The Heavenly Heart (8 page)

“My grandmother,” Paige offered, when Henry asked to whom did he owe the pleasure of escorting around town for the day. Henry’s funny and so formal. He’s British, remember?

We took her to the country club for lunch.

“Is Sylvia coming?” she asks. “She always orders for me.”

“I’ll order for you,” Annalise says, patting her hand. “Do you like chicken? They have chicken crepes that are heaven.”

Sally concentrates hard.

“I’m not sure. Could we ask Sylvia?”

“Let’s not,” I say and order the crepes for everyone. I’m sure you’ll like them.”

I nod to the waiter that we are ready to order. He steps up to the table.

“Would you ladies like to start with an appetizer?” he says.

We tell him we’re not sure.

“We have to ask Sylvia,” Paige says, and we start laughing like hyenas, even Sally.

“It’s nice not having her around,” she says. “So bossy, you know.”

There should be a law to protect old people from being governed like they are a principality or something.

“There
is
,” Paige says, “It’s called consideration, but they make you leave it at the door when you check in.”

After lunch, we go shopping at Macy’s and buy her some clothes that really look good on her. She’s like a school girl, giggling away.

“My husband—” Sally says, “Oh dear, I can’t remember his name. He always liked to see me in fetching clothes.”

After shopping we head to the movies. We see
The Nanny Diaries
. It’s okay, but the book’s better. Sally falls asleep with her mouth open and starts drooling, so we leave early to get her some fresh air. When we get her outside we run smack into a cop. We almost lose it, I’m telling you. Annalise keeps saying stupid things like, “So Grandma, did you enjoy the movie?” and “Are you hungry? Should we maybe go to dinner, or is Grandpa expecting you back?” Annalise looks at the cop the whole time she’s asking the questions. And Sally says, “Who’s grandpa? And where is Sylvia? Does she know where I am?”

The cop walks closer to us. He has his neck crooked to one side and he’s speaking into that little microphone they all wear on their shoulders. And I’m thinking they probably have an all points bulletin out on us and we’re toast.

The next thing you know, a squad care roars up to us, its siren blasting, and I know we’re in for it; we’re going to the slammer. That’s the first time Sally wets her pants. Annalise is shaking like she’s a tree and my teeth were rattling like they’re lose. Paige just stands and gives the cop a blank stare. The guy with the siren says something to him in police talk. Then our cop turns and jumps in his squad car and follows the other squad car, both sirens blaring.

Now, reasonable people at that precise moment would return Sally to the nursing home ASAP, but oh, no, Paige insists we need to take her to Six Flags. Annalise is ecstatic. It’s her favorite place next to rock concerts.

“She’s Queen-for-a-Day,” Paige says. “We need a grand end to her day.”

It’s two against two, but Sally’s vote doesn’t count, so off we go. We don’t take her on a roller coaster or anything like that, but we do go on the Ferris wheel and that’s when her heart starts acting up. And she has another accident. Her panties are still wet from before. She pees down on the people below us. Gross! It’s a big guy the size of a gorilla and his girlfriend. That’s when the trouble starts. They wait for us while everyone gets off the ride. The Ferris wheel operator calms him down and gives him free tickets to ride it again and then cleans off the chair with Windex. Meanwhile Sally is huffing and puffing and turning white.

“I think it’s time for my medicine,” she says.

We ask her what the medicine is for. She can’t recall but states it may be for her heart, her chest is hurting.

And of course I already told you we don’t have it or anything even remotely like that with us. We yell to Henry.

“Get us to Piedmont!” Meaning the hospital.

He gets us there in record time and we tell the emergency technician that meets us at the door that we have an elderly person who needs immediate attention. As they are busy wheeling her in for treatment, we get out of there quicker than you can sneeze.

“Go, Henry!” Annalise yells. “Go! Now!”

It doesn’t take but a second for Henry to realize he’s been duped. The old woman is most assuredly not Paige’s grandmother. We swear him to secrecy, which isn’t hard. I mean, he’s driven the limo all over the place, without so much as one phone call to a parent, or to the nursing home, or to
someone
in authority, to clarify the situation.

And now Miss Lily is insisting she knows me; that somehow we’ve met at the nursing home where she resided. Is it possible? Is she the one we snatched? Did she die once we left her at the hospital with her soggy britches drooping down to her knees? I’m afraid to ask her the name of the nursing home. If it’s Sunny Meadows, I’m freaking out. 

SIXTEEN

The Golden Window

My father offers to take Mona and her children to
any
restaurant they want.

“McDonald’s!” Bobby yells.

“Yes, please,” Allison says.

Definitely not what my father had in mind but McDonald’s it is. Mona invites her neighbor and close friend Rita to come along.

“She can watch the children while we get acquainted.”

“That’s good,” my father says, then, realizes the sports car he’s rented can’t fit all of them in.

“I guess I should have rented a—”

“Oh, no problem,” Mona says, waving at the air. “You follow us.”

Rita has a large SUV. She and Mona drag the various car seats to her van and buckle the children in place. Rita has a rambunctious two-year-old son Andy.

“He needs to be on a leash,” Rita quips. He slips through her hands and darts toward the street.

My father grabs him and takes him back to his mother. Rita scoops him up and buckles him into his car seat. The other children are already in theirs and anxious to get going.

“What’s taking so long?” Bobby, Jr. says.

“Yeah, what’s taking so long?” Allison says.

Oh boy, this ride is going to be one of those, “Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”

Mona gets in the front passenger seat and Rita jumps behind the wheel and rolls the window down.

“Follow us,” Rita calls out and backs out of the driveway.

After burgers, fries, apple dippers, juice and ice cream treats are ordered and
inhaled
, Rita takes the kids out to Ronald McDonald’s playground.

“Thanks,” Mona says and turns towards my father. “The kids are having a really good time.”

My father nods. There’s a long pause where neither one of them says a word. My father clears his throat. Mona smiles, fluffs the back of her hair, and then licks her lower lip.

“Ah,” she says. “I’m so very sorry for, ah, you know, for your loss, y-your daughter, Lorelei, is it?—”

“Understood,” My father says, and raise one hand, as if to say, that’s a given.

“I hope you know what an amazing gift you’ve given me, the children—I mean, Mr. Goodroe, I wouldn’t be here, if you hadn’t, you know, hadn’t donated—”

“That’s why I came,” my father says. “To see for myself something positive come out of this.”

Mona’s uncomfortable. My father’s uncomfortable. Now it’s all silence again and they’re both just looking around, Mona at the playground and my father at the people standing in line.

Then my father says, “I have her heart.”

 Mona’s eyes fill with tears. She reaches over and pats one of his hands.

My father looks down and when their eyes meet again, his have as many tears resting in them as hers.

*    *    *

The remaining hour is spent talking about Rita. Her little boy Andy is an invitro-baby.

“They tried for ten years,” Mona explained. “They had to take out a second mortgage on their home. Then finally, when Rita was forty-two-years old, Andy was born. He’s a miracle”

My father nods. It’s
all
a miracle, I’m thinking.  The sad part is I never thought about it, how precious all of life is,
was
, until now. I watch Andy climb through the plastic tunnels, jumping in and out of each tubular cube, laughing, running, squealing like a piglet. He’s adorable. And so are Bradley, and Bobby, and Allison. And now I’m part of that gladness. A curl of satisfaction plants itself inside me. We’ll be connected for always.

SEVENTEEN

The Golden Window

Miss Lilly’s asking if I’ve ever had a driver’s license, which is making me crazy. I already suspect my being here has something to do with the car keys. Bummer. She still insists that we’ve met before and won’t give up until she can place her
finger on it
—her words again. I tell her I only had a learner’s permit and wasn’t allowed to drive without my father in the car. Does she know my father, I ask.

“I don’t believe I do,” she says. “Do you have a picture of him?”

I don’t remember most of the details of how I got here, but I clearly remember I had nothing with me but what I was wearing: jeans, leather thongs, and a t-shirt.

“No,” I say, “I was traveling rather light.”

Traveling
. It gives me a creepy feeling—
traveling
, as in driving.

She meanders off, shaking her head, convinced she’ll be able to figure out where it is that we’ve met. Her parting words are, “Oh my dear, don’t worry. I eventually remember everything. I just know we met near the
end.
I see your face so clearly when I think back on it.”

Now I’m definitely freaking out. She got here because of that train accident. She was pointing out to Pete exactly where she and her husband were sitting. I have a major fear that what happened to me might involve a train. And Miss Lily mentioned something else before she wandered off.

“I can clearly see you driving this—this
vehicle
, Lorelei.” Say, my mother’s Land Rover?

Something cold and creepy climbs up my spine and the crystal clear air that spins around me turns colder than Antarctica. Being here is turning out
not
to be so enjoyable after all. Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be. So we’ll hurry to the staircase that leads above. But then I’d have to give up the Golden Window and the Silver Lining. I’m not ready to do that. But, Miss Lily’s chatter’s is driving me up the wall. And there’s a spot in my brain chanting and calling my name,
“You were there, Lorelei, you were there, you were there . . .”

*       *      *

I jump into the Golden Window and hug my pillow. I feel better already. I look below and quickly get caught up in Bobby’s birthday party.  Rita’s husband is dressed as a clown and making balloon animals for all the kids who are sitting on the ground in a circle around him. None of the twisted shapes look like any animal I’ve ever seen. He tells them they’re dinosaurs never before unearthed. The children clap their hands and each beg to have one. They
are
rather strange and alluring. I can see why they’re caught up in the magic of it. If I were five or six, I would be, too. Bobby’s thrilled to be the center of attention. Rita and Mona’s backyards have no fence or divider between them and the party’s scattered between the two yards. Rita has an above ground swimming pool in hers. It’s really ugly. There’s a white plastic ladder next to the blue rubber sides that’s holding about four feet of the water. Rita’s in the pool. Mona’s encouraging Andy to make his way up the steps.

“Mama will catch you!” Rita calls out.

Andy’s wearing Super Man trunks and vinyl water wings on each of his arms. He starts up the steps as fast as his fat little legs with carry him.

“Careful, Andy,” Mona says, “Not so fast.”

He ignores her and scampers up to the top and immediately throws himself over the edge.

“Goodness,” Rita says. She turns to Mona. “No fear of the water, here.”

I’m thinking children should have a healthy fear of the water and hope they keep their eyes glued to him. And there are a ton of other children scattered all about. Some have put their swimsuits on, too, and are getting in the water. Rita’s husband, the clown, reappears as himself. He gets in the pool and watches the children paddle about. Good, four eyes are better than two. Rita’s pre-occupied with Andy. He splashes in the water, delighted when he gets a mouthful. Isn’t that when small children cry? Andy’s an unusual kid. He dumps his head under the water and blows bubbles out his mouth when he brings his head back to the surface. He’s the type you have to watch in the bathtub every single second.

After the kids are dried off they gather around in a circle and the games begin. There’s a donkey piñata to take pot shots at, which despite the children’s best efforts remains intact. Rita gives the final blow. Everything that’s inside bursts out of the donkey’s belly. The kids all scramble to get hold of a package. They’re every color of the rainbow. They open their treasures while Bobby opens his gifts. Cake and ice cream is next, followed by the last activity of the day: giant bubble wands. Cool! There are flower wands, fish wands, turtle wands, and heart wands. They make bubbles larger than dog houses with a single flick of the wrist. The flower wands make large clusters of bubbles like giant daisies bigger than boats; the fish wands make these long tubular bubbles and the turtle wands make clusters of small bubbles. The heart wands make the biggest bubbles of all, but they take a bit more skill. Rita’s husband takes hold of one of the heart wands. The children are excited. So am I!  We had bubbles when I was a child, too, but they came in a small bottle with a blow-ring the size of quarter. These are dinosaur bubbles, which is appropriate since Bobby’s party theme centers around T. Rex, and brontosaurus’s, and stegosaurus’s, and tyrannosaurus’s in all sizes. The children are sent home, tired and sticky. Bobby, Bradley and Allison are tucked into their beds. All’s well and I’m relieved. I was a bit worried with the swimming pool loaded with too many children for three adults to keep their eyes on.