Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
George
“He looks different today,” I say to Betty Lou.
Her smile is empathetic as she pats my shoulder. “Sweetie, you need to be prepared.”
“I am.” My voice is husky, my eyes wide, and my entire body trembling with disbelief. I’ve known deep down for several days it’s the beginning of the end.
The hospice nurse explained how no one really knows when it will happen. But one thing is for sure. Pop’s death is imminent. It could be a few days or even a few hours.
Earlier, I'd pulled Jenny aside when she stopped by to deliver some of her famous chicken salad and baked goods.
“Can you please do me a favor?” I asked.
“Yes, of course. Anything for you, George.”
“Could you please contact Madison and let her know…” I choked on my words, but Jenny seemed to understand.
“Of course. I’ll call her right away.”
That was yesterday, and I wonder if Jenny ever got around to calling Madison or if she forgot. Maybe she’s been too busy with her Inn and the café? Perhaps she thought about it and decided it wasn’t a good idea after all?
Sitting on my grandfather’s front porch steps, I twirl an autumn gardenia bloom in my hand. The subtle scent tickles my nose, reminding me that my Grandma Rosie is always nearby, which comforts me.
I stare at the empty barnyard, Kip and his cronies gone for the day. Buttery shades of yellow and orange stain the horizon as I wait for the hospice nurse to finish bathing Pop.
I have zero energy, and as I look out at the only homestead I’ve ever known, I wonder what my life will be like afterward. When he’s finally out of pain and at peace.
I like to think he’ll be greeted by Grandma Rosie in heaven.
She’ll be so happy to see him again. I can picture them dancing in the clouds, smiling and laughing, and saying their “I love yous” over and over again.
Maybe they’ll even look out for me while I’m stuck down here.
Perhaps they’ll become my guardian angels? The thought makes me smile.
Betty Lou announced a few days ago that she was planning on leaving Heartsboro and moving farther south to be near her grandchildren once her services at the farm were no longer needed.
I don’t blame her. Miss Betty’s years of caring for Pop after Grandma Rosie’s death are about to end, and it’s okay.
I’m a grown man and can take care of myself.
But can I?
Am I really going to sell Pop’s house and part of the land to Kip Johnson?
I still go back and forth with my decision.
It doesn’t help that Kip has been incredibly kind and seems genuinely concerned for me.
But I know him better than anyone; his words and actions are a mask he wears in front of everyone.
It’s been annoying how he constantly reassures me that he will be the one to look out for me after Pop passes, especially when we become neighbors.
Yeah, right.
I run my sleeve against my nose and sniffle. As often as I’ve gone over this, I know I have no choice. I need someone to manage the farm and the business. Kip has proven he knows what he’s doing, and with him at the helm, I can keep focusing on my flowers and not worry about the big picture.
But it still doesn’t sit right with me.
The sound of tires on gravel diverts my attention from my melancholy stare at the sunset. I stand and swipe a hand across my bearded face, ready to greet the courier service delivering more morphine. It’s the only drug that keeps my grandfather comfortable.
The car comes to a complete stop, and my breath hitches. It can’t be? Can it?
She exits the car and swiftly comes around the front of her vehicle with purpose. When she sees me, she stops dead in her tracks.
Madison. Beautiful, sweet Madison. She’s back.
I can’t breathe. With my eyes locked on hers, a thousand words I’ve wanted to say are stuck in my throat:
Where have you been?
Don’t ever leave me again.
Tell me I could be your forever.
I love you.
But I don’t say anything. Instead, I stand there and stare at her like an idiot, thankful when she speaks first.
“I was reading somewhere that sunflowers follow the sun. Did you know that?”
I answer her with a slight nod.
She takes a few steps closer. “But did you know sunflowers face each other and share their energy when it’s cloudy and gray?”
I can tell her dark eyes are muddled with tears, her soft smile emitting caution. Or maybe it’s regret?
“I think that’s amazing, George. Imagine if humans could do this too. You know, share their energy when life gets cloudy and gray?” she says.
My voice is husky in my reply. “We do.” I take a guarded step toward her. “Are we the sunflowers in this metaphor, Madison? And yes, before you ask, I know what a metaphor is.”
Her syrupy eyes draw me in with her smile. “Something like that.”
We continue to stare at one another. I swear my heart is pounding so hard she can see my shirt moving with the rhythm.
“Why are you here, Madison?”
She shrugs, her movement causing tears to stream down her cheeks. “Sometimes you just need flowers.”
I’m hesitant, my body craving to hold her in my arms, but my mind flashes, warning me not to get too close.
Screw it.
We both close the gap between us, desperate to feel each other. Gosh, I’ve missed her so much. The reality of that sweeps through me as I kiss her deeply.
I can’t quite process this incredible moment. Just holding her in my arms leaves me vulnerable and bare.
But I don’t care.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles against my lips.
I say nothing, tucking my nose against her ear. I close my eyes and offer a quick prayer of thanks to the heavens.
“Are you okay? How’s Ralph?”
I pull back from her and melt when she strokes her fingers across my tear-soaked beard. I hadn’t realized I’d been crying too.
“Not good,” I croak.
She nods, pressing her lips together in a thin line. “Can I see him?”
“Yes, of course.” I grab her by the hand, and I’m about to lead her up the stairs and into the house when she stops me.
She brings my hand up to her mouth and kisses my knuckles. I go weak in the knees.
“I’m staying,” she says, her determined stance adorable. “Are you okay with that?”
Blood rushes to my head, making me woozy.
“You promise?”
“Yes. I love you, George.”
I gasp, not able to hold back my genuine emotions any longer. I pull her by the hand into my chest and hang on for dear life.
“I…, I…”
“What’s the matter, George? Need I remind you your Grandma Rosie was adamant one mustn’t ever forget their I love yous? And to think it used to flow so effortlessly off your tongue,” she teases.
I inhale a giant breath of air, and I’ve never been surer of the words leaving my mouth than I am right now.
“I love you too, Madison.”
***
I listen to Madison talk with the night nurse about my grandfather’s skin pallor and decreased appetite. Their words are hushed while they stand near his bed. She folds her arms against her chest, her pretty brow furrowed with concern.
I can’t believe she’s here. I can’t believe she told me she loves me.
Don’t forget to say your “I love yous.”
If she’s staying, I can continue to honor my Grandma Rosie’s request and say it daily. The thought makes me smile.
Pop seems comfortable this evening. His hair is neatly combed back from his face from his recent sponge bath, and his eyes are shut, his chest lifting and falling against the sheet with each breath he takes.
Late at night, when it’s been just the two of us, I often count his each inhale and exhale. It soothes me and lulls me into a comfortable space. I suppose it’s part of my autism. My counting rituals bring me great peace, especially in times of uncertainty.
Having Madison here definitely helps, and I find myself not having the same urge to count anymore. A huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders, her presence a shining light in my dark world.
“Hey,” she says, coming up beside me. I feel her arm snake around my waist and squeeze. “Nurse Gale says he’s doing better with the new morphine dosage.”
“Good,” I reply.
I concentrate on her body next to mine, her warmth infiltrating my system.
The flowery scent of her perfume and her voice soothe me.
I could get used to this. For a few seconds, I allow myself to picture what it might be like—Madison living here with me.
But I probably shouldn’t be focused on Madison.
Right now, I should concentrate on Pop. But I can’t help myself.
“I can stay here with him while you get something to eat or shower,” she suggests. Tugging on my whiskers, she adds, “And maybe shave?”
“How do you know I haven’t showered or eaten?” I chuckle. “And what’s wrong with my beard, huh? I like it. Pop says it’s very debonair.”
She cranes her head to look up at my face and laughs at the pitiful British accent I used on the word “debonair.” I’m light as a feather, and I wonder how I’ve lived my life so mutedly. Madison is joy personified. She’s a Technicolor kaleidoscope rivaling the blooming summer flowers in my fields.
“Jenny called me.”
Her comment takes me by surprise. She pins me with a familiar look, one part hopeful, the other part making sure I’m tracking with her.
I nod, thankful for Miss Jenny. Knowing she came through for me gives me great peace. Maybe I can trust a few of the Heartsboro folks after all?
“I’ll shower and eat later. Pop usually rallies around this time, and I want to be here for it. He might even recognize you and say something. But don’t get your hopes up. It’s been hard for him to speak with all the drugs in his system.”
“I understand.”
A few minutes later, I watch Pop’s eyes flutter open. I immediately leave Madison’s side and stand by the edge of the bed, gripping his hand in mine. I push a nearby button, and the hospital bed automatically raises the upper half of his body into a semi-sitting position.
“Hey, Pop.” My tone is upbeat and happy.
He looks at me and smiles.
“Hi, Ralph,” Madison says. She leans down and kisses his whiskered cheek. “Long time no see.”
He blinks back at her, recognition finally registering on his face. “Hi,” he manages to say, his voice husky with fatigue. “I’m still here.” Even in his worst moments, his sense of humor remains intact.
“I’m so glad,” she replies with a beaming smile.
I trade places with Madison and watch how careful she is with him. She's gentle with his hand as she cradles it while cocking her head to the side.
“How are you feeling right now?”
He licks his lips, and I’m quick with a straw to his mouth. He takes a tiny sip of water from the bottle before he speaks.
“I’m… better. Now that… you’re here.”
I stand tall next to Madison and place my hand on her shoulder. “She’s staying, Pop. Can you believe it?”
His tired eyes seem to twinkle in the ambient lighting, and his slight grin is noticeable. I haven’t seen him smile like that in weeks.
“Our girl… has come home.”
We’re interrupted by Nurse Gale. “Time for your meds, Mr. Jamison.”
He scowls and shakes his head.
Miss Gale looks at me, and I nod. “Well, all right, then. Five more minutes. But remember, we’ve got to stay ahead of the pain.” She walks out of the room, leaving the three of us alone.
Pop sighs, his scrawny fingers trembling as he reaches for Madison’s hand again. She’s the center of our universe, pulling us together, her grasp firm and strong.
The three of us are attached like a thread in a magnificent tapestry. The past. The present. And our future.
And I’m never letting her go.