The Vigil (23 page)

Poor Mama. Her eyes drooped on the corners and the lines in her forehead deepened. “I can't imagine her forgetting those. She kept them after all these years.”

“Yes, I know. This Carlton must have been someone special to her,” Mel said.

As the elevator doors opened, I slid my hand around Mama's elbow and guided her into the hallway of the intensive care unit. “Yep, I'd say he was.”

 

 

 

 

Vingt-Cinq

 

“Here, I brought fresh coffee from home.” Aunt Melanie poured steaming brown liquid into designer foam cups. Leave it to Aunt Melanie to make even sitting in an ICU waiting room as comfortable as possible.

“Any word?” Anthony rushed into the waiting room.

He sat next to Mama as she gave him the latest update. Her straight back and calm demeanor belied the thoughts I knew had to be going through her brain. Anthony placed a hand on her knee. Mama looked up at Aunt Melanie who sat in the opposite chair. “The nurses say she's resting. Which they tell me is a good sign.”

“Have you seen her yet?” Anthony asked.

“Just briefly. Melanie and I went in for a moment. She didn't know we were in the room. They won't let us see her again until visiting hours later this morning.”

I sipped Aunt Melanie's rich coffee and let the warmth blanket my mouth. The bold flavor settled deep, but as much as I willed it to, it didn't warm the parts of me that remained chilled, afraid, and confused. I prayed Mawmaw would have time to talk and Mama would get answers.
Lord, please keep Mawmaw alive until all is forgiven.

After a few grueling hours, I glanced through the window on the far side of the waiting room.

Streaks of bright orange, brilliant yellow and riveting red decorated the eastern sky. The large branches of the oak in the adjacent field shadowed the rising sun. Dawn's promise of a glorious new day intruded into the dim lighting. Its presence seemed an injustice with such uncertainty in our family.

 

****

 

Standing at the entrance to Mawmaw's room, I debated on whether or not to go to her bedside. The features of her face were exaggerated and swollen beyond recognition. Her body formed a tiny lump in the hospital bed. Had it not been for the familiar locks of silver spread out on her pillow, I wouldn't have known she was the same firecracker I knew as Mawmaw. A pillow propped her puffy right hand.

Machines beeped and hissed while LED numbers and graphics filled the spaces behind her bed. My legs had begun a tug of war with my mind on whether they would obey the command to walk toward her.

Move.

Just take a step. I inched my way closer to her bed with Anthony beside me. I was acutely aware he hadn't blazed a trail to her bedside, either.

What was wrong with me? I was a nurse, for heaven's sake. I'd worked in hospitals before. Even in the ICU.

But this was Mawmaw.

This was our family's foundation. I willed my feet to move forward and found myself at her bedside, Anthony on the opposite side. I stroked her enlarged fingers.
What secrets have you harbored? What pain?

Lord, please watch over her. Keep her aware and able to communicate so all can be forgiven.

 

****

 

The waiting room at the hospital filled as news of Mawmaw's stroke spread through Bijou Bayou. Many of Mama's friends, as well as Mawmaw's and Aunt Melanie's, arrived with baskets of snacks, books, and magazines. Anthony and I chatted with the visitors until it was time for me to leave for work.

I placed my arms around Mama's shoulders. “Call me if there's any change.”

“I will.” Her direct gaze tangled with mine. “I want to know about Carlton, Cheryl. Let's talk this afternoon when you get off work.”

I nodded. “I'll tell you what I can.” I knew Mama wanted as much information about Carlton as possible. He was my patient. The laws required I not share information with her. I would have to ask Carlton today to see what he had to say.

Debra and Chuck entered the waiting room. They hugged Mama and Aunt Melanie, spoke to them briefly, and then came to my side.

Debra wrapped her arms around me and hugged tightly. “Cheryl, I'm so sorry.”

Chuck voiced the same sentiments. “Can we pray for you?”

“Sure.” We stood in the corner of the waiting room holding hands while Chuck prayed for peace for the family and healing for Mawmaw.

“Cheryl.” Debra guided me to the chair next to where we stood while Chuck visited with Anthony and Mama. “We just left Beau's house. Annie died earlier this evening.”

“No.” Tears welled in my eyes. “How horrible for Beau. For Steven. How's Beau holding up? Steven?”

“It's hard for them both. They've had plenty of time to prepare, and Beau's being strong for Steven. He really loves that boy and has been such a good father.”

I nodded and hugged Debra again. “Thanks for coming here. Your presence and your prayers mean a lot. I don't know how much help I'll be this weekend at the
fais do do
.”

“Don't worry about it. Two of Chuck's sisters are in town and have volunteered to help where needed. We'll have more than enough help. You concentrate on being here with your family.”

“Thanks, Debra.” I stood and bid her and everyone else in the waiting room good-bye and then took the elevator down.

While walking to my car, thoughts of our family, Beau, and especially Steven, filled my heart. No child should have to go through what he had for the last two years.

On the drive to Carlton's house, I thought of Beau. My heart swelled with gratitude for him. He'd have the support of his brothers who'd come back to be by his side and all his friends here. While so many people came to Mama's aid this morning, I felt out of the circle. I had been gone so long, no one really knew me anymore. Had it not been for Debra and Chuck, I wouldn't have known anyone personally aside from my family. I started to see what Beau had seen all those years ago. The importance of family and having roots. I understood what that meant.

I dreaded seeing Carlton today. How much should I tell him? But as I thought about my grandmother fighting for her life, I knew today would be the day I would get him to talk. I didn't know how, but some way he would tell me the truth.

 

****

 

Darcy greeted me in the kitchen. “He's not doing well.”

“I was surprised to see your car in the driveway. Didn't the housekeeper come today?”

“Yes, but I didn't want to leave him.” She gathered her purse and jacket.

“Oh, Darcy, I'm sorry. I didn't even check in. It's been a long night.”

Darcy offered Carlton's chart. “I heard about your grandma. I'm so sorry. How's she doing?”

“It's hard to say. She had a massive stroke.” I scanned the entries Darcy made during the night. Carlton's condition had declined.

The gentle pressure of Darcy's hand on my shoulder offered a moment of comfort. “I'll say a prayer for her and your family. I'll also come back early tonight so you can leave early. I only need a couple hours of sleep.”

“Thanks, honey.” I allowed her to envelop me in her caressing embrace. “You're such a great friend.”

She smiled. “You'd do the same for me.”

I nodded and realized our friendship had picked up right where we'd left off so many years ago. “I would. Now go home and get some sleep.”

After Darcy and the housekeeper left, I ventured into Carlton's room. His sallow complexion and darkened circles under his eyes confirmed Darcy's report. With a wavering hand, I reached for his blanket to cover his arm. This man had hurt my grandmother. The shaking of my hands and tightening in my chest pressed like someone had wrapped me from behind and squeezed. I felt powerless to break free. An overwhelming sadness engulfed. I hated him. And I loved him.

His chest rose and fell in an erratic raspy rhythm. The sound along with the hissing of the concentrator sent more waves of sadness and regret through me. My grandfather. So many missed opportunities. Would my Mama ever get to know the truth? And if so, would she get to meet her father? Should I make it happen?

Carlton's lids fluttered and the blue of his eyes had lost a little more of their luster.

“Hey.”

“Hey, back.” I squeezed his foot. “Heard you gave Darcy a hard time last night.”

He shrugged. “She's...a good...” He turned his head and coughed. When he turned back, he simply stared. Either he'd forgotten what he was about to say or couldn't spend the energy to say it.

I sat on the bed next to him. “Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head. “Read?”

The last letter sat on the nightstand. So innocent, but its presence hovered in the room like the grim reaper. Would Carlton give up the fight after this letter?

“Carlton, are you sure you want me to read this letter?”

His gaze drew me and reflected a sea of calm in the chaos of a tortured soul. “Yes.”

I pursed my lips and sighed. I didn't want to read the letter. I knew it contained only words, but those words were powerful enough to change this world. Change what I thought and felt. They had the power to crumble an already teetering foundation of family trust. Could I trust how I would feel about Mawmaw after this? Or about Carlton? Would this truth really set anyone free? Nausea rolled my stomach as though a thousand hummingbirds fluttered inside.

Once rearranged, the recliner faced Carlton on the side of his good ear. I descended slowly into its lushness but refused its comfort. Throbbing indecision snaked its way through me. When I lifted the letter, the weight of years of secrets and pain rested in mere ounces in my fingers. Secrets that held hearts captive for decades. The source for long-term lack of forgiveness and missed opportunities for happiness and freedom would be defined in the words on this one page. It was a twenty-ton chain attached to a tanker's anchor.

With trembling fingers, I opened the envelope and removed the letter. No comforting scent of lavender wafted forth as I unfolded the single page.

Carlton's lackluster gaze never left me.

I exhaled and began reading.

 

Carlton,

This will be the last letter you will ever receive from me. While it's been three months since we met during your leave, it's taken me this long to decide whether you deserved a letter.

I decided to write to you simply because I do not want to see you when you return. Please do not try to contact me. The man who forced himself on me was not the Carlton I knew and loved. While the bruises on my arms and legs have disappeared, the ones on my heart remain. I don't know what happened to you there, but you've turned into a monster. One I don't want any part of.

Clarice

 

No Lady S. No Dear Carlton. Images in my mind formed with no coherent basis. Carlton physically attacking my sweet little Mawmaw who loved him? How was that possible? He loved her, too.

I lifted my gaze to Carlton, whose closed eyes streamed tears through the corners. His gut-wrenching torment hammered me, and I didn't know what to think or feel. I clenched my fists and pressed them into my thighs. Compassion for his pain flowed through me, but I didn't want to feel it. I wanted to hate him. Why shouldn't I after what he'd done?

Sobs racked his body as he allowed the grief to engulf him. I reached for his arm, but hovered inches from its surface. Why should I comfort him? He didn't deserve my pity.

His sobs subsided and he lay quietly. When he finally met my gaze, guilt poured from his soul. All I saw was an emaciated body and a tortured soul who had spent a lifetime regretting his crime. But I still wanted to hate him. I wanted to grab his skinny arms and shake him. I wanted to rip the oxygen tubes from his face.

Raw emotion gushed from a long-dormant depth. A cavern of hurt I'd carefully tucked away to avoid the pain of reality. I slumped back into the recliner and surrendered to the onslaught.

 

 

 

 

Vingt-Six

 

“Cheryl.” Carlton's raspy voice replaced the deathly silence of the room.

Tears saturated my cheeks. I allowed my gaze to meet his.

“It was a...long time ago.” He inhaled deeply. “But it still...pains me.”

“Carlton, why? Why did you hurt her? She loved you.”

His eyes filled, and when he closed them, a fresh stream flowed onto his cheeks. “The illness. Pills have...helped.”

I remembered the pills he took. His mental illness. It's what had pushed him then. Made him lose control. It's what had driven Mama all those years ago. The truths came crashing around me like debris from a blown up aircraft. My world had been that aircraft, and now I struggled to understand what or how to feel about what I'd just learned. I struggled to put the pieces together.

“Have you spoken to Clarice since?”

He shook his head and then his eyes flashed wide. “How…?”

“I read your letters to her.”

“Oh.” He rested his head further back on his pillow. “Did you tell her?”

I shook my head. “Nope.” Now was not the time to discuss Mawmaw's stroke. “Do you know what she's been doing all these years?”

He shook his head. “Tried to...but couldn't do it. Just know she...had a baby girl...” He took a deep breath. “Mine.”

I swallowed through the constricting blob in my throat. The thought slammed through me like a sledgehammer. He knew who I was when I told him about Mawmaw and the netting. I don't think he realized his daughter was my mother. He didn't know who I was.

When Darcy had spoken to me about the job, she'd told him I was an old friend from high school. She hadn't given him any particulars about me. But surely he'd seen the resemblance to Mawmaw. Had that been why he'd asked me to read the letters? Had he made the connection? And if he had, why not tell me?