11 #2
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Miranda gave the fragile hand a gentle squeeze.
“It’s my heart.”
“I thought so.” Miranda glanced at the oxygen tube taped to the side of Joy’s face and the IV in her arm. “What did the doctor say?”
“I may need surgery. Bypass.”
“Oh.”
Joy’s smile faded. “But we haven’t finished our Christmas Joy Ride . . .”
Miranda sighed. “I’m afraid it’s finished now, Joy. You can’t possibly continue.”
“Yes . . . I know.” Joy’s pale blue eyes grew hopeful. “But you can go, dear. You can finish it for us.”
“Me?” Miranda frowned. “By myself?”
“You know how to drive the motor home. You know what to do. Surely, you can do it, dear.” Joy closed her eyes. Perhaps this much conversation was wearing her out.
“Well, I, uh, I don’t know . . .” Miranda felt a mixture of guilt and anxiety. It was one thing driving a crazy-looking motor home around and bursting into people’s lives with Joy merrily running the show, but could Miranda really pull it off alone? “I’m not sure I can do it without you.”
“Of course you can.” Joy’s eyes opened, looking intently at Miranda as she squeezed her fingers. “You can and you will, dear.”
“I’m not sure about that . . .”
“Please, dear, do it for me.” Joy released a weary sigh. “I can rest better if I know you’re finishing this up for us and if I rest better, I’ll get well sooner.”
Miranda made a half smile. “So is this where the Christmas Joy Ride turns into a Christmas guilt trip? And I’m not talking about the glittery kind of gilt either.”
Joy’s eyes twinkled slightly. “If that’s what it takes.”
To change the subject, Miranda filled Joy in on the rehab center and the details of how the decorating had gone and even showed her the pictures she’d taken on her phone. “Roxy made a real sweet turnaround and was actually quite helpful. When it was all done, she really appreciated it.”
“See, dear, you did all that without me. And you can handle this last visit too. I know you can.”
Miranda still felt uncertain, but she didn’t want to trouble Joy with it. Guilt or not, it was probably true that Joy would recover more quickly without the stress of worrying about her unfinished mission.
“The last visit is Flagstaff,” Joy said with quiet persistence. “It’s in my notebook.”
“I know it’s about five hours from here.” Miranda pulled the notebook from Joy’s bag, opening it to the Flagstaff section.
“A seven-year-old girl named Emily wrote to me. With the help of a friendly neighbor.” Joy paused to catch her breath.
“The neighbor’s name is Camilla, and she watches Emily after school,” Miranda filled in for her, gleaning from the notes. “Camilla’s email says that Emily’s mother died when Emily was just three. At Christmastime.” She sighed. “That’s sad.”
“Something about Emily’s story struck a chord with me. Maybe it reminded me of my own childhood . . . back when I was a little girl.” Joy paused. “I’m not sure why . . . maybe just the longing . . . the loneliness.”
Miranda skimmed Joy’s notes about Flagstaff. “It says here that Emily’s dad stopped celebrating Christmas when his wife died. They don’t even put up a tree or get gifts or anything.”
“Not good.”
Miranda knew why Joy was concerned now. She felt her own heart going out to the little girl. “Poor Emily.”
“Yes. That’s why we need to help.”
“But I have to say, the dad sounds a bit like an old ogre.” Suddenly Miranda imagined an angry man in dirty overalls with a shotgun pointed directly at her head, yelling at her to get off his property. “What if he, uh, resents this intrusion?”
Joy looked slightly concerned. “I hadn’t thought of that . . .”
“Well, I guess I’ll just cross that bridge when I get there.” Miranda feigned more confidence than she felt.
“So you made up your mind? You’ll go?” Joy’s voice lilted with hope.
“Yes, I’ll go. But only if you promise not to get upset at me for calling your son today.”
“You called my boys?”
Miranda explained about calling Rick and how he’d arrive later that evening. “Maybe both of them.”
Joy actually looked relieved. “Good. Then you can head off to Flagstaff straight away.”
“I can’t leave you here alone.”
“I’m not alone.” Joy gazed over to where a nurse was working on something nearby. “Lots of folks around. And Rick will be here.”
“I’m sorry,” Miranda stubbornly told her, “but I refuse to leave until I know you’ve got family here. You can guilt me into going to Flagstaff for you, but you cannot guilt me into abandoning you here all by yourself. Don’t even try.”
Joy made a patient smile. “Well, it will be dark soon anyway. Better you should start out in the morning. Early.”
“Yes.” Miranda nodded. “Early.”
“And the motor home?” Joy looked slightly concerned.
“It’s still at the rehab place. Right where we left it in the parking lot. I already talked to Roxy, and she said it can stay there overnight. No problem.”
“Oh, good.” Joy looked sleepy now. “That’s good.”
“I’ll take a taxi over there in the morning.”
“Early.”
“Yes. Early.” Miranda could see the nurse motioning to her watch, signaling that it was time to wrap this up. “Now you get some rest.”
Joy barely nodded. “Yes. But I want you to come back here, Miranda. In an hour or two. After you have some dinner.”
“Okay.” Miranda stood.
“Do you have my purse with you?”
Miranda held it up for her to see.
“Well, leave it here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Just lay it on the bed. It will be safe.”
Miranda felt uncertain, but did as she was told, then leaned over and kissed Joy’s cheek. “You keep taking it easy. We need you to get well.”
“Yes . . . it’s not time for me to go yet . . . not yet.”
As Miranda walked back to the waiting area, she wondered what she would do if Joy didn’t make it through the night. Would she still go to Flagstaff? Or would she just forget the whole thing? The truth was she didn’t really know. And she didn’t really want to figure it out either.