“Oh, Cooper. Anna,” she said, reaching out to take hold of Anna’s hand. “How could I be mad? In the midst of a pandemic, with all the ups and downs, the disappointments and frustrations, you found something of meaning. You’re changing your lives. I’m so proud of you both.” She smiled and wasn’t embarrassed for the tears. “And it’s so wonderful to hear some good news.” Then she laughed and fist-pumped the air. “Go Gamecocks!”
chapter seventeen
Follow your instincts.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Linnea woke to voices outdoors. She glanced at the clock and gasped to see it was nearly nine o’clock. She bolted from her bed, stunned that she’d slept so late. She’d talked with Cooper and Anna until ten, then couldn’t sleep for wrestling with thoughts about Gordon and what she would say to him.
She slipped into yoga pants and a Turtle Team T-shirt and hurried outdoors. The storm left its mark on the lowcountry. Torrents of rain had been dumped in a short period of time in conjunction with the king tide, a supertide that occurs when the moon is closest to the earth. The end of her driveway was a large puddle and plants drooped with the weight of water.
In Emmi’s driveway she spied Cara, Emmi, and John standing in a semicircle. They looked as tired and worn out as she was sure she did. Cara’s and Emmi’s faces were flushed, as though in an argument. As she drew near, she glanced at John, sorry to see his bottom lip was swollen.
“What’s going on?” she asked Cara as she drew near.
“Good morning, Sweet-tea,” Cara said. “Flo spiked a fever. She’s refusing to eat or drink. I’m afraid it’s bad.” Cara turned to Emmi. “She has to go to the hospital.”
Emmi locked her jaw, shook her head, and crossed her arms. “No way. If she goes to the hospital, she’s never coming back.”
“Good Lord, Emmi,” Cara said with barely disguised frustration. “I went along with you as long as I could. Enough now. The woman’s barely conscious. We’re not equipped to deal with this. At her age, in her state… Emmi, she could die.”
“Then she can die at home.”
Linnea startled. “Emmi, no.”
Cara went poker-faced. “And if she can’t breathe? She starts choking? Are you prepared to watch her suffer?”
“Mom…” said John.
The sound of an ambulance pierced the air.
Emmi’s eyes flashed as she confronted Cara. “You called the ambulance?”
“No, I did,” said John.
Emmi turned on him. “Who gave you the authority?”
“Flo did.”
Emmi’s shoulders sagged as she tried to make sense of what he’d said. “Wait. What? When? She wasn’t conscious. Or lucid.”
“Yes. She was.” John paused. “I was taking my turn sitting with her. It was early, just before dawn. She opened her eyes, and she knew it was me. She looked right at me and said, ‘John, I want you to take me to the hospital.’ When I asked her if she was sure, she said she was. She said she didn’t want to die in this house. She said…” He swallowed hard, trying to form the words. “She said she only wanted good memories in this house.”
Emmi stepped into John’s arms as Cara put her hand over her mouth and turned her back, trying to hold back her choking sobs.
* * *
A SHORT TIME later, Cara held Emmi’s hand as they watched two paramedics in full protective gear carry Flo’s stretcher into the ambulance. At the hospital, Flo went directly into intensive care. For three days, all three houses were shrouded in the silence of waiting. Cara cooked meals, watered plants, allowed Hope to watch far too much television. Emmi didn’t call. She didn’t respond to Cara’s messages. Not because she was angry, but because she couldn’t. Cara knew it was especially hard on her to think of Flo in the hospital, sick and alone, not aware where she was.
Then the news came.
Cara heard an insistent knocking on the door. She opened it to see Emmi, her face grief-stricken, her eyes rimmed red. Cara didn’t have to ask. Flo was not coming back to Isle of Palms.
Emmi walked into Cara’s arms and the two women hugged and wept openly.
“We never got to say good-bye,” Emmi wailed.
“We did say good-bye.”
“No,” Emmi said harshly, pulling back. “No, we didn’t. Calling out a good-bye at the ambulance, watching the doors shut and the van drive away… that’s not saying good-bye.”
“We all knew that family wasn’t allowed into the hospitals.”
“But the reality of it is still hard,” Emmi said in a broken voice. “Knowing that at the end of her life Flo might’ve been scared and we couldn’t be there. After all the time I spent with her, not to be there when she most needed me.” She choked back a sob. “I’m sorry, but that feels to me like I failed her.”
“Oh, Em, no. She knew that we loved her,” Cara said, trying to be strong for Emmi.
She settled Emmi on the sofa and prepared two mugs of steaming tea with milk and honey. It was a hot July day outdoors, but inside both women needed the comfort of something warm and sweet.
They pulled out old photographs and recalled memories of happier days when they were young with Lovie and Flo.
“We ran back and forth, back and forth between Flo’s and your mother’s beach houses. Nonstop.”
“Most of the time we ran from turtle duty,” Cara said teasingly.
Emmi laughed. “Remember how we giggled as we rode our bikes away when they called?”
Cara nodded. “They took two ragamuffins and taught them, kicking and screaming all the way, not merely the rules but the art of tending turtle nests.”
Emmi smiled. “They weren’t fools. They were training us to take their places.”
“Think,” Cara said. “They’re together now.”
“Yes.” Emmi drew in a long breath. “This is what we needed now. Nothing cheers up a soul like good memories.”
“That’s what Flo wanted us to have.”
After a long silence, Emmi set her mug on the table. “I’ve been thinking, I need some time away. I feel a bit lost with Flo gone. Like I’ve lost my footing in soft sand.”
“I’m sorry you had to take on the major effort of Flo’s care. I know we said we’d share the duties, but living with her, you’ve borne the brunt of it. It had to be such a burden.”
“No, Cara. I’ve never seen it as a burden. Living with Flo, taking care of her the past few years, it was my privilege. I wouldn’t have given up a moment of it. But I need to get away.”
Cara looked at Emmi, and wondered how she had ever been so fortunate as to find Emmaline Baker in her crazy, whirlwind life. Despite the many miles that had sometimes separated them, regardless of the years when they didn’t speak or the differences in life philosophies, political views, even their fashion style, Emmi had always been her best friend.
She was concerned about the new lines she saw on Emmi’s face. Her skin was as pale as the milk in her tea. It was rare these days to see her signature wide smile. Most disturbing, however, was that Emmi looked worn out. Vulnerable. She had been so busy taking care of others, she hadn’t given a thought to herself.