Coming Home (33 page)

Grandmother glanced back at Jessie expectantly before moving down the corridor.
Of course,
Jessie thought.
She’s been here before
.

Halfway down the hallway, a brunette nurse met Grandmother, who was still several paces in front of her and Bill. Bill placed his hand on Jessie’s arm, his eyes apologetic, a little embarrassed, too, as if by his connection to her grandmother, he had been part of the charade.

The panic that had been building in her heart now threatened to tear her chest to pieces.
Please let it not be too late… .

Grandmother turned toward Jessie, and the nurse, whose name tag said Tammy, warmly offered her hand. “She might only have a few hours,” she said, meeting Jessie’s gaze, a mixture of curiosity and recognition flickering in her eyes.

She knows who I am,
Jessie thought.

Her grandmother was still standing there, her fingers fidgeting, waiting for the go-ahead.

When they continued down the hall, the nurse said, “The doctor’s in with her right now.”

“Has she … said anything?” Doris asked.

Tammy turned, smiling. “No, but her eyes are open and she seems to be looking for something … or someone.” Again the nurse glanced over at Jessie.

They turned down another hallway, and several nurses were standing in front of the door, whispering excitedly. Jessie’s legs began to feel rubbery. Bill slowed up. He took her left arm, “You okay, kiddo?”

Jessie leaned hard on Bill. “Don’t let me fall.”

“You won’t,” he assured her. “I’ve got you.”

Doris and the nurse were talking, but the words weren’t registering anymore.

Years from now she would look back on this moment, recalling the brink of wonder, and hope, and fantasy just before jumping off into pure reality. In some ways this moment would always feel like a dream to Jessie, in spite of confirming details—although she’d never had a dream of this magnitude before.

Grandmother paused at the door, then turned to Jessie. “Would you like to go in first?”

Jessie hesitated, a leaden mixture of dread and longing squashed her stomach. “I’ll be right behind you.”

The room had landscape pictures on the walls, a few nameless medical machines in two corners, several carts, and an IV stand. Because the doctor was leaning over the bed, obscuring Jessie’s vision, her first glimpse was of the blanket-covered form, which seemed impossibly small.
Too slight to be my mother,
she thought.

Jessie took several steps sideways, and a still profile slowly emerged. The woman’s skin held an unnatural yellowish cast, her light gray-blond hair, lifeless on the pillow, thin and scraggly. Her eyes were closed. But the pinched thin face was unmistakable. Hot pain seared Jessica’s chest and she pressed her knuckles against her lips to keep from crying out. It was the face from last night’s dream.

“Honey, don’t look at my body. Look at my soul… .”

Before leaving the room, the doctor whispered something to Grandmother, something about sleeping, then turned to Jessie and smiled encouragingly. Doris reached for her daughter’s right hand, kissed it gently, then beheld Olivia’s face with something akin to adoration.

Then, tenderly, she replaced the hand on the mattress. Her expression seemed stoic but vulnerable. Softly Tammy slid a chair next to the bed beside Jessie. “I’ll leave you alone for a while.”

Grandmother nodded. “Let me know if she awakens,” she said to Jessie. She gestured toward the door. “I’ll be outside with Bill.”

Jessie wanted to whisper something back—something reassuring, something comforting—but it would have felt empty on her lips. Her grandmother closed the door behind her, leaving her alone.

Jessica sat down and gently picked up her mother’s fragile white hand. She lifted it to her lips and kissed it, just as her grandmother had. The machines hummed and the heart monitor blipped a slight but regular rhythm.

“Mom?” Jessica whispered, at first feeling self-conscious. How strange the words sounded on her lips!

“Mom… ?”

Tears began running down her cheeks. Her mother might never awaken. They might have been too late. But for now, she was still alive, and Jessie didn’t care how silly, or stupid, or pointless she sounded. She’d waited an entire lifetime to talk to her mother one last time.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m so sorry. If I had known, I would have been here every day. I would have read you all our favorite stories.”

She wiped a hand over her face, contorted now with the anguish welling up within her, filling her chest and lungs, threatening to render her speechless.

“I’m especially sorry that I wasn’t here when you awakened. When I think of you looking for me and wondering why I wasn’t near… .”

Promise me you’ll keep believing, sweetie,
Mom had written.
No matter what happens, hold on to Jesus
. Sobs overtook Jessie and she covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise. I let go, Mom, but Jesus never did.”

She stroked her mother’s precious hand. “I wish I could hear your voice one more time. I wish I could tell you how much I love you. I’ve missed you so much. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about you or wish I could talk to you or feel your arms around me.”

She looked at Mom’s face, unchanged, unmoving, and she began to sob again. She pressed her mother’s hand against her cheek, oddly comforted by even this closeness. She sat that way quietly for a few moments.
Will she slip away without awakening again?

Then she thought she heard something, likely voices in the hall. She listened again, hoping the doctor wasn’t returning already. Minutes passed and no one came in.

“Once upon a time there lived a young woman named Snow White …” Jessie began, and she told the story as her mother once told it, a twist here, a surprise there, seven short people, an evil queen, a dashing prince. But in the end she provided her own finale:

“… and Jesus leaned over her still form and kissed her awake into everlasting life. And when she looked around, it was just like a giant park with swings and monkey bars and picnic tables!”

Jessie smiled through the tears and looked up at the clock. Over an hour had passed.

Please God, let Mom wake up… .

With her face in her hands and her handsome old cowboy beside her, his arms around her shoulders, Doris sat in the waiting room.

“Don’t you want to be in there?” Bill asked.

Doris shook her head. “I’ve had many years. It’s Jessie’s turn.”

“What if she wakes up?”

“Someone will come for me,” she replied.

A nurse stopped by and asked if they were hungry. Doris smiled as warmly as she could but declined.

“Classy joint,” Bill commented once the nurse had left. He gave Doris a reassuring smile.

“Oh, Bill …” she said painfully. “What have I done?”

“Things are going to be just fine, Dory. You wait and see.”

She didn’t have the wherewithal to argue, amazed that Bill was still by her side, still looking at the bright side of things. Surely by now he realized she’d deceived him—that her frequent visits to the Care Center had all taken place under the guise of attending yet another club function.

Tammy stopped by several times to keep them apprised of Olivia’s condition. So far, no change. The longer they waited for her to awaken, the worse Doris felt. Her emotions rocked between the anticipation of speaking to Livvy and the painful dread of knowing that, in all likelihood, Jessie would never forgive her. Doris knew there was such a thing as a last straw. It wouldn’t matter that she’d convinced herself she was
protecting
Jessie from the truth, allowing her granddaughter to get on with her life. Of course, Jessie wouldn’t see it that way.

She tried to keep her mind focused. She might have a final chance with her daughter, a true good-bye, one last opportunity to say all the things she’d never said before. She’d been saying them in her mind for years. Having Olivia back for even five minutes wasn’t worth the deception perhaps, and it wasn’t worth the pain her granddaughter had endured. But it was worth more than her own life.
Please God,
she whispered.

Nurse Tammy came into the room a few hours later. Jessie was still holding her mother’s hand, whispering things she’d longed to say for years. A shadow fell over the nurse’s face as she evaluated the instruments. She bit her lower lip and glanced at Jessie; the meaning was all too clear. Time was running out.

“Have you tried to rouse her?”

Jessie nodded.

Tammy sighed, shaking her head. “We may have missed our only opportunity.”

Not what Jessie wanted to hear, but just having this time was more than she would have imagined. There was something between them, even now—no audible voice, but in that strange way of knowing, that inexplicable bond that had always been between them—the bond that brought her mother to the playground when she’d fallen, the bond that urged Jessie home when her mother was weeping, and the connection that had always called Jessie home when she’d strayed too far.

Perhaps wishful thinking, but her mother’s face seemed to relax and become more serene. Jessie felt an unexpected peace wash over her, as well.

“She’s slipping away,” Tammy quietly announced. “It won’t be long now.” Jessie silently prepared herself for the actual moment.

When Olivia opened her eyes, Jessie wasn’t expecting it. In fact, she had been leaning over in her chair, holding her mother’s hand to her face, eyes closed.

It was Tammy who spoke first. “Jessie …”

When Jessie looked up, her mother’s eyes smiled.

“Mom?”

Olivia nodded slightly.

“Do you know me?”

Another weak nod. Jessie looked up at Tammy, who seemed stunned. “Please get my grandmother,” she whispered urgently.

Tammy blinked. “Of course, I’m sorry.” And the nurse rushed out the door.

With much effort, Olivia swallowed and her mouth opened, but only jagged breathing emerged. Her mother’s lips formed the silent words, “My butterfly girl …” and Jessie’s heart leapt within her.

Her mother’s gaze took in Jessie’s now-grown form and her eyes shone. She shook her head from side to side, so subtly it was almost imperceptible. She seemed to be imbued with a sense of awe, and it struck Jessie as impossible to imagine—to go to sleep one day when your daughter is a young girl and wake up the next and she’s twenty-four. Then her mother lifted her hand an inch off the bed.

Jessie took her hand in both of her own and began speaking. The words caught in her throat at first, but she forced her way through, not caring whether she was making sense or not. Jessie began to reiterate much of what she had shared earlier, before Mom had awakened. And her mother was nodding slightly.

A few moments passed and Jessie looked over her shoulder and saw Grandmother coming into the room, her face ashen, ravaged with raw grief. When Olivia saw her, she smiled again, extending her hand ever so slightly.

Doris’s reluctance disappeared, and she rushed to her daughter’s side.

Jessie kissed her mother’s hand again and quietly excused herself, over her grandmother’s objections.

“Grandmother, this is your time,” she said.

Jessie closed the door behind her and leaned back against it. A sense of pure, unmitigated peace washed over her again. When she opened her eyes, Bill was standing by the wall, his posture hesitant, cowboy hat in his hands, his eyes lingering on the floor.
Good ol’ Bill, too polite to wear a hat in the nursing home
.

He wasn’t ready for her, but his arms opened quickly enough when he realized she was hugging him.

A few minutes later, Grandmother peeked out the door, looking much better than when she’d walked in. She gestured for Jessie, who quickly slipped back into the room. Mom’s eyes were still open and she looked at the two of them together—grandmother and granddaughter—and smiled her widest smile yet.

Soon she fell asleep again. Grandmother was still on one side of the bed holding Mom’s hand, Jessie doing the same on the other side. Tammy came in with another nurse and checked the monitor reading. The moment of passing was imminent.

Her mother opened her eyes one last time, and Jessie reached over and stroked her hollow cheek.