Hope Girl (8 page)

Later that afternoon, Dad takes me to see Gram. As we take the elevator to the fourth floor, Dad turns to me and says, “Aren't you hot? Why would you wear a jacket on a day like this?”

I can't look him in the eyes, but I answer. “Truthfully, Dad, I'm not hot” (and that is the truth because I'm not—technically I'm sweating). But today, even though it's one of the hottest days of summer, I need my jacket.

When we reach the nurses' station, Rosa's writing in a chart. Dad leans on the counter and smiles at her. She smiles back. Then she apologizes for yesterday—about how she wouldn't let us see Gram and how she hoped Dad didn't think she was rude. Since I'm guessing the conversation could go on for a while, I decide this is my chance to slip past the two of them and into Gram's room.

Gram looks the same as yesterday—attached to wires, tubes, and machines, and her eyes are still closed. The heart machine beeps, and the breathing machine makes an airy sound, matching the motion of her chest. The second hand on the clock ticks loudly, reminding me I have little time.

I unzip my jacket, then from the inside pocket, I lift Zoey out. She meows quietly. I glance over my shoulder, making sure I'm still alone, and set Zoey on Gram's pillow by her face.

Zoey sniffs Gram, licks her cheek, then reaches up to pat Gram on the nose. All of a sudden, Gram's heart machine beeps faster. “I knew you were in there, Gram!” I whisper. “And I knew you'd like Zoey.”

Zoey nuzzles Gram's neck, curls into a little ball, and purrs. Gram's heart machine returns to normal.

I hear Dad and Rosa coming, and so I grab Gram's sheet and pull it over the top of Zoey, covering her completely.

“You're clever,” says Rosa. “You slipped right past the nurses' station without me seeing you.” She adjusts Gram's breathing machine,
then turns to me. “I'm very sorry, River. Your grandmother's shown no improvement.”

“I'm not worried. Gram's always full of surprises.”

Rosa touches the heart machine, then puts her ear close to it. “That's strange,” she says. “It sounds different… almost like a purr. I'll call maintenance and have it checked.” Then she leans close to the breathing machine and listens. “Or maybe it's this one? I can't tell where that purr is coming from.” Rosa turns her head, itches her nose, and sneezes.

“Bless you,” says Dad.

She sneezes again.

“Bless you again. I hope you're not getting sick.”

Rosa pulls a tissue from her pocket. “This feels more like allergies, but I'm allergic only to cats, which doesn't make sense.” Rosa sneezes three more times. “You'll have to excuse me. I need to take my medicine.”

I've got to find a way to get Zoey out of here, and I need to think fast. But before I do, Zoey meows. I turn toward Dad. “That sure sounded like a cat, didn't it?”

He looks shocked. “River, please tell me that wasn't Zoey.”

I drop my head. “Sorry, Dad.”

I lift Gram's sheet and slip Zoey back into my pocket.

“River, why on earth would you bring Zoey when I said not to?”

I try swallowing the lump of guilt in my throat. “Gram needed to see her. You should have been here, Dad. When Zoey licked Gram's face, her heart machine beeped faster.”

“In all reality, River, I don't think that happened. Our imaginations can do funny things.”

“But, Dad, I heard it.”

“I'm sure that's how it appeared,” he says. “Your grandmother's been monitored around the clock, and nothing's changed.”

Later Aunt Elizabeth and I search Gram's attic for her wedding dress. I don't want to, but Aunt Elizabeth says we need to be prepared. And since Gram's a packrat, there are a lot of boxes to look through.

Since Gram's attic is a crawl space, Aunt Elizabeth and I look around while on our hands and knees. “This box says photo albums,” Aunt Elizabeth says, pushing it aside. “And this one, winter clothes.”

I reach for a medium-sized box in the farthest corner. On the side is written: Wedding Gown. I open it quietly so Aunt Elizabeth won't hear. I push the tissue paper aside, and there it is. Although it's old and yellowed, it's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen. The collar's tall and made of lace, and around its edge are pearls sewn in the shape of flowers, almost like daisies. The shoulders are silk and puffy. Tucked alongside her dress is her veil, a pair of long ivory gloves, and a silver sequined purse. I open it and find a picture of her and Gramp on their wedding day. Gramp is holding her in his arms. She's smiling and looks so beautiful. I tuck the picture in my pocket, quietly close the box, and push it back in the corner. Gram won't need her dress. There's no sense telling Aunt Elizabeth I found it.

11

More Work to Do

T
he next morning Dad knocks on my door. “Time to wake up, River. We leave for the hospital in twenty minutes.”

I roll over and check my calendar—Friday, July eighth. I write “Say goodbye to Gram” in today's space. Then I'm mad for writing it and scribble over the top “I won't lose hope.”

Aunt Elizabeth stays home with the little Whippoorwills while Dad, Uncle Henry, and I go to the hospital.

Dr. Wing's already at the nurses' station with Rosa. He says, “River, I'm sorry things didn't turn out differently. In a little while, I need to turn the machines off, so go in now and spend some time alone with her.”

I walk in Gram's room and see that nothing's changed since yesterday or the day before. But that doesn't mean it can't.

I slide a chair over close to Gram and sit beside her. I hold her hand and rest my head next to hers on the pillow. “Gram, you've only got a little while before Dr. Wing turns off your machines, so you have to start breathing on your own. I know you can do it. I'm sorry for being mean to you, and I'm sorry about your special pitcher. If it wasn't for me, it wouldn't have broken. And I hope you
know that even though you're not my blood relative, you'll always be my Gram.” I kiss her on her cheek.

Dr. Wing steps in the room and puts his hand on my shoulder. “It's time, River.”

I wait at the nurses' station between Dad and Uncle Henry, who wrap their arms around me so tight that I couldn't run away if I wanted to. Rosa's on the other side of Dad.

Except for the sound of Gram's machines drifting from her room, the intensive care unit is strangely quiet. Then within minutes, the noise of her machines stop.

Silence.

Dr. Wing walks out. “I'm very sorry.”

I have so many feelings I don't know what to feel. Maybe I didn't have enough hope. Maybe I didn't believe hard enough. And maybe Gram never heard me say I'm sorry. There's nothing left to do. I pull away from Dad and Uncle Henry and walk down the hall to the elevators. They follow behind. Except for the sound of our footsteps, it's silent.

I'd better tell Aunt Elizabeth about Gram's wedding dress.

When I reach the end of the hall, I hear someone in the distance start coughing and sputtering like an old engine. Then I hear the sound of running footsteps and turn to look over my shoulder just in time to see Dr. Wing running into Gram's room and shouting, “What in the world?”

Dad, Uncle Henry, and I race back to Gram's room where she's sitting straight up in bed arguing with Dr. Wing. “Of course I'm alive,” she says. “Can't an old lady die and come back to life without her doctor making such a fuss?”

I run to the side of her bed. “Gram! You did it!”

“Course I did, Sugar Pie. Now help me get these wires off so we can go home.”

Uncle Henry moves closer to Gram and takes hold of her hand.
“If you ask me, Mrs. Nuthatch, God clearly has more work for you to do.”

“Precisely,” Gram says, still pulling at the wires, trying to get out of bed. “That's why I need to get home.”

Dr. Wing looks like he's seen a ghost. “Now hold on, Mrs. Nuthatch. You have a head injury, a broken hip, and a broken arm. You're not going anywhere.”

“A head injury, a broken hip, and a broken arm?” Gram says. “Well, for Pete's sake, is that why I feel like a one-legged turkey with a broken wing and a goose egg on her head?”

Dr. Wing looks at Dad and Uncle Henry. “She's clearly confused.”

“Oh fiddlesticks,” says Gram. “Just get me a wheelchair so I can get out of here cuz I've got work to do.”

Dr. Wing whispers to Dad and Uncle Henry, “She's demonstrating classic symptoms of a head injury.”

But I can't keep from laughing because Gram's finally acting like herself.

Gram finally settles down so Dr. Wing can talk with her. “Mrs. Nuthatch, what just happened is extremely unusual. I've never seen anyone survive after their life support's been shut off. So if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions.”

“Go ahead but be quick about it cuz I've got work to do.”

Dr. Wing finds his pen and paper. “Mrs. Nuthatch, can you tell me what year it is?”

“For heaven's sake, of course I can. It's 1983.”

“And who is president?”

“Ronald Reagan,” she says, giving Dr. Wing one of her looks. “Now can I go? I've got work to do.”

“Mrs. Nuthatch,” he says, “tell me what work you're referring to.”

“Well, I don't know the specifics yet, but you heard Henry. God has more work for me—and it ain't getting done while I'm laying here!”