Homefires (46 page)

Then his eyes opened. And beyond blurred blue, past pain and misery, I saw Chuck.

My brother. My playmate. Friend. Foe. Hero.

The slack lips tightened, stretched wide, wider.... “Hey, Sis!” he croaked and his hands trembled toward me. I dissolved into his arms, a heap of weepy mush.
Oh God!
He was all sharp bones and angles. Where was flesh? I hugged him as tight as I could without crushing his frailness. I hugged him till my lips stopped quivering and could manage a smile. Then and only then did I pull back to look at him.

“You’re beautiful, Chuck,” I said softly. And he was, despite that he huffed a weak little snort of protest.

“Yeah,
right.”
The words floated as gossamer on a tropical breeze.

Anne’s breath caught on a sob. She sat on the opposite side of the hospital bed. Dad at its foot with Trish next to him. Heather and Toby came into view.

“Hey!” Chuck’s blonde head raised a fraction as he fought to focus. “My ol’ bud, Toby. C’mere lil’ feller.” I winced as Toby threw himself at his uncle, harboring none of my frailty fears. After a good wallowing embrace, Toby climbed down to share my chair, a tight arrangement to say the least.

“There’s my sweetheart,” Chuck closed one eye to squint at Heather, who stood uncertainly beside me. “Prettier’n ever.”

I looked up at Heather, nudged her gently. “Go ahead.”

She fell on Chuck, an uncharacteristic mass of tears and affection, hugging and rocking him from side to side. This time, I didn’t flinch. If Chuck survived Toby, he could endure anything. “I love you, Uncle Chuck,” she sobbed. I started to worry that Chuck might get the idea we thought he was dying.

He wouldn’t be wrong.

After Heather pulled a chair up to join the family circle, Chuck struggled into sitting position, tubes dangling from his head. His eyelids remained half-mast over glazed azure irises. His weak body weaved about like a sheet flapping softly in the wind. Anne’s hand slid into his.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world.” His words slurred but lilted with exuberance. “Just
feel
the love in this room, would ya.” He wibble-wobbled about, struggling to keep his eyes open. “My loved ones – all here.” He huffed a laugh and nearly fell over before Anne caught hold of him and coaxed him to lie down. He meekly complied, rolled over into fetal position and, holding tightly to Anne’s hand, tumbled into slumber.

Daddy went outside and I followed. I caught up as he turned a corner down the hall. I took hold of his arm and fell into step.

“Daddy, I – ” I saw his wet face. Tears dripped from his cheeks, rolled down his neck.

Daddy weeping...a rare thing, not since Mama’s death had he looked so barren, and I realized my own face was now damp.

We walked silently for perhaps twenty minutes, only sounds being snuffles and hiccuping sobs and once, Daddy’s impassioned, hoarse, “I love him
so,
Neecy.”

“I know, Daddy.” I squeezed, patted his arm and snuffled. “I know.”

We turned at the elevators and started the trek back. “By the way,” I said, “Where’s Teresa? And Poogie?”

“Went home for something.” Daddy’s voice was flat, noncommittal. “Anne asked Poogie to stay but – ” He shrugged.

“What’s with Teresa?” Anger, a propane torch, blasted through me. “We’re
family,
for crying out loud. Why couldn’t she let Poogie stay with us for the day?”

Daddy turned to me. Desolation ravaged his features. “Honey, Poogie didn’t
want
to stay with us.”

I gaped at him, trying to assimilate the fact that Chuck’s daughter chose not to be around us. Granted, we’d seen little of her through the years, due to Chuck’s self-imposed exile. But our rare times together had been warm and affectionate family occasions – times when we’d all stumbled over each other to show
our Poogie
boundless unconditional love.

“It’s
her.
” Unannounced, the edict shot from my mouth. Dad’s gray lifeless gaze shifted into agreement, and we proceeded down the corridor.

“I can’t let myself think about it,” Dad said quietly. “I don’t want to get a thing about her.”

“No.” It wouldn’t do. While I could get angry and get over it, Daddy couldn’t. “We’re probably sensing things that aren’t really there, anyway.” I doubted that but right now, it helped to foster good thoughts. Chuck needed peace about him.

Lord only knew what had made my brother abandon all rationale and marry Teresa.

Teresa. Pretty, distant Teresa with her ever wary, assessing raisin-black gaze, who, for reasons known only to herself,
did not like her husband’s family. Never, in fact, gave herself a chance to.

For years, I’d sought to melt away her ice husk with warmth, hoping to discover some common ground upon which to build a measure of amiability. Chuck, I quickly learned, was
not
to be that common ground.

Truth was, she didn’t like Chuck, either.

We entered the hospital room to find Chuck awake again. “I’m hungry,” he said in a slurred near-whisper. “’Bout to starve in here.”

Anne leaped to her feet. “I’ll get them to bring you something, son.” She disappeared out the door in a flash. Again, pure amazement shot through me as I remembered the miraculous transformation of my stepmother years back.
Thanks, Lord.

Chuck’s eyelids seemed to work separately, both trying to lift and failing miserably. I impulsively leaned to hug him. “Love you.”

His arms were remarkably strong in their response. “Me, too.”

Within minutes, an orderly delivered a turkey sandwich, arranging it on the bedside pulley-tray. Nearly flat of his back, Chuck tucked into the sandwich.

“Hey, Chuck,” Dad teased, “You not gonna share your food with your ol’ dad?”

“I will if you’ll con me something to drink.” He winked lazily.

“Now, son,” Anne patted his arm gently. “You know they won’t give you but just so many liquids. It’ll hurt you.”

“Aww,” Chuck muttered without real conviction, “A little won’t hurt.”

I wanted to bawl. Chuck, who’d always drank so much of anything – water, tea, coke and later, beer – now sentenced to a mere pittance of daily liquid. But I managed to keep smiling and joshing.

Soon, Chuck was sitting again, for a much longer period. By the end of the day, he was – to my way of thinking – even sounding stronger. At nine-thirty, visiting hours ended and I insisted Anne, Dad and the rest of the family leave and let me spend the night vigil with Chuck.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay, too?” Trish asked, making a comical moue of disappointment.

“I’m sure, honey,” I laughed, then whispered, “No use both our hubbies sleeping alone.” I winked at Gene, who’d been in and out all day, between pastoral obligations.

“‘Night, Mama,” Heather hugged me, then Toby, just before he zipped out the door with Grandma and Papa Whitman.

Chuck, exhausted from all the visitors, crashed. I quietly opened up the folding chair-bed and scrounged a pillow from the night nurse.

Then I dialed my home number on the bedside phone. It rang. And rang.

I looked at my watch. Ten-twenty. Kirk was at some late event. I didn’t realize how tired I was until my head touched the pillow. I sank into instant sleep.

“Sorry I missed you,” Kirk said when I called at seven the next morning. I’d gone to the pay phone for privacy, so Chuck wouldn’t hear himself being commiserated over. “Roxie called. Swore she was having a nervous breakdown. Cal and I went over to see about her. She really did look terrible.” A long sigh. “I had dinner with Kaye and Charlie and sat around and talked ‘til late. How’s Chuck?”

“You know, I think he’s a bit stronger. Pray that it lasts. The infection he got during dialysis attacked his main artery and is causing some heart problems.” I took a deep breath and let it out. “More bad news. His doctor came around this morning and called me outside. Said Chuck’s dialysis isn’t helping like it should. And that he might get better for a while, then get worse. Could go round and round for who knows how long?”

“Oh, no-o-o,” Kirk groaned. “I’m sorry, Neecy. But – he’s getting better for the moment?”

“Not exactly. The doctor said Chuck will probably go suddenly – a major heart attack when the fluid buildup is too great for his heart to – well, you get the pic – ” My voice choked off.

“Neecy? You okay?” Kirk’s voice was honey to my spirit, a calming, comforting force.

I gulped back my fears. “I’m okay.”

“Look – take care of yourself.
Please?
” A long moment of silence, then a desperate, “And hurry home, honey.”

Hurry home.
Chuck needs me
. “I will – as soon as Chuck’s out of danger.” Please, Kirk, don’t pick now to be difficult.
Territorial.

Another long silence. Static rippled over the wires. “Of course, honey. That’s what I meant. You know I understand and want you to be with him during this time, don’t you?”

“Sure.”

“God – I love you, Neecy.” I let that sink in and flood me as Kirk’s sweet voice continued, “I’ll be praying for him, darling. Tell him that. I’ve got to scoot. Love you.”

“Me, too, Kirk. Bye.”

When I got back to the room, Teresa had arrived. I hugged her profusely and searched her features for signs of the grief I felt. But her face was an empty canvas.

“Since Teresa’s here, Chuck, I’m going to Dad’s to shower and change. I’ll be back probably mid-morning, okay? By the way, Kirk said tell you he’s praying for you.” I leaned to kiss his gaunt cheek. His lips quickly turned to smooch one on my own.

“Love you, Sis,” he murmured. “Thanks for staying last night.” He gave a pitiful parody of a wink.

“Anytime.” I squeezed his hand and turned quickly away, in time to catch something flash between Teresa and Chuck. Her face was almost contorted with distaste just an instant before a curtain lowered over her emotions. “Yeah, Neecy,” she muttered, “thanks.”

She tossed back her long salon-streaked wheat hair and plopped down into a bedside chair. “I had to work.” She gazed steadily at Chuck. “As usual.”

Chuck looked pained. “Why do you – ”

“It’s true.” Teresa shrugged lazily and stretched, then yawned, ignoring Chuck’s injured, beseeching gaze.

“I hate it that you have to work, honey.” Chuck’s words slurred slightly, then quavered. “You don’t know how hard it is for me to see you work when I all I can do is lie here – ”

My heart nearly leaped from my chest, seeing –
feeling
his castration. My golden, manly brother –

Teresa sat there stone-faced, denimed legs crossed, one foot swinging back and forth. Back and forth. Something in me curled and twisted and agonized for my once proud brother.

An instinctive response tumbled from me. “Chuck, you can’t
help
being sick. Teresa understands that, don’t you, Teresa?” I pivoted to face her, a mute appeal on my face.

She looked at me, long and steady with those unfeeling onyx eyes. For an eternity.

Please, Teresa, my heart cried out.
Throw him a dadgum crumb.

The black orbs blinked. Once. Twice. Slowly.

She’s enjoying this.
Help me, Lord, not to
strangle her with my bare hands
. “
Don’t
you, Teresa?”

Then I saw it. The glimmer of pure gloating. “Sure, I do, Neecy,” she drawled, then examined the scarlet, chipped nails of one hand. “After all, my ol’ man was laid up for years before he died. Mama had to work two jobs – just like me. Had it hard, my mama. Yeah, I understand.” The foot swung back, forth, back, forth, brisk like the slash of a knife blade.

“By the way,” I hauled her from her vicious angst, “Dr. Paulos came by this morning. Said he’d come back mid-morning and catch you up.”

She frowned, sliding her features into
sullen.

I wasn’t about to discuss Chuck’s walking-on-ice condition in front of him. Better to let Teresa wait and talk to the doctor later. So, I left them for the fresh outdoors that let me breathe and exhale my emotions beneath a sky that wept with me during the thirty-five minute drive to Dad and Anne’s house.

There, they were just leaving to go back to the hospital, the whole kabootle of them. I promised to join them as soon as I showered and redressed.

I was back in the Greenville Memorial’s rain dampened parking lot by twelve, having wolfed down a bologna sandwich in Anne’s kitchen. My interrupted night’s rest – hospital noises are the world’s loudest – was beginning to thwart my reflexes. Lordy, I missed Kirk.

Inside, Anne leaped to her feet and met me at the door as I arrived. She steered me out of hearing range. “You won’t
believe
what Teresa did.” Anne’s periwinkle blues glittered with fury.

“Oh no.” I collapsed against the wall and shut my eyes in dread. Braced myself. “Go ahead. Tell me.”

“Dr. Paulos came by and updated her on Chuck’s condition – all the things you told me on the phone about his heart problem and all. Well, after you left, she told
Chuck
in detail what the doctor said. That was the first thing Chuck said when we got here –
‘Teresa, tell Anne and Daddy what the doctor said to you.’
And she did,
emphasizing ‘he’ll die suddenly of a massive heart attack.’
”