Chapter Thirteen
Thirteen
A Pearl of Wisdom
from Nettie Getchell
“If you haven’t found it yet, then for heaven’s sakes, darlin’, keep on looking.”
Juliet
Maeve had told me Renny Russo used to be a big ol’ bear of a man.
Now he was only a slight bear of a man, slim and sallow. Salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, pomaded in place. A matching mustache was neatly trimmed, and the rest of his face was clean-shaven. He had high cheekbones and playful brown eyes.
He didn’t look like a man who was dying.
Yet he was.
“Don’t be fooled, Juliet. Renny looks sweet as can be, but he’s pure trouble,” Maeve said with a lilt in her voice that betrayed her fondness for him. “It’s why he’s here. He’s been a pain in my butt for going on eight weeks now, despite the fact that Juneberry specializes in short-term care.”
Currently, we stood just inside the door of Renny’s room. For the last fifteen minutes, she’d been giving me a tour of the cottage, which was impressive. It was rare for a care facility to feel anything other than sterile, but Juneberry Cottage felt warm, welcoming, cozy.
Renny sat in a cushy wing chair pulled close to a small dining table in the center of the room, a suite that looked like a posh studio apartment—with the exception of the hospital bed.
The bed was glaringly out of place, despite the fact that it was covered in pretty bedding and a fluffy down blanket.
On the dining table sat a fancy wooden checkerboard, a game in progress.
A small pile of dark brown wooden checkers sat in front of him, while on the opposite side there was a veritable mountain of beige checkers piled in front of Katy’s empty chair.
She was currently raiding the cottage’s kitchen.
Grinning, Renny said, “In my opinion, rules are made for breakin’.” The words were more wheezed than spoken, each one as rough as sandpaper. “And I’ve been a pain in your backside for much longer than eight weeks. More like thirty years.”
An oxygen tank near the nightstand and a walker near where he sat were also reminders that he wasn’t well. That this wasn’t just a lovely room to rest and relax. As he talked, I couldn’t help wondering why he wasn’t using the oxygen.
“Closer to forty, actually.” Maeve glanced at me. “We’ve been friends since Ren and Junie started working together at the library and he began showing up at Tenn’s dinner table as much as I did.”
Earlier, she’d told me, “Renny’s practically a brother, which is why everyone calls him Uncle Renny.
Back a good twenty years ago or so, we were all hoping he’d actually become family when he started dating my cousin Paul, who’d come up from Florida to visit.
But it didn’t work out. Renny’s too picky for his own good.
Which is all to say I love him with my whole heart,” she said. “Then some.”
“Well, we did have a falling-out that one year,” Renny said now, his eyebrows lifted high.
She folded her arms, glanced at me. “He didn’t approve of my choice for a husband.”
I already knew she’d divorced young. And that her son and daughter-in-law lived on a farm an hour outside of town. Callum was their child, her only grandchild, and it took much effort not to pepper her with questions about him.
“And who was right about him?” Renny asked her.
She said, “We don’t need to talk about that.”
He laughed, which devolved into coughing.
Maeve made eye contact with him and gestured with her chin toward the oxygen tank.
He shook his head and waved her off.
It seemed to me this town wasn’t lacking for stubborn men.
“Lordy, we’re old,” he said, still chuckling.
Maeve smiled. “You’re ancient. I myself am just starting to mature.”
As they joked, I thought about what Maeve had told me about Renny when she showed me around.
About his diagnosis. His failing lungs. Two months ago, his pulmonologist predicted he had less than six months to live.
Having no biological family close by, he’d immediately turned to Tenn and Maeve for guidance, for solace, for care.
Maeve had secured Renny’s permission to tell me his story, of course. Which I thought was rather generous of him to share, even while I found it interesting that she’d asked him in the first place.
Why had she wanted me to know?
Maeve eyed the game board suspiciously. “You’re not letting Katy win, are you, Ren?”
“No, I ain’t letting her win. The girl’s a shark. She should show a little mercy to an old, dyin’ man.” He coughed pitifully now, putting on a show. “You’d let me win, wouldn’t you, Juliet?”
“Absolutely. I’d make it as easy as possible.”
“I like her,” he said to Maeve, nodding. “Though you know I have a soft spot for green eyes.”
Her tone was dry, droll, as she said, “Yes, I’ve heard.”
A whole lifetime stretched between them, and I wanted to pull up the empty chair and hear their stories.
“Surely,” he said, “you wouldn’t mind hearing it again? Perhaps Juliet would be interested as well.”
I was nodding, even as Maeve was saying, “Maybe another time.”
He rolled his eyes and said to me, “She’s just sick of hearing the story.”
Maeve said, “That’s because you tell it every chance you get.”
“Who doesn’t like a bittersweet love story?” he protested. “But perhaps Maeve is right. Another time might be best.” Then he said in a deep monotone, “What’d you think of the cottage, Juliet?”
Smiling at their give-and-take, I said, “It’s wonderful.”
The cottage had four suites, intended for short stays, which would allow the patient’s family a break, a vacation, a breather.
There were also three common rooms and day programs designed for those needing only a few hours away, to meet a friend for lunch, to go to a doctor’s appointment, to not worry.
There was always a nurse in the building along with support staff as well.
As Maeve showed me the beautiful gardens behind the cottage, she’d shared with me that it had been June, Tenn’s late wife, who’d dreamed up the cottage, when she’d been ill.
Tenn and Maeve had taken on most of the caregiving duties in June’s final days, and even with visits from a hospice nurse a few times a week, it had taken an emotional toll.
There was so little relief. Maeve, as a social worker, had done everything she could to find assistance, but there were gaps in the healthcare system.
Chasms. They often wondered how people did it on their own, with no rest.
No respite.
After June passed, Maeve was determined to bring the idea of a respite cottage to life, as a place where weary folk could find a helping hand without it costing an arm and a leg.
Because of her line of work, she knew it wouldn’t be easy. She had to learn about nonprofits, insurance, donations, grants, fundraisers. But she knew the community needed the kind of haven June had envisioned, so she dove in.
I added, “It’s a special place.”
Renny nodded. “It takes a big heart to work here.”
“The biggest.” I smiled at Maeve.
She looked at me, then Renny. “I like her, too.”
He laughed, and Katy came skipping back into the room, her braid flying. She had a juice box in hand. “Is grape okay, Uncle Renny?”
He said, “Okay? Why, it’s my favorite.”
She grinned, showing off the gap where a tooth was missing, sat down, picked up a beige checker, and triple-hopped over three dark brown ones.
“Merciless,” he muttered. “Who taught you how to play like that?”
“Miss Isabel.”
Maeve laughed. “That explains some things.”
I said, “We should probably get going, Katy. I don’t want to leave your papaw alone too long.”
Renny said, “How’s his old, creaky back doing?”
I wiggled my hand back and forth. “He’s not moaning every time he moves today, so better, I’d say.”
Renny shook his head and muttered, “Ancient,” under his breath.
As Katy said her goodbyes with big hugs, she said to him, “Don’t forget about my birthday party.”
He smiled. “How could I possibly forget about a sparkly-blue-dragon-themed extravaganza?”
“What’s this now?” Maeve asked. “Last I heard, your mama was planning a unicorn party.”
“I just thought of it today!” Katy said, not realizing she was about to throw her mother for a loop.
Maeve let out a light laugh. “Well, be sure to let your mama know, okay?”
Katy said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Before I could figure out how to say goodbye to Renny, he said, “Juliet, you’ll come by and see me again before you leave town, won’t you? Maybe let an old man win at checkers?”
I couldn’t possibly turn him down. “Of course.”
“I knew I liked you.”
We said our goodbyes to Maeve as well and headed for the front door. I paused as we reached it, noticing a big sign taped to the glass that hadn’t been there when we’d come in.
VOLUNTEERS WANTED.
APPLY WITHIN.
ASK FOR MAEVE.
Smiling wide, Katy pulled open the door. “Juliet, you should volunteer!” she said, the words sounding rehearsed. Then she added, “Even Uncle Renny thinks so. He said so when we were playing checkers.”
“Did he now?” I asked, suspicious.
Solemnly, she nodded.
I shot a look over my shoulder, down the hallway toward Renny’s room. I saw Maeve sneakily watching us, her head sticking out of his doorway. At being caught, she quickly ducked her head back into the room, and I swore I heard Renny laughing.
Suddenly I wondered if Maeve hadn’t accidentally forgotten her lunch at all. I had the feeling she’d left it behind on purpose to get me to visit the cottage. Which also explained Renny’s stilted tone when he asked about my feelings for this place. He’d been in on the scheme.
I glanced back at Katy, about to ask if she’d been in on the plan, too, but she was already outside, skipping down the walkway, her braid bouncing with each hop.
As I followed her out, I had to wonder why Maeve had gone to all this trouble to get me to, what? Volunteer here? If she’d simply asked, I’d have told her I was leaving soon, that it didn’t make sense with such limited time.
But even as I thought it, I somehow knew that was exactly the reason why she’d orchestrated this visit.
She’d needed me to see the place, to meet Renny, to feel how comfortable I was here.
To understand that Juneberry Cottage was a place where I felt I could make a difference. A place where I could nurture to my heart’s content.
Even if it was only for a short time.
Which was why I was smiling as I hurried to catch up to Katy.
I knew I’d be back soon.