Sweet Karoline (24 page)

"
Mrs. West likes my history," Dembi says as he reaches for another slice of toast to mop up the egg on his plate. "She's coming to the powwow."

"
Maybe we can have some more time with her," Miriam says, eagerness in her voice.

There
must be gaps in my sister's memories, too. So much has changed for her. A birth mother replaced the two people she thought were her parents. A farmhouse that she occasionally visited turned out to be her birthplace. A brother and mother who desperately need her suddenly became her responsibility. A duplicate self, strange, angry, clingy in turns, replaced the generous, gregarious and loving 'sister' she thought she knew.

Spontaneously,
I kiss her hand.

"
Miriam, I know these few days have been filled with turmoil. I've been going through so much that I forgot what it's been like for you. I'm sorry. I've been used to a selfish life."

Miriam
squeezed me back. Her eyes brim with tears now, too.

"
It's okay. I did have more time than you did to adjust to a lot of this. We'll get through the rest together."

Dembi
gets up and encircles both of us, arms over shoulders. We touch our heads together. If only we could resolve everything the way our brother does.

All
the rainy morning we play games in the parlor, clean the house and sing. After lunch finds us in Memé's room. Dee is off somewhere else, giving us private time. We laugh. Read. Feed our mother with both the sound of our voices and the occasional bite of something nutritious.

Dembi
is still not himself. He continues to look tired. He's agitated and nervous as his enhanced flapping and humming indicate. Miriam and I try to placate him with games and joyful stories. He touches Memé continually. Lolls his head against us whenever we sit. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was afraid.

Against
the fingers of rain drumming in time with our fun, a crash and a knock announce that the home oxygen company has arrived.

Two
hefty white men with enormous boxes of equipment appear at the front door. Along the hallway they seem determined to knock everything over. Miriam and Dembi return to the kitchen to wash cups while Dee and I crowd into Memé's room with the two giants.

At
first Memé is frightened, but I sit on my side of the bed again and draw her to me while they work. She breathes from a small hand-held apparatus that the men hook up to a portable tank.

"
We want to keep that, too," I say, pointing at the portable carrier. "You should give it to us for free in exchange for the trouble we had last night."

One
of the men looks over at me with a frown. His pasty round face flushes an unhealthy pink. He is big and has piggy eyes that are pillowed by fat.

"
This equipment is designed not to fail," he says.

"
My mother almost died because it did fail." Ice Queen tone has not disappeared, though the anger I feel seems reasonable, manageable. "When I came in here last night, the machine was turned off."

His
eyes flash malice at me, but he checks the device carefully. The second man, only slightly smaller in girth, adjusts the new tank. He turns it toward me so I can see the on/off button. He flicks it to OFF.

"
Was it in this position?"

"
Yes."

"
The only way that can happen is with a human hand," he pronounces.

"
No one in this household would be careless enough to do that," I fling back at him, biting down on every word.

Just
then Dembi bounces back into the room. Flapping nervously he twists his mouth into a lopsided, anxious grimace. He hums and probes the air. His gait is sloppy, regressed by fear. He huddles at my feet. Pats Memé's legs obsessively. Our mother probes back with her own hand until they connect. Dembi rocks slightly on the bed.

The
oxygen man gives me a meaningful look. Of course I know that he's thinking there is one person who could be careless enough—stupid enough—to turn the machine off. I wonder if he can be right.

Did
Dembi think the noise would bother Memé? Does that explain his odd behavior this morning? But Dembi has lived with the oxygen for quite a while now. He is aware of its connection to Memé's life.

"
But you can keep the portable machine," the man says as though he's being overly generous. "No charge."

Number
Two asks Melody and me to double check the replaced equipment. We follow his instructions carefully. I decide that I will teach Dembi when they are gone. I walk them through the kitchen out the front door. Miriam is in mid chop of a bunch of green celery when I return to lean on the counter. I briefly tell her about the machine and the fellow's theory.

"
Dembi would never do that. He knows how important the oxygen is."

"
Does he know how to turn it on and off?"

She
nods her head, her beautiful waves bouncing thoughtfully. "Yes, but…"

I
chomp on a piece of celery. "It's probably a malfunction and they won't admit it. They think we'll sue. We do it all the time in L.A. But we have a replacement now and Dee gave it a seal of approval. I still think we should get an alarm, though."

"
Absolutely. Dee probably knows a company we can call."

"
I'll take care of it. By the way, they gave us a portable machine. We can take Memé to the powwow if Dee thinks she's up to it."

"
And if the weather improves."

We
both glance out at the deluge of water against the window above the sink.

When
we all return to Memé's room, Dembi seems to have shaken his mood and is chatty and happy again. Dee fusses around us. Memé makes small sounds of joy.

As
I watch our brother whirling and doing tricks for us, I wonder if Dembi did turn off the machine by mistake. Luckily Memé is all right. Judging by his reaction, he would never do that again.

By
late afternoon the sky clears. Memé's room fills with sunshine. We slide open the curtains and prop the windows open a bit. The hot and cold fronts have finished their war, leaving a clean warm feeling in their wake. The air is freshly laundered, clear and pleasant. On an azure ocean of sky, the sun cheekily grins from behind white waves of friendly cloud.

With
Dee's help we lift Memé into her wheelchair and take her out onto the porch. Before the cancer felled her she'd buzzed around on her own two feet. I wonder how she feels, having to be so dependent. Not to mention that the portable tank and mask look like an appendage from a dinosaur.

But
Memé is altered by the sunshine. She sips from the after-shower, oxygen-rich day and smiles. Her wizened brown face seems less shrunken. A glimmer of the former beauty makes its way through her skin.

Miriam
and I are so busy with thoughts about wheelchairs, oxygen, bodily fluids and long-lost relatives that we have no time to discuss any further questions about our history. After Melody leaves for the night, we barbeque burgers for dinner and eat off paper plates around Memé's bed. None of us feels like leaving her side. Once she is asleep, we curl up in front of the television and eat ice cream. We don't talk much. There's a new contentment between Miriam and me, though it doesn't seem to have spread to Dembi. Before bed, he's distant and restless once more.

I
have a long exploratory conversation with Ethan. We discuss all the new developments. I tell him about my emotional transformations. Confide that I am still uncertain about everything. A fawn on newborn shaky legs. He's okay with all of this turmoil. He is far more confident of Anne than I have ever been. Me, reborn. Who knew it was possible?

Once
again I sleep at Memé's side. I am too nervous to trust the new machinery. I cuddle beside her as she breathes. The chug of the oxygen is comforting and strong. Dreams and memories flit through my mind all night. Faces, voices, feelings. I awaken several times, afraid, then feel Memé's slight but reassuring frame next to mine.

Before
dawn I am in the kitchen drinking coffee. I make French toast and bacon. Wash raspberries and sweeten them with real maple syrup. Around eight I step out onto the porch, mug in hand.

The
day is trying to decide what to do. Dark clouds ring the horizon. The sun is fiercely hot once again. It dances from shadow to shadow and broils the wind. It feels as though the storms are not through with us.

Miriam
and Dembi enter the kitchen at almost the same time. They are delighted with my paltry effort at cooking for them. Once he has eaten, though, Dembi announces that he's going to hunt on his own.

I
give my sister a worried look.

"
He's done it hundreds of times on his own. Don't forget, he grew up here."

"
Make sure you use the bridge to cross the river, Dembi."

I
almost laugh out loud. I can't ever remember issuing such a motherly command.

Our
brother nods. He's distracted again. Flaps his hands and hops from foot to foot.

"
It will be a short time," he tells me. "I am strong and careful."

"
Yes, you are, Dembi," I respond. "I trust you."

To
my surprise he gives me a scowl and disappears.

After
Melody arrives we return to fuss over Memé. Elizabeth Johnston emerges bit by bit over the next few hours. She looks more comfortable in the wheelchair. Though wispy, her hair is clean. Her wide eyes blink at us over the oxygen mask but they are far more alert than I've seen them since my arrival here.

Miriam
and I learn to maneuver the chair. How to replace the portable oxygen tank. Not that we should need to do this, Dee instructs. The tank will last for the number of hours we plan to stay.

We
talk about the powwow. The ground may be difficult to traverse after the rain. Especially if the storm returns today. Dee says they usually put boards along the pathways. The ceremony takes place in the fairgrounds just outside Burford. There are bleachers for seats. Flagpoles for the traditional raising.

This
year is particularly exciting because of the participation of the Canadian Black Heritage groups, some of whose members are descendants of the original Vryheid residents. Just like us.

Dembi
comes home well before lunch. Miriam and I, caught up with Memé, ask him simply if he had fun. He nods yes and wolfs down a sandwich. No tales of history, the Book, or the gold map. I am too preoccupied to wonder.

The
storm circles around again by afternoon. This time it's madder than ever. The old house literally shudders in fear. Thunder cracks right overhead, shakes the roof and rattles the walls. Lightning pitchforks the fields and dashes from cloud to cloud.

We
huddle inside, keeping the atmosphere as bright as we can with song and stories and busy-ness. Melody goes home early during a lull in the torrential rain.

Miriam
offers to stay with Memé tonight. At first I am tempted to say, are you crazy? I'm not sleeping alone in this storm… and then I see the need in her eyes.

As
Miriam and Dembi turn toward their hallway later, my sister says cheerfully, "After Dee gets here in the morning I'm going grocery shopping. Want to come?"

Dembi
shakes his head, so I respond that I'll stay home, too.

"
Okay. If it stops raining we can go hunting after that if you want. Or we can stay home and play some games."

But
Dembi has already disappeared down the hall. Miriam gives an indulgent smile and we hug quickly. I saunter off to the parlor and curl up in my telephone chair.

I
give Ethan my customary rundown of the day. He's quieter than usual, lonely, he says, wondering when I will be coming home.

"
I promise it won't be much longer. What do you think about coming up here for a few days?"

"
When?"

I
laugh. "I take that as a yes. I don't suppose you could get here by Saturday for the powwow?"

It
's his turn to laugh. "That gives me a whole day. I doubt it, babe, but maybe Sunday? I can let you know tomorrow."

"
Perfect! I can't wait for you to meet my family."

There
is a slight pause. I consider what I have just said and what I want to say. My logical man is probably thinking about travel arrangements when I interrupt.

"
Ethan, I'm learning that love's a lot more than a word. But it's all I have right now. I love you," I whisper into the receiver.

It
may be all I will ever have but I said it anyway.