The Forging Page 16

  Awestruck is the only way I can describe how I feel. “John, this isn’t a bed. It’s a work of art. Charlene would have loved it. I wish she could have seen it.”

  “Me, too, my boy,” I could hear the regret in his voice.

  “I’m not sure I like the idea of you and Marlene’s likeness looking down on us while we sleep. I guess I could cover you guys up at night.” It got a bit of a chuckle from John. “John, I’m going to need your help in the years to come. Moiraine is going to need your help in the years to come. I want you to know because your daughter will be passing; it doesn’t mean you won’t be a part of our lives. Our daily lives. I am also going to make you a promise. I will not marry or even date so long as Moiraine is under my roof.”

  “Son, that’s a long time to be without the comfort of a good woman.” I could sense a true feeling of concern from John.

  “Moiraine will have a tough enough time in this world without having to deal with the drama of a step-mother. Perhaps after Mo is up and out, I’ll marry again. I tell you though, Charlene will be a hard act to follow.” I paused for a moment. “John, why didn’t you remarry? I’m sure you had the opportunity.”

  John gave me a little smile, “The same as you.” I’ve never been affectionate with John. A handshake or a pat on the back has always been the extent of our relationship. But I felt an overwhelming need to pull him into a hug. He returned the demonstration in kind. It lasted only a moment.

  John helped me make the bed ready for Charlene. I pulled out Char’s favorite bed linens. They are way too flowery for my taste so, Char uses them sparingly. She only pulls them out a few times a year. She always puts them on the bed on the first day of spring and a couple other times as her mood demands. As John and I worked, I couldn’t help but notice what a striking woman Charlene’s mother was. Her face is familiar. “John, I can see where Charlene gets her beauty. Your wife was very attractive. Char keeps a picture of you in the house, but she has never put any pictures of her mother out.”

  “Well, she passed away when Charlene was only a little older than Moiraine. I didn’t have the heart to keep pictures of Marlene around. It broke my heart every time I saw her picture. It still does.” John sniffed. “Oh, she was a beautiful woman. The carving of mine didn’t do her justice. Here let me show you.” John pulled out his wallet and showed me a picture of Marlene. The photo is old, creased, and tattered. It showed them both mugging for the camera. He was in his army uniform, and she was wearing a nurse’s outfit. He is right, the carving didn’t do her justice.

  A nurse’s outfit? The nurse in Char’s room was the spitting image of John’s wife. I looked at the carving again with new eyes. The bed is in the recurring dream of mine with the psychopath killing me. Killing us. This shit is getting too weird.

  With the bed made, everything is ready for Charlene’s return home. There is nothing left to do but wait. John and I chit-chatted for a time, then I made us lunch. It was nothing fancy. I made grilled cheese sandwiches, and we split a can of tomato soup. Normally it is one of my favorite lunchtime repasts. Today it tasted of ash. My wife is coming home to die.

  Ding-Dong. The doorbell went off. Standing at the door is a middle-aged woman with short brown hair styled to give it height. Her face had a pinched look to it like she had been eating lemons. She wore blue scrubs with a pattern of yellow ducks covering them. “Nathan Embers? Hello, my name is Ms. Barton. I’m the hospice nurse assigned to this patient. I believe they told you to expect me.” She started to come right in. When I didn’t move out of her way instantly, she put her hand on my chest and started to gently push me until her path was clear. “I need to see where the patient will be placed.”

  “My wife, Charlene, will be staying in our bedroom. Follow me.” I lead her to the bedroom, where she started her inspection.

  “Yes, yes this will do handsomely. Lovely bed by the way,” she said as she reached out and caressed the wood. “I assume you plan to sleep elsewhere.” I nodded. “Good. I need you to bring in a chair. Please make it one with some cushions my back, you know. Here is a list of supplies I will need for the patient’s care.” She handed me a short but precise list of supplies. “I also will need a list of allowed visitors for the patient.”

  “Her name is Charlene, not patient.”

  “Mr. Embers, let me explain to you. Make no mistake. I am not here for your comfort. I am here for Charlene’s comfort. With you, I am all business with your wife. I will be a caregiver. I have been with hospice care for fifteen years and counting. I learned a long time ago you need to stay a little distant from the family of a patient. You may request another nurse if you like, but I don’t think you’ll find a better one.”

  “I want it clearly understood she is a person and not a nameless patient.”

  “Of course, she’s a person, Mr. Embers,” her voice had changed. It is now filled with kindness and compassion. “Understand this before your wife passes, she and I will be friends. I will grieve when she passes. But, before all that, I must be business first, so nothing interferes with her care. Can you understand that?” She is looking at me straight in the eyes, waiting for my answer. There is a belief you can look into a person’s soul when you gaze into their eyes. Here is a decent soul, a little gruff maybe, but a decent soul.

  “Yes, I can understand. Can you pardon me for being a little touchy?”

  “Nothing to pardon. Now I need a list of people allowed to visit and everyone who lives here.” I gave her the information she requested. After filling out and signing a plethora of forms, Ms. Barton went to tell the ambulance drivers they could bring in Charlene.

  I went shopping for everything Ms. Barton said she would need and to get out from underfoot while Char is being settled. John stayed behind to mind the fort and continue his role as supervisor.

  When I returned after shopping, the ambulance was gone. I grabbed the bags out of the car and headed inside. I am greeted by the sound of Blossom’s tail thumping and John’s gentle snoring. He is stretched out on the couch. The poor guy was tuckered out from his labor of love.

  I walked into my bedroom and set down the bags. Charlene is in her bed hooked up to a small monitor on the nightstand. Somehow, she looked more at peace. Maybe on some level, she knows she is home. Ms. Barton is sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, quietly knitting a scarf or sweater or whatnot. I asked, “How did she handle the move?”

  “She handled it quite well. Your father-in-law, on the other hand, had a hard time of it.”

  “It has been hard on him. It has been hard on all of us.” After an awkward pause in the conversation, I asked, “Is there anything I can get for you coffee, tea, or a Diet-Pepsi?” She grimaced at the Diet-Pepsi. Obviously, she is a woman with no taste.

  She said, “No, thank you,” and went back to her knitting.

  It is about time for Moiraine to return home from school, so I walked out to the curb and waited for the bus. I wanted her to see me there, waiting for her. It was close. The bus arrived a couple minutes earlier than yesterday.

  “Hi, Daddy. Is mommy home?”

  I held out my hand to my little girl, and she took it. “Yes, Mo, your mommy is home.”

  “Is she going to get better now?”

  I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Together we walked into the house. She dropped her backpack at the front door and went running to her mother. I shook my head and picked up her backpack and put it in her room. I could hear her talking to her mother. She was telling her about her day and how all the other kids are asking about her. My heart ached at hearing the hope in this little girl’s voice.

  John woke up from all the ruckus my little crumb cruncher made. He stretched as he said, “Oh, I’m sorry falling asleep on you guys. It was very rude of me.”

  “No worries, John. It’s just as well you woke up I have something to talk to you about. Can I ask you to do a favor for me?” John nodded. “Can you be here tomorrow when Mo gets home? There is a matter I need to att
end to,” I tried to keep my voice light, but some emotion squeaked out.

  “What’s the matter, son? Is it something I can take care of for you?”

  “Thanks for the offer, John, but this matter needs my personal attention.” Looking at John while I talked is too difficult, so I had to feign disinterest while I walked into the kitchen. “It’s not a big deal, but I have to take care of it tomorrow.” Banging pots and pans in the kitchen like I was starting to get dinner ready, but I am in no mood to cook. My mood is awful; therefore, the food would taste awful. “You know I don’t feel like cooking. I’m going to take Moiraine out for some dinner. Do you want to tag along?”

  “I’d love to Nate, but I’m still weary from my efforts last night. I’m going to head home, make a sandwich, and turn in early.” He stood up and walked to the bedroom where Mo is still talking to her mother. I followed him in. Moiraine is up on the bed next to her mother sitting cross-legged and having a merry old conversation. Nurse Barton had an even more sour look on her face. She obviously didn’t like having Mo up on the bed with Charlene. John leaned down to his daughter, held her hand, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He looked at Mo. “I’ll see you tomorrow too.” He turned around and left the room.

  “Come on, Mo. We’re going out for dinner. Ms. Barton, would you like us to bring you back something?” She answered in the negative. I picked up Mo and headed to the car.

  Moiraine’s mouth is going a mile a minute talking about how great it is to have mommy home, and she should wake up soon. I hate to say it, but I tuned her out a bit. My heart can’t take it.

  With all the distractions of recent events, I have neglected to fill the car with gas. It is running on fumes. I stopped at the local gas station to fill the tank. While I was standing there watching the counter spin up, I noticed an elderly woman trying to put gas in her car and failing miserably at it. She tried and tried to get the nozzle in correctly, but couldn’t manage it. I couldn’t stand to see her helpless anymore. I finished my fill up and walked over to her.

  “Excuse me, madam. Are you in need of a little assistance?”

  “Oh my, heavens, yes. My husband usually takes care of the car, but he can’t leave the house anymore, and this is the first time I’ve needed gas.”

  “No problem. Let me show you how to do this.” I demonstrated all the steps from paying for the gas first to inserting the nozzle into the tank to putting the nozzle back. “Have you checked the oil lately?”

  “No, I haven’t. Is it important?”

  Smiling, I said, “Yes, it is. Let me show you.” First, I showed her how to open the hood. I located the dipstick and showed her how to check the oil. “You might want to take an automotive course at a community college. They have classes to teach people, like you, basic car care.”

  “I will look into it. Tell me, how much do I owe you for your trouble?” She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet.

  “I couldn’t take anything. I really didn’t do anything.”

  “No, I insist,” she pulled out a five-dollar bill and tried to push it into my hand.

  I refused to close my fingers on the bill and took a half step back. “If you feel like you should pay me, take the money and give it to the Red Cross, or Jerry’s kids, or any charity you wish, but my chivalrous nature won’t let me take it.”

  She slowly put the money back in her wallet and closed her purse. “Very well, young man. I want to thank you for being my hero today.”

  “I’m no hero.”

  “You are to me.” The next car in line blared its horn. The woman turned from me to look straight at the driver, stuck out her tongue, then flipped him the bird. I choked on a laugh. She returned to her car and drove away.

  Returning to my own car, I started it up and headed for the restaurant.

  “I saw what you did, Daddy. You helped the old lady. It was nice, but why did you help her?”

  “She needed help, and I had a debt to pay back.”

  “You’re funny, Daddy, but I still love you,” Moiraine went back to entertaining herself for the rest of the drive.

  We returned straight home after dinner. Moiraine, untold, started to get ready for bed. She zipped off to do her nightly chores. Walking into my bedroom, I saw Ms. Barton talking to my wife as she attended to her evening needs. She didn’t notice me standing in the doorway. After listening for a moment, I began to feel like I am eavesdropping on a private conversation. With a little cough, I walked in. Ms. Barton immediately stopped talking to my wife. She finished up what she was doing for Char. She went back to the chair and her knitting.

  “Any changes?” I asked as I looked down at my wife.

  “She had some trouble breathing, so I gave her something to ease it. Other than that, she has been quiet.”

  “Please tell me she is not in any pain.”

  “No. She is resting quite comfortably.”

  “What time does your relief come?”

  “There won’t be a relief nurse. I like to stay with the patients… I’m sorry. I’ll stay with her until the end. It is how I like to work if you don’t mind?”

  “No problem. I think Charlene would like it. When you need privacy to take a shower or whatever, just lock the bedroom door. Oh, to give you a heads up, I will be gone most of the day tomorrow. Charlene’s father will arrive sometime before Mo gets out of school to see to her needs.” I grabbed my toothbrush, razor, and assorted bathroom needs. I also grabbed the clothes I am going to wear tomorrow, so I wouldn’t disturb Ms. Barton in the morning. “Well, I’ll be turning in. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Mr. Embers.”

  “Considering everything, I think you can call me Nathan or Nate if you prefer.”

  “I thank you, Mr. Embers; however, as I said before, our relationship is a business one. I prefer to use last names. I think using first names tends to blur the line between the nurse and the family. In my business, it is hard enough without getting attached to the family as well.”

  “I never considered that. It must be difficult doing what you do.”

  She answered as she continued with her knitting and never looked up. “It has its rewards. Goodnight, Mr. Embers.”

  I guessed the conversation is over, so I turned around and left the room. After readying for bed, I checked on Moiraine’s preparations. She was done getting ready for bed and was quietly coloring in the living room sitting next to Blossom. Blossom’s tail was thumping in her usual rhythmic pattern. Sitting down on the couch and watching Mo do her art is peaceful. The time passed swiftly as we sat there together in the living room, but it is starting to get late. “Mo, it’s time for bed.” She put her coloring away, then went running to give her mom a kiss goodnight. After she was done saying goodnight to her mom, I guided her to her own bed.

  “Okay you, we need to tuck you in.” Moiraine crawled into her bed. “Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck,” I said as I pushed her covers into her sides as she laid there in her bed. I gave her a kiss and started for the door.

  “Daddy, can I have my teddy bear?”

  “Sure, Honey.” I retrieved the bear from the dark day and put it right beside her. I started my retreat again.

  “Daddy, can I have the guys too?”

  “Are you okay, Honey? You haven’t slept with all the guys in a long time.” The guys are all of her sleeping toys. It is an assortment of Buzz Lightyear, Jack Skellington, and assorted Winnie the Pooh characters.

  “I’m fine. I just miss them all. Can I sleep with them?”

  “Of course, you can.” I gather the guys up from their respective places all over her room. I put them all around her on the bed all the while muttering something about coming in with flamethrowers to clear out the mess.

  “What did you say, Daddy? I didn’t hear you.”

  “Nothing, Honey. Go to sleep now.” Slipping out the door, I made my escape. It is still too early for me to go to bed, so I turned on the idiot box. Not wanting to disturb Ms. Bart
on if she is trying to sleep, I turned down the volume. As usual, there is nothing on worth watching. Maybe Char has been right; we should have cable canceled and use the savings for more important things. When I had asked her what things, she smiled and said shoes. I asked her how many shoes a woman needs. She only smiled again and didn’t answer. Do I really want to know the answer to my question? Nope. I value my sanity too much. My eyes grew heavy, and I drifted off to sleep on the couch with the TV on and the remote in my hand.

  Chapter Eleven

  I lifted out of my body. Okay, this is getting old. Everything is as it was when I went to sleep. The weird light which is all around is augmented by the glow of the TV. What tortures does my mind have in store for me this night?

  Moving through the house, I made my rounds. Moiraine is doing well in this dream of mine. Ms. Barton is snoozing in the chair in my wife’s room. Charlene is resting in her bed. A strange glow is around her bed. It is subtle, but there is no denying the radiance of it. It is a soft white glow. The understated light cast no shadows in the room. It is like seeing the light in retreat, but there nonetheless. “Charlene, I want to talk with you.” She didn’t rise. Again, I asked Charlene to get up. Is she stirring? No, wishful thinking. My soul is weary of these half glimpses of my life. Now even in my dreams, I cannot be with the woman I love. Maybe this is the way my subconscious is trying to tell me to give up the last whisper of a hope I still hold in my heart.

  Traveling out of the bedroom, I know not where my feet are taking me. I just walked. It is trash day in the neighborhood. Trashcans and recycling bins lined the street. Note to self put the trashcans out in the morning. Thanks subconscious.

  About a block away from the house, I noticed two men sitting in a dark sedan. My vision must be better in dreams because I could see them clearly. I walked up to the car and looked inside. Even with my face right up to the glass, they didn’t notice me. The back seat is covered with trash, a few to-go bags from various fast-food chains, and innumerable empty coffee cups from the local convenience store. Either these guys have been here quite some time, or my brain is telling me to clean out my car.