Little Mercies Page 9

  “Yes, please,” I say as Adam scrubs a hand over his face as if trying to rub away the visions of Avery hooked up to an IV, an oxygen mask covering her heart-shaped face.

  Dr. Nickerson leads us to a small room labeled Family Consultation. “Take your time. It will take a few minutes to move Avery to the sixth floor. We’ve already contacted your general practitioner and he’ll stop by on his rounds, as well.” She shakes both our hands and says her goodbyes, leaving Adam and me alone.

  “Adam,” I begin.

  “What happened, Ellen?” he asks, not angrily, not accusatorily, but in disbelief.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know,” I say in a rush. “I didn’t know she was in the van. Did you put her in there?”

  Adam looks taken aback. “Yes, I put her in the van. I told you, don’t you remember? You were upstairs getting your bag. You yelled, ‘Okay.’”

  I shake my head. “I don’t, Adam. I swear to God I don’t remember.” My voice is shaking and I swallow hard.

  “I had early baseball practice because of the heat. Leah and Lucas were going with me to help. You were going to take Avery to Linda’s. I told you.” I’m still shaking my head back and forth as Adam’s voice rises. “I called to you before you got in the van. I said ‘Avery’s all set.’”

  “No.” I cover my face with my hands, trying to remember. “No, I didn’t hear you. It was such a crazy morning.”

  “Ellen, you gave me a thumbs-up!” Adam voice echoes through the tiny room. “A thumbs-up means you heard me!”

  I feel as if I’ve been punched. I stumble backward, bumping into the wall. Adam’s face is twisted in grief, not anger, which is worse. “I’m so sorry, Adam. I’m so sorry,” I whisper, taking a tentative step toward him. There is a light knock on the door and I stop short. Through the narrow window of the consultation room, a sturdy, white-haired figure stands. My mother. I fling open the door and fall into her arms. She clutches on to me like I had hoped my husband would have. She strokes my hair and rubs my back, whispering, “It’s going to be okay,” over and over again into my ear. She releases me and envelopes my husband, who is twelve inches taller than she is but still he collapses into her capable arms. I watch as my husband dissolves into helpless tears and my mother comforts him.

  It’s then when I see the little girl standing nearby, her long hair falling messily into her face. At first I think she is lost and I scan the hallway for an adult she might belong to. Her face is strikingly familiar to me. A former client, maybe. My mind scrolls through the endless list of children that I’ve worked with over the years. Then I think she is just a nosey, curious girl gawking at our display of human heartache, and I move to shut the door, but my mother, still clutching one of Adam’s hands, puts her other hand on the door. Tears glisten in my mother’s eyes and the tip of her nose is bright red. “This is Jenny.” I wait for further introduction, but none comes. “Jenny,” she continues, “this is my daughter, Ellen, and her husband, Adam.”

  “Hi,” we all offer awkwardly, and I look at my mother questioningly. She responds with an I will tell you later raise of the eyebrow.

  “How is she?” my mother asks, pulling a tissue from the box that sits on a small table in the corner of the room.

  “We don’t know.” My voice breaks. “They’re moving her up to the pediatric intensive care unit. We need to go and meet her up there.” I reach for Adam’s hand and am relieved when he doesn’t pull away. Together, we make our way to the elevator and the little girl named Jenny looks up at us. “Sixth floor,” I tell her, and she dutifully pushes the button.

  “Whoop,” she says, and giggles as the elevator rises quickly, causing my own stomach to flip. I figure that my mother is taking care of a granddaughter of one of her friends or the daughter of one of her co-workers at the restaurant, but it still puzzles me.

  “Where are Lucas and Leah?” I ask Adam as the doors open to the sixth floor.

  “They’re over at the Arwoods’.”

  I nod. This is good, the kids spending the afternoon at the Arwoods’ home, our neighbors who have two children just the same age as Leah and Lucas.

  “You got my message?” I ask my mother and I find myself carefully watching Jenny, who seems transfixed by the artwork that lines the pediatric hallway: bright watercolors of elephants and lions, whimsical prints from the story of Peter Pan, and handcrafted kites with delicate tails affixed to the walls. Again, I feel as if I know this little girl. Did she go to school with Leah? Did I visit her home? Place her in foster care at one point?

  My mother shakes her head. “No, I saw the television.”

  “The television?” I ask in surprise.

  “I saw the reporter and the camera when I came into the emergency room,” Adam confirms.

  “And I saw you on TV going into the emergency room,” my mother says to Adam. “The reporter was talking about a little girl left in a car—” she glances carefully in my direction “—and then I saw Adam rushing into the hospital. I knew something was terribly wrong and came right here.”

  “Oh, my God.” My knees feel weak and my stomach sick. “Why were they talking about it on the news? It was an accident.” But I know why this has caught the attention of the media and the dizzying sensation that things are unraveling, that all control is being lost, presses upon me.

  “Never mind that now,” my mother soothes. “You just need to worry about Avery. Everything will get sorted out soon enough.”

  The corridor is bustling with foot traffic. Doctors, nurses and other hospital personnel walk purposefully, hands wrapped around paper cups filled with coffee. Families move more slowly, pushing wheelchairs or gingerly guiding a loved one connected to an IV pole through the hallways. Jenny halts in the middle of the walkway, her eyes pinned to a small boy slowly pedaling a Hot Wheels tricycle. His head is smooth and hairless, the tender skin beneath his eyes bruised-looking, his face a pale full moon covered by a yellow mask. He is tethered to an IV that drips an innocuous-looking clear liquid into his veins and is rolled along by his mother, who follows close behind. At first I think it is the little boy with whom Jenny is fascinated, but it’s the mother she can’t pull her gaze from. She is mesmerized. With rapt attention she scans the woman up and down as if memorizing her tightly drawn, exhausted face, the hunch of her shoulders, each leaden step. I see it, too. The way the mother looks at her ill son. It hurts to watch. But there is something in Jenny’s own face, and in the children I work with, that I’ve seen before too many times to count. A longing, a deep-seated need. I wish I had something to offer Jenny, some words, a hug, a pat on the shoulder. But I’ve got nothing. All I can think about is Avery.

  Chapter 14

  Jenny looked carefully over at Maudene as they made their way through the hospital parking lot toward the car. Maudene’s steps were slow as if she were hesitant to leave. The day had grown hotter somehow and Jenny felt the rubber bottoms of her flip-flops soften as heat rose from the asphalt. Jenny knew that Maudene wanted to stay with her daughter, but they wouldn’t let Jenny anywhere near the pediatric intensive care unit and Ellen wanted Maudene to go and get her other children. “I could sit in the waiting room,” Jenny offered once again. Jenny was good at waiting patiently. She waited whenever they visited one of his father’s friend-girls, whenever the truck broke down and whenever she had to wait for her father to come home after a night out with his friends. Jenny was the queen of waiting.

  “That’s okay, Jenny,” Maudene assured her, unlocking the car door though her gaze returned to the hospital. “Besides, I can help by going and getting Lucas and Leah.”

  “I really don’t mind,” Jenny said sunnily. “I won’t bug anyone. You could even just drop me off at your house if you want to come back. I won’t steal anything.”

  Maudene gave a little chuckle and Jenny wasn’t sure why but was glad for it. “I
’m not worried a bit about that.” They both slid into the car, the temperature of the vinyl seats causing them both to fidget uncomfortably. Jenny moved to roll down her window and Maudene put up a hand to stop her. “Wait just a minute,” she ordered, and Jenny’s finger froze on the button. The air in the small car was sodden and heavy. Immediately a thin layer of perspiration appeared above Maudene’s lip.

  Jenny watched Maudene out of the corner of her eye as the older woman propped her hands firmly on the steering wheel and closed her eyes. Jenny liked to watch people when they didn’t know she was looking. She gathered faces like people gathered pretty stones or shells on the beach. Maudene had an interesting face, Jenny decided. Not beautiful, but maybe it was at one time. The skin beneath her chin sagged, and deep wrinkles had settled into the corners of her eyes and around her lips. She had a narrow, straight nose with faint freckles scattered across the bridge. Jenny had always wanted freckles, but to her dismay her skin was, in her opinion, colorless and boring like a cheap piece of manila drawing paper they had to use in art class. Maudene’s cloud-white hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and Jenny peered more closely to see if she could get a hint as to what color it used to be. The heat within the confines of the car was becoming stifling and Jenny felt the tickle of droplets of sweat skimming down her back. Maudene remained still, eyes closed, chin tucked into her chest.

  Jenny wondered if she could be sleeping but didn’t know how that could be possible in the rain forest that was overtaking the yellow VW. Jenny felt suddenly, overwhelmingly thirsty. Her tongue felt heavy and dry, her stomach vaguely sick. Slightly panicked, Jenny had reached over to shake Maudene out of whatever trance she was in when Maudene’s eyes opened. With a quick swipe of her fingers Maudene swept away the moisture on her cheeks that Jenny, uncomfortably, realized were probably tears.

  “My daughter is a good mother,” Maudene said, eyes fixed on the windshield, and with an angry flick of her wrist she started the car and Jenny took this as permission to roll down her window. Even the hot air outside the windows was a welcome relief from the stagnant sauna of the car and Jenny gulped great breaths of air.

  “I can sit in the waiting room,” Jenny said again. “I don’t mind.”

  Maudene reached over and patted Jenny’s hand and smiled sadly. “No, no. We are going to go to the grocery store and pick up a few things. I’ve got company coming.” At Jenny’s confused look, she continued. “My grandchildren. They are going to stay with me for a few days so Ellen and Adam can be with Avery at the hospital as much as possible.”

  “Boys or girls?” Jenny asked.

  “One of each,” Maudene answered as she pulled out of the hospital parking lot. Jenny liked Maudene just fine, but the thought of meeting her grandchildren made her stomach bubble nervously.

  “You know, I haven’t forgotten about you and your...situation,” Maudene added after a slight hesitation. Jenny busied herself by looking at her fingernails. She had always wanted long, pretty nails, but hers were short and stubby and ragged from constant gnawing. “If I’m going to help you, you’re going to have to give me some more information.” Jenny fiddled with the radio, trying to find a station that played something besides talking. “It’s just that there is so much happening,” Maudene continued, “with my granddaughter. Later, after we go and get Leah and Lucas, we have to talk. Decide what to do next. That social worker I told you about—” Maudene looked over as Jenny leaned her head slightly out the passenger-side window hoping for a slightly cooler slice of air. “It’s my daughter.” Jenny closed her eyes trying to calm her stomach, which was starting to feel wobbly again. “Jenny,” Maudene said more firmly. “Look at me.” Jenny swung her eyes toward the older woman in tired resignation and prepared herself for the word that she was soon to be dropped off at the police station or in front of the Department of Human Services. “It’s going to be okay,” Maudene said with finality. “I promise.”

  They drove in silence through the streets of Cedar City. Jenny’s initial appraisal of the town as being somewhat dumpy was quickly changing. They wound through neighborhoods where the trees along the streets yawned over them in a great green canopy and where houses stood solid and upright. Nothing like the sagging structures in her neighborhood back home.

  They pulled into the parking lot of a large, newly constructed grocery store.

  “Hey, we have one of these,” Jenny exclaimed. “It’s just not so big.”

  Together the two wound their way across the gleaming floors and aisles brimming with food, and when they were through, Jenny helpfully set the groceries on the conveyor belt. She loved to hear the rhythmic beep of each item being passed over the scanner. Mine, each beep seemed to say and her stomach began to grumble.

  Jenny and Maudene loaded the groceries into the narrow, shallow storage space in the hood of the VW. “Can I have these?” Jenny asked, holding up the Bugles. “I can pay you for them,” she added.

  “Help yourself,” Maudene waved her hand dismissively. “I think it’s gotten even hotter, if that’s possible.” She squinted up at the sun, which seemed too far away, too pale, to be emitting such heat.

  Jenny tore open the bag of Bugles, sending a rainfall of chips into the air.

  “Whoops.” Jenny automatically bent over to retrieve them and popped one in her mouth. She caught Maudene’s observant eye and let them fall to the concrete.

  “I bet the birds will eat them,” Maudene said, climbing into the car.

  Jenny settled into the passenger seat, arranged five of the cone-shaped Bugles onto each finger of her right hand and waggled them at Maudene. “This is the best way to eat them,” Jenny explained. She plucked each off with her lips, noisily chewed, and then replaced each Bugle. “What are you going to tell them?” Jenny asked, tilting the bag toward Maudene, who shook her head.

  “Tell whom?” Maudene asked as she drove from the parking lot.

  “Tell your grandkids. Who I am?” Jenny asked. “We could say I’m your neighbor’s grandkid or maybe someone from work needed you to babysit me. You could say someone’s mother died and they couldn’t afford two plane tickets and she asked if you could watch me for a little while.” Jenny sat back with a satisfied smile. “That will work.”

  “I’m not going to lie to my grandchildren,” Maudene said firmly. “What I mean is, I don’t think we need to make up a story,” Maudene amended gently after seeing Jenny’s stung expression.

  “Okay,” Jenny said, blushing furiously and sliding down in her seat.

  They continued on in silence, Jenny staring out the window until a green street sign caught her attention. Hickory, it said. She sat up tall in her seat and began counting the number of streets they passed until Maudene signaled a right turn. Seven streets. She was only seven streets away from her grandmother’s street. She wanted out of the car but didn’t know how to get Maudene to stop. Three blocks later they turned into an older but well-tended neighborhood, with small houses, neatly mowed lawns littered with bicycles, baseball gloves and other detritus of childhood. Maudene pulled up to a tidy two-story where a young boy stood at the front door, hands pressed against the glass. When he spied Maudene’s yellow car he disappeared briefly and returned with a woman and three other children. Three blocks back that way and then seven more blocks to Hickory. Jenny had walked to places much farther away than that.

  Maudene put the car into Park and stepped from the car, signaling Jenny to join her. “Nah,” Jenny said, opening the passenger-side door. “I’ll just wait here.”

  Jenny watched as Maudene made her way up the front steps and as a heavily pregnant woman answered the door, followed closely by a boy and a girl just around Jenny’s age. Jenny waited until Maudene stepped into the house and then eased herself from the car, closing the door quietly behind her. First slowly and then more quickly she began walking. Three blocks back that way and then seven more to Hick
ory Street and her grandmother.

  Chapter 15

  After saying goodbye to my mother and Jenny, Adam and I move quickly down the quiet corridor toward the pediatric intensive care unit past the nurses in brightly colored scrubs and doctors in white coats. We check in at the nurses’ desk and we are directed to Avery’s room.

  As much as I want to get to Avery, I’m afraid of what I will find and I let Adam step into the room first. A small cry escapes from his lips and I force myself to look. Avery looks so small lying on her back in the center of the high-railed crib; the strange IV still snakes from her knee, which is taped securely in place to a padded board.

  “What is that?” I ask the nurse who has followed us into the room.

  “It’s called an Intraosseous IV. It’s a device used to puncture an IV line directly into the bone marrow of the child. It’s important to get fluids right into her,” says the young nurse in pale blue scrubs dotted with grinning frogs and dragonflies. “We’ll have to watch her carefully to make sure she doesn’t pull out her IV. I’m Meredith—I’ll be taking care of Avery tonight.”

  “I’m Avery’s mother, Ellen. And this is Adam, Avery’s father.” I nod toward my husband. I can see the fear on his face.

  “Can we touch her?” I ask.

  “Yes, please do.”

  I reach through the crib bar for Avery’s hand. It is cool to the touch. “Can we stay with her tonight? Do we have to leave at a certain time?”

  “One parent is welcome to stay the night in the room. Any siblings?” Meredith asks.