Eye of the Storm (19 page)

She walked out, her footsteps tapping on my heart as much as they did the hallway floor.
.
As soon as
I
could. I called Austin's pager. He called back to tell me he was with a patient, but he said he would be over the moment after he was finished and promised he would get me to the hospital to visit Jake. In the meantime. I tried calling Jake at the hospital, but they said he was unable to use the phone.
It was all too much. I broke into a crying jag that I didn't think I could stop. Mrs. Bogart came quickly and in between my sobs. I told her how ill Jake was. When she heard the reason. She smirked and nodded and said she wasn't surprised.
"I often smelled whiskey on his breath," she told me. "People have enough trouble in their lives without going out and making more on their own," she declared. "If they do, they deserve what they get."
"I'm sure he doesn't want to be sick,"
I
fired back at her. "Why are you so cruel?"
She huffed up, her face swelling and filling like a balloon.
"I'm not cruel, but I've seen what drinking does to people. My own daddy killed himself and an innocent woman in a drunk- driving accident," she revealed.
With that, she turned and left me. I was sorry now that I hadn't spent time learning how to drive my van yet. It underscored the futility of wallowing in self-pity. I should be taking advantage of every opportunity I had to restore my independence:. I vowed to do so from now on, with or without Mrs. Bogart and Aunt Victoria's help.
Finally. Austin arrived and we immediately set out for the hospital.
"Where you taking that girl?" Mrs. Bogart demanded when she heard us in the hallway.
"I'm going to visit Jake," I said.
She looked at Austin reproachfully, but he ignored her and wheeled me out. He got me securely in the van and we drove off,
"I'm sure she's on the phone with Aunt Victoria by now." I told him. "What I hate the most about my paralysis is that it makes everyone treat me like a child. Even my housekeeper thinks she can order me around."
"You're right. The way others view
handicapped people often hurts their self-image and slows their rehabilitation," Austin said. "It's a pet peeve of mine. Ironically, the more privileges handicapped people earn, the more they are belittled. Friends of mine are always joking and calling handicap parking spots, handicrap spots. I've nearly gotten into fistfights over it."
His face turned crimson just by his talking about the problem. He realized it and smiled at me.
"I guess I'm just one of those people who can't help himself from getting too involved with his patients," he said.
"Just as long as you're not as involved with any other as much as you are with me," I responded and he laughed.
He looked at me and shook his head. "Hardly."
When we arrived at the hospital, he wheeled me into the lobby and we went to the information desk to find out where Jake was. Minutes later we were in the elevator going up to the third floor. It was very quiet, nearly the end of visiting hours.
"Oh. I was wondering where his family was," the nurse on duty told us when we asked for his room. "He has been in and out of consciousness and asking for his daughter. Doctor Hamman is with him at the moment and I'm sure he'll want to have a word with you."
Austin was about to tell her that I wasn't Jake's daughter, but I put my hand over his quickly and he looked at me and saw I didn't want that.
We approached Jake's room slowly. Just before we reached the doorway. Doctor Hamman stepped out with another nurse.
"Better move him to ICU," he told her. She nodded and then saw us standing there and touched the doctor's arm. He turned.
"Oh," he said. "Are you related to Mr. Marvin?" he asked.
"Yes." I said.
He nodded, regarding me with a somber look.
"I'm afraid his liver disease has moved into a very serious stage. It's affected his kidneys and they are failing."
"How could this happen so quickly?" I asked in a broken voice.
"Quickly? Oh, this hasn't happened quickly. Mr. Marvin has been receiving treatment for cirrhosis for some time now. He's been repeatedly warned about his alcohol consumption. Far some reason his consumption dramatically increased recently and that has led to serious complications. The disease can be subtle. Sometimes it is discovered, sometimes not. Such cases are called cryptoenic cirrhosis. Some may have only subtle physical changes, such as red palms, red spots that blanch on their upper body which we call spider angioma or fibrosis of tendons in the palms. Some suffer from jaundice, or have memory problems. Every case is different.
"I'm sorry." he said. "I have to move him to intensive care. Without a kidney transplant, he must go onto dialysis immediately and with the continued degeneration..." His voice trailed off.
He waited to see if I had any more questions. but I couldn't speak. He nodded and then continued down the corridor. Austin held my hand. Then. I wheeled myself into Jake's room, He looked unconscious, but when I reached his bed, he turned and smiled.
"Hey. Princess.... what are you doing here?"
'Oh Jake, it's better I ask what are you doing here?" I countered. "I just spoke with the doctor. You knew you were sick and you kept on drinking."
"Doctors," he said grimacing. He closed his eyes. "I'll be all right. I'll be out of here in no time. Don't worry about me." he said. He opened his eyes, "Say, how did you get here?"
"Austin drove me in the van." I said.
"Oh. You better learn how to drive yourself," he said softly.
"I will. Austin will help me immediately," I said looking up at him. He nodded.
"Sure."
"Good," Jake said as if that was the last thing he had to be sure would happen before he left this world. He closed his eyes again and fell immediately into a deep sleep that looked like a coma. I waited to see if he would waken, but he was still sleeping when they came to move him to the intensive care unit. Austin and I watched them prepare him for the move and then wheel him away on a gurney.
"Still wonder why I think everyone who cares for me suffers?" I asked Austin.
"Stop it. Rain." he snapped. "Don't start berating yourself. You're not responsible for this. You heard the doctor. Jake knew he shouldn't drink and yet he continued to do so."
"Just take me home. Austin. Take me home and leave me there," I told him.
On the way home I talked about Jake and told Austin much of what I knew and understood about his relationship with Grandmother Hudson. I described how right from the start he had been my best friend.
"I know he blames himself for what happened to me. Austin. I know that drove him to drink more. Don't you see? That's why I say anyone who gets too close to me. suffers.
"Aunt Victoria is right, but not for the reason she thinks. Don't come back here. Austin," I begged him. "You're better off just forgetting about me. I'll go get another therapist."
We had pulled up to the house and he had turned off the engine.
"Stop that silly talk," he ordered.
I started to cry and he seized me by the shoulders and shook me, harder than I anticipated. I looked up at him.
"Stop it!" he cried. "You're not going to wallow in this self-pity. Rain. I won't let you. I know you can return to a good, productive life and I'm not going anywhere, so get that out of your foolish head," he insisted, his eyes steely. "Tomorrow, we'll start your driving lessons, but right now let's let you inside and comfortable."
He got out and helped me out of the van. Then he wheeled me up the ramp and into the house. Mrs. Bogart was nowhere around. She had either left for some reason or was in her own room. I didn't call for her. Austin took me to my room and closed the door behind us. I sat there feeling stunned and helpless. He kissed me on the cheek and began to help me undress and get ready for bed. I let him do everything. For the moment I enjoyed being helpless.
After he carried me to my bed and lay me down, he brought the blanket up around me snugly and kissed me. I felt like a little girl again, back in the projects with Mama tucking me in and wishing me sweet dreams.
Austin didn't leave. He sat for a while and just watched me sleeping. I heard him rise and go to the bathroom. but I didn't open my eyes. I drifted in and out of sleep and each time I opened my eyes, he was still sitting there. Finally. I groaned and looked at the clock. It was nearly two in the morning.
"Why don't you go home. Austin?"
"I'm fine," he said.
"You can't be comfortable," I said. "If you insist on staying here tonight then come to bed," I said.
He smiled. "Okay."
He rose, got undressed and slipped in beside me. I turned my torso to him and we embraced. Snuggled in his arms. I felt safe again, safe and content. He kissed me softly on the lips and we both finally, fell asleep.
I woke with a jolt when my bedroom door was opened and the air just seemed to rush over me. Austin was still asleep.
"Well, this is a fine sight!" Mrs. Bogart cried, She stood there with her hands on her hips. "A fine sight."
Austin opened his eves and looked at me and then at her. He dropped his head back to the pillow and groaned.
"Close the door. Mrs. Bogart, and never, never come bursting into my room again," I told her.
"You don't need to worry about me doing that." she threatened. "I won't stand by and just watch this sinfulness and be talked to like that."
She slammed the door hard as she left.
"Uh-oh," Austin said.
"Don't worry. My grandmother was famous for rotating household help. I'm just following in her tradition,"
I
said and he laughed.
Mrs. Bogart didn't leave immediately, but she gave notice to Aunt Victoria, who used it as another excuse for one of her fiery lectures about the pitfalls of being involved with men. I paid even less attention to her than before; when she moaned about how difficult it was going to be to find someone else as qualified as Mrs. Bogart. I told her not to worry about it. I'd find someone myself.
"That's absolutely ridiculous," she declared and marched out of the house, grumbling under her breath about how this was all happening at the wrong time. She had too much to do and was too busy to babysit for a reckless invalid.
During the next two weeks. Austin continued my therapy and often stayed overnight with me. Every chance we had, we drove over to the hospital to visit Jake. Sometimes he knew I was there, sometimes he didn't. On occasion he babbled what to other people sounded like nonsense, but to me it was a weaving of all the secrets that made up the cocoon that had enveloped him at the end of his life.
Austin gave me driving lessons with the van and expanded my therapy to include other daily activities, all des fined to ensure my growing independence. I couldn't help but be a little terrified the first time I drove somewhere by myself, but the mechanized van made all of it possible. I even went to the supermarket and shopped. That night I told Mrs. Bogart to take the evening off and I made Austin and myself dinner.
He raved about the food so much. I thought he was deliberately overdoing it, but he swore everything was truly delicious. When I challenged that, he put down his fork and looked at me reproachfully.
"Were you a good cook before your accident?" he asked.
"I was often told so," I admitted.
"Did you cook and bake with your feet?"
"No," I said laughing.
"Then how could your accident have any effect on your ability to cook?" he cross-examined me. "Well?"
"I guess it couldn't," I confessed.
"If I compliment you on your jogging, you can doubt me," he told me. "Until then. I insist that my honesty not be challenged."
I laughed. How wonderful he could make me feel. He toasted me with another glass of wine and then he rose and kissed me.
"Let's leave the dishes for Mrs. Bogart," he whispered, his lips
grazing my ear. "It's the least she can do." I turned to him and smiled.
"Oh? And what will we do?"
His eyes told me what he wanted. Mine spoke just as clearly and as loudly. He wheeled me from the table and gently lifted me out of my chair and onto my bed where we made love more passionately-- yet more lovingly-- than we ever had before.
Afterward.
I
felt complete and contented. I only hoped and prayed it wasn't a will-o'-the-wisp dream that would fade and turn dry and crisp like an old leaf and finally crumble to dust.
I could be happy.
I
could be happy again. I told myself.
We were nearly asleep when the phone rang. My heart knew why before my brain heard the words.
Doctor Hamman was calling to say he was sorry. "Mr. Marvin has expired," he said.
Austin held me as I cried for Jake. Then I caught my breath, wiped my cheeks and turned to him.
"The person who should be getting this call has no idea why she should be the one getting it. Austin. That's almost as horrible as
what's happened to Jake. His daughter wasn't at his side."
"You were there. Rain." he reminded me. "And Jake loved you as he would a daughter."
"I'11 take care of him." I vowed, "I'll see that he has a proper funeral."
I lay back in Austin's arms. He held me as pictures of Jake ran through my mind, his smile, his laughter, his encouragement and even that look of sadness on his face when he had taken me to the airport for my trip to London.
"It's so important to have someone whose eyes fill with tears when they say good-bye to you, Austin," I whispered.
"Mine certainly won't," he said. "Because I won't ever say good-bye."
Oh please. I prayed, let those words never turn to dry leaves and crumble into dust.

12
Reflections in a Broken Mirror
.
With Austin's help. I made the arrangements for

Jake's funeral, He was to be buried in his family plot in the same cemetery where Grandmother Hudson was buried. Mrs. Bogart left the day before the funeral. I could see she was now feeling a little guilty about leaving inc. When she came to me after breakfast to say good-bye, she had trouble lifting her gaze from the floor and looking at me directly.

"I'm sorry about that man's dying and bringing you more sorrow," she began.
"His name was Jake." I corrected. "Not that man." She looked up quickly, her neck stiffening.
"Yes. well I don't like to see bad things happen to anyone, even when they bring it on themselves. I'd stay with you a little longer to help you get through your bad time." she added, her conscience rising to the surface like some stubborn memory refusing to rest quietly under the heavy surface of her anger and her ego. "But I have a new position with someone who needs me more and I promised to be there this afternoon."
"Don't break your promises," I muttered dryly.
"You're being a bad girl, not listening to your aunt. Victoria's a very wise woman and you're going to be a sorry soul if you don't listen."
"You mean sorrier soul, don't you? I'm already a sorry soul"
She shook her head and pressed her lips together blowing out her cheeks and making her eyes retreat into small dark orbs.
"I cleaned the house and I left you plenty to eat. You'll be fine if you get someone soon."
"Thank you," I said, "but I'll be fine even without someone new,"
"I doubt that." she muttered. She started to turn away and I pivoted my chair toward her. My sudden move surprised her and made her flinch.
"Mrs. Bogart you are a competent assistant. I'm sure you're going to be of great value to your next client. But handicapped people such as myself have needs other than just food and water and shelter.
"I hope you take some of that understanding with you to your next assignment and not be such a stern judge just because you can walk...
She shook her head with a look that nearly resembled appreciation, not just amazement.
"Where'd you get all this obstinacy and stubbornness?" she asked. "Even in your injured state."
I smiled.
"My stepmama never looked down on anyone, no matter how low they seemed to be."
She wiggled her shoulders like some big bird fluffing up its feathers and gripped her bags. Then she marched herself out of the house. The sound of the door closing reverberated through the corridor and died in some corner. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and told myself I really would be fine. I was able to do whatever I had to do for myself.
Austin phoned to see how I was. He knew Mrs. Bogart was leaving. I assured him I was fine, and he promised he would be over as soon as he could after his work. I spent most of my day organizing the house for easier access, taking an inventory of my supplies. And then, because it was an exceptionally beautiful afternoon. I wheeled to the back patio. Sipping some lemonade. I watched the birds that flitted from tree to tree. They seemed so active, so busy preparing for the change of seasons. Mama used to say she bet birds were just full of gossip, sitting on telephone lines all day and hearing all those conversations. I laughed, remembering how the two of us would gaze out of the apartment window down at the street.
It struck me as odd that I had never sat here before to watch the birds and appreciate their grace and beaut
_.
7. There were so many more than there were back in the city. As I observed them. I realized that movement was so much a part of whom and what they were. A bird that last its power to fly was no longer a bird. It was something else, I thought, something much less.
Was I something else? Was
I
much less? Were Mrs. Bogart and Aunt Victoria right to think I couldn't act on my our behalf properly just because my movement was restricted? I refused to believe that now. Thanks to Austin. I had confidence in myself again. I could write and think and cook and clean and take care of my basic necessities. I could drive and I could go most anywhere. Most of all. I could love and be loved.
No, they were wrong. In fact now that Mrs. Bogart was gone. I felt good again. I felt in charge of myself and that gave me back my dignity and identity. Good riddance to you all. I thought defiantly. I'll be like the birds again, free, graceful, content.
When I heard someone drive up and enter the house. I thought it was Austin so I hurried to get back inside and greet him, but it was Aunt Victoria. She looked quite harried, her hair a little messy, her suit creased. She had been calling for me and looking in various rooms. When she finally saw me wheeling in from the rear of the house, she stopped and waited, an expression of surprise on her face.
"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Why are you out there by yourself?"
"Just getting some air."
She absorbed my answer as if it was something hard to digest and then she put on a scowl,
"So now you are satisfied? Mrs. Bogart is gone. Whose idea was it really?" she asked, her eyes getting smaller.
"It
was his idea, wasn't it? That therapist wanted you alone here, right? That's his plan."
"No. She decided to quit on her own. Aunt Victoria,"
I
said calmly. "You know that."
"She was driven to quit. That's what
I
know, All right, all right," she muttered. She looked around, her eyes moving wildly in her head.
"I
won't spend any more time on that." She pressed her right palm against her heart as if she was having some pain and took a deep breath, her thin, narrow shoulders rising and falling hard.
"What's wrong with you? Aren't you well?"
I
asked.
She spun on me as if she was going to spit at me and then paused and smiled coldly, her lips stretching and becoming pale, her eyes wide.
"She's coming home today. Her doctors claim she's well enough and Grant's taking her back with open arms. Open arms, even after all this!" she cried, her own arms out as if she was referring to the house. "The doctors say her depression has receded enough for her to resume a normal life. Can you imagine such drivel? She's never had a normal life. It was all her plan, all her conniving little plan. How can he want her back? You see what I'm saying about men? You see how right I am?
"They're going on holiday." she continued and laughed a short, maddening little laugh that sounded more like the tinkling of glass. "A little well-deserved R and R he calls it. How does she deserve it?"
"She lost her son. Aunt Victoria. She's suffered horribly. No matter what you think of her, she's your own sister. How can you be so hard?"
"What? You say that? You ask that? You whom she's abused more than anyone you want to know how I can be so hard?" she asked, pointing down at me.
"I don't want to be angry or upset or hate anyone anymore. Aunt Victoria. If you thought I would become your ally against my mother, you were mistaken. I want to get on with my life and make the best of everything. Hating, wanting revenge, all that just eats away at you until you've turned yourself inside out and you're a stranger to yourself and anyone who could or
would love you."
"Oh, such wisdom and from a teenager in a wheelchair." she muttered, throwing her hand back as if she was tossing away some rotten fruit.
"I'm not a teenager in a wheelchair." I said. "I'm a young woman with a handicap who's doing just fine, thank you."
"Right, right, that's it. young Megan, bury your head in some sand, put on the rose-colored glasses, shut your ears and your eyes to anything that makes you unhappy, giggle like a fool at dinner tables and travel everywhere with blinders on. All you are now to me is my sister in a wheelchair," she said
disdainfully. "I can't look at you without seeing her face."
I shook my head.
"Think what you want. I'm tired of fighting with you or anyone else," I said.
She sighed, looking away and then back at me with a more familiar expression: her businesswoman face.
"You paid for Jake's funeral. I understand."
"That's right. I called your office and left all the details for you. The funeral is at ten tomorrow at the church."
"I have a very important meeting with the directors of an equity group tomorrow morning. I won't be there."
"You've got to be there." I said sharply.
"What? I've got to be at the funeral of my mother's chauffeur instead of attending an important business meeting?" She laughed. "Hardly." she said. She started to turn away.
I couldn't stand the thought of her belittling Jake. I wouldn't permit it.
"He's not just your mother's chauffeur, Wait!" I shouted with insistence.
"What is it?" she said impatiently. "I have important calls to make and I've wasted enough of this day already."
"Jake wasn't just your mother's chauffeur. Jake was your father,"
I
said.
For a moment she didn't speak. Then she took a few steps back toward me and laughed.
"Are you mad? Is that a consequence of your being crippled, these distorted, ridiculous thoughts? My father-- Jake the family chauffeur?"
"He told me so himself. He and Grandmother Hudson were lovers and she got pregnant with you. That's why the man you thought was your father, treated Megan differently than he treated you. He knew,"
Her cold smile was replaced with the hardest look of anger and hate
I
had yet seen on the screen of her face. This venomous expression rose from some well of enmity that surely went as deep back in time as Cain. A veil of darkness fell across her as she stepped closer. She seemed to grow taller, her shoulders rising until she loomed above me like the angel of death about to pounce.
"How dare you distort things I've told you in confidence? How dare you create some disgusting, ridiculous tale of sin? Is it to cover your own guilt? Is that it? Do you hope that by doing this, the fingers of blame will no longer point at you?"
"No, of course not. I'm telling you what Jake told me and what you should have been told years and years ago. He was proud of you. Aunt Victoria, He often spoke of your strengths and accomplishments and--''
"Stop it!" she screamed. Her eyes shot daggers down at me as she slapped her palms over her ears so hard it had to have stung. "I won't listen to another syllable! If you should as much as dare to even suggest such a thing to anyone. I'll... I'll make you think that being in this chair was wonderful compared to what will follow."
"I don't care if you believe it," I said quietly. "But you should attend the funeral."
She just fumed for a moment. Then she lowered her hands from her ears and nodded.
"All this rebellion, this nonsense, it's his doing, the fortune hunter's." she said. "I'll see about that." She turned and started toward the front door.
"Austin has nothing to do with any of this," I shouted. 'Don't you even think of doing anything that would harm him. I'm warning you."
She didn't hesitate.
"Aunt Victoria. I'm warning you! Aunt Victoria!" I cried.
With firmness in her steps, she pounded down the hallway and out of the house, slamming the front door behind her and leaving me shaking in my chair.
There weren't many people at Jake's funeral. Aside from the friends he had at the local tavern and a few old friends who knew him before he had left and enlisted in the navy, there was just Austin and myself and Mick Nelsen, the horse trainer who had helped me with Rain. At the cemetery Mick told me how much Jake had talked about me and how much he had loved and had admired me.
"I used to kid him and say you sure she ain't your daughter. Jake? He said no, but you were the closest he'd ever have to a daughter. He just loved the way you rode that horse and the way the horse took to you."
I asked him exactly where Rain was and he told me and assured me the horse was in good hands. I mused aloud that I might take a ride to see her someday and Mick promised he would call ahead for me and make the arrangements whenever I wanted, He stood beside us as we listened to the minister and then watched Jake's coffin being lowered, Afterward. Austin took me over to Grandmother Hudson's grave where I sat for quite a while. Austin waited at the van so I could have my private time. He hurried back when he saw my shoulders quaking from my heavy sobs.
"It's time to go, Rain," he said handing me his handkerchief.
I wiped my eyes, nodded and lay back, letting him do all the work wheeling me through the cemetery and into the van. Shortly afterward, he was wheeling me up the ramp and into the house. With Mrs. Bogart gone and no replacement hired yet, the long corridor and large rooms seemed even more empty and dark. Austin suggested we go out to dinner.
"That's something we haven't done vet,' he said. "Why don't you get dressed up and I'll put on a jacket and tie and we'll go to a really nice place I know. It's got a patio overlooking water. How's that sound?"
"Nice," I said smiling.
"Need any help getting ready?"
"No," I replied firmly and with confidence and determination added. "I want to do it all myself tonight."
"That's what I thought. I'll be back in about two hours. okay?"
"Yes," I said. He kissed me and left.
Undaunted. I turned toward my room to see just how strong I would be and how high I could rise from the fires of sadness that burned around me. I chose one of my prettiest dresses to wear. It occurred to me that I hadn't bought a single garment since my accident. I had lost all interest in how I looked. whether I was in style or not. That's going to change. I thought. Here Grandmother Hudson left me all this money and I haven't spent a nickel on anything that wasn't a medical necessity. Even though I was in a wheelchair, people still saw my feet.
It
was still important to have nice shoes, and my hair should be attractive.
I vowed in front of my mirror that I would change my appearance. I would replace this sickly, weak and pitiful look with a vibrant, hopeful one. I could be pretty again. Austin wasn't just saying nice things to make me feel better. I saw it in his eyes, in the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't watching him. He did treasure me. I'd lost my ability to walk, but not to be attractive.
I couldn't deny that I wasn't somewhat afraid of being in charge of my own bathing. I had done most everything else for myself at one time or another. but Mrs. Bogart had always been around when I bathed. I ran the water for my bath and I set out my clothes and then I got undressed and manipulated myself out of the chair and into the tub, but once I was in. I suddenly had this terrible fear I wouldn't be able to get myself out. It made enjoying the bath impossible. In minutes I needed to get out, just to be sure I could. What if I was still here when Austin arrived? How embarrassing.
In my panic and haste to get out, I slipped and banged my arm so hard against the ceramic tile it took my breath away. I started to cry, but then I got myself under control and went about getting out of the tub with more purpose. Moments later. I was sitting on the side, drying myself. I got back into the chair and wheeled myself to the bedroom. With the pain in my arm, it took at least three times as long to put on my clothes, but at least I could do it. However. when I looked at myself in the mirror. I saw how twisted and creased my dress was. I did what I could to straighten it, and then I worked on putting on my shoes. By the time I started on my hair. I was exhausted.