Chapter Thirty-Nine Rosalynn
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Rosalynn
Rosalynn had already been struggling with the notion of her father dying in a few weeks or a couple of months. But to think of losing him now? When she’d only just arrived?
She wasn’t ready.
However, waiting here in the common room with her mother and daughter, Rosalynn understood her role. She needed to be the matriarch now. To be a calm port in the storm for a family in crisis.
“Mama, can I make you some hot tea? I saw little packets of honey.”
Lillian smiled her thanks. A wobbly response with tears in her eyes. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
Just as Rosalynn started to turn toward the refreshments station, Ben stepped into sight, pausing at the entryway. Did the man ever leave?
Her mother gasped beside her. Rosalynn tucked her own grief to the back burner and clasped her mom’s wrist with care. Her mother would be the last to ask for support, but she’d never faced anything like this before. Time to stop assuming she had everything under control.
The facility director smiled. “Mr. Barnwell—”
“Grady,” Lillian corrected softly.
“Grady,” Ben continued, “has been stabilized.”
Her mom’s eyes closed in relief, although she looked none too steady on her feet. Elsie rushed to tuck a chair behind her before she fell.
A trembling started deep in Rosalynn’s gut, one that threatened to level her at a time she needed to stay strong for her mother. She squeezed Lillian’s left hand while Elsie clung to the right.
Ben finished his update.
“His O2 levels had dipped—”
“He doesn’t want a ventilator,” Lillian insisted with tears in her eyes.
“And he didn’t need one,” Ben said in a gentle voice that also held a calm authority.
“His oxygen has been increased to a higher saturation, which helped bring him around. For now, he’s using a mask instead of the cannula.
The doctor is finishing up rounds and will have time to speak with you and Grady at length later about ways to make him comfortable. ”
Lillian angled forward in her seat. “But he’s truly out of immediate danger?”
“He’s stable and coherent,” Ben reassured. “He asked specifically to see his girls. I’ll store your food in the refrigerator. You can go in to see him anytime. All of you.”
Elsie hiccuped on a small sob. “Isn’t there a rule, like only one or two people at a time in a crisis?”
Rosalynn reached for her daughter with her free hand.
“The rules are different in a palliative care facility. It’s about Grady living the last days of his life on his terms. Like with the DNR.
” She turned to her mom. “Are you ready? Do you want us to give you a couple of minutes before we join you?”
“He asked for his girls. Plural.” Lillian’s smile was steadier, but her green eyes were watery, the color of grass saturated in a storm. “I would really appreciate having you both at my side.”
That was as close as her mother would likely ever come to admitting she needed help. Rosalynn secured her hold on Dusty’s leash and cued him to tuck into a heel position.
Elsie stopped mid-stride. “Hold on a second.” She darted back to the guitar. “I’m going to bring this with me, in case he’s up to some music.”
Lillian nodded, but her attention was clearly on reaching Grady.
Her mom had been so focused on helping Rosalynn and Elsie, the full weight of her worry had been camouflaged.
Time to give back some of that unwavering support.
Rosalynn snagged her mother’s needlepoint bag and settled it on her lap before she wheeled her chair toward the corridor.
Dusty’s nails clicked on the bleached tiles.
Ben stood at the nurses’ station with the carryout bags, writing Barnwell on the sacks in fat Sharpie letters. “No one will snitch it here in the staff refrigerator.”
Rosalynn slowed her chair to a stop, allowing her mom and Elsie to walk ahead.
“Thank you. I don’t know when we’ll have time for food, but we’ll be glad not to have to expend energy hunting something down.”
He jammed the cap back on the permanent marker. “I wish all the families who gather here could have shared moments like the ones you’ve had today. So easygoing, with guitar music and laughter.”
“We have plenty of flaws of our own.” She’d barely wrapped her head around her daughter’s crisis, and she still had a battle ahead with Seth to ensure he refunded the money he’d taken from Elsie’s account.
Rosalynn hoped against hope that her ex would pay it back and deal with any fallout from the IRS on taxes, without her involving the courts.
“Sure, but it’s how we handle the stressful times that matters.”
His words left her feeling a little less like a failure. “That means a lot right now. It’s been a rough road trip, to say the least.”
“Let me know what we—what I—can do to help.”
“You must not have much free time if you offer this kind of personalized service to all the patients and visitors.”
“Like I said, there’s something special about your crew.”
His gaze held hers for a moment, comforting, considerate. Asking for nothing and offering so much. But then that was his job. “Thanks. I hope you can finally call it a day.”
By the time Rosalynn reached her father’s room, her mother was already perched on the edge of his bed, fussing over him. Lillian skimmed her hands along his brow and adjusted the oxygen mask straps on his face for a better fit.
Some color had returned to his face. A smile lit his eyes. He extended a hand for Dusty and there was no mistaking his request.
“Dusty,” she said, “say hello.” Her Labrador tucked himself beside the bed for an ear scratch, still watching Rosalynn.
Elsie fidgeted from one foot to the other in the corner, guitar hugged to her chest. Ace waved her over.
Elsie shuffled toward the hospital bed, but she held it together. She drummed along the body of the instrument in a thud, thud. “I thought you might want to enjoy some more music. Mom told me this was yours.”
He lifted the mask to speak. “I thought I recognized that when we were in the common room earlier. I figured I’d lost it and so I bought another. I must have left it at your place during a visit.”
His voice was weak but steady.
Elsie rested the acoustic against the wall, within sight of his bed. “Now you have it back.”
He waved her closer and inched aside his mask again. “Those strings look new,” he said between breaths.
Elsie touched his wrist. “Please, you don’t have to talk.”
“I want to visit,” he said. “I thought you played the piano. I didn’t know you’d started taking guitar lessons. You sounded good earlier, although I was a little out of it then or I would have asked for more.”
Elsie looked to Rosalynn for confirmation she could continue to chat. She recalled how Lillian had insisted he wanted to live out his life on his terms. Nodding, Rosalynn edged closer to his bed. She treasured each word from him and every second of their little family gathering.
Easing into a chair, Elsie drew the guitar into her lap. “Maybe I should have told you sooner, but I wanted to make sure I didn’t suck. I’ve watched some videos online.” She shrugged. “No formal lessons. Nothing special.”
“You definitely don’t suck.” He trailed a finger along the strings. “I was self-taught, too, during long hours at the firehouse. Play me something now that I’m more awake.”
Elsie’s hands slid into place on the instrument with a focus and reverence Rosalynn recognized all too well from her time on the stage.
Art in all its forms could be transformative.
Elsie plucked out a Taylor Swift ballad, beautifully, hauntingly.
So much so, Rosalynn held her breath until she grew dizzy.
She’d known her daughter was a gifted pianist, but Elsie had pitched such fits about practicing and lessons, Rosalynn had written off the whole musical notion.
About halfway through the tune, Elsie slowed and looked through her lashes. “Sorry I don’t know anything by heart from your era, Ace.”
Lillian reached toward her granddaughter and smoothed a fold in the guitar strap with a look of nostalgia. “Hey, you’re really good. You’ve got talent.”
Elsie blushed. “Do you have a request? I could look up the chords on my phone.”
Ace lifted his mask again, elastic straps straining. “Anything’s fine as long as you don’t play ‘Stairway to Heaven’ followed by a bunch more songs with the word ‘heaven’ in the title, because I’m not ready to go.”
Silence thudded like a bass drum. Awkward. Then her father’s humorous reference to their old family game during trips listing song titles hit just the right note, teasing a chuckle from Rosalynn. “That rules out ‘Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.’”
A tiny smile even flitted on Lillian’s mouth. “Or ‘Tears in Heaven.’”
Elsie hugged the guitar upright, the tuning pegs pressed against her cheek. “Or ‘Locked Out of Heaven.’” When silence stretched, she added, “By Bruno Mars.”
The light laughter felt good, normal, so much better than spending their time together crying. That would come later. For now, they had family memories to make. “What about ‘Peaceful Easy Feeling’ by the Eagles? Mom told me that’s a favorite of yours.”
“Perfect,” he declared, then drew a deep breath to continue. “Lillian?”
“Yes, my love?” she answered as Elsie began to strum softly, the music chasing away some of the stress and fear of the last hour.
“Lillian, let’s go home.”
The weight of his simple words hit Rosalynn in the gut. Could he receive the same level of emergency care at home? But she couldn’t miss the determination behind his request. He’d made up his mind. Except the decision wasn’t up to her.
Her mother nodded, before smoothing a hand over his brow and along his salt-and-pepper hair. Devoted.
Seeing her parents’ love, their hard-won fight for family and a life with meaning eased an ache in her heart over her divorce. Family took many shapes, and hers was here. Her parents and her daughter. The people. Not the place.
When she’d set out from Sullivan’s Island early yesterday morning, she’d mourned the loss of a marriage, a house, and so many dreams.
Now she knew. She, too, had come home.