Dying Wishes (9 page)

“You
do seem more content on your own, but that makes it all the more curious that
you’re considering shattering your precious solitude by taking on a child. If
you think a man can be demanding, wait until you see what a baby does do your
life. You’ve worked in daycare, Emma. You know what infants are. What’s this
really all about?”

She
shrugged. “Hormones partially, I’m sure. I’m a female in my prime reproductive
years, and the nesting urges are all there. I’ve always wanted kids. It’s
finding a man I can tolerate for the long haul that’s the hard part. One day it
hit me that I didn’t have to have a long-term relationship with a man in order
to have a child. Frankly, it was a huge relief.”

“Okay,”
I said a little desperately, “so you can have a child on your own these days.
That doesn’t mean you must. Opportunity doesn’t equal obligation.” I heard
myself beginning to lecture and stopped. Listen, Kate, you’re here to listen. I
sipped my cooling coffee.

“You
know you can count on Armando and me no matter what you decide to do. But oh,
Em
, what if the child isn’t born one hundred percent
perfect and healthy? What if he or she requires full-time supervision or
special programs or expensive medical care? Where will the time and money come
from?” I blurted.

A
glint came into my daughter’s eyes, and I realized that I had gone too far.
Emma was intelligent enough to have considered all the possibilities. She also
knew perfectly well that if it came right down to it, Armando and I and Michael
and Sheila would open our days, nights and bank accounts to care for a child of
hers. She adroitly turned the conversational tables.

“Gosh,
you’re right, Momma. I hadn’t given that a moment’s thought. Thank goodness I
have my mother here to guide me.” She pretended to think for a few seconds.
“Guess I’ll have to take fertility drugs and produce a whole bunch of babies
like Kate
Gosselin
or
Octomom
,
get myself a TV
show to support us. Then I’ll find myself a plastic surgeon and a personal
trainer and pose for
Playboy
.” Her
face was expressionless, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

I
matched her deadpan for deadpan. “All right, now you’re thinking. The same
people who are horrified by pet overpopulation seem to be fascinated when a
human being drops a litter, so the more, the merrier. Becoming a public
spectacle absolutely sounds like a plan.”

Emma’s
face softened, and I breathed more easily. “Like I said, it’s good to know
you’re in my corner.”

I
picked up my mug and got to my feet. It was time to retreat and hope for the
best, yet another parenting skill I was learning to exercise more frequently.
“At least I know what to get you for Christmas,” I said, heading for the
stairs.

“Oh,
and what’s that?”

“A
turkey
baster
,” I fired over my shoulder. Not a bad
parting shot, all things considered.

Seven

Since
I’d talked with
Strutter
on Sunday, she had been on
tenterhooks, awaiting the results of
Lavinia
Henstock’s
neurological evaluation. I finally took pity on
her and invited her to tag along on my visit late Thursday afternoon. I knew
both ladies would be happy to see her.

Even
though I was expected, I tapped on the front door tentatively, not wanting to
end
Ada’s
one break of the day if
Lavinia
were still napping.

“
Arf-arf-arf-arf-arf
!” yapped Henry, the
Henstocks
’
dog, effectively shattering whatever peace might have reigned inside the house.

To
our surprise it was
Lavinia
, not
Ada
,
who opened the door. “Henry, do be quiet for once in your life,” she admonished
the stocky, terrier-sized mongrel before focusing on
Strutter
and me on the porch. I had momentary misgivings, wondering if she would
remember who we were, but I needn’t have worried. “Kate, Charlene, how lovely
to see you both. Do come in.” Her face wreathed in smiles, she stood back to
let us enter. One hand firmly gripped Henry’s collar. “Let me look at you.
Well, you just look wonderful,” she beamed, releasing Henry to give each of us
a brief hug.

“
Arf-arf-arf-arf-arf
!”
Henry concurred, dancing dangerously around
Lavinia’s
legs.

Strutter
frowned at him. “Better tell Margo to get John and Rhett over here for a few
more lessons,” she muttered, but she smiled at
Lavinia
gamely. “You’re looking lovely yourself,
Lavinia
.”

I
agreed. The old lady had obviously taken pains with her appearance. Her classic
shirtdress, dotted with plum-colored flowers, was freshly ironed, and her wispy
gray hair had been successfully corralled into a neat bun. I don’t know what I
had expected, but this
Lavinia
, though aged, was
every inch the pulled-together hostess.

“Do
come into the parlor,” she urged. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day and are
looking forward to your tea. Sister, our guests are here.” This last was
trilled down the hallway toward the kitchen at the back of the house. “Make
yourselves comfortable while I see what’s keeping
Ada
and put this dratted dog out back.” She whisked out with Henry at her heels.

“I’m
all for that,”
Strutter
commented. “Cute mutt, but
he’s a broken hip waiting to happen.” I couldn’t disagree, having some personal
history with Henry in that area.

We
settled ourselves on the sofa as
Ada
wheeled an
old-fashioned teacart into the room. It was obviously a relic from their days
in the Victorian next door. “I know this doesn’t go with our little bungalow,
but it’s an old friend, and we simply couldn’t part with it,” she said without
preamble. “Charlene, I’m so glad you could join us. How are those two beautiful
children of yours? Do you have any photographs with you?”

Strutter
was happy to oblige and produced a handful of prints from her purse. Their
small talk gave me a chance to assess this new state of things. I was, quite
frankly, amazed. The woman before me bore no resemblance to the agitated weeper
of the previous week. This was the
Ada
I remembered,
the clear-eyed older sister and mistress of the house. Her hair was freshly
permed
, her sensible shoes gleamed with polish, and the
ancient teacart groaned under its burden of delectable goodies.

The
demeanor of the two sisters flummoxed me. It was as if I had imagined my last
meeting with
Ada
, or perhaps I was the one whose
mental faculties were failing. Before I got too far down that path,
Lavinia
returned and cleared up my confusion.

“Would
you be good enough to pour, Sister?” she asked
Ada
,
then addressed
Strutter
and me. “A little tremor left
over from my recent unpleasantness, don’t you know. Just a tiny stroke, thank
goodness, but those doctors didn’t leave a stone unturned, let me tell you. By
the time they finished poking and prodding and sticking me with needles, I felt
exactly like a pin cushion,” she confided. “That big machine that clanked so
was the worst. I couldn’t hear myself think, and I had to keep absolutely still
for the longest time.”

“An
MRI,”
Ada
explained as
Lavinia
fussed with plates and napkins. As requested, she took up her position behind
the teapot and filled three bone china cups. “Cream or lemon?” she asked me,
smiling at what must have been the astonishment on my face.

I
finally found my tongue.
“Lemon, please, and a little sugar.
A stroke?
That must have been very upsetting for you,
Lavinia
, but it’s hard to believe that’s what it was. You
look so well.” I ignored
Strutter
, who was
telegraphing what-the-heck-is-going-on-here to me as she accepted her cup from
Ada
.

“It
was a TIA,”
Ada
explained once again. “It stands for
a transient ischemic attack, and the key word here is transient. The symptoms
disappear very quickly, and medication is prescribed to prevent future blood
clots.”

Lavinia
picked up the story again. “It wasn’t really upsetting, at least to me,” she
said, looking at her sister with sympathy. “I didn’t even know it had happened
until
Ada
insisted that we see Dr. Petersen right
away. She called a taxi, and off we went before I knew what was what. It
doesn’t seem to matter how old we get.
Ada
is still
my big sister.” She smiled fondly at
Ada
, whose eyes
were very soft, and I felt myself growing a bit misty, as well.
Strutter
plunked down her teacup and openly wiped her eyes
with her napkin.

“We’re
so glad that it wasn’t more serious,” she managed. “We were all very worried
about you.”

“That
was so
kind,
wasn’t it,
Ada
?”

Her
sister seemed to have a little difficulty speaking, too. She cleared her throat
with a sip of tea. “It was indeed. I can’t tell you what a comfort it is to
know we have wonderful friends like you. Fortunately, this episode wasn’t the
catastrophe it might have been, but Dr. Petersen was very clear that we need to
make a plan for the future. I know you can’t tell from looking at us, but we
aren’t getting any younger, you know.”

The
two ladies laughed merrily.
Strutter
and I looked at
each other.

“Is
there some way we can help you with that?” I asked.

“Why,
yes, dear, there is. We have our attorney drawing up living wills and something
called proxies and powers of attorney and all of that legal paperwork that
seems to be required these days, so that’s all right. But this incident has
demonstrated that it simply isn’t wise for us to continue living in this
two-story house. Next time it might not be one of those tiny strokes,” she
explained. “It might be a thumping big one, and I might be the one having it.
How could
Lavinia
cope with the house and Henry and
me and all the rest of it on her own?”

Rather
than taking offense at these sisterly aspersions on her abilities,
Lavinia
merely sipped her tea and nodded in placid
agreement. “We’ve shared a home our whole lives, you see,” was all she said.

“How
can we help?”
Strutter
and I asked on top of each
other, and
Ada
smiled warmly at us.

“I
believe it’s time we took a tour of that Vista View complex for ourselves.
Assisted living, is that the right term?”

“It
is, and I’d be glad to show you around personally any time you’d like. I’m
there between nine and three on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays for the rest of
this month. Just let me know when you’d like to come, and we’ll do it.”

“Just
one thing worries me,”
Lavinia
interrupted
diffidently. “It’s Henry. I know the important thing is that
Ada
and I can stay together, but I’ve become so fond of our
dog. What would happen to him?”

“Why,
you’d keep him right with you,”
Strutter
assured her.
“Residents are allowed one small pet per unit. Of course, you might need to get
some help to get his barking under control.” She looked at me doubtfully as
Henry could be heard yapping in the back yard.

“That’s
already on my list,” said
Ada
. “The animal
behaviorist comes tomorrow for an evaluation.”

“You
see?”
Lavinia
said admiringly. “
Ada
is right on top of everything. What would I do without her?”

I
sincerely hoped she would never have to find out.

“It
sounds as if this may be the answer we’ve been seeking,” said
Ada
. “I’m so grateful to Dr. Petersen for suggesting it.

“Dr.
Petersen suggested that you look into a unit at Vista View? Does he have
patients there?” I wanted to know.

“Quite
a few, I believe. He’s been the on-call physician there for years, after all.”

For
some reason this bit of information startled me. I had known there was an
on-call physician—several of them, in fact—but I had never known their names.
The fact that the
Henstocks
’ doctor was among them
gave me pause, but I wasn’t sure why. The back of my neck prickled
atavistically, never a good sign.

“Has
he been your doctor for long?” I asked. I was careful to keep my voice casual,
but
Strutter
didn’t miss the change in me. I could
almost feel her snap to attention.

“Oh,
years and years, isn’t that right, Sister? Ever since old Doctor Melrose passed
on,”
Lavinia
chirped, absorbed in capturing angel
food cake crumbs with the tines of her fork. It would never do to use her
fingers.