Delia Parr - Carry The Light

Aunt Dorothy’s face lit with interest before she dropped her gaze.

Charlene swallowed hard. Hiring anyone to live with Aunt Dorothy full-time was well beyond the elderly woman’s means, but even if it wasn’t, Charlene could not imagine letting a stranger care for her beloved aunt. “We’re family. We take care of one another,” she murmured, patting her aunt’s shoulder. “I have to come to work in Welleswood five days a week anyway, so why don’t I just move in with you, temporarily, until you’re up to living alone again,” she suggested, unable to bring herself to suggest that Aunt Dorothy would never actually be well enough to live by herself again.

Based on the literature she had read, and what the doctors had told her, the progressive nature of CHF—combined with the complications of aging and diabetes—meant that Dorothy Gibbs would probably never be self-reliant again. But pointing that out now, when her aunt was so vulnerable, just didn’t feel right to Charlene.

She looked over at Daniel again. “You could come and stay with us for weekends, couldn’t you?”

He winked at Aunt Dorothy. “Why not? You’re still my best girl, aren’t you?”

“I can’t ask you two to uproot yourselves like that,” Aunt Dorothy argued, but her voice was soft and unconvincing.

“You didn’t ask. We offered,” Charlene countered, grateful for her husband’s support.

“I’ve been promising you all winter that I’d come take a look at that backyard of yours once spring came and clear it out for you,” Daniel added. “It would probably be a whole lot easier for me if I had a few weekends where I could work in the yard without driving back and forth.”

Aunt Dorothy batted her lashes at him and smiled demurely. “I haven’t had anyone over for Easter brunch for years. Not with the yard so overgrown. It’s lovely to think we could have brunch by the creek again this year. Do you think Greg and Bonnie could come, too?”

“The kids aren’t coming home for Easter this year, remember?” Charlene prompted, to remind her aunt that they had talked about this when Greg and Bonnie had visited her.

“Greg and Margot are spending the holiday with her parents and Bonnie is going to Spain as a chaperone with the Spanish club at her school,” Daniel added. “Charlene and I will be there, though. I can’t promise to have the yard cleared out by then, but I’ll try.”

“You’re such a strong man. I just know you’ll have my yard looking better than it ever did by Easter,” Aunt Dorothy said confidently.

Watching her husband and aunt chatting, Charlene blinked hard. Aunt Dorothy was actually flirting with Daniel, and he was absolutely beaming!

“I think you’ve found a wonderful solution.” The social worker smiled proudly, as if the idea had been hers. “I’ll speak to Dr. Marks this afternoon. From what he told me earlier today, our patient might even be able to go home tomorrow,” she offered. Then she packed up her papers and left.

“My house keys are in my purse. You took that home with you, didn’t you?” Aunt Dorothy asked as she took a fresh tissue from the box beside her bed.

“As a matter of fact, I still have it in the trunk of my car. I wasn’t sure if you’d need anything in your purse or not.”

Her aunt smiled. “Good girl. Instead of staying here all day, why don’t you go to my house and air it out a bit? You could move a few things around to make up the spare bedroom for you and Daniel to use while you’re staying with me. Just stick anything in your way up in the attic or anywhere else you find room. I’m afraid there isn’t much in the refrigerator, either, except for a few old leftovers that probably need to be tossed out.”

She paused to mop her brow with the tissue. “Unless you need to get to Sweet Stuff. You haven’t been at your store all week.”

“The store is fine. Ginger King offered to work full-time for me this week so I could be here with you. I’ll get your house ready, instead,” Charlene reassured her.

“What about you, Daniel?” her aunt asked.

“I’m afraid I have to get back to work. I’m on duty this weekend, but I can start on that yard of yours next weekend,” he promised.

“Well, go on, then,” Aunt Dorothy said, waving them both away. “You two have important things to do.”

After a round of hugs and kisses, Charlene walked to the elevator with her husband. “Thank you,” she murmured as they waited side by side for the elevator.

He nodded, but kept his gaze on the arrows over the elevator. “Sure. Nothing else made much sense.”

The down arrow lit up, a bell sounded and the elevator doors opened. “It won’t be for long,” Charlene offered as they stepped into the empty elevator, saddened to think Aunt Dorothy’s days on this earth were nearing an end.

He shrugged and pressed the button for the lobby.

“Maybe it might do us both some good to spend a little time apart during the week,” she said, giving voice for the first time to the fear that the indifference that had marked their marriage these past few years might be too great to overcome.

He let out a long, deep sigh. “If that’s what you want,” he said hoarsely.

And her heart trembled.

Maybe that’s what he wanted, too.

S till shaken by the notion that living with Aunt Dorothy might also be an odd, unexpected trial separation of sorts, Charlene walked up the slate walk to her aunt’s house on Lady’s Creek Drive. Dwarfed on either side by a copse of majestic oak and maple trees older than Welleswood itself, the one-story cottage looked sadly neglected.

Using the set of keys retrieved from Aunt Dorothy’s purse, Charlene unlocked the front door and stepped into the living room. Memories of happier times assailed her, and she swallowed hard, praying there might be more time to share with her aunt and more memories to create.

Once her eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight to the dim interior, she pulled up the shades on the windows to let in more light. The living room was dated, yet neat, and was obviously in need of a good cleaning, just as she had suspected. Before she could continue walking through the house, however, there was a sharp rap at the front door.

She recognized the visitor standing on the porch and wished she had not bothered to answer the door at all. “Hello, Mrs. Withers,” she murmured, and managed a smile for her aunt’s elderly next-door neighbor.

A pair of curious brown eyes tried to see past Charlene into the house. “When I saw your car in the driveway I came right over,” she said, holding her buttonless coat together with both hands. “I heard poor Dorothy has passed. Is it true?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears.

“No, it’s not true. Not at all. Aunt Dorothy is recovering from a slight heart attack. She’s coming home tomorrow, we hope,” Charlene said, anxious to correct the woman, who had a well-earned reputation for gossip and exaggeration.

Agnes Withers furrowed her brow. “Really? I heard she had a real bad heart attack. Then I heard—”

“I’m sure my aunt will tell you all about it when she’s home and up to having visitors,” Charlene interrupted. “I just came by to straighten up a bit for her.” She decided not to share more, for fear of adding to the gossip.

The neighbor leaned forward a bit. “You need to move in. That’s what you need to do,” she whispered, as if someone might be lurking behind the overgrown bushes to overhear her. “Dorothy won’t admit it to anyone, not even her doctor, but the poor dear can’t see well enough these days to take her insulin right. Half the time I’m here, she either fills that needle with too much or too little, and I have to fix it for her. Sooner or later, if that heart of hers doesn’t give out first, she’s going to take an overdose or go into one of those diabetic comas, all because she can’t see to get her dose right.”