dry but wrapped a towel, turban-style, around my head, then dashed about gathering some things: my overnight bag, scented candles, lotion, a set of sheets from the linen shelf. I had a quart container of chicken soup in the freezer, some that Faye gave me back in March, and I grabbed that, too. My hair was still damp when I headed back to Luke's, driving through the haze of rain much faster than was wise, although the torrential downpour of earlier had changed to a steady, near-silent soaking. I left my things in the car, figuring I'd bring them in the house after Jim left.

“He's sleeping,” Jim said when I went in.

“That's good,” I said.

“I've called the hospital and checked on Nona. They've given her something to calm her down. Probably a good night's sleep is the best thing in the world for her right now.”

“They're sure it's not her heart?”

“As sure as they can be. All the tests are negative.”

“I was so worried.”

“How about you? Are you okay to stay here until Faye lines up a replacement? My schedule is full until after five, but I can swing back by before I head up to Hyannis.”