Chapter 16
“ C larice, how is she?” Dalia asked the front desk receptionist as soon as she entered Olive Branch nursing home. Mamie followed on her heels.
“Hi, honey. Hi, Mamie. I’m afraid it doesn’t look good but she’s still with us.”
The receptionist knew Dalia well from her weekly visits to her mother.
But everyone in the place knew that Agnes Singleton, a crotchety resident who made life hell for everyone who deigned to cross her path, must have been a horrible mother.
They also knew from word around town that Agnes had abandoned her child and left her to be raised by Mamie and Butch Blackburn, God rest his soul, the most beloved couple in the community.
The staff at the nursing home greatly admired Dalia for so dutifully supporting a woman they doubted would have returned the favor.
And they loved it that Mamie usually brought them “a little something to keep the hangries at bay,” like donuts, cupcakes, cookies, and even cakes for their birthdays.
In the summer when the farm flower garden was bursting with colorful blooms, they’d bring bouquets too.
When Agnes first took up residence there a year earlier, they would also bring the patient snacks and flowers.
But she always complained. The donuts weren’t her favorites, the flowers smelled up her room, and the visits interrupted her naps.
It wasn’t long before they gave up trying to make her happy and focused on the staff.
But this visit was different for the staff. This might be the last time they would be visited by Dalia and Mamie, who’d come to feel like family.
“Thanks,” Dalia said over her shoulder as she started down the hall.
“Thank you, Clarice,” Mamie added before following her adopted daughter.
Dalia knocked lightly on the closed door to Agnes’s room. A nurse answered.
“Come in,” the nurse whispered. “She’s sleeping. The doctor says it won’t be long now. Would you like me to call him for you?”
“No thank you, Sherri. There’s nothing he can do at this point, is there?”
“No. Nothing.”
“We’ll just sit with her for a while if that’s okay.”
“Of course.”
Sherri, an extremely competent nurse, the kind anyone would want watching over them in this kind of situation, went to a chair across the room, not willing to leave when death was imminent. Dalia and Mamie each took a folding chair on either side of the bed.
Dalia stared at the woman who was her mother.
Oxygen tubes hung out of her nose with a hose draped across her shoulder that connected to an oxygen tank at the side of the bed.
Agnes’s skin had always been blotchy, her high blood pressure causing red spots on her chest and neck.
Now a deathly white pallor overtook her, white as the sheet pulled up to her chin.
Her thin gray hair puffed out around her head like cotton candy, so frail it looked like it would disintegrate if touched.
She’d always been a heavy woman, junk food being her primary source of nutrients.
But her body took on the shape of a skeleton under the bedding.
Agnes’s emphysema from smoking was finally going to do her in. She’d never tried to quit. It’d been as if the woman wanted to die.
The mother had long been a stranger to her daughter.
Mamie and Butch were Dalia’s parents. They had little contact with Agnes when the trailer park closed and she moved into an apartment, living off the small government disability check sent her in the mail each month.
By then, Dalia was a teenager and had done an admirable job of pretending her real mother didn’t exist. The teen made no effort to see the woman in person.
But a year ago, when they got a call from social services saying Agnes was terminally ill and had become homeless, Dalia and Mamie saw to it that the derelict got put into the nursing home.
Primary costs were covered by disability, but Dalia paid for extras like new clothes, a comfortable recliner, and a new TV set.
And Mamie saw to it that the biological mother of her daughter always had cozy new nightgowns, plush robes, and comfy slippers, not that Mamie ever got a thank you.
Mamie was, after all, ever so grateful that Dalia had been born to this Earth. She had to thank for that.
“You’re a stupid girl.”
The comment pulled Dalia out of the trance she’d fallen into out of boredom. They’d been there for an hour, and she’d been daydreaming about that deputy sheriff, Brody McIntyre, imagining what it would be like to kiss him.
“What?” she asked, surprised that Agnes was awake and staring at her. She’s heard good and well what Agnes had said but had long ago become immune to her cruelty.
“You. You’re a stupid girl.”
“Agnes,” Mamie huffed, “there’s no need for that.”
The callous invalid coughed, gasped for breath, and pointed an arthritic finger at Dalia. “All these years and you never figured it out.”
Dalia became alert, curiously leaning forward to better hear. “Figured out what?”
“Good god, girl, didn’t you ever notice that…
” Agnes fell into a coughing fit, motioned for a drink of water, and sucked greedily through the straw when Mamie held the glass for her.
The few minutes it took for Agnes to regain her composure seemed like hours to Dalia.
“Didn’t you ever notice that you look nothing like me?
You act nothing like me? You’re nothing like me in any way? ”
“What are you getting at?” Dalia stood up and glared down at the pathetic woman lying on her deathbed.
“I’m not your mother. You’ve been duped,” Agnes cackled with sadistic pleasure.
She choked while struggling for breath again.
Sherri, efficient and competent in her nursing duties, rushed to her patient’s side to adjust her oxygen.
After fiddling with the settings on the tank, Sherri stood at the foot of the bed, having heard the shocking admission.
She seemed poised to catch whoever might faint first.
Slowly, like a momma bear rising to full height with her claws out to protect her young, Mamie stood up and loomed over Agnes. “What do you mean, you’re not her mother?” she seethed.
Rheumy eyes landed on Dalia. “I…I bought you.”
With that Agnes Singleton took her last breath and died.
A searing stab of disbelief cut through Dalia, a psychological knife eviscerating her to her very core.
Mamie gasped, her hand over her mouth. The scream that followed shocked even her. “You bitch!” She started to cry.
Sherri checked her watch to note the time of death. “Why don’t you two get out of here. No need to stay with her now.” Her voice firm, the nurse saw no reason for them to pay their respects to such a hateful woman who’d waited until her dying breath to drop a bomb on them.
Mamie collected herself and guided her shocked daughter out of the room. “Thank you, Sherri,” Mamie said, glancing back to catch the nurse tossing the sheet over Agnes’s head.
In a stupor, walking the walk of the dead, Dalia and Mamie went past Clarice without a word and left the building. But Mamie doubled back.
In a steady voice she told Clarice, “Have her cremated. I’ll pay for it, of course. But tell them to dispose of the remains. We don’t want them.”
“Will do, Mamie.”
She went back outside to stand beside her beleaguered daughter.
Dalia could hardly speak, her voice shaky and weak. “What the hell, Mama? Did that bitch adopt me? Or was she lying, like usual, just to be mean?”
Mamie hesitated. No real mother, the kind who loved a child more than she loved her own life, should ever have to say what she must say.
“Honey, I think it must have been a private adoption, because she said she paid for you. Regular adoptions don’t work that way. People pay something but not much. I fear that for once in her life, she was telling the truth.”
Dalia looked off in the direction of a copse of trees where a family of birds shrieked at each other in some kind of domestic squabble.
Squinting while she watched them, Dalia’s mind spun with the knowledge of what she’d just learned.
She looked back at her mother, who stood tall and strong, shoring herself up for her daughter’s inevitable tears.
Instead, Dalia threw up her arms, did a little dance, and yelped. “I’m free! The bitch isn’t in me or Rose! Hallelujah!”
They hopped in the truck, hooted with glee, and drove home.
There they found Llayne and Rose snuggled together on the couch reading Oh the Places You’ll Go!
by Dr. Seuss. Rover nestled into the other side of his girl.
Happy with her new friend and her dog, Rose didn’t run to her mom and grandmother like she would normally do when they came home. She waved them over to the couch.
“Mommy. Grammy. Comere. Sit down and hear our story. It’s a good one.”
Dalia tossed her purse onto the floor and plopped down beside the dog, her jubilant mood evident as she scratched behind Rover’s ears.
Mamie settled into the chair across from them. “Yes, let’s hear this good story.”
Llayne studied the two women, aware of their good spirits for some reason she didn’t know. She continued to read the story, emphasizing the end with a flare.
Rose hopped down and happily clomped her little feet. “I have feet in my shoes! I can go anywhere.”
“Yes you can!” her mother agreed.
“And,” her grandmother added, “you have brains in your head.”
“Oh, yeah. I do!” Rose giggled and went to Llayne, resting her arms on the grown-up’s knees. “Thank you for reading me that story.”
Llayne stroked the little girl’s red curls. “You’re welcome, sweetie. I loved reading to you. But I’d better get home now. I have to go to my friend’s birthday party tonight.” She stood up and Dalia and Mamie joined her.
“Hey,” Rose said, not ready to let go of her new friend, “maybe you could come back tomorrow and babysit me some more. I have lots more books you can read.”
Llayne looked from mother to grandmother to granddaughter and grinned. “Well, maybe not tomorrow but sometime soon. I’d love that.”
“Yes. Please come back any time,” Dalia said.
“Oh, the birthday cake.” Mamie hustled into the kitchen, came back with the cake, and handed it to Llayne. “Have fun at your party tonight.”
“Oh I will. Thanks again. This is going to be a huge hit. Well, ’bye. See you later, sweetheart,” she said to Rose.
The little girl started to follow her out the door, but Mamie called her back. “Honey, I need your help in the kitchen. Let’s go finish frosting those cupcakes we made this morning.”
Rose hesitated. Did she want to follow her friend or obey her grandmother? Decision made, she nodded, took Mamie’s hand, and let herself be led away.
Dalia followed Llayne out of the house, pleased that her mama had taken care of Rose, sensing she wanted to tell Llayne what happened with Agnes.
As they went down the porch steps, Dalia said, “Thank you so much for watching Rose. You’re a big hit.
It really helped us out. We got there just in time.
Agnes died. I wouldn’t have wanted Rose to be with us for that. ”
Llayne stopped. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I know you weren’t close. But she was the one who gave you birth, so it still must hurt. Is there anything I can do?”
They walked again as Dalia considered the question. “No, nothing that I can think of. But here’s the shocker – she said she wasn’t my real mother. Her last words were ‘I bought you.’”
“Oh my word!” They’d reached the car and Llayne carefully placed the cake in the backseat and turned back to Dalia with concern etched into her face. “I’m so sorry. How awful.”
“Yes. But it’s a relief, too. It’s good knowing Rose and I aren’t biologically connected to her. She was a mess. We all tried to help her, but she wouldn’t have it. Death is the first peace she’s ever known, I suspect.”
“So she adopted you?”
“She must have. Mom says it would’ve been a private adoption if she paid very much for me. But we don’t have any details at all. If that’s true, it means she conned us for years into taking care of her.”
“Did she leave anything like papers or files that might give you more information?”
“No. Nothing. She had nothing when she entered the nursing home. I only have my birth certificate because my dad went to her when I was five and insisted she give it to him. It’s in a safe deposit box. That’s all I have.”
“Huh. I’ve reported on stories like this. Adoptees looking for their biological parents. Do you think you’ll ever do that?”
“Oh. I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Well, let us know if there’s anything we can do to help.”
“Thanks. Hey, what do you hear from that rambunctious daughter of yours? How are she and Jessa doing in Mexico?”
Llayne smiled. “Last I knew, they were thinking of becoming beach bums. They love it.” She got into her car, rested her arm on the sill of the open window, and said, “You know, don’t you, that I’ve fallen in love with your rambunctious daughter.
You’re a wonderful mother, Dalia.” She started the car, waved, and drove away.
Dalia stood there staring down the long, dirt driveway as their new friend turned onto the county road and disappeared. Llayne had said, “looking for their biological parents.” That conundrum had been churning in her mind ever since leaving the nursing home.
If Agnes Singleton wasn’t her mother, who was?