Monkey Wrench (29 page)

“I'm betting Rose refused the drugs so she could be on her toes for Christmas. She's a remarkable woman for her age, but this kind of condition should have been treated right away. Now, well, things aren't good.”

“What are you saying, Jeff?”

The young doctor sighed. “I won't make promises, Susannah. Let's see how she manages this morning. We'll be able to make more accurate predictions after she's had some time to stabilize.”

But Susannah could see Jeff wasn't hopeful. Left alone again with Granny Rose, Susannah sank into the bedside chair and began to cry. She couldn't help herself, and the tears flowed so forcefully that she began to hiccup, too.

That was enough to wake Granny Rose.

Susannah saw her grandmother's eyes stir and open, and for a long moment, Rose stared at the ceiling of the hospital room. Then she forced her gaze to travel slowly to Susannah, who leaned forward.

“Good morning,” Susannah whispered through her tears.

Rose swallowed with difficulty and tried to speak. But she was very weak, and her voice wavered. “What happened?”

“You've had a heart attack,” Susannah explained, then found she couldn't say more. She grasped Rose's hand and held it.

Rose closed her eyes. “Damn,” she muttered.

Susannah laughed and hiccuped again, but her face was covered with tears. “Oh, Granny Rose!”

Rose lay quietly for a moment, as if marshaling her strength. Then she opened her eyes again and whispered, “It was stupid. I was running.”

“Running! Whatever for?”

“Gina,” Rose said. “Gina's purse. Forgot it.”

Susannah patted her hand. “Don't talk about it now. Save your strength. Just rest. We want you to get better.”

“Joe,” Rose whispered.

“He—he's not here. Roger brought me.”

Rose's brow twitched weakly. “Roger...”

“Roger Selby. He's been very kind, Granny Rose. He brought me here last night, and I think he's still waiting outside. He's worried about you.”

Too weak to stay awake any longer, Rose closed her eyes. Softly, she said, “Hogwash.”

T
HE MORNING CRAWLED
as only mornings in an intensive-care unit can. Susannah spoke with the day-shift nurses who came in often to check Rose. But mostly she watched her grandmother and silently prayed. Rose slept fitfully and woke once, but her mind had begun to wander and her few words made little sense.

Exhaustion was seeping into Susannah's bones, and her own brain was starting to function poorly. She dozed in her chair and found herself swimming in memories of the happy times she'd spent with her grandmother. It was Rose who had taught the young Susannah how to bake wholesome breads and make clear, tart jellies. She had coached Susannah at her sewing machine and taught her how to drive a car. They had gone berry picking every summer together and sneaked up to the lake to skinny-dip on hot August nights.

Rose Atkins had been more than a mother, more than a friend to Susannah. She'd been both—and more. A confidante, a soul mate, a cheerleader. She'd been Susannah's toughest critic. And her biggest fan. Over the years, she had called Susannah with great ideas for her television program. She'd given her advice on her love life and her career—but only if asked. She had loved Susannah unconditionally. And Susannah loved Rose back just as fiercely.

What will I do if I lose you?
Susannah asked silently, allowing herself some time to think selfishly at last.
How can I be me if I don't have you behind me, Granny Rose?

Susannah sat forward and tried to talk to her grandmother. “Granny Rose? Please don't leave me. You're a fighter. You
can get well if you try, I know you can. Don't you want to take our sleigh ride this Christmas? And what about New Year's Eve? We've got to drink ginger ale and play cards, just like always.”

But Rose didn't waken. Her heart seemed to grow weaker, in fact. The unsteady beat on the monitor became slower and more erratic as the hours plodded along.

In the late afternoon, Jeff Baron came in again, as he had several times during the day. He stood beside the bed and read the nurses' notes, then examined Rose gently. Then he called to her. “Rose? Rose, can you hear me?”

With an effort, Rose attempted to rouse herself. She saw Jeff's face above her and she waved weakly with two fingers of her right hand.

Jeff tried to coax the elderly woman into answering his questions, but her watery gaze traveled to Susannah. In a feeble voice, she croaked, “Joe?”

“He's not here right now, Granny Rose.”

“Yes, he is,” Jeff said, straightening from the bed. “You mean Joe Santori? He's been waiting outside since last night. Would you like to see him, Rose?”

Against her pillow, Rose's head made the barest movement of assent. The doctor went out into the hall and called, “Joe? Would you come in for a moment, please? Rose would like to see you.”

Joe ventured cautiously into the sickroom, still wearing the clothes he'd hustled into last night and looking unshaved. With a start, Susannah realized he must have arrived at the hospital shortly after she had and remained outside the room all through the night and day. A rush of love for him swept through her.

The sight of Rose in the bed must have shocked him, Susannah could see. He couldn't hide his surprise at how ill the elderly woman looked. Susannah realized she had gotten accustomed to Rose's pinched white face, but Joe was seeing it for the first time. He looked quickly at Susannah, communicating a question, but she lifted her hands helplessly.

Taking a deep breath, Joe slid into the chair beside the bed and grabbed both of Rose's hands in his large ones. He bent close, mustering a grin. “How are you doing, Mrs. A.?”

Rose blinked. “Not so good,” she whispered. “I'm dying.”

Susannah gasped, and Jeff Baron reached for her arm and squeezed it, silencing her.

To his credit, Joe didn't argue. Bluntly, he said, “I'll look after Suzie for you. You know that.”

Rose managed a small smile. “Love?”

“I love her very much. She's stubborn on the outside, but she's the sweetest woman I've ever known. I want to marry her and keep her here in Tyler, where she belongs.”

That answer seemed to please Rose very much. Her gaze held his for a long time, shining.

Then Rose sighed and closed her eyes. “Suzie?”

Susannah rounded the bed so she could lean close. She kissed Rose's cheek to let her know she was there. “Yes, Granny Rose?”

“Roger.”

“What about Roger?”

Quite clearly, Rose said, “Don't let him talk you into anything you don't want to do.”

Joe laughed. “You tell her, Mrs. A.!”

Rose smiled, but she looked very tired. She seemed to grow smaller, and her chest barely moved as she breathed. Softly, she said, “I love you both.”

Susannah put her head down on the bedclothes and wept, unable to hide her grief. For the first time she forced herself to face the truth. She stood on the edge of life without her grandmother. The woman who had been proud and fiery all her life was ready to let herself be carried into the next world. And there was nothing Susannah could do to stop it.

A long time passed—perhaps an hour or several—and neither Joe nor Susannah moved from the bedside. The doctor and nurses moved quietly in and out of the room, but there was nothing more they could do. Rose did not wake again.

In the evening, Rose Atkins died peacefully.

Susannah was strangely happy to be with her at the moment her spirit passed from her body. And she knew it clearly—that Rose was no longer with them, even though her body remained behind.

For Joe, the moment Rose passed away brought an odd relief. He was glad to see her go so quietly. He had not been at the hospital when Marie died. That long-ago morning, he'd taken an hour to go home to check on Gina, and when he returned to the hospital, Marie was gone. He had been haunted by the guilt of letting her die alone. How many times had he wished he could live that hour over again? He had wanted to comfort her. But watching Rose, he realized the dying didn't need the kind of comfort he'd assumed they did. Perhaps Marie had waited until he was gone before she let go of life. Perhaps she'd wanted to be alone.

But Rose seemed at peace when she gave up. Joe hoped Marie had been just as relieved to die.

At last, he got up from the bed and drew the sheet over Rose's face. The nurses had come in, but it was up to Joe to help Susannah to her feet and hold her while she cried. She clung to him weakly, and he realized she was too tired to function.

“Let me take you home,” he said, wiping the tears from her cheek with his finger.

Susannah nodded, but she seemed unwilling to leave yet. Joe put his arm around her and guided her into the hallway.

Gina was there, still waiting in the chair she had taken when she arrived at the hospital earlier that day. She stood up awkwardly. “Dad?”

Susannah hesitated.

Gina stepped forward, her face blurred with tears. To Susannah, she said, “I'm sorry. The doctor just told me that she died. She was...I really thought she was neat.”

Susannah smiled weakly. “Me, too. Thanks, Gina.”

“I'm going to take Susannah back to her house,” Joe said. “You want to come along?”

Sometimes his daughter surprised him, all right. Gina looked very mature at that moment. She nodded. “Sure. Maybe there's something I can do.”

At the Atkins house, Susannah unlocked the door and went inside first, so she was the one who found the note from Roger Selby.

She opened it with shaking fingers and read the message aloud. “‘Susannah, I've been called back to the station for a meeting. We'll discuss your new contract next week. I hope your grandmother feels better. Roger.”'

“He's a jerk,” Gina said.

“Gina!” Joe reproved her automatically.

“No, it's okay,” Susannah said, folding the note again. “Sometimes he is a jerk, Gina. But not always.”

Joe helped Susannah up to the second floor, where she undressed and climbed into bed without much coaxing. He tucked her under the blankets, aware that she had fallen asleep almost instantly. Joe kissed her forehead and left the room.

“She sure looks beat,” Gina said when he went downstairs again.

“Rough night,” Joe agreed, running his hand through his hair.

“For both of you,” Gina noted. “Why don't you sack out on the couch for a while, Dad? I'll make some phone calls. Somebody ought to let Mrs. Atkins's friends know what happened. A lot of them stopped in at the hospital today.”

“You can handle that?”

Gina nodded solemnly. “I think so. I'd like to give it a shot.”

Joe realized he was so tired he could hardly think. So he nodded and staggered into the sitting room. He flung himself across the sofa and fell asleep in no time.

* * *

F
OR
S
USANNAH
, the funeral arrangements and visitations were almost as painful as her vigil at the hospital. Fortunately, Joe stood by her side and helped make all the decisions.

“Wait an extra day,” he advised Susannah. “You don't
want to have the funeral on Christmas. Rose would want you to wait, I'm sure.”

Susannah agreed. Granny Rose would have hated the idea of spoiling everyone's holiday.

At the house, between the sessions at the funeral home, Susannah felt as though Rose's home was under siege by her grieving friends. Susannah received their hugs and tears, and she found it comforting to talk with all the Tyler folk who were going to miss Rose. The kitchen was soon crowded with foods of every description, and the refrigerator bulged with casseroles.

Gina proved to be very organized, and she kept lists of what neighbors brought which dishes, to make the thank-you writing simple. Gina also answered the phone and was the one who broke the news of Rose's death to Roger Selby when he called. He told Gina to express his sentiments to Susannah, rather than talking to her himself.

Susannah was glad to have Gina and Joe around, for they were sources of support and comfort. Joe was never farther than an arm's length away, and Susannah drew strength from him.

But then it was Christmas Eve, and Susannah knew she couldn't ruin everyone's holiday by keeping them by her side. She also felt the need to send the others home so she could be alone in the house for a while.

Joe protested, holding her fast in his arms. “I don't want you to spend tonight by yourself.” He had once again slept over the night before—in the room Roger had used.

“I have to do this! Go home and spend Christmas with Gina,” she urged him. “I'll be fine.”

She insisted, and soon Joe had to obey. He drove Gina home, and Susannah took the phone off the hook. She turned off the downstairs lights and retired to the second floor to spend the evening alone. It might have looked like a sad way to spend Christmas Eve, but she felt it was the best way to say goodbye to her grandmother.

Susannah sat in Rose's bedroom and began to go through
old photo albums and the stacks of scrapbooks her grandmother had kept over the years. Rose had saved all kinds of things that chronicled her life—pictures, newspaper clippings, tickets from plays, the programs from banquets, musicales, weddings and funerals. A great many of the bits and pieces Rose had saved represented Susannah's accomplishments. Every scrap of publicity the television station had ever sent out seemed to have found its way into her grandmother's hands.

Susannah had hoped to brighten her own spirits by looking through Rose's things, but she found herself deeply saddened that night.

Rose's passing seemed to have come at such a turning point in Susannah's own life—a turning point she had hoped to celebrate with her grandmother. Instead, it had marked the end of Rose's life. And perhaps the beginning of Susannah's.