Carry the Light (3 page)

Charlene cocked her head. “Just in case?”

Aunt Dorothy sighed and patted the side of her bed. “Sit with me. I need to tell you where I keep my important papers, just in case I don't get to go back home at all. And I need you to stop at the bank first thing in the morning, if you wouldn't mind.”

“I have money, but I shouldn't think that you'd be needing any,” Charlene said.

“No, but I do need my living will,” her aunt whispered, and closed her eyes.

I
n less than a week, every aspect of Ellie's existence had been flipped upside down and twisted inside out. Organizing the chaos in her life was her most urgent priority, and she had only today to do it.

She closed and locked the door to her office late Wednesday afternoon at the end of her first day back at work. She was carrying a briefcase full of student papers that the substitute teacher had collected for her to grade, along with a list of parents who needed to be called because she had missed parent conferences for the first time in her career.

She tried to be content, knowing that the substitute teacher was fully certified in language arts and was hoping to be hired for the upcoming year if there was an opening, so Ellie's students had been left in very capable hands. She also tried to resist the sense that she'd let down her colleagues—she'd done her best to handle the overflowing papers in her mailbox and on her desk by relegating them into stacks labeled: To Do, To Distribute and To File.

The only thing not overflowing when she had returned had been her voice mail. The entire system had been shut down now for three days, much to the amusement of the faculty and staff, who watched the failed attempts to repair the system by the novice technicians the district had employed instead of calling in seasoned professionals.

Ellie hurried down the empty school corridor to the parking lot and carefully avoided the mini piles of dirt and dust left by the custodians as they swept their way from classroom to classroom. At her car, she stuck her briefcase in the trunk next to a small suitcase packed with comfortable clothes for her mother to wear home from the hospital tomorrow, and then plopped into the driver's seat. The afternoon was so warm she was tempted to put down the top on her convertible, but since she would only have to put it right back up again at the hospital, she decided against it…for all of two seconds.

Grinning to herself, she put the top down anyway. After all, what good was having a convertible if you didn't use it when you could?

She headed out of the parking lot and turned toward the avenue. At a red light, she kept time with the sound of her blinker by tapping her left foot as her mind raced back over the past few days and ahead to the next few weeks. Starting tomorrow, her routine would change. Drastically.

With the diagnosis of a mild heart attack confirmed, Ellie's mother would be released from the hospital in the morning. Tests had also confirmed that she had coronary artery disease, CAD, and given her advanced age, the doctors had agreed against an aggressive course of action, deciding to treat her condition with only medication, a change in diet and a mild exercise program. If all went well, after recuperating for a few weeks, her mother would be living back in her own home again, although none of the doctors would speculate on how much time she might have left.

In the meantime, Rose Hutchinson was moving in with Ellie, which was a bit like inviting the wolf to move into the chicken coop and expecting the chickens to celebrate.

Ellie accelerated the instant the light turned green, hung a left and headed south toward the hospital. Before tomorrow morning, she had to turn the small den on the first floor of her stately old Victorian into a bedroom for her mother, put fresh linens in the downstairs bathroom and clean the house. She also had to stock the pantry with appropriate foods for a woman with heart disease, which meant a trip to the grocery store.

Somehow, she had to find time as well to stop at her mother's house for more clothing and toiletries. Grading papers and preparing next week's lesson plans would simply have to wait until the weekend.

Feeling overwhelmed and definitely in need of a friend who might help her face the challenges ahead, she eased into the visitors' parking lot at Tilton General, took a ticket from the automated machine and found the last open parking spot at the far end of the lot. Then she turned off the ignition, pulled out the key and bent forward to rest her forehead on the steering wheel.

Reorganizing her life at home and at work would only mean her days would be temporarily more hectic. Coming face-to-face with the fact that her mother's illness was progressive and ultimately terminal only increased her anxiety. She had called both of her sons twice to inform them about their grandmother's condition. Alex and Richard had each promised to keep in closer touch by telephone and to come home soon. In the meantime, Ellie knew that if she hoped to establish a loving relationship with her mother, the time was now.

After praying for the gift of the time she and her mother needed together, Ellie put the convertible top up again, locked her car, grabbed the suitcase out of the trunk and headed across the asphalt parking lot.

Inside the hospital, she followed the now-familiar route to the visitors' desk for a pass, took the elevator to the fifth floor cardiac unit and went directly to her mother's private room.

She tapped on the half-open door. “Mother, it's me, Ellie,” she said as she nudged the door open.

Straight ahead, wearing the aqua dress she had worn to the doctor's office, her mother sat in a wheelchair with her hands clutching her handbag and her lips set in a forlorn frown. A large plastic bag sat on the floor at the foot of the freshly made bed. The heavy smell of disinfectant filled the air.

Her mother's bottom lip quivered. “You took your sweet time getting here. I was afraid you'd changed your mind and decided to send me to a nursing home.”

Ellie put the suitcase on the floor, laid her purse and the visitor's pass on the overbed table, and moved a chair to sit down next to her mother. “I told you that I had to go into work today, but that I'd be here by five o'clock. Why are you dressed to go home? The doctor said you wouldn't be discharged until tomorrow, and I took the day off to bring you home with me,” she said gently, concerned that her mother seemed to be getting more forgetful.

“I got discharged right after breakfast this morning,” her mother countered. She opened her purse and pulled out a wad of papers. “See for yourself. I've been cleared to go home for hours and hours, but I guess you were too busy at work to leave. I would have called Phyllis's daughter, but she took her mother to New York City today to see a Broadway show. The nurses were awfully nice to me, though. They gave me lunch and dinner, even though I wasn't supposed to be here.”

Ellie skimmed the paperwork and sighed with frustration. “No one called me. Why didn't anyone call to tell me you'd been discharged early?” she asked, more upset with the hospital than with her mother.

“They probably left a message for you at school. You just never called them back, which doesn't surprise me. You never seem to call me back before I leave five or six messages.”

Ellie gritted her teeth. “I gave the hospital my cell phone number so I could be reached immediately,” she argued. “Can I take you home with me now, or am I supposed to let someone know you're leaving?” she asked as she skimmed through the discharge orders, the diet plan her mother had to follow, more prescriptions than Ellie had ever seen at one time and a stapled set of papers that included information about the nurse who would be coming to the house.

“I think you're supposed to tell someone. I don't think you're allowed to take me downstairs by yourself,” her mother said. “But do hurry. I'm getting sore from sitting in one spot all day.”

Ellie handed the papers back to her mother. “Keep these for now. I'll check about what to do, and be right back.” She retraced her steps to the nurses' station. Not recognizing either of the two nurses on duty, she kept her anger in check. “My name is Ellie Waters. My mother is Rose Hutchinson, in room four seventeen. I understand she's been discharged, and I can take her home now. Is that correct?”

The younger nurse, who looked like she might have skipped high school and graduated from nursing school yesterday, at age sixteen, wore a badge that read, Cindy Morgan, R.N. Without speaking, she pulled out a chart and bounced over to the counter where Ellie was standing. “Your mother was discharged hours ago,” she said, frowning, “It's too bad she had to wait all this time for you to pick her up, but at least you're here now. Unless you'd like to go over her discharge instructions or her new prescriptions, all I need to do is call an aide to take your mother downstairs and wait with her while you get your car.”

Ellie drew in a long, deep breath. “I can look the papers over when I get home, but I would have come to the hospital immediately if I'd known she'd been released. Is there any reason I wasn't called?”

The nurse flipped open the chart again and skimmed the paperwork. “I see they tried to reach you three times this morning. I tried once when I came on shift a few hours ago, but no one answered.”

Ellie let out a sigh. “Our phone system is down, but I specifically asked to be called on my cell phone. Do you see that listed anywhere?” she asked, using her assertive teacher voice, which kept all but the most defiant students in line.

Cindy the child nurse skimmed the paperwork again and had the decency to blush. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Oops,” Ellie repeated, shook her head and decided that incompetence was quickly overtaking obesity as a major health concern in America.

Any doubts she might have had about bringing her mother home with her rather than sending her to a care facility of some kind quickly vanished. “I'll be waiting with my mother in her room. How long do you think it will be before an aide can come?”

“Ten minutes,” the nurse promised, her cheeks still pink with embarrassment.

Ellie checked her watch, smiled and marched back to her mother.

Precisely six minutes later, the aide arrived, stood right in front of the wheelchair and put his hands on his hips. “You see now, Miss Rosie, I told you that you'd be going home today before I did!”

“If someone had bothered to tell
me,
we'd all have had a better day,” Ellie grumbled to herself as she left for the elevator carrying her purse, her mother's suitcase and the plastic bag with all the disposable whatnots her mother had collected during her stay.

Forty-five minutes later, Ellie had her mother resting on the sofa in the living room with the TV remote in one hand and the cordless telephone in the other. “I won't be long,” she promised. “I have to go to the pharmacy, make a quick stop at the store to get a few groceries, and get some of your things from your house for you.”

“Don't forget to turn out the lights before you leave my house,” her mother cautioned before a yawn interrupted her. “You never did have any consideration for the electric bill.”

“I won't forget. If you need me while I'm gone, just hit the seven on the telephone. I have it programmed to call my cell phone.”

Her mother yawned again, turned on the TV with the remote and adjusted the sound. “I'll be fine. I'll watch the news,” she said, but Ellie could barely hear her over the high volume of the TV.

Thirty-five minutes later, Ellie emerged from the pharmacy with nine prescriptions, four over-the-counter drugs and pill organizers in different colors. She also had acquired the sincere belief that only someone with a master's degree in science would be able to read the paperwork for each medication and organize the pills her mother would be taking three times every day.

She fared better at the grocery store. She was not a health-food purist, but she did prefer fresh fruits and vegetables when she cooked, and had no trouble finding a nice selection of produce. She picked up some lean, skinless chicken breasts and fresh tuna to add to the lean beef and pork already in her freezer, and a few low-fat dairy products, all in accordance with the dietary guidelines she had been given at the hospital.

Last stop: her mother's house.

Ellie pulled into the driveway next to the darkened house, and turned off the ignition and headlights. She sat in the car for a moment, recalling childhood memories that were still painful. The tiny bungalow where she had grown up as an only child had always been her father's house. After his death nearly a dozen years ago, it had become her mother's house, but Ellie had never, ever thought of it as home, then or now.

She twisted the slim gold wedding band she still wore on her left hand. Home was where she had lived with her husband, Joe, and experienced the wonder of unconditional love for the first time in her life, until his unexpected death six years ago this past November. Home was where she and Joe had raised their two sons while they both pursued careers they loved. And home was where she lived now, surrounded by joyful memories, her faith and the fulfillment she still found in her career as an educator.

With loving thoughts of her late husband and her children and her little grandchildren tucked in her heart, she got out of her car and made her way into the house. She flipped the switch next to the front door for light. Little in the modestly furnished living room was familiar, since her mother redecorated as frequently as most women changed their wardrobes.

At the moment, the room was awash with tones of beige and white—on the walls, carpet and furniture. Instinctively, she slipped off her shoes and wiped her hands on her overcoat, surprised at how easily she could reclaim habits she had acquired as a child.

Turning on lights as she walked, Ellie heard echoes of her mother's critical words, and recalled her father's ever-present silence. In the front bedroom, more pale earth tones greeted her. She made quick work of choosing the clothes her mother would need for the next two weeks, grabbed some toiletries from the only bathroom in the house and placed everything in a large suitcase.