they were nipping at her heart. “I was wrong, trying to talk her out of going,” she admitted, more to herself than to Hettie. “But thank heavens she knew her own mind and didn’t listen to me. Following Michael to Alaska was the right choice for her.”
If she repeated it often enough, maybe it would stick.
“Doesn’t anybody want to stay at home anymore?” Hettie grunted as she started to work on the box lid again. Julia watched the struggle but knew better than to offer help. If Hettie needed it, which she seldom did, she’d ask. “My son, the prick, in Hawaii. My granddaughter up in the Alaskan wilderness. You traipsing off to Italy.” She shook her head and drowned her disgust in a caramel cream.
“That’s still two months away, and I’ll only be gone three weeks. Then I’ll be back home to stay.” They’d been over this all before, but this was the first time Hettie had acted the least bit upset about the Italy trip. Her mother-in-law was out of sorts about something.
She wagged her finger in Julia’s direction. “Just be sure to stock me up on chocolates before you go.”
“I will even splurge on the large box of truffles if that’s what it takes to keep you happy while I’m—”
“Good afternoon. Mrs. Berkwith, is it?”
A man Julia had never seen before strolled into the room like he owned the place. Hand extended, he stepped closer to her mother-in-law’s bed as Julia brought the recliner to the upright position, quickly taking note of the salt-and-pepper hair framing dark eyebrows and eyes that looked like drops from the Caribbean had found their way to Kentucky. She did a quick check of his hand. No ring.
“I’m Joe Proctor, the new administrator.” His voice was like a toasted marshmallow—warm crust surrounding a tender center—and Julia’s mouth watered at the sound. “I’m making my way around, trying to meet everyone this afternoon.” His eyes bounced from Hettie to her, then back to Hettie without so much as a pause.
Invisibility at work. She sighed mentally and again eased the recliner back.
“Nice to meet you, Joe.” Hettie gestured toward Julia. “This is Julia, my daughter by marriage.”
“Glad to meet you.” He glanced and nodded cordially, but immediately shifted his eyes back to Hettie. “Mrs. Berkwith, if there’s ever anything I can do—”
“She was married to my son, who’s a prick.” Hettie continued her introduction. “But they’re divorced now.”
Joe Proctor’s eyes widened ever so slightly at what must have been surprising language coming from one of the residents, but he recouped quickly and smiled. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But if there’s ever anything—”
“She got new nipples yesterday. So, are you married, Joe?”
Maybe invisibility wasn’t as bad as she originally thought, Julia decided as she looked around for a hole to slither into. With any luck this guy would totally forget what she looked like three minutes after he left this room. Which happened quickly.
A shake of his head and a rapid “Congratulations” shot in Julia’s direction, then Joe Proctor beat it out of Hettie’s room as fast as his long legs could carry him.
Julia lolled her head against the corduroy back of the chair and groaned. “Hettie, why would you say that?”
“Because I can get by with it.” Hettie set the box of chocolates off her lap. “Life’s too short to mince words.”
An odd, gravelly texture to the ancient voice made Julia sit up again. “What’s up with you today?” She pushed out of the recliner, mindful of her stitches, and cleared a spot to sit on the side of the bed.
Hettie’s tone flattened like a deflated balloon. “Thelma from across the hall passed away during the night.”
“Oh, Hettie.” Julia’s throat tightened around the words. “I’m so sorry. I know how fond you were of her. You were good company for each other.” She laid her hand on top of Hettie’s cold one in a futile attempt to transfer some life and emotion into a soul being weathered away by loss.
But her mother-in-law’s eyes were clear, and no tears clouded either them or her voice when she spoke. “Yeah, well, life goes on. People pass in and out and through our lives. It’s the ones who stay and visit who leave their mark.” She squeezed Julia’s hand with a strength that belied her age.
Julia wished with all her heart she could get Hettie out of this place and take her home to live. But her own home—the one she and Frank had shared—had too many levels and no full bath downstairs. And Hettie’s house was built before handicap accessibility was even a term. Not a single door was wide enough for a wheelchair to pass through. Realizing that going home was never going to be an option, Hettie had sold all of the big pieces of furniture. The old, stately home with the shady corner lot now sat shuttered and empty.
Julia rarely drove by anymore. The good memories were too overshadowed by the sad.
“Tell you what.” Julia patted Hettie’s hand, trying to conjure enough enthusiasm to raise both their spirits. “It’s a gorgeous day, and the peonies have started to bloom. Whatcha say we go for a walk?”
Hettie’s eyes flashed with appreciation, and she started kicking the covers off using her good leg. “I can’t go strutting my stuff in my gowntail. We’ll have half the men here chasing after me.” She eased her right leg off the edge of the bed and reached over to grab under the knee of her left one.
“Be careful.” Julia took a small step back to give her room but stayed close enough to help.
“Quit hovering,” Hettie snapped, and pointed toward the closet. “Grab my turquoise housedress, will you?”
Julia found the duster that buttoned up the front while her mother-in-law struggled to a sitting position on the side of the bed, panting from the exertion. She didn’t protest when Julia took over the job of getting her out of her nightclothes and fully dressed. They’d moved her from the bed to the wheelchair and back often enough to know what worked and what didn’t.
“Got this down to a science, don’t we?” Hettie gave a loud grunt as she settled into the seat.
Julia lifted her foot and set it on the footrest. “That we do.” She shot her a grin as she unlatched the brake. “Ready?”
“More than you’ll ever know.”
The trip to the front door took a while since everybody they passed wanted to stop and talk. They all knew Julia, treating her as something special because she chose to take care of her mother-in-law when Frank bailed. But, like with the cancer, Julia assured them she deserved no medals when the subject came up, which it rarely did these days.
She loved Hettie as much as she loved her own mother. When her parents were killed while she was in college, her soon-to-be mother-in-law became mom to her in every way except name.
Jim Overby was parked in his usual spot in front of the TV in the lobby. When he saw them coming, he used his good leg to propel his wheelchair toward the front door to intercept them.
“Morning, Hettie. Hi, Julia.”
“Good morning, Jim.”
Jim always spoke to her and Julia always answered, but he seldom looked her way, and when he did, it was merely a quick glance. It was fine to be invisible to Jim. When Hettie was around, the whole world was invisible to Jim. The old man had eyes only for her mother-in-law, and it had been that way since the day Hettie moved in.
“My daughter sent me a new Celtic Woman CD. I’m going to listen to it this afternoon if you’d like to stop by.” The hope in his voice was unmistakable.
Hettie gave a one-shoulder shrug. “We’re going for a walk, but I will if I’m not too tired.”
Jim nodded. “Okay.”
To