Letters For Emily Page 5

  “Come with me, Laura, and sit in my office. He’ll be just fine. Honestly, we see this all the time.”

  After a few minutes, Harry’s struggle subsided. The men holding him let go as he relaxed into a trance.

  Bob walked over to his father’s side. “Are you okay?” he asked. Harry refused to answer.

  Dr. Crosby waved Bob into her office while one of the aides continued to sit by Harry’s side. She motioned for Bob and Laura to sit, closed the door, and took a seat beside them. “If it’s any consolation, you’ve been through the worst part. I know it’s hard to believe, but he will thank you later. Many of our patients reacted in similar ways. If you ask them now, they just laugh about it.”

  “We were only trying to help him,” Laura answered through her tears. “We didn’t mean to upset him.”

  “It’s one of the hardest things a child will have to do. You feel guilty, you feel like you’re betraying your parents, like you’re turning your back on them, passing off your responsibility to take care of them. I don’t have all the answers for you. Every situation is different. But in most cases, it’s the best thing for them. No matter how much you love them, there comes a point when everyone needs help. We children often have good intentions, but the reality is that we can’t offer the elderly the care they sometimes need.”

  Laura seemed relieved at the words. Bob spoke next. “So, what papers do we need to fill out?”

  “Everything needed for admitting Harry is in your packet. We do all intakes on Thursdays. I’m sorry, but we can’t do any more until next Thursday. We could schedule him then, if that’s what you want to do.”

  “That will be just fine. We’ll have him ready.”

  When they arrived back at the house, Cara was parked out front and she was frantic. When she noticed Harry in the car with Bob and Laura, she sighed deeply.

  “Am I glad to see you! I thought he’d run off. I’ve been drivin’ around lookin’ for him. I was just about to call and tell you he was missin’.”

  Laura touched her shoulder. “We’re so sorry. We completely forgot to leave a note. You weren’t here when we arrived, so it just slipped our minds.” Harry sat in the car, still distant and aloof.

  “No problem, I’m just glad to see he’s not runnin’ naked in the street somewhere.”

  Bob opened Harry’s door and helped him out.

  Cara nodded at Bob, as he looked in her direction. “Mr. Whitney, how are you?”

  “Just fine, Cara, thanks. I’ll help Harry into the house.” While he walked the old man up the steps, Laura explained to Cara in detail what had just occurred.

  “So, a week from Thursday should be it.”

  Cara seemed somber.

  “Are you all right?” Laura asked.

  “I’ve got tons of people callin’, so I can fill in the time just fine, but as crazy as it sounds, I’ll miss the old coot.”

  “Cara, you’ve been the absolute greatest,” Laura added, giving her a hug.

  “I’m gonna miss Fridays the most, though,” Cara replied; then turning to Laura she questioned, “You gonna be okay?”

  “I think so, as long as I can still call and cry on your shoulder if I need to?”

  “Anytime, darlin’, anytime.”

  In the car on the way home from Harry’s, Bob was unusually quiet. The silence felt comfortable, so Laura waited for him to speak.

  “I’m just glad we don’t have to do that every day.”

  “Remember what Dr. Crosby said. He’ll thank us, eventually.”

  “Thank us? He wanted to punch me, Laura. He said he wanted to kill me.”

  “Bob, you know he didn’t know what he was saying. He was angry at everyone.”

  “Did you see the hatred in his eyes?”

  “Bob, he hasn’t always been that way. Don’t you remember how he used to be?”

  “I do remember, and honestly, sometimes I feel cheated.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I never had a dad I could talk to or go places with. He was never there for me. Now, when I try to help him, he says he wants to kill me. Damn him, why couldn’t he have just been a decent father?”

  Laura didn’t know how to answer. She sat silent, letting him continue.

  “I just don’t want to turn out like him. It’s like I’m angry but I pity him, all at the same time. How can that be?” He wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand, touch someone, but he couldn’t, not with the way things were between them.

  “Let’s get him checked in, then give him a few days in the gold room. He’ll be a new person. You’ll see. It will be okay, Bob.” Instinctively she reached over and clasped his fingers. She had not seen him this emotional in years—perhaps there was hope after all.

  Laura was more optimistic than she had been in a long while; the incident at the nursing home had been terrible, but inmany ways she wondered if it was a blessing. When her attorney called her at work three days later, she was shocked. “Laura, this is Mitch Olsen. I just got a call from James Bagley, your husband’s attorney. They’re wondering if we can meet three weeks from next Friday to talk about the details of a final settlement. How will that work for you?”

  She was confused. There must be some kind of mistake. When Bob had said good-bye just three days ago, they had held hands.

  “There’s a misunderstanding, Mitch. Bob was just here and—” She didn’t want to go into the details but was sure this meeting must have been planned before last weekend.

  “Jim said he’d just gotten off the phone with Bob.”

  “Let me get back to you,” she mumbled.

  She dialed Bob’s home number first. When his machine picked up, she hung up and dialed his cell phone.

  “Hello, this is Bob.”

  “What about last weekend? Didn’t it mean anything? Didn’t you feel anything at all?”

  “Laura? Whoa, that didn’t take you long.”

  “Who are you? Don’t you feel anything anymore?”

  “I just think it would be better if we each moved on, Laura. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s over.”

  “Appreciate it? You appreciate it?” Laura was raising her voice.“Are you serious? Harry was right, you really are a good for nothing son.” With that, she slammed down the phone.

  Several of the agents in the office stared, others pretended nothing had happened. Grant Midgley was the only one who headed toward her desk to see if he could help. But before he could make it across the room, she snatched her purse and bolted out the front door.

  HE WATCHED HER FROM AFAR BEFORE APPROACHING. IT was hard to tell, but she seemed to be waiting for him.

  “Hi, Cynthia.”

  “Hey, Bob. You just starting or ending?”

  “If I’m ending, I didn’t run hard enough.”

  She laughed as he pointed to his dry shirt.

  “You want to run together?” she asked.

  “That’d be great.”

  She was wearing blue shorts today with a T-shirt and sports bra.“How’s the pharmaceutical business these days?” she asked, making small talk.

  “Terrific. Especially if you could get Brightman to prescribe more of our products.”

  “Always a salesman,” she added. He took it as a compliment. “So how long have you lived in San Diego?” she questioned.

  “About three or four months now, and I love it.”

  “I grew up in Santa Monica. It’s hard to move away from the beach, if you’re used to it.” He was running at his usual pace and she seemed to keep up just fine. “What brought you to California?” she asked.

  “My job, of course. This is a great territory. When the company offered me this region, I jumped at the chance.”

  “You were a drug rep before?”

  “Yeah.”

  She was hoping he’d bring it up, but when he didn’t, she asked directly.

  “Married or single?”

  “Well—yes.” His reply caused her to laugh.


  “That sounds like something a guy would say.”

  “I’m still married, but we’re getting a divorce. It’s not final yet . . .” They were the words she wanted to hear.

  She continued before he had a chance to finish. “Sorry it didn’t work out. I’ve been through one myself.”

  “I hear it’s been going around,” he added. She smiled. He continued, “How long have you been divorced? If you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Two years now,” she replied.

  “Kids?”

  “I have a little girl, Breann. She’s four. You?”

  “Same here, only she’s six, no, wait, seven, and her name’s Emily.” Nearing the pier he slowed to a stop. He was sweating and pulled off his shirt. She tried not to stare.

  “How you doing? You want to walk back?” he inquired.

  “Not yet, I’m still good.” She took off at a slow run and he followed. He was surprised by her fitness.

  “Have you been working for Mike a long time?”

  “Almost two years.”

  They continued their friendly chat until they arrived back where they’d started.

  “You want to go down to the point now?” he questioned.

  “Thanks, but I think I’m done.”

  “Oh, okay . . .” Bob stumbled over what to say next. It didn’t matter; she took over.

  “It was a pleasure, Bob. Let’s do it again.”

  “Thanks, that’d be great. Tomorrow?” He was trying to be funny but she answered immediately.

  “Great, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned, waved, and jogged up the path toward the street.

  It felt funny, almost like high school again. One thing for sure—he’d better not let Laura find out until after the divorce was final.

  When Cara arrived, Harry was still in bed. It was nine-thirty before she heard the toilet flush. She tried to chat with him when he entered the kitchen, but he refused to acknowledge she was there. She fixed his favorite breakfast: crackers spread with butter and a glass of buttermilk. An hour later she noticed the food had not been touched. He sat motionless at the table until late in the morning, when she shooed him out to the porch. He perked up briefly in the afternoon and tried to use his computer, but being confused about how to access the files, he finally gave up. Instead, sitting on the living room couch, he stared out the window, as if expecting someone to arrive.

  Cara had been caring for the elderly for four years now and had developed a knack for sensing their needs. She had a feeling that moving Harry to a full-service care facility was the best thing to do. He would soon require more help than she could provide. No question about it, Harry needed to be in a home.

  After fixing dinner and then getting out his medications, she tried again to talk with him.

  “Harry?” He sat on the couch pretending to watch TV. “Harry, I know you’re pretendin’ not to hear me, but try to listen. I’m gonna be an hour late or so in the mornin’, so you’ll find your milk in the fridge and the crackers in the cupboard. If you want somethin’ more, I’ll fix it when I get here.” He still didn’t move. “Do you need some help gettin’ to bed?”

  He spoke no words but waved his hand in her direction. She took it as a signal that he was okay on his own.

  “Good-night, Harry. Remember, you can push your alarm button if there’s an emergency, but don’t push anything unless the house is burnin’ down. Okay? Harry?” She shook her head and headed out the door in a pretended disgust.

  After he heard the car drive away, he shuffled to the bedroom and removed his shirt. It took several minutes to undo the buttons. Next he moved to the bathroom sink, shaved his face, and combed his hair. He clicked off the light and retraced his steps to the bedroom. It was difficult to find his favorite shirt and black socks in the dim light. He needed to be ready when she came. Once he was finished dressing and everything on his desk had been straightened, he headed off to bed.

  THE ROOM WAS DECORATED WITH DOZENS OF COLORED leaves, created by placing copy paper over large maple leaves and then rubbing a crayon over the top. It was, after all, ecology month.

  “Who knows where paper comes from—anyone?” Emily raised her hand. “Let’s see—Emily, do you know the answer?”

  “Trees. Paper’s made out of trees.”

  “That’s absolutely correct.” As the teacher continued her lesson, the door opened and the principal stepped into the classroom. He hurried over to whisper something into Mrs. Cavenaugh’s ear and then, turning toward the class, addressed Emily directly.

  “Emily, if you could come with me to the office, your mother is here to pick you up.”

  “And don’t forget your backpack,” Mrs. Cavenaugh added.

  Emily followed the principal down the hall. As she stepped into the office, her mother, who had been waiting in a chair, stood. Emily could see she’d been crying.

  “Hi, honey,” Laura whispered.

  “What’s wrong?” she questioned.

  “Let’s walk to the car and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  She took her little girl by the hand, nodded to the office secretary, and headed out the door. They walked down the hall and almost to the doors before Laura spoke. This would be difficult. She decided they needed to sit, so they moved outside to the bench located just beyond the entrance.

  “You know how Cara helps out Grandpa Whitney?” Emily nodded. “When she got there this morning, Grandpa was very sick. She called an ambulance and they took him to the hospital, but because he was old and not feeling well— honey, he passed away on the way there.” Laura’s eyes were watery as she spoke. “Emily, do you understand what I’m telling you?” Emily sat silent for just a few seconds, contemplating her mother’s words. Then, as she grabbed her mother around the neck and hugged her tightly, she began to sob.

  All Laura could do was hold her close and let her cry. After a few seconds, Emily pulled away and through her tears declared, “Mommy, last time I was at Grandpa’s I said I didn’t want to play there anymore. I didn’t mean it—I didn’t really mean it.”

  Tears streamed down both their cheeks as Laura hugged her weeping daughter.

  “I know, baby, and he knows too. He loved you so much. It wasn’t your fault.”

  They huddled together on the school bench for several minutes before getting up and walking hand in hand to the car.

  Laura had rushed to the hospital before picking up Emily at school. Cara had reached her on the cell phone after calling the ambulance. She drove straight to the emergency room but was still too late; they had tried to revive Harry in the ambulance, but said he had technically passed away at home. The death certificate read “natural causes.”“It appears he simply stopped breathing. Very common among old people. It happens all the time,” the doctor assured her.

  The doctor had called Bob to inform him of Harry’s passing before Laura had arrived at the hospital. Before leaving to pick up Emily from school, Laura opened her cell phone and dialed his number; he didn’t answer. Once they got home and Emily was settled down watching TV, Laura walked upstairs and dialed his number again. She felt guilty now for losing her temper the last time they’d talked.

  “Bob Whitney.”

  “Bob, it’s Laura. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Laura. How’s Emily?” He seemed somber but sounded okay.

  “She cried for a while but we’ve had a long talk and she seems to be doing better. Are you really okay?”

  “Me? I’m fine,” he replied.

  “Really?” she insisted. She was surprised he wasn’t more distraught. She knew they’d never been close, but after all, Harry was his father. “Are you really okay?”

  “Now you’re sounding like our marriage therapist.”

  “I’m glad to hear you’re taking the news so well, Bob.”

  “Listen, the six o’clock flight is booked, so I’m coming in on the nine. I didn’t know whether—” He paused.

  At first she hesitated, but then, remembering
Emily, she agreed. “Yes, you should stay here, Bob. Emily will need all the support we can give her. We have to wait to tell her about us, though. The poor girl doesn’t need to deal with two traumas in one week.”

  “You’re right, Laura, and thanks.”

  “Do you need me to pick you up?”

  “No, you stay with Emily. I’ll get a rental car.”

  “See you tonight.”

  “Good-bye.”

  The funeral was held in the large redbrick church near Harry’s house. It was a beautiful service with dozens of friends in the neighborhood attending. After moving to the cemetery for a brief graveside prayer, several friends and family members returned to the church’s meeting hall for a luncheon provided by some of the women of the congregation. In addition to Bob, his older sister, Michelle, and their families, a number of distant relatives attended. As Bob watched his sister now from across the table, he realized they had hardly had a chance to visit, at least not without a crowd standing around. She and her husband had arrived late the night before and opted to stay in a hotel by the airport. It looked to Bob like she had put on weight, and he wondered how she was getting along with Greg. She was three years older than Bob and had married early, at nineteen, to Greg Bradley. Their attraction to each other wasn’t surprising to Bob; the timing was. They had met when Greg had just been accepted to graduate school in New York. Six weeks later Michelle had left a note telling Harry she andGreg had gone off to get married. Harry had been furious. He had refused to speak with her for almost a year. Though they’d finally reconciled, their relationship had never seemed the same. Bob had predicted his sister’s marriage wouldn’t last, but twenty years later they still seemed happy. It was more than he could say for his own marriage, he realized.

  Bob knew it had been difficult for Michelle to live so far away. She and Greg and their two sons usually came for a visit at Christmas. Greg didn’t like to stay long, so their visits were always kept short. This time they had come alone, deciding it best to leave their boys at home. Michelle had mentioned earlier that Greg had to be back for work in the morning, and so they were catching the early flight. Now, with Harry gone, Bob wondered if he’d see much of his sister anymore.