day—Bea, you recall that day when she told us what might happen.”
“Yes.”
“She asked us to get up in the bed with her. That was a treat—I half expected us to start playing a game. She told us sweet things I don’t want to say out loud, don’t want to start crying. But about how much she loved us, you know, how happy we’d made her. How glad she was…well, cripes.” She gave a laugh while she dug a tissue out of her skirt pocket. “I’m ashamed to say I hated God when she said He might want her up there with Him in heaven soon. Selfish old man, I thought. Take somebody else, don’t take my mama.” She sniffed deeply and blotted her cheeks. “Isn’t this something, now, this many years later. Don’t think I’m a silly old woman, Caddie—”
“I don’t.”
“Well, you are a silly old woman,” Bea said.
In the quiet that settled over them, Caddie heard a high, tinny sound, almost like a voice.
“That’s my watch,” Bea said, chuckling at her expression. “It talks. Tells me when it’s time for my pills.”
“I’ll go get you some water,” Edgie said.
“Let me get it,” Caddie said.
“No, you sit still.” Edgie hauled herself out of the glider with both hands, making an exaggerated grunting noise to disguise her difficulty. “Bea, tell her about the time we won the trip to New York. Two rubes in the city. We saw Vaughn Monroe!” she called from inside the house.
Bea smiled at Caddie. “We’ve had good lives, in spite of acting like a couple of water spigots today. Don’t forget to put that down in the history, Caddie. That we’ve been happy.”
“I won’t.”
“But lately, I feel like I’m spoiling the last little bit of it.”
“How do you mean?”
“I worry. I just worry and fret all the time about what’s going to happen next. That’s no way to live, but I can’t help it. Every time I go to the doctor, it’s something else that’s broken down. How much longer can I stay here? You know Brenda’s already filed for a waiver to keep me—she’s not licensed for the kind of care I’m getting, what with all the medicines and restrictions and the special diet for my diabetes and this and that.” She softened her voice. “I just don’t know what Edgie’s going to do if something happens to me. I don’t know how she’ll get along without me.”
“Oh,” Caddie said, “nothing’s going to happen to you.” The silliest, most cowardly thing she could have said.
Bea treated it the way it deserved and ignored it. “Life’s been good to us for so long. If I have to go in a real nursing home—”
The screen door slammed. “If you have to go in a real nursing home, I’m going with you.” Edgie handed her sister a full glass of water and sat back down beside her. “That’s all there is to that.”
“Do you regret anything?” Caddie asked after Bea had swallowed down four or five pills from a white plastic box with so many compartments and different-colored pills, it looked like a honeycomb. “Do you look back and wish you’d done anything different?”
“No! I’m not sorry about anything. Are you, Bea?”
“I wouldn’t do a thing different. So many people have passed on, loved ones have left us behind—that’s the hardest thing to bear at our age, but that’s what life brings you, sure as God made little apples, if you last long enough.”
“Now, Caddie, don’t think all we can talk about is people who’ve died and gone. Bea, quit talking about death. Tell about Buddy’s second wedding to that preacher girl. Our favorite nephew married a lady minister out in a wildflower meadow, and it didn’t last six months!”
8
Early on Friday, two students called within ten minutes of each other, both claiming they had a cold and couldn’t make their morning lesson. Something must be going around, but it was hard to imagine what on such a warm June day, flowers bursting out everywhere, hazy sun burning off the dew before Caddie could finish
“Yes.”
“She asked us to get up in the bed with her. That was a treat—I half expected us to start playing a game. She told us sweet things I don’t want to say out loud, don’t want to start crying. But about how much she loved us, you know, how happy we’d made her. How glad she was…well, cripes.” She gave a laugh while she dug a tissue out of her skirt pocket. “I’m ashamed to say I hated God when she said He might want her up there with Him in heaven soon. Selfish old man, I thought. Take somebody else, don’t take my mama.” She sniffed deeply and blotted her cheeks. “Isn’t this something, now, this many years later. Don’t think I’m a silly old woman, Caddie—”
“I don’t.”
“Well, you are a silly old woman,” Bea said.
In the quiet that settled over them, Caddie heard a high, tinny sound, almost like a voice.
“That’s my watch,” Bea said, chuckling at her expression. “It talks. Tells me when it’s time for my pills.”
“I’ll go get you some water,” Edgie said.
“Let me get it,” Caddie said.
“No, you sit still.” Edgie hauled herself out of the glider with both hands, making an exaggerated grunting noise to disguise her difficulty. “Bea, tell her about the time we won the trip to New York. Two rubes in the city. We saw Vaughn Monroe!” she called from inside the house.
Bea smiled at Caddie. “We’ve had good lives, in spite of acting like a couple of water spigots today. Don’t forget to put that down in the history, Caddie. That we’ve been happy.”
“I won’t.”
“But lately, I feel like I’m spoiling the last little bit of it.”
“How do you mean?”
“I worry. I just worry and fret all the time about what’s going to happen next. That’s no way to live, but I can’t help it. Every time I go to the doctor, it’s something else that’s broken down. How much longer can I stay here? You know Brenda’s already filed for a waiver to keep me—she’s not licensed for the kind of care I’m getting, what with all the medicines and restrictions and the special diet for my diabetes and this and that.” She softened her voice. “I just don’t know what Edgie’s going to do if something happens to me. I don’t know how she’ll get along without me.”
“Oh,” Caddie said, “nothing’s going to happen to you.” The silliest, most cowardly thing she could have said.
Bea treated it the way it deserved and ignored it. “Life’s been good to us for so long. If I have to go in a real nursing home—”
The screen door slammed. “If you have to go in a real nursing home, I’m going with you.” Edgie handed her sister a full glass of water and sat back down beside her. “That’s all there is to that.”
“Do you regret anything?” Caddie asked after Bea had swallowed down four or five pills from a white plastic box with so many compartments and different-colored pills, it looked like a honeycomb. “Do you look back and wish you’d done anything different?”
“No! I’m not sorry about anything. Are you, Bea?”
“I wouldn’t do a thing different. So many people have passed on, loved ones have left us behind—that’s the hardest thing to bear at our age, but that’s what life brings you, sure as God made little apples, if you last long enough.”
“Now, Caddie, don’t think all we can talk about is people who’ve died and gone. Bea, quit talking about death. Tell about Buddy’s second wedding to that preacher girl. Our favorite nephew married a lady minister out in a wildflower meadow, and it didn’t last six months!”
8
Early on Friday, two students called within ten minutes of each other, both claiming they had a cold and couldn’t make their morning lesson. Something must be going around, but it was hard to imagine what on such a warm June day, flowers bursting out everywhere, hazy sun burning off the dew before Caddie could finish
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