Chapter 17 Magnolia
Ichew on my nails, staring at the four steps that lead out of the front door with concern.
The snow is coming down in thick sheets, and part of me wants to call the hospital and reschedule Mama’s appointments, but we had already done that twice.
There is no getting out of today, no matter how tight my chest was with anxiety.
I have no idea how I’m going to get her out of the house and into the car in time. We barely have time to spare as it is because she fought me all the way through getting fed and showered leaving us exactly two hours to get into the car and drive an hour into the city.
Mama rambles on in the other room about being stuck in a wheelchair and how she doesn’t need it but the last time we tried walking further than the bed to the bathroom she fell and the dinner plate-sized bruise on her hip made me sick every time I saw it.
I hate this house. It’s old, it’s got too many memories being replaced by Mama’s illness, and instead of craving the days I get to come home and crawl into bed, I resent them now.
“Magnolia!” Mama’s hoarse voice fills the hallway behind me, along with the sound of her wheels bumping into the entryway table.
She’s lucid enough this morning to make everything complicated.
It’s not her fault. Not really, anyway. That’s the funny thing about brains, they block out the bad and for Mama, the bad is her memory.
I get why she’s irritated. In her mind, she has a list of things she needs to do.
Tend to the garden, go to church, shopping, and visit Dot.
All the things she used to do, but she can’t.
Her freedom depends on whether or not she recognizes the person in the mirror every morning.
I turn to help her and narrowly avoid breaking another vase as she pushes herself forward. “Mama, please.” I beg as she looks up at me with eyes that flutter with the past. I give her a moment before she frowns.
“This is nonsense, baby.” She shakes her head, letting out a huff. “I don’t need doctors, I’m perfectly fine.”
“We have to go, I’m sorry.” My voice is uneven as I kneel next to her. “Please, we just need to get into the car.”
“I’m not going, Magnolia. Those people are quacks anyway.” She rolls back away from me, bumping into the wall again. “Where’s Jo? She’s supposed to bring more packs of those seeds for me.”
I feel like disappearing into the old hardwood as she rolls into the kitchen.
We don’t have time for this but there’s not much I can do other than force her and I don’t have the heart or the patience right now.
“Mama, please!” I call standing when I hear the back door open and I know she’s retreating to the greenhouse.
By the time I reach the door, she’s already got her hands knuckle-deep in soil and digging out a group of flowers. “I have things to do, Maggie, I’m not going.”
“You have to go.” I ground out through clenched teeth. “Please, we have to go.”
“I don’t need to go. I’m fine.” She says so confidently without looking up that the tightly wound ball in my chest finally frays.
“You’re not fine, Mama!” My voice rises more than I meant it, and I ignore the small child-like stomp of my foot. “You have to go to this doctor so we can make sure you’re fine!”
Her brows knit together as she stills, her working hands clenched around loose dirt. Her eyes lift, but they don’t meet mine, and I know I’ve lost her. I’ve forced her to retreat into her shell of silence, and once again, I don’t exist.
I step back up the ramp, almost tripping while tears burn the corners of my eyes. We have forty-five minutes to get into the car and onto the road before I have to schedule another appointment and wait another six months.
I reach for my phone and dial the only person I know who can convince her. It rings twice before Ford’s voicemail picks up. I don’t bother to leave a message, and as soon as I pull the phone from my ear, his text pops through.
Getting on the plane. Call you when I land.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I thought he was home. I could have sworn that Dot said he would be home by today, and if he isn’t, that only means that his meeting wasn’t quick, and with Wyatt, nothing is ever quick unless it’s him high-tailing it out of Whiskey River.
I scroll down to Dot’s number. She can’t lift Mama outside but maybe she can convince her to go.
But then there’s still the issue of getting her out the front door.
My bottom lip worries between my teeth as I scroll up to Bode’s number.
I haven’t seen him since the auction but even as my gut bubbles with nerves, I tap his name and wait for it to ring.
“Walker.” His voice is curt when he answers and his name comes out quickly off his tongue, making me regret calling him.
“Never mind, you seem busy,” I say in a ramble of words.
“Maggie?” he questions. “Slow down.” I can hear him shuffle around on the other end, something like a door clicks, and then it’s quiet. “You’re talkin’ faster than normal, and that’s saying something.”
I turn to look back at the greenhouse, watching the snow whip around like crazy in fat flakes that coat the glass.
“I’m sorry I can’t talk right now,” I say. I feel out of control. I can’t get Mama out of the greenhouse, I can’t get her to the doctors. Everything is slipping out of my fingers, and none of my problem-solving is producing answers.
“Maggie, you called me, and you’re gonna have to tell me why. I can’t read your mind,” he says gently, his tone growing light.
“It’s nothing,” I say tightly, my throat growing sticky as I check the time.
“It’s something,” he argues.
“My Mama.” I inhale as slowly as possible, trying not to cry because I’m frustrated and overwhelmed.
“Your Mama,” Bode says, and I hate that I can hear the soft encouragement in his voice.
“Has appointments in the city in an hour, and I can’t for the life of me get her out of the house. I was calling to ask Ford to come help me with her wheelchair, but he…” I stop because Bode knows the rest.
“Took the later flight and won’t be home until this evening,” he finishes. “First thing you need to do is breathe,” he says. “I don’t need you passing out from hyperventilating, and as humorous as it would be to see how long you can talk without breathing. Ideally, now is not the time.”
His lighthearted joke makes me chuckle softly, and for a split second, my ability to control the situation seems in reach. I’ve done this a thousand times. Mama might be having a bad day or a bad week, but I can do this for her and for me.
“There she is,” he says in response to my laugh. “Get your mama ready to go, I’ll be there in ten.”
“Bode I-”
The phone clicks dead before I can argue and I’m left staring at the disconnected call. I turn back to the greenhouse, slipping inside with a nervous smile on my face.
“Hey, Mama,” I lean over her, taking a look at what she’s gardening.
Her gaze is distant now, and as much as it hurts, I know it’ll be a little easier to convince her back into the house.
I hate lying to her, but sometimes it feels like I’m trying to bribe a toddler with candy.
I kneel next to her, my hands covering hers as I try to get her to focus on me.
“I have a friend coming over. He’s going to help me get you into the car, and we can go get those seeds you wanted. ”
Her green eyes flicker to me. She’s still looking through me, but it’s a start in the right direction. “We have to go inside, though,” I say and squeeze her hands gently as I lift them from the soil. “Would you like to meet him?”
“Seeds?” Mama’s voice is hoarse, but she’s talking, and it makes the corners of my mouth turn upwards.
“Yeah, we’ll get some seeds,” I say starting to clean her hands and mine from the soil.
Once I’m finished and we both look somewhat presentable, I wheel her into the house just in time to see Bode pull up next to my truck.
I swear he’s barely parked before the door is open and he’s halfway out of the cab, jogging up to the front door.
I hate that even with the knot in my stomach as I glance at the clock, he has the ability to get me to smile.
Mama makes a soft huff as he knocks on the door.
“It’s just my friend,” I reassure her as her fingers curl around the arms of the wheelchair.
“He’s here to help.” I park her in the entryway and pull open the front door.
Bode’s eyes find mine in an instant before they flicker past me to Mama. His hat is lazily placed on his head, as if he grabbed it in a hurry, and his chest rises and falls, creating soft clouds of breath in the snow-filled air. “Hi,” he grins and takes a step up to the door.
“Hi,” I breathe out, completely distracted by the lopsided smile on his face. He’s only wearing a dark burgundy long-sleeved Henley, but I can see the black t-shirt hiding beneath the open buttons. “Did you forget a coat?” I ask, ignoring the slight wobble of my knees as he pushes his sleeves up.
“It’s in the cab.” He counters and pushes past me.
“Liar.” I smile as he takes off his hat and kneels in front of my mother.
Bode feigns offense and raises a brow. “You gonna stand there and miss her appo–”
My eyes widen as I shake my head. “Don’t,” I rasp. “We’re getting seeds.”
His brows knit together before he puts two and two together.
“Right, seeds.” He lets out a breath and shifts on the balls of his feet, still kneeling in front of Mama.
“Well, Miss Dalton, I’m Bode,” he says, sliding his hat off his head.
“What do you say we get you all bundled up and into Magnolia’s truck? ”
“You’re coming with us to pick up seeds?” She asks him, eyeing him with suspicion, I hadn’t seen from her in years. Not since I snuck out of my bedroom window to meet William Knicks and came in early that morning with a shotty excuse of why I was already dressed for school.
“Just helping you two get on the road, you got places to be, so what do you say we get you there?” Bode hits her with the Walker charm, and I can see her suspicion fade as she nods yes.
Bode straightens out and looks at the front steps, and back to the wheelchair. “You take the back and I’ll carry the weight in the front?” he says.
“Alright,” I agree.
“Put your gloves on, it’s cold out.” Bode points to where they sit on the entryway table and I arch my eyebrow at him.
“You aren’t even wearing a jacket,” I huff, but it’s weightless and comes with a soft smile.
“Humor me.”
I grab the gloves, brushing by him close enough to catch the scent of barn and his cologne all tangled together in harmony. His hat still in his hand, he rakes the other through his hair, pushing back all the loose strands that fell around his face.
“Let’s do this,” he says after I’ve gotten the gloves on, and he pushes his hat back onto his head.
I walk back to Mama, gripping the handles again, and push her forward as Bode hops down the stairs.
He waits until I have the wheels balanced on the edge before he grabs the bars at the front and lifts.
He carries nearly all the weight as I step down, just doing enough to keep the back wheels from hitting the stairs until she's on the pavers at the bottom.
Bode straightens up, kicking the thick patches of snow to the side, making sure Mama’s feet don’t get wet as he walks towards the truck and tugs the door open.
I watch him with an unfamiliar warmth blooming in my chest and my hands tighten around the handles of the wheelchair.
He came without arguing, without a grumpy attitude. Bode Walker showed up for me.
He turns back to me and the nod he gives me forces my feet forward, pushing Mama towards the truck.
It takes a few minutes, but we get her comfortable and covered with the blanket I keep in the back seat for her.
Bode shuts the door, letting out a breath as he turns to me, shoving his hands into his pockets.
His nose is bitten pink from the cold and I can tell he wants to ask questions.
He has the look in his eyes that everyone gets when they meet my mother for the first time in this state.
“Do you do this every time?” he asks, lifting his chin towards the front steps.
I glance back at the wide-open front door and nod. “Yeah, it’s easier in the summer and spring to get her outside, but…”
“It’s alright, Maggie.” He cuts me off, but his voice is soft with just enough rasp that my spine warms. “You don’t have to justify why you needed help.”
I stare at him for a moment, unable to form words or even a thank you. Every thought, every worry I have disappears as soon as he smiles again.
“You should get going while the roads are still good.” He offers, glancing back at the house. “I’ll make sure to lock up for you.” His eyes linger on the front of the house before they find mine. “Call me if you need anything.” Bode’s head tilts to catch my gaze, “Okay?”
“Okay.” I rasp and swallow the lump in my throat.
Bode rounds to the driver’s side of the truck, and without hesitation, I follow him.
I’m not sure if it's because I crave more of his smile or the way he’s looked at me today but as he opens the door and waits for me to get inside, I find myself wanting to cling to the life raft Bode Walker seems to be throwing me.