9 Seconds of Freedom, Original Suspense, Part 24, Links to parts 1-23

“I don’t know. That was Ben, he said they got a call about twenty minutes ago. She had a life alert, I guess. It took the ambulance a long time to get to her,” Leeanne said.

“Is she okay?” I asked.

“No idea, they just got there. Looks like a heart attack. She’s really old, this could be it,” Leeanne said.

I drove the rest of the way without talking. I wondered if it was because of this afternoon. I was torn. On the one hand, she could be dying because of me, on the other, she had been so happy. I wondered, did people really prefer to go out doing what they loved, or was that just something we said?

Elkview hospital was newer than I’d expected. It sat on the north edge of town. The buildings looked like they’d been built in the eighties, with a large new annex at one end. We went in and found her room. Ben and Fred were talking with doctors in the hall.

“No, there was no next of kin,” Ben was saying.

Fred was in tears. We were too late. She was gone. Leeanne put her head against my chest and cried softly.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“She was a good friend,” Leeanne said.

She smiled.

“She really liked you,” she said.

“Hi,” Ben said. “Sorry you came all the way out here, there’s not much to be done now. She made all of her arrangements. It’s too bad, too. She really wanted to talk to you, Dalton.”

“Really?” Leeanne said. “What about?”

“Well, she kept trying to tell us, but the doctors were trying to get her still, so they could intubate her. I don’t know,” Ben said. “She said she had a message for you.”

“What could that be?” Leeanne asked.

“I don’t know. We thought maybe she’d remembered something else, about Frozen Rosary,” Fred said.

“Wow. I’m so sorry, guys. I feel really badly that this afternoon might have contributed to this,” I said.

“Are you crazy?” Fred said. “We tried to talk her out of it, just let us take him, Ben said. But, she insisted on going. Hadn’t seen her that excited in years.”

“Leeanne, here are her keys,” Ben said. “Could you go by her house and pick out a dress? Drop it by the funeral home. She was in her nightgown when this happened.”

“Of course,” Leeanne said. “Can I see her?”

The doctor nodded, and we went into the room. The minute I walked in, my vision clouded, I wasn’t in the hospital. I was standing in a huge bedroom. There were tall windows, with ornate draperies, and a nurse was bending over someone in a dark oak bed.

There was a tiny frail woman, propped up on about six pillows.

“Oh, little soldier, mommy’s okay,” the woman said. “It’s going to be alright. They’re helping me.”

But I knew it was a lie. She was dying.

Then I was back. Annabelle Murphy’s lifeless body swam back into view. They’d removed the hoses and wires and arranged the bed clothes as best they could. She looked happy.

I started crying. I was weeping uncontrollably. Leeanne looked up, shocked.

“Are you okay?” she said.

I nodded and smiled. I’d just had the most profound moment of my life, as far as I could remember. I was better than okay. I took a tissue from the bedside table and wiped my eyes. Leeanne leaned over and kissed her friend on the cheek.

“Goodbye,” she said.

I reached out and patted the frail, lifeless hand.

“Thank you,” I said.

When we got back to the truck, it hit me again. Wave after wave of sorrow to the point of overwhelming. I couldn’t even get behind the wheel, I just folded up against the door of the truck and dropped to my knees, weeping.

“What is it?” Leeanne asked.

She looked scared.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

“My mother,” I said. “She’s dead.”

Then, I smiled. Because I knew something. I knew a lot of somethings. She’d had a beautiful smile. She had dark eyes, like mine. She’d called me soldier, and she had died in her own bed. That was a lot. It was something. It was the first piece of the puzzle. But it felt amazing to remember.

“I remembered it,” I said.

Leeanne sat down next to me on the pavement. She held my head to her shoulder and she cried.

“That’s amazing,” she said.

We sat there for a long time. I was afraid to move in case more memories came. They didn’t. Finally, I got up and climbed into the truck. Leeanne went around and got in on the other side, sliding to the middle. We drove back to River Grove and I parked in front of Mrs. Murphy’s tiny white, English Garden Cottage.

I breathed deeply and let it out slow.

“I can do this alone,” Leeanne said.

I shook my head no. I wanted to go in. Partly out of curiosity, partly because I needed to pee, mostly, because I wondered if she’d left any clue as to what the message might have been.

#life #fiction #writing #markrmorrisjr