Retreat to Love (23 page)

It’s hard to describe, the differences between that morning and the night before. She wasn’t exactly smaller, but she was flatter somehow. She did look more relaxed, which gave me pause. It was darker in the room—the only window faced west and the curtain was pulled. Bernadette said something about keeping the biorhythms going with natural day-night patterns of light, but I didn’t know if that was from her or the medical team. She was gone for less than a minute before Zach came in to join me.

We held hands. It felt strange; comforting, but strange. We hadn’t held hands for a dozen years or more. And Caleb’s hand was broader than his; Zach’s long fingers seemed cool and gangly in comparison.

“I think she’s slipping, sis.”

I shook my head.

“Sis.”

“I know, Zach, I know, okay? I just don’t want to talk about it in front of her.”

I could see him trying to fight the emotional reaction with the logic of what we’d been told, but with a sigh he just said, “Okay. Sorry.”

“Forget it. I’m sorry.” Drawing a deep breath, I stepped from him and leaned over Gran. I smoothed back her hair, tried to fluff it on top a bit the way she liked, and adjusted the oxygen tube where it was pushing into her cheek. I kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay? Frank’s going to come in for a little while, then after the doctor makes his rounds, I’ll come back.”

Gran didn’t even exhale noticeably. I caught my tear before it landed on her, and turned to walk away.

Frank turned insistent on us. Taking Matthew’s bag and Bernadette’s backpack, he handed Zach a twenty and sent us to the cafeteria while he drove them home.

“I know it’s not looking good,” I told Zach as we walked, “and I know she’s not supposed to be able to hear us, but I don’t care. I don’t care. I’m not going to stand there in front of her and talk about how bad she’s doing like she’s not a part of the conversation.” Zach, bless him, wasn’t offended. He didn’t take it as defensive, just as emotional.

“Okay, Ash. I can do that. I’m—I guess I’m worried about how you’re taking this, cause I am just not getting a lot of good feeling off of you.”

“I didn’t expect you would.”

“You know what I mean. You’re tense and conflicted and vibrating with worry. If something happens to Gran, I don’t want you to fall apart. I want to help you get ready.”

We were staring at the line-up in the cafeteria. Caleb was looking at us, I realized, waiting for a break so he could steer us towards some food. I bit my lips and told him I’d eat some eggs, I guessed. Zach said him, too. No coffee. Caleb nodded and sent us to a nearby empty table. The place was full of people in scrubs, some in suits, some as weary and faded looking as I felt.

Carefully, I answered Zach. “Thanks. I know you’re trying to do your best for me, and I know you’re torn up with worry, too, so it’s not easy.” I sighed. “And I know she’s not okay. I know what the doctor is avoiding coming out and saying.”

Caleb sat down between us and started parceling out plates and cups of tea. He offered me some orange juice, and I shook my head. “If she, if Gran dies, I’m going to be a mess, okay? I mean, I’m already a mess. But, that’s okay, I think. I know it might happen, and I can’t get ready for it somehow, I can’t meditate and reach acceptance about it. I just can’t. If it happens, I will figure out what to do next. And,” I took both their hands—broad, thin, both gentle, “I know how lucky I am you two are here for me, I know how much you love me and want to protect me. Believe me, it’s already helped more than I can tell you. So thanks.”

“Oh, Ash,” mumbled Caleb, dropping his forehead to our linked fingers. “My sweet Ashlyn.”

Zach was watching us, his brow furrowed and not quite crying. “Thanks, too, sis.”

I handed him a napkin, which he used to dab at his eyes. “Zach, what about you? I never ask you how you’re doing.”

He shrugged and stirred his tea. “About what you’d expect, I guess. I’m sad and worried and just want her to get better so we can all go home and be happy.”

I smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

Caleb sat back and breathed deeply. “You guys need to eat. That’s good protein there, now, come on. And all the fruit, too, even the grapes, Ash. Eat.”

We all relaxed a little. It was good, right then, to have someone tell us what to do, and it was good for Caleb to have us listen, to have us respond to his concern.

We still had an hour before we could see her again. Caleb wouldn’t even let us go back up to check in with the nurses, leading us out to the park across the street instead. We walked several blocks of it, watching some ducks at one point and some golfers in the distance at another. The day was warming up quickly, a sign of the blazing summer moving in soon. Zach pointed out a brown-headed nuthatch, which was one of Gran’s favorite birds. After that, we just turned and went back to the waiting room, silently.

Dr. Erie had just finished his rounds, and nodded solemnly to us. I didn’t feel like talking to him; I needed to concentrate on what I was going to say to Gran, instead. Caleb and Zach stood in the corridor, gravely listening to the morning report, and didn’t mention a word of it to me when they sat down. The others returned, looking somewhat fresher but no less shell shocked.

It was eight o’clock.

Matthew went in first.

After a few pacing moments, Bernadette stood in front of the doors, waiting, and then they switched places.

Matthew stood at the window, crying, and I stared at him until Bernadette came out, sniffling herself, and Zach nudged me.

“You go next,” I told him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

So he went, and I looked at Frank, and he gazed into my face for a long moment, and told me, “I’m not going to go this time, sweetie. You take the last minutes.”

Breathe in, Ashlyn. Breathe out.
I didn’t look at anyone else, just stood, holding my elbows in my hands, and watched people walking up and down the halls until Zach opened the doors and held it for me to enter. Our hands touched briefly as we passed, but we didn’t say anything.

There I was, alone with my Gran. My breath was shuddery, and I forced it still, so I could talk to her. As I spoke, my eyes flickered to the monitors, anxious, desperate to know she did hear me, but desperate to know she didn’t, as well.

“Hey, Granny bug.” I held her hand, and knelt on the floor by her head. The same way Zach had when he’d come to tell me about her. Yesterday? Only yesterday. “Hey, there. I love you. You know that, I know you know that. We know each other, huh? That’s what we always said, so why am I sitting here talking to you like, I don’t know. Like you’re a stranger or something? I’m sorry.” I pressed her hand and then got up to pace. I opened the curtain fully. The sun was beginning to creep across the roof of the building below. It had a plastic owl shunting back and forth on a pole, looking far too large and chipped to fool any pigeons.

Again, I held Gran’s hand, this time perched on the bed beside her. “Here’s the thing, Gran. Here’s what’s what. Caleb keeps insisting that what I told you, it has nothing to do with how you ended up here. But I can’t accept that. I know you too well.” Before I exhaled, I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, imagining the darkness behind Gran’s own eyelids. “I’d already told him about it before I told you; I hope that’s okay. I needed to talk to someone before I could tell you. He won’t tell Zach, he never would.” Her face was almost void of color. Parchment. “And that’s what I want to tell you, too. I won’t tell, either. No matter what, Gran. I’ll never tell my mom or Zach or anyone, I swear. I won’t try and find them in Ireland. Even when everyone’s gone, when I’m a grandmother myself. I won’t tell, okay? It’s my promise to you, Gran. It’s,” so hard to talk through the shuddery tears, “it’s what I need you to know, now, to believe from me. I don’t want you to lack peace about it. I don’t want you to worry.”

I was still holding her hand in my two, and as I turned my head to wipe my face on my sleeve, I saw the nurse standing near the door. I sat up. “Is it time?”

She nodded, and I nodded in return.

I stood, but still held onto Gran. Still held her. I bent close to her ear. I kissed her cheek, her pale but still smooth cheek. I whispered, “I love you, Gran, with all my heart. You have my word now.” And then I kissed her one more time before I said, “Bye, Gran.” and stood, placing her hand on her stomach.

The nurse held the door for me. She’d just started to close it when I heard the monitors beeping, and then she was no longer there, and then another nurse and a doctor brushed past me into the room. Slowly, I pushed the door back open, in time for the doctor to glance at her watch and say, “Eight twenty-one a.m.” and turn off the high-pitched wail. She glanced at me and said, “I’m sorry,” and then the first nurse was back at my side.

It had only been sixty seconds since we’d last stood in the doorway together.

In that time, my Gran had died.

And there I was, alone again. I crept back up to Gran, brushed back her hair, and laid my fingertips against the cool of her cheek, not wanting to touch her but not wanting any of my touches to be the last. The nurse came to put her arm across my shoulders and next thing I realized we were standing in front of my family in their chairs. She must have been well practiced in gently moving immobile people.

Matthew and Bernadette didn’t get it at first. They thought it was my sadness at seeing Gran so ill. But Frank knew. He read it in our posture, in the generically kind face of the nurse beside me. She transferred my body to him, and he held me and said to Bernadette, “Love, she’s gone.”

“She’s?”

“She’s gone, love.” And then I was passed to Caleb and Frank was holding Bernadette and Zach and Matthew were staring at each other like they were drowning and the other was a distant life vest. The nurse still hovered, but closer to the doors. Caleb sank us into a chair and I couldn’t hear anybody’s words, although they were talking. Everyone just kept talking. It seemed to go on for days, the talking. Through us heading back to Frank and Bernadette’s house, through the phone calls and the meeting of Uncle Dermot at the airport and the awkwardly genial presence of Mr. and Mrs. Weimer, who made a tuna casserole only Dermot and Zach could eat.

Gran had made all of her own arrangements. It was a very Gran thing to do, said Aunt Elizabeth when she called Frank to offer her condolences. She sent a rubber plant, too. Zach lobbied briefly for the apple green dressing gown, but we decided instead on a navy dress with subtle green and white flowers across the bodice. It matched her favorite handbag, so we buried her with that, too, stuffed with photos of us all and her girlhood locket with the last picture of her sister Berneen.

Somewhere along the way I’d told Caleb we could get him a bus back to Wimberley, but he said no, he’d already emailed Margie we’d be a while longer. With Matthew, we moved over to Gran’s house after Uncle Dermot arrived, Caleb borrowing some clothes off Zach, and disappearing for a couple of hours one morning only to return with a charcoal suit.

He shrugged. “I needed a new one anyway.”

I sighed—I wasn’t manage much speak in Gran’s house without Gran there to speak back—and we held hands on the sofa for a while. The funeral was the next morning, and every time I started to actually hear all the words flowing around me, I thought of it and stopped being able to hear anything.

After lunch, Zach and Caleb ambushed me.

“Sis, on Monday we’re driving back.”

“Okay.”

“You, too,” added Caleb.

I shook my head. “I need to stay here.”

“Why?”

I just stared at them. Wasn’t it obvious? “Because.”

“No, seriously, Ash. Why?”

“Just because, okay?”

“No, not okay.”

“Ash,” Caleb said. “Love, you need to get away for a bit. You’ll be back in a few weeks.”

“Bernadette can’t take care of this house stuff on her own.”

“Dermot and Matthew are going to stay all this week and maybe next. Frank’s got all kinds of people in to cover the store so she won’t have to work for at least a month. You’ll be back by then.”

God, there really had been tornadoes of words around me. I had no idea. “You can’t make me.”

“Sis, no one’s trying to make you do anything. But this is what makes sense, for everyone.”

Every time I opened my mouth my lips clung together a moment too long. “So you’re saying I’m just in the way?”

“No one’s saying that, love.” Caleb’s hand on my arm. His gentle touch I’d barely been without since the hour of Gran’s death. “They’re saying you should get away from here for a bit. Staying here in your Gran’s house is just going to rip you apart every day and it’d be better if you let them work on it first.”

But what if they did it wrong? What if Gran had left behind some evidence of the Pappa thing, and they came to me for an explanation? What if they gave her favorite tea mug to the United Way? Looking at Caleb, beseeching him silently to understand what I couldn’t talk about in front of Zach, I started to shake again.

He shushed me. “Ash, I promise, it’s okay. This is the best thing. You need to get out of here. Just for a while.”

I was still shaking my head, but the looks Caleb and Zach were trading proved they knew they’d gotten their way with me. It made me mad that they ganged up on me, but I didn’t have a lot of energy just then to battle them. I just hugged them both and went to be alone for my afternoon nap.

The funeral. Well, looking back, I can describe parts of it. The Sunday crowd in their somber Sunday best. The unnatural heat of the day, or the natural heat combined with the unnatural warmth of dark clothes and hosiery and too many people too close together. It was a lot of people, more than I expected. Between the neighbors and Gran’s book club pals and friends from the store and the people who just knew her from her congregation and wanted to pay their respects, it was upwards of forty souls coming together in the little chapel to say goodbye.

I spent the entire time sitting straight up (‘train your spine to be straight, Sweetheart, it will always serve you well’) between Caleb and Zach. I cried when they closed the casket, although I wasn’t watching, and again when they lowered it graveside. Other than that, I didn’t open my mouth the entire time. I know it was rude of me, with old acquaintances taking the trouble to come offer me their sympathy, but other than half-smiles and nods and clasped hands, I couldn’t communicate with them.

Zach repeated “Thank you for coming,” over and over, and I was grateful. His girlfriend had come in late Saturday night, and was standing as quietly as I on his other side, frighteningly elegant in a simple black shift dress. Bernadette barely registered her, although Frank, I could see, was making an effort to treat her kindly and include her in the many many conversations. I was glad about that, at least.

One other thing I recall vividly about the funeral. I was kneeling by Pappa’s marker, brushing invisible dust off of it just for the cool of the marble against my sweating palm. A shadow over me proved to be Uncle Dermot. His eyes were moist.

“Your Pappa was a great man, you know,” he said quietly.

I nodded.

“He had his flaws. We all have our flaws. But not all of us are so aware of them, so intent on atoning for them.”

I stood up. What did Uncle Dermot know? But he wouldn’t answer my puzzled look, and glancing at Gran’s grave beside us, I couldn’t ask him anything, no matter how veiled.

Uncle Dermot closed his eyes a moment and then patted at my back. “A great man,” he repeated, and then Bernadette was between us and we all turned to take our seats under the green canvas canopy, ready to recite the Lord’s Prayer and very much not ready to see Gran’s remains descend into their final resting place.

Rebecca stayed the night with us, and after the rest of the guests had shuffled off in groups and twos, she and I sat on the sofa sandwiched together between Caleb and Zach on the ends. Frank and Bernadette and her brothers just kept moving. Not quickly, just consistently. Frank would carry a cup to the kitchen, then Matthew would wander past and pick up the napkin that had been under it. Even in my haze—I had succumbed to a sudden-onset exhaustion—I realized I liked Rebecca a great deal. Mostly she just sat and held Zach’s hand and let us be as quiet as we wanted. After her initial offer to help clean up was refused, she recognized the way the prior generation was finding tasks was vital to them just then, and didn’t try to interfere. She didn’t shift around and try to get more comfortable as we squeezed against each other. I liked her calm and her acceptance of the prevailing mood. And Zach was leaning against her as if she was the most stable doorway in the midst of an earthquake. I’m projecting that’s how he felt, anyway, since I was doing the same thing to Caleb.

‘The kids’ slept at Gran’s house that night, and sooner than we’d have liked, Bernadette and Dermot came by with fresh berries and Bernadette’s organic pancake mix. It gave me chills to use the rest of Gran’s half-gallon of milk, and we all left her favorite mug in the cabinet when pouring our coffee, but no one talked about it.

Zach had obviously shared our plans; Bernadette seemed content with us leaving. Dermot was taking a week’s bereavement leave, and he and Matthew would begin to go through Gran’s house. Bernadette held my hand as she told me about it, giving me a look promising I would return and not feel violated. She told me after the retreat, they all wanted me to move into Gran’s for a while, until they decided ‘what to do.’ I knew they meant selling the house and dividing the proceeds, but I left my sealed lips as they were. Dermot was standing in the door to the den, leafing through the old Sears catalog and smiling briefly when he came across Pappa’s war letters home.

“Look,” he said, tilting the book towards her.

She nodded. “I know.”

They smiled at each other, the smile of their father’s children, transported from the days when the two of them were as tight with each other as Zach and I were now. And then I willed myself not to think, because my life sucked enough as it was without trying to figure out if Rebecca and Caleb would interrupt the always-there-for-you status quo of Zach and I.

Matthew came by in time to say goodbye. The cars were loaded—Rebecca would follow us out of town and veer towards Austin, and Zach would meet her there in time for an early dinner. We group-hugged, and I caught Zach’s smile when Bernadette thanked Rebecca, who asked that Frank be told good-bye from her. Frank was at the store, unavoidably, and had told us to not worry about stopping by. In other words, he was too drained to say farewell to his kids, and Zach just nodded without commenting. He refused Caleb’s offer to drive.

I blinked, and we were on the road, and I blinked again, and Caleb was driving after all, while Zach lay in the back seat with his eyes closed.

He wasn’t sleeping, though. “I like her,” I said.

He smiled slowly.

“Yeah, she’s great,” Caleb added.

“And Frank and Bernadette like her.”

Then he opened his right eye, briefly. “They do, actually, don’t they?”

I nodded. “They do.”

“They like Caleb, too.”

“Yeah.”

“They do?” Caleb asked, with a quick grin.

“You know they do.” I took hold of his forearm. “You’ve been great.”

He shrugged. Each time our bodies moved against each other, I felt my spirit circling back down to rejoin my form, so I kept my hand on him. “Thanks.”

Eventually, quietly, we reached Wimberley. The too-bright FireWind sign looked weather-beaten and friendly. Caleb brought us to my cabin, not even glancing at the turn to his own, popping the trunk before turning to my brother. “Are you okay to get back, man?”

Zach stretched. “Sure.”

“Thanks again for all the rides.”

“Anytime.” He paused, shook his head vigorously. “Okay, I’m just going to go. Email me later on and let me know how you’re doing.”

We huddled in a hug, then Zach folded himself into the driver’s seat and took off without a final wave through the windshield.

Caleb wrapped his arm around me. “He’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

“So will you.”

And then I looked up at him, at his strong cheekbones, his concerned brown eyes, his focus only on me. “I know,” I repeated, and walked us inside.

We skipped lunch, falling instead into a peaceful long sleep on the top of my bed. The later afternoon was still bright, the sun through the bedroom window increasingly hot. Caleb was so gentle as he eased out of bed, but I woke up anyway.

“I’m not ready for real life to begin,” I told him, muffling a yawn.

“I know, sweetie.”

“You should get your stuff done, though. Don’t be sitting around babying me and neglecting yourself, you’ve done enough of that.”

“I’m not neglected, and I’ve been doing nothing I haven’t wanted to do.”

Suppressing a groan, I sat up. “Would you like to walk up the creek with me?”

“As a matter of fact, I would.”

“Shower first or later?”

“Later.”

“Let’s go.”

The woods were so much cooler than Houston, especially when compared with the forced barrenness of the Medical Center. I drew the oxygen-rich air into my lungs and sniff-sneezed at the pollen but my eyes actually felt good watering against the allergens. The itching was annoying, but having some reason for my eyes to self-lubricate after all the dry crying was a relief.

Caleb ended up going to dinner alone, bringing me back a plate as well as Lizzy and Wren. Before we’d finished with the condolences, Rafael stopped by with a large handful of maidenhair and black-eyed Susan, and a quiet, “I’m sorry for your loss.” He refused my invitation to join us.

By Tuesday lunch I’d climbed onto the swing of things. Theo was spending more time in the dining room with the four of us, which meant Brandon and Angelica spent more time getting out of there asap. And Rafael continued to be late or not show for meals, but sometimes sat over coffee with us, as well. He never said much, but Sargie’s approving beam as she walked past and saw six artists sharing a plate of brownies did engender rolled eyes and sub-breath mutterings.