The Empty Nesters Page 11

  “I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ll be down by the time it’s ready.” Carmen took the stairs two at a time. She removed her dirty, sweaty shirt and jeans, peeled her underwear down her thighs, and left them all on the bathroom floor. She wished she had time for a long hot bath in the deep tub, but that wasn’t possible in such a short time. She adjusted the water temperature, drew the curtain, and stepped under the spray.

  If only she could wash Eli out of her heart like the dirt and sweat from her body, but that wasn’t going to happen with one simple shower—or phone call, for that matter. She shampooed her hair, rinsed it, and turned off the water. Drying her body in a hurry and then wrapping her hair in a towel, she was amazed that she felt better than she had since the divorce papers had arrived. Maybe there was something to be said about that old adage—when you’re mad or sad, work it off. If that was the case, she might be chopping wood forever.

  “Something sure smells good,” she said as she approached the dining room.

  “Sissy left a pot roast in the refrigerator,” Diana told her. “Luke made biscuits and a salad. Tootsie put together the sweet tea, and we set the table. Do you have something to show for your anger, or did you opt to tear up a trash can?”

  “There’s enough firewood to finish filling up the woodshed. We should have enough for a month if we want a full blaze, or longer if we just want to have a small blaze in the fireplace to roast marshmallows,” Carmen answered.

  “Fireplace?” Diana asked.

  “Check out the living room, behind that tall folding screen thing,” Joanie said.

  “We’re back in the boonies, here,” Tootsie reminded them. “Luke, you can have Smokey’s place at the head of the table. I’ll sit by Carmen right here, and Joanie and Diana can have the other side.”

  “You sure about that? I can sit at the other end,” Luke said.

  “I don’t like seeing an empty place where he sat,” Tootsie said. “It makes me sad, so please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Luke pulled out Tootsie’s chair for her.

  “Thank you. Smokey always did that, and I like it,” Tootsie said. “And he always said grace, so you can do that, too.”

  Luke took his place, bowed his head, and gathered them in a simple prayer.

  Diana sat to Luke’s right, and every time their hands brushed as food was passed around the table, a little spark shot through her. Yes, sir, it was time to get serious about moving on.

  “What time are you and Luke going to see your friend tomorrow?” she asked Tootsie, mainly to get away from her thoughts about how she’d like to wrap her arms around Luke and kiss him.

  “Right after breakfast. Y’all need to take stock of what’s here and make a list for what you need from the grocery store. Luke can go take care of that while I’m spending time with Midge. We’ll plan on going to the store once a week on Monday.” Tootsie took two biscuits when they came her way.

  “So then, Tuesday, it’s my turn to do kitchen duty. Wednesday, it’s Diana’s, and Thursday, it’s Joanie’s?” Carmen asked.

  “Why in that order?” Luke asked as he put a serving of roast, potatoes, and carrots on his plate and sent the dish on to Diana.

  “Alphabetical,” Carmen said.

  “Then I’ll come in after Joanie, so Friday’s my turn.” He took a bite of the carrots. “I hate raw carrots but love them cooked in a roast.”

  “You’re taking a turn?” Diana asked.

  “Sure, I am. Just like Uncle Smokey, I love to cook,” Luke said.

  “Okay, then, I have two days this week. And I agree with Luke. Cooked carrots are great—raw ones not so much.” Carmen popped a bite of biscuit in her mouth. “I’ll have my list ready before bedtime. Is anyone allergic to anything?”

  “Not an allergy, but I hate bell peppers in anything,” Tootsie said. “Love jalapeños, chili peppers, or even banana peppers, though.”

  “Anyone else?” she asked.

  “Butterscotch,” Luke snarled.

  “And I planned on making butterscotch pies for dessert and butterscotch chocolate-chip pancakes for breakfast on my days,” Diana teased.

  Carmen giggled. “Yeah, right. You don’t do butterscotch, either, not since your divorce.”

  Luke raised an eyebrow.

  “Her ex-husband loved butterscotch pies and those yucky pancakes she just mentioned,” Joanie explained.

  Diana ignored them and set about eating her supper. So Luke didn’t like butterscotch—that was sure enough a big plus in his favor.

  “Oh, and I’ll make a stop at the liquor store, so put down what you’d like from there as well,” Luke said. “Uncle Smokey always put a case of beer on his list, but I really never acquired a taste for the stuff. I like a little nightcap of Jameson if I’m going to drink anything at all.”

  There’s another plus, Diana thought. Gerald hated whiskey and had to have a beer or two every night. I’d like Luke better and better if only he were my age.

  Tootsie was reminded of Smokey’s breakfasts that morning. Carmen had rustled up enough ingredients to make biscuits and sausage gravy for breakfast. She’d also made oatmeal-raisin muffins that were right tasty with a little butter and honey. Evidently the ladies had compared notes, because from the list Tootsie had seen that morning, they weren’t having the same thing twice all week.

  She and Smokey had had a long talk the night before. Well, actually, she’d done most of the talking. He hadn’t really said a single word, but he’d told her he’d always be right there with her. She’d laid his pillow longways and snuggled up to it. That didn’t help much until she got up and put a few drops of his shaving lotion on the pillowcase. Then she slept like a baby.

  Getting into the old pickup truck the next morning was another battle. Vehicles had changed a lot in the last twenty or thirty years. Very few had bench seats these days. She smiled at the memories of taking trips with Smokey in this vehicle—of sliding across the bench seat to snuggle up to Smokey’s side, and curling up on the seat with her head in his lap to sleep the last hundred miles to wherever he stopped when his eyes got too heavy to drive anymore.

  She was still thinking about that when Luke pulled into the driveway at Sissy’s house. “Did I get it right?” he asked. “You said the first left after the traffic light and the third house at the end of the cul-de-sac.”

  “You remembered very well. Give me a call when you’re finished with the shopping, and we’ll see how things are going,” Tootsie said. “If she wants me to stay all day, you might just want to go home and come back to get me later this evening.”

  “Whatever you want or need, Aunt Tootsie.” He left the engine running but got out and jogged around the front of the vehicle to open the door for her. Tucking her arm in his, he led her past a flower bed brimming with multicolored mums and onto the porch of a white brick house that looked pretty much like all the others on the circle.

  “Thank you.” Tootsie reached out and rang the bell.

  Sissy opened the door and motioned her inside. “Come in. She’s awake this morning and ready to see you. I haven’t seen you in years, Luke, but I’d recognize those eyes anywhere. They’re just like Smokey’s. Come on inside.”

  “Thank you, but I’ve got some errands to run. I’ll be back in a little while,” Luke said as he took a few steps back.

  “We’ll look for you later, then.” Sissy ushered Tootsie on inside and closed the door. “She drifts in and out a lot, so be ready for that.”

  “Has hospice been here today?” Tootsie asked.

  “Earlier this morning,” Sissy answered.

  “Do I need to know anything else before I go in there?” Tootsie whispered as they neared the open bedroom door.

  “Nothing I can think of,” Sissy said. “Midge, darlin’, she’s here.”

  Midge raised her hand and said, “I’m so glad”—she panted a moment before going on—“to see you. Sissy, bring the box.”

  “It can wait until later, can’t it?�
�� Sissy asked. “Y’all have some catching up to do.”

  “No, I don’t want to die without giving them to her myself,” Midge said.

  “You’re not dying today.” Tootsie bent down and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Yes, I am, and I’m glad you’re here with me when I take that first step into eternity.” Midge patted the side of the bed. “I’m not afraid, but it’ll be good to have you with me. You’ll be here”—she stopped and inhaled deeply several times—“to see me off, and Gloria will be on the other side to welcome me into the next life.” With shaking hands, she brought out a remote and pushed a button to raise the head of the bed. “Sissy got me this new fancy bed.”

  “We’ve got one like it at home.” Tootsie sat down beside her. “Helped with Smokey’s snoring to raise his head up a little.”

  “Helps with my breathing.” Midge’s eyes shut, and her breath came in shallow bursts.

  Sissy came in and set a box on the foot of the bed. “When she wakes up, tell her that it’s right here.”

  “She says she’s dying today,” Tootsie whispered.

  “She’s hung on to see you, but when she goes is up to God, not her.” Sissy gently closed the door behind her.

  “I got a deal with God that I didn’t”—Midge had to stop for air—“tell her about. That box is for you.”

  Tootsie scooted to the end of the bed and removed the lid of the cardboard box that had once held copy paper. Separated and tied by ribbons by the year that they were written were all the letters Tootsie had ever sent her. More than sixty years’ worth, the older ones sporting faded ribbons, the newer ones still bright and shiny. One a month for all those years.

  “Want you to have them back. Lots of history there,” Midge said.

  Tootsie grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and dabbed at the tears running down her cheeks. “I can’t believe you kept all these.”

  “Went back and read them over and over.” That took all of Midge’s air, so she had to wait a minute to continue. “You need to buy waterproof mascara.”

  Tootsie giggled even though the tears, stained black, kept coming. “You need to turn up your oxygen.”

  Midge’s giggle was barely audible, but her weary eyes glittered. “We had good times. Take a little nap with me.” Her eyes closed again, and Tootsie kicked off her shoes and crawled up into the bed beside her.

  Midge reached for Tootsie’s hand and held it tightly. “Twinkle, twinkle,” she said.

  “Little star,” Tootsie sang the next two words of the lullaby. When they had been little girls and were allowed to have a sleepover, they had sung that song just before they went to sleep at night. Gloria never could carry a tune and sounded like a toad-frog, but Tootsie and Midge never said a word. Tootsie wondered if God had given Gloria a beautiful singing voice in the next life. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that God would let Midge breathe easy and run and play when she got beyond the pearly gates.

  Memories played through Tootsie’s mind in living Technicolor as she lay there beside her oldest friend, holding her hand as she tried to breathe. The three of them had been inseparable from her earliest memories. When Gloria died, she and Smokey had been stationed in Germany, and there was no way she could come home for the funeral.

  Midge’s eyes popped open. “Gloria is here!”

  “Honey, Gloria has been gone for years. Remember she had that brain aneurysm?” Tootsie said.

  “I know that,” Midge whispered. “But she’s right there at the end of the bed.”

  A cold shiver made its way slowly down Tootsie’s spine. Suddenly, she realized how lucky she was that Smokey had simply sat down in his chair after Sunday dinner and was gone when she went to wake him up to watch the ball game with her. He hadn’t had to suffer like this. One minute he was there; the next he was gone. The shock had been almost more than she could bear, but she wouldn’t have wished him back if he had to endure what Midge was going through.

  Sissy came in with two pills. “Time for the pain medicine.”

  “Don’t want it. Gloria has come for me.” Midge’s voice was barely a whisper now.

  “Don’t be silly. You know what the hospice nurse said. If you let the pain get away from you, then it’s twice as hard to get it under control.” Sissy held them out to her.

  Midge shook her head. “No. I want a clear head when I go with Gloria.”

  “Okay, but tonight you’re going to hurt,” Sissy fussed.

  “Tonight I’ll be in paradise.” Midge squeezed Tootsie’s hand.

  Who did Smokey see just before he went to sleep that Sunday afternoon? Tootsie wondered. Was it one of his old army teammates, or maybe Luke’s father, who was his youngest brother? She hoped that when it was her turn to go, it would be Smokey who was in the room with her.

  I’ll be there for you, darlin’. His voice was so clear in her head that she turned to see if he was with her now.

  Midge drifted off again, and Tootsie let her mind wander back to the girls. Was Carmen out chopping more wood again? What would happen if she swung wrong and got a cut? They didn’t even have a vehicle to get them into town unless they drove the motor home. She wasn’t sure if Luke had even left the keys so the girls could use it in case of an emergency. She was so busy worrying about Carmen that she didn’t realize Midge had taken her hand away until she caught movement in her peripheral vision.

  She jerked her head around to see Midge stretching out her fingers and then closing them, as if she were holding someone’s hand. Then with a slight shudder, she took her last breath. Midge’s hand fell back to the bed, and Tootsie covered it with hers.

  “I guess you and God really did have an agreement,” she whispered as she slung her legs off the side of the bed. She found Sissy sitting in the kitchen washing a few dishes.

  “She’s gone,” Tootsie said.

  Sissy sucked in a lungful of air and let it out slowly. “Is it wrong of me to be relieved?”

  Tootsie wrapped her arms around the younger woman and said, “No, darlin’. She’s at peace now, and I really believe that Gloria came to usher her out of this world. She was holding my hand until the last minute, then she reached out toward someone and took her last breath.”

  Sissy began to sob. “But that don’t make giving her up any easier, does it?”

  “Whether it’s sudden or a long, painful journey, it’s never easy to let them go.” Tootsie cried with her. “Let’s go sit with her a few minutes before we call the funeral home.”

  Sissy clasped Tootsie’s hand in hers, and together they went into the room and sat in a couple of folding chairs beside the bed.

  “She looks so peaceful,” Sissy whispered. “Like she’s just sleeping.”

  “She didn’t fight going,” Tootsie told her. “Have you made arrangements?”

  “She did all that two months ago. No funeral, just a graveside service. That’s to be tomorrow morning. She hated the idea of embalming, and she wanted a plain wooden box. I’m to line it with the quilt our mama gave her for her wedding present and put her in her wedding dress. It’s just a little blue dress with white pearl buttons, and I’m to make sure that the pillow under her head has a case on it with embroidery that I did,” Sissy answered.

  “Then that’s exactly what you should do. Flowers?”

  “She wanted pink carnations like the corsage that Ralph bought for her on their wedding day,” Sissy said.

  “Can I please buy those for her casket piece?” Tootsie had to swallow hard to get the words around the lump in her throat.

  “She’d like that.” Sissy started to weep again.

  Tootsie pulled a tissue from the container and handed it to her.

  “I’ll be lost without her,” Sissy said. “She’s all that was left except me, and yet I’m glad that she’s not suffering anymore. I feel guilty for that.”

  “You’ve heard of the seven steps of grief, right?” Tootsie asked.

  “The hospice nurse gave us all the point
s when she started with us,” Sissy said.

  “I’m only a few miles away, Sissy. I can be here in twenty minutes if you need me or if you want to come up to the house and spend some time away, either one.” Tootsie grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.

  “Gloria couldn’t sing, and you sound like a three-hundred-pound trucker when you blow your nose or sneeze,” Sissy giggled. “Midge said that just yesterday when you called and said you were coming today instead of tomorrow.”

  “She’s right about Gloria and me, but she was clumsy.” Tootsie laughed with her.

  “Are we crazy?” Sissy asked. “Sitting here beside my dead sister and laughing?”

  “She’s probably giggling with us, and I like to think that she’s doing it from the bottom of her chest and not wheezing for every breath anymore,” Tootsie said.

  Sissy squeezed her hand. “Me, too.”

  The laughter stopped, and more tears began. Tootsie pulled her hand free and said, “I’ll stay with you until the funeral home comes for her, and I can stay tonight if you want me to.”

  “Two of the ladies from our Sunday-school class will be here as soon as I call them to help with the food that will be coming in. We’ll have a dinner here tomorrow after the services. They’ll spend the night and be here to take care of things in the morning while we’re at the cemetery. She’ll be buried in the Manchester Cemetery with Ralph and her children. The family will be together again.” Sissy patted Midge’s hand. “Her hands always get so cold. I have to remember to tell the funeral director that I don’t want her hands crossed over her chest. She needs to have them under the quilt.”

  “We should write things like that down so we don’t forget anything. We should do everything just like she said.” Tootsie gestured for a pen.

  Sissy opened the drawer of a bedside table and brought out a small notebook and a pen. “She liked to keep this handy to make notes.”

  Tootsie flipped it open. “There’s nothing here now.”

  “We tore out the last page she wrote on this morning before you arrived. It had a note to give you the box of letters. I guess that was her final message,” Sissy sighed.