The Island of Heavenly Daze (15 page)

After perusing two old
Newsweek
s, a tattered
Good
Housekeeping
, and a complimentary office copy of
The
Children's Bible
, Annie drummed her nails on her chair and waited for Olympia to reappear.

Her aunt's demanding voice had occasionally drifted to the waiting room. When it did, Annie slumped lower in her chair and hoped that none of the nurses had a roll of duct tape handy.

Olympia finally burst back through the doorway with a fistful of papers in her hand and an incredulous look on her pale face.

Annie stiffened in her chair, her heart pounding. Had the routine exam found a problem?

“Aunt Olympia? Are you okay?”

Gritting her teeth, Olympia ground out the words. “I have to have a . . .” She paused, clapping a hand to her heart.

Annie sprang to her feet, tossing the reading material aside. What did Olympia need? An operation? CAT scan, liver transplant, bypass?

“Have a what?”

“A . . . mammogram.”

Taking a deep breath, Annie slid back to her chair. “Good grief, Aunt Olympia. You scared me to death.”

“The man's out of his mind.”

“What man?”

“The doctor!”

“Do you have to have one today?” In Portland it would take weeks to schedule a mammogram except in case of an emergency.

“Ayuh, today,” she answered curtly. She shot a resentful look at the closed door she'd just exited. “The nurse has already called upstairs and made the appointment.”

“Well, don't be mad at me. A mammogram isn't the end of the world.”

The older woman stiffened. “I never said I was mad at you.” Her voice dropped to that condescending tone Annie hated. “That's your problem, Annie. You wear your heart on your sleeve and assume the worst. Did I say I was mad at you? I did not. You assumed I was angry, but you assumed wrong. I'm not.”

Annie wasn't aware that she had a problem. If there was a problem, it was probably that Aunt Olympia kept her head in the sand and Annie lived in the real world.

But she was going to be nice. They were going to bond.

She stood and took her aunt's arm. “Let's go get your mammogram.”

“What does a woman my age need with one of those things?” Olympia stewed. She pulled out of Annie's grip, then threw open the door and disappeared into the corridor before Annie could pick up her purse.

Striding to the elevator, Olympia punched the up button. “I told Caleb I didn't want to do this. Did he listen? No, he didn't—he never does. That's what wrong with folks these days. Everyone always knows what's best for everyone else instead of just minding their own business.”

Annie smiled at the obvious irony. Olympia had never been able to keep from fretting about her neighbor's affairs.

The elevator arrived and Olympia got in, still complaining.

Annie joined her just before the door swooshed shut.

They stood in silence, eyes fixed on the flashing numbered panel, listening to the elevator slowly grind to the second floor.

Keeping her eyes on the lighted numbers, Annie cleared her throat. “Have you ever had one?”

Olympia looked at her as if she'd lost her mind.

“Mammograms save lives, Aunt Olympia.”

“I'm sixty-five, Annie.”

Annie held her tongue. When the elevator reached the third floor she trailed Olympia into a door marked Radiology.

A smiling clerk handed Olympia a clipboard asking her to fill out the forms.

Olympia threw up her hands. “I've done that.”

The nurse shook her head. “You haven't.”

“I have.”

“Not these forms.”

“I did Doctor Merritt's forms.”

“But those aren't our forms.”

Olympia's chin rose. “You got special forms?” Her eyes sparked. “That's what's wrong with the world today, everybody's got too many forms.”

Annie snatched the clipboard from the nurse. “I'll do it.”

Olympia looked at her. She reached out and yanked the clipboard from Annie. “I am not a doddering fool. I can fill out my own forms.”

Locating an empty chair in the cheerful waiting room, Olympia read the first question and promptly handed the board to Annie. “I have no idea what they're talking about.”

Annie glanced at the simple form and patiently asked each question, allowing Olympia ample time to think about the answer. When even that proved too taxing, the nurse stepped out to negotiate the standoff.

Smiling, she took the clipboard. “How old were you when you had your first menses?”

Olympia thought about that. “Twenty-five.”

Annie shook her head. “No, Aunt Olympia—I believe you're mistaken. That's when Edmund Junior was born.”

She shrugged. “If you say so.”

Annie didn't say so, it was a fact, but she made an educated guess that satisfied the nurse.

The nurse asked the next question. “Have you ever had breast reduction surgery?”

Olympia had to think about that one long and hard. Finally she said, “I can't remember.”

“Aunt Olympia! Surely you would remember something like that.”

Shrugging, she conceded, “Oh all right. No, I haven't. In my day, there was no such thing! You had what you were born with and that was it.”

Annie cleared her throat. “Aunt Olympia—haven't you always been, um, small-busted?”

Olympia harrumphed. “I am delicately endowed.”

The nurse bit her lip, and Annie saw amusement in her eyes.

“So,” the nurse said, writing as she talked, “no breast surgery.”

Olympia rolled her eyes.

Thirty minutes later the form was completed. Annie felt drained, but she took comfort in the fact that she'd have a bit of a break when Olympia went back to the exam room.

Then the nurse suggested Olympia might be more comfortable if Annie accompanied her during the examination.

Annie froze. She couldn't be more uncomfortable if the nurse nailed her foot to the floor, but the panicked look in Olympia's eyes overrode her initial instinct to run.

From the waiting room the two women were led into a tiny cubicle where the nurse handed Olympia an upper body gown with string ties. A born claustrophobic, Annie frantically searched the cubbyhole for a brown bag.

Don't hyperventilate! Breathe, Annie. Breathe!

Olympia stared blankly at the gown.

“Remove your blouse and bra and put it on,” Annie said.

“I don't think so.”

Annie stared. “You had to take off your blouse downstairs, didn't you?”

“Not my undergarments. I do not take off my undergarments for anyone.”

Annie leaned in. “If you ever want to get out of here, you're going to have to take off your brassiere.”

Olympia rolled her eyes.

“Every woman does it. Every woman hates it, but they do it.”

“Have you had one?”

Annie blushed. “Not yet . . . the doctor said I didn't need one. Yet.”

“Then don't be telling me how easy it is, young lady.” Olympia held the gown up to her chest, waiting, and a moment later Annie realized why.

“Oh, good grief. I'll turn my back.”

Standing with her hands and nose pressed to the wall, Annie waited while Olympia fussed with her clothing. Finally she cleared her throat.

Annie turned and gestured toward the hall. Clasping the thin fabric closed with a white-knuckled grip, Olympia trailed Annie into the exam room.

“I don't like this one bit.” Her eyes rounded when she spotted the machine.

Annie quickly excused herself. “If you don't mind, I believe I will wait outside now.”

Flashing her a brief, apologetic smile, the nurse took Olympia's hand and calmed her fears. “Everything will be fine, Mrs. de Cuvier.” She winked at Annie. “Just fine.”

“Have you had one?” Olympia asked.

On that note, Annie excused herself and retired to the waiting room. There was no point in involving herself further. If she had harbored the slightest hope that she might be a comfort to Olympia, that hope died a few minutes ago.

When Olympia emerged later, she was carrying a yellow rose, apparently none the worse for wear.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Annie maneuvered Olympia out the door and down to the street.

Chapter Ten

O
utside, Annie drew a cleansing breath of air. The battle was over; skirmish survived.

She looked at her aunt. “Would you like to do a little shopping before we go home?”

Olympia hadn't said two words since leaving the radiology lab. Annie felt bad the visit hadn't gone smoothly and she wanted to make amends. Why, she couldn't imagine.

On the other hand, why should she still feel such resentment? Ten years had passed, ten long years of avoiding the island and her only family. Olympia had never made Frenchman's Fairest feel like home, never became the mother she'd lost, but she had agreed to take Annie in—something the Trivetts, as nice as they were, had been unable to bring themselves to do. By now Annie should be able to overlook Olympia's faults and be grateful that she hadn't gone to a foster home. She ought to be able to find the good in Olympia, because surely she did have redeeming qualities. There had to be a reason Uncle Edmund married her. If only she'd thought to ask what it was . . .

Was there a single shred of compassion in Olympia? If so, it was hard to discern.

Annie consulted her watch. “What do you think? Should we browse a couple of stores?”

“No.”

Setting her teeth, Annie turned to face her aunt. “You don't want to look at a new dress? I saw a lovely one in the window a few blocks back. Let me buy you a new dress, Aunt Olympia. I want to buy you something.”

“Why should you buy me a dress? I have all the dresses I need. I'll never understand you, Annie. The way you throw money away like a drunken sailor . . .”

They crossed at the corner, pausing for a horse-drawn carriage carrying a couple of gawking tourists.

Annie clenched her fist, wishing she could make her aunt understand. She needed to buy Olympia a dress. Something, anything a daughter might do for a mother. Who knew the last time Olympia had bought one for herself? But Annie couldn't drag her into a store kicking and screaming, could she?

Bond, Annie. Bond.

She was going to find something that caught Olympia's interest. “Okay, forget the dress. Are you hungry?”

“I've already eaten.”

“That was hours ago. Is Hamilton's Family Restaurant still here?”

Olympia shrugged wordlessly, so Annie plunged ahead. “Ayuh, I believe that's it down the block. They used to have the most wonderful hamburgers—are you in the mood for a hamburger and fries?”

“Hamburger?” Olympia brightened.

Pleased that she'd finally hit on something, Annie smiled. “I'll bet it's been years since you had a nice, juicy hamburger.”

“Well, yes it has been a while, since the doctor—well, since Caleb doesn't make them anymore. I think the last time I ate one it soured my stomach.”

“I have plenty of antacids. Are you game?”

Olympia presented her I'll-go-but-I-won't-have-a-good-time-and-you-can't-make-me-face. “If that's what you want, I'll come along.”

The choice was a good one, and the two women ate hungrily. Conversation consisted mostly of mandatory questions and polite requests.

“Could you pass the ketchup?”

“Hand me the salt.”

“More soda, Aunt Olympia?”

“Is this real butter? I believe I'll have some on my bun.”

Olympia was able to eat the Gut Buster and polish off a sizable mound of curly fries. Annie smiled as she watched her aunt eat. She couldn't imagine how a woman Olympia's size could hold so much.

By the time the ferry docked in Heavenly Daze, Annie was exhausted from trying to think of topics that wouldn't send Olympia into lectures on “That's the Trouble with People Today” or “The Way Things Should Be” or the dreaded “In My Day, Young Lady.” She had friends who doted on aunts and grandmothers and sincerely looked forward to their outings together. What was their secret? She felt like she'd been put through a wringer.

Today's excursion had left her emotionally drained and wondering why she even tried. She'd come home for Uncle Edmund, but he didn't even know she had come. She could have spent these three days in Cancun, soaking up the Mexican sun. She could have opted for a sunburn instead of the migraine beginning to pound against her right temple.

She lifted her gaze to the sky. Why couldn't she connect with this woman?

She wasn't a bad person. She didn't kick dogs or take candy from innocent children. She wanted to help people, not hurt them. She wanted to make a better tomato so everyone could enjoy BLTs year round. Exactly what about her did Olympia resent?

As they walked up the hill, the descending sun painted a splendid end to the day. Rays of golds and pinks stretched across the western sky for as far as the eye could see. Annie felt her earlier tension draining.