18
I woke up early again the next morning, tiptoeing down the stairs to make a breakfast feast using the new stove.
By the time Susie and Bobby tumbled sleepily down the stairs, I had pancakes, eggs, blueberry muffins, and fresh-squeezed orange juice on the table, with a cup of black coffee at Ruth’s seat.
“What a breakfast,” she said warmly. She gestured toward the syrup. “I’m surprised this came from a bottle.”
“Well, we do have a maple out back, but it’s the wrong season to go tapping trees,” I said with a levity that I didn’t have to fake as the children dug into their food with gusto.
Maybe I’d go the extra mile for them more often.
Now that they were a little older and no longer flung food they didn’t want onto the floor or walls, it was more rewarding. “I didn’t grow the oranges either.”
The phone rang, and I crossed the kitchen to answer it, picking Pepper up on my way so she wouldn’t beg for food. “Good morning,” I said, assuming it was Janet.
“Barbara,” Dr. Harper’s voice came across the line. “I hate to do this, but is there any way you can come in for a couple of hours?”
“Um,” I said, looking at the white wall that needed to be painted.
“I wouldn’t ask normally, but Mrs. Kline is back, and she’s already had half the nursing staff in tears, and somehow you’re the one she responds to best.”
I sighed. I would rather stick pins in my eyes than reschedule the painting over that woman. But my job was being a “patient liaison,” and I didn’t like the idea of her terrorizing the nurses in my absence.
“I can be in right after I drop the kids at school.”
“You’re an angel, Barbara. Truly.”
I hung up and sighed, pulling the slip of paper with the painter’s phone number off the refrigerator. “I hope he’s not already on his way,” I said to myself.
“Who?” Ruth asked.
“The painter.” I cradled the receiver to my ear with my shoulder to dial. “Work needs me, so I need to reschedule.”
“No need to reschedule over that. I’ll be here all day.”
“Rescheduling isn’t that big a deal,” I said, panicking that my plan to showcase my independence was going up in smoke because of Mrs. Kline. “Or I can just call the hospital back and tell them I can’t make it.”
“Nonsense,” Ruth said, taking Pepper from my arms. “Go to work. This is why I’m here.”
I hesitated. To be fair, she had caused the current need for help. It wasn’t a deficit on my part.
What’s the harm in letting her feel a little needed? Harry’s voice asked. I shook my head but resisted glancing skyward while Ruth was looking at me. As often as I still talked to him, it so seldom felt like he was talking back that when he did, I tried to listen.
And so I found myself agreeing with her.
“I’ll just be a couple of hours,” I said.
“Take your time,” Ruth said. “Go shopping after. Or to the beauty parlor. I’ll try very hard not to start any more fires.”
A sharp reply bubbled up, but there was humor in her face. And with Harry’s voice still echoing in my brain, I grinned. “Now, Ruth,” I said. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
She let out a bark of laughter that startled the puppy. “ That’s the girl my Harry fell for. Now shoo. I can handle a painter.”
And leaving the house, I felt lighter. No, she hadn’t packed her bags, but the shrew seemed a little more tamed already.
The lightness was gone by the time I had finished dealing with Mrs. Kline, who turned even more sour as soon as I walked into the room.
And it dissipated further when Dr. Howe slipped into my tiny office behind me and tried to press me up against a wall.
I ducked under his arm with a sharp rebuke and left, shutting him in there.
I may have retaliated by locking him in—the one benefit to my office having been a closet.
I kept a key on a wall hook by the door just in case—but I did hope it would take him a few minutes of panic before he found it.
To decompress before I went home, I took Ruth’s advice and went shopping—I didn’t remember the last time I had bought myself anything. I wasn’t wearing black anymore, but even in just two years, my wardrobe was looking dated.
I felt guilty spending on myself despite the life insurance policy and earning my own salary—I wanted to be able to give as much as I could to Bobby and Susie when it came time to start their own lives.
That insurance money was for them, no matter what George told me Harry had said when he presented me with the policy.
So I limited my purchases to a few updated staples that could be paired with other items that I already had.
But a pale pink pillbox hat, just like our first lady favored, caught my eye as I was about to leave Woodies. One little splurge wouldn’t hurt.
I found myself smiling on the drive to pick up the kids from school. Maybe, I thought, just maybe, we can find Ruth an apartment nearby. And then I can have her help out. One or two days a week so she feels needed. It is nice to get a break sometimes.
I still wanted her out of the house. But for Harry, I would try harder to make sure she saw the kids regularly.
That was the solution. Boston wasn’t likely to happen.
Even if she would prefer to live with her sister, I knew she wasn’t going to leave her grandchildren.
So all I had to do was convince her I could do this, provide her some independence, figure out a way to involve her more in our lives, and send her on her merry way.
As I parked the car, I glanced skyward. “Happy now?” I asked.
No one replied, of course. But I could tell that answer was better.
The painter’s car was gone by the time the kids and I pulled into the driveway. “Who’s excited to see the new kitchen color?” I asked.
“What did you pick?” Susie asked.
I shrugged at her. “Go see for yourself. Just don’t touch the walls!” I called after them as I walked around the car, picking up their books and shutting their doors, and followed them into the house.
I went down the hall, the sound of their excited voices drifting toward me, and—
Stopped short in the kitchen doorway.
Instead of the pale yellow that I had selected, bright, patterned wallpaper covered every inch of wall. The base was either yellow or orange. I couldn’t actually tell which color was supposed to be the background as the print was too crowded with vibrant fruits, vegetables, and flowers.
“What do you think?” Ruth asked proudly, spreading her arms.
“It’s so fun!” Susie said. “It’s like living in a Barbie ad.”
“Too much pink,” Bobby said, wrinkling his nose. “Oh wait, that’s a funny banana!” He pointed to a banana with legs and a face. “I like that guy a lot.”
Ruth pointed to another dancing banana. “He’s got a brother over here.”
Bobby grinned, walking around the room and pointing out a strawberry in a hat.
I wasn’t smiling.
Susie looked at me and her face fell. “You don’t like it, do you, Mama?”
I squeezed Susie’s shoulder. “It’s—it’s a little loud,” I said, struggling to see how I could prepare a meal in this room without developing a headache. “But I suppose—if you two like it—then I can learn to like it too.”
Susie wrapped her arms around me in a hug, and Ruth looked on approvingly.
I was quiet through dinner—a Ruth concoction of meat loaf that resembled neither meat nor a loaf and that had the unmistakable flavor and texture of coconut flakes in it. Though I did suppress a smile when Bobby went to make a peanut butter sandwich.
I couldn’t kick her out with no place to go. But she had proven—repeatedly now—that she couldn’t stay unsupervised in my house all day either.
“What would you do?” I asked the ceiling as I got into bed that night. “You always knew what to do.”