Amy's Word: "Redolent" Part 3

I woke up disoriented. I felt my heart start to pump wildly as I stared at the ceiling concentrating hard on where I was. My old room, the farmhouse, Dad. It started to come back to me in fragments until I felt my heart rate begin to slow. Ohh. I forgot how cold this place is in the mornings. I pulled the blankets high around my head and pulled my knees into my chest, conserving warmth. You know you just have to get it over with. Young Jillian piped up from somewhere and I rolled my eyes at her. Nooo. I can just lay here until it starts to heat up around noon.
Suite yourself. My inner child seemed to mock me. You still wake up starving?

Right on cue my stomach growled loudly. Gah! Fine! You win. I closed my eyes tight against the impact and flung the covers back in one large motion. The cold hit like a punch to the face. My bare feet hit the wood floor for another shock. Sweet Moses that's cold!

Young Jillian seemed to guide me in a morning ritual I took part in for years. It consisted of: grab your stuff and get to the hot shower as fast as humanly possible. With the same speed that aides me in snatching beads out of toddlers hands just as they put it to their nose, I dug out my toiletries bag, change of clothes, brush and hairdryer and made a beeline for the bathroom. Between the threat of hypothermia, and briefly under the strange impression that I was still racing siblings to the bathroom, I nearly plowed into Sammy coming down the hall.

"Oh! Sammy, hi! I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were here." I shifted from foot to foot, trying to keep warm.

"Please, don't slow down on my account. This house is an icebox in the mornings. Get, go!" She smiled as she waved me on towards the bathroom.

I returned the smile as I sidestepped her small frame, "Bless you."

"I've made you some eggs if that sounds good to you after."she called from the hall.

"Sammy, you are a goddess." and I closed the door behind me.

I stood under the hot water for an eternity, letting the heat and steam work out the tension in my back and shoulders. When I was convinced every inch of me was good and scorched I toweled off and dressed quickly with the promise of food downstairs.

Sammy was busy at the moment organizing what looked like hospital supplies. She was stacking sheets, syringes, and bandages from a closet to presumably take upstairs. At the table she had laid out a plate full of scrambled eggs, sausage, fresh fruit and a pitcher of orange juice. I swear she is just not of this world.
I started to think this may end up being something out of those stories you read in Chicken Soup For The Soul. I'd mention to someone about Dad's amazing nurse Sammy, and people would be like: Dad didn't have a nurse named Sammy. Whoever she was, she made some mean eggs. I sat down and had devoured half my plate by the time she returned to the kitchen to check on me. "Everything taste okay?" she asked nervously.
"Oh my word," I told her swallowing a huge bite, "these are some of the best eggs I've ever eaten."
"Oh, thank you, you're sweet."
"No, I'm a chef. And I'm serious, these are really good. You cook, you nurse. Tell me, do you rescue stray kittens in your spare time or what?"

"Oh, I just do as my mama taught me is all." she brushed off the compliment with her Southern charm and started clearing away the dishes.

I drank my juice and started to gather my thoughts before I headed upstairs to Dad.

"You and your sister look alike." Sammy said casually as she wiped down the counters.

"You've met Gracie? Well, I guess that is stupid, of course you have. She's come by often?"

"Oh yes. She comes by whenever she can because she lives close. Your brother, Christopher? He's come a few times over the last few months, but last time he came I think him and your Dad had an argument. About you actually." She added at the end.

"Me?"

"I just caught the tail end of it, but it seemed your brother was angry that your father hadn't made things right with you. Your dad was saying something about leading horses to water or some such thing and the whole thing ended with Christopher saying he'd be back when you were."
I was dumbfounded. There were some years where I felt like I had raised Chris and Gracie, but our relationships had taken a toll over the last few years. Divided feelings had felt like divided loyalties. Which was so bizarre when she really thought of it. They all loved mom and they all loved dad. They all loved each other. But family dynamics and the accompanying emotions are never straight forward. Kind of like casserole. It's good, it works, but really, kind of just a huge mess of stuff all mushed together. You can't touch on one thing without touching another.

"Thank you for breakfast Sammy," I said getting up and taking my glass to the sink. "it really was great."
"I hope I didn't upset you Mrs. Logan, nothing too exciting goes on here most days and I was just shooting off at the mouth I suppose---"

"It's Jillian, and you by no means upset me. I'm glad you mentioned it to me. This whole thing has just been an emotional roller coaster and I'm processing it minute by minute."

"Do you mind if I say one more thing?" Sammy asked as she picked up the supplies she had gathered earlier.

"Not at all." I said, not fully convinced I didn't.

"I love Mr. Reynolds and I come and take care of him best I can day in and day out. And I'll keep doing that right until the end. Because there will be an end. Your father has stage four pancreatic cancer and he is dying. I don't know everything that has happened to be sure. I know he can be a stubborn mule, but he loves you something desperate. That I do know for sure. And beyond that, is there really anything else that matters?" She squeezed my elbow, and looked up at me, her eyes pleading.

"Thank you Sammy." I managed to whisper before turning towards the stairs.

I tiptoed towards Dad's room assuming he was sleeping and found that to be true. He was propped up in bed, eyes closed, breathing even, with his journal on his lap. I tiptoed over to his bed and pulled his blanket more securely around him. Not sure what to do with myself, I walked around absently to the pieces of medical equipment, trying to determine what each thing did. I found myself quietly walking the room, touching picture frames and examining things that were so familiar but from a different life.
On his nightstand was a framed picture of Mom and all three of us kids. It wasn't a posed picture. Just one of Mom brushing our old horse Macy and the three of us at her feet; helping or hindering I couldn't tell. By the looks of it I was 10, Chris 7, Gracie 4. It was a surprisingly sweet picture. We weren't doing anything of significance but somehow it seemed to capture our natures perfectly. Mom hard at work, me holding the other brush, helping her. Chris looking a combination of bored and mischievous. Gracie picking flowers.
I held the frame to my chest and walked over to the window. This room looked out onto the front lawn, the gravel road that ran in front and the large expanse of field and wood in the distance.
I leaned my head on the cool glass and let my eyes blur. I looked out at the quiet peaceful scene and almost reluctantly let myself be drawn back to a different time. This time the front of the house was abuzz with activity. Mom was in a wheelchair outside of a white van and Dad was helping a male nurse lift her inside. Our neighbor Maude Helper who had come earlier with groceries and a few precooked meals was now holding Gracie's hand and trying to quiet her sobbing. With a whoosh and slam of the screen door I burst out of the house, and down the porch stairs. "This is insane! You are insane! She is our mother, how can you think this is right?!"
Dad finished helping the nurse and then turned back to me, arms held out in a gesture of peace. "Jilly, I just cannot go another round with you on this. Not today. Please, I beg of you, not today."
"Oh, sure, let me just wait for a better time. One that's more convenient for you. You are unbelievable!"
Craig came out just then and pulled me back gently by the shoulders, "Jillian, let's not. This is hard on everyone. Let's go inside okay? I think we could all do with some rest before we rehash things."
"No! No I don't believe this is hard on everyone! He's just giving up, turning her over to strangers! Please Dad. I'm begging you, she is your wife, do you not love her anymore?"

Something broke in Dad in that moment. I didn't really recognize it then, I was so blind with rage. But years of replaying that scene, I could see it in my memory clear as day. He walked over to me in two long strides, took me by the shoulders and shook me once, hard. "Do not ever say that to me again, do you understand?" He said the words forcefully and without blinking. "This is my house and my wife and my impossible choice. You are ripping my heart in half Jillian, do you not see that? I will not do this now! Understand that or go!"
His outburst shook me a bit but I quickly recovered and gathered my pride and my pain around me like invisible armor. Eye to eye I met his gaze. "I guess I'll go, because I will never understand."

I had gripped the small picture frame so hard recalling the memory my fingers had started to ache. Tears had welled up in my eyes unwillingly and were now rolling down my cheeks, making small splashes on the windowsill. I had been twenty two then, but had felt much older.

"Jillybean, how long have you been waiting?" My dad's voice a bit hoarse with sleep called out from the bed. I straightened up, wiped the tears hastily from my cheeks and smiled before I turned around to face him. "Hey Dad, not long, how do you feel?"
"Good. Rested." he said, watching me.
I walked over to the chair by his bed, sat down and tucked my feet under me. He handed me the journal and I took it. "So many times I've looked out that window and have seen that day again and again." He said quietly, still watching me. I was surprised and yet not surprised that he knew instantly what I had been seeing, staring out that window.
I met his gaze, trying to read his thoughts. He broke away and gazed out the window with a far away look in his eye. "That day seemed to be a point of no return. Hearts were broken in that moment, yours and mine. From that day on we just never seemed to be able to make sense of the pieces enough to put them back together again."
I looked down trying to fight the emotions that were rising to the surface. Sadness was at the top, but anger was still underneath.
The spell was suddenly broken and he turned to face me with an attempt at a smile. "I marked each of the entries I'd like you to read. I'll let you know if we need to take a break."
I sighed deeply as I opened up to the first marker. "Dad, I-"
"Please Jill." It wasn't a command, it wasn't a question.
Very well. I thought to myself and began to read out loud.

"August 23rd 1960....