“Hey, y’all.” I yawned. “What’s up?”
“What’s up,” said Penny, “is that I’m leaving this place behind and heading for home!”
“Are you feeling better?” I asked.
“Much. Thank you.” She really did look different. More peaceful-like.
A doctor hurried in. After a stern glance in Tom’s direction, she began rattling off the reasons why Penny should not, must not—if she valued her health—even consider leaving the cancer center. Behind her, a nurse nodded her agreement.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Penny said, once the doctor finished.
“So, you’ll be staying, then,” the doctor said.
“No. But you’re painfully concerned about my welfare, and I appreciate that. So, I say again, thank you. And goodbye.”
The doctor sputtered some, but the nurse was faster on her feet. “Let us take some blood and see how you’re doing. If you still want to go after that, at least we can say we did all that we could.”
Edie made a hopeful little noise.
“Ah. Liability. We real estate people know about that,” Penny remarked. “All right. Take the blood. But get my release paperwork ready, ’cause I am leaving.”
It was noontime before somebody came in to take Penny’s blood, and nearly four hours rolled by while we waited on the results. Meantime, the six of us spent the afternoon playing scavenger hunt. The orderlies weren’t exactly pleased to find us in their supply closet—twice—in search of a broom bristle and a garbage bag twist tie, but we were having a grand old time.
Every so often, I thought about calling Gram just to let her know I’d be late, but she’d already said to come at my own gait, plus she’d been a little testy that I’d been worried for her, so I reckoned I’d just see her when I saw her.
Finally, at three fifty-five, the doctor and nurse reappeared in Penny’s doorway. They looked stricken, complete with pale skin and googly eyeballs.
“Bless Patsy!” Penny said. “You two look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“May I sit down?” the doctor asked as she fell into a chair.
“What is it, Marta?” Tom asked the nurse. I recalled they’d been coworkers only the day before.
Nurse Marta held up a few sheets of paper in reply.
I got up, took the papers from her, and walked them over to Penny.
Penny skimmed the pages and started to laugh.
“What is it, Miz Walton?” I asked.
But she only laughed some more. Then she handed the paperwork to Edie. And while Edie didn’t seem inclined to laugh, she did set her hand over her mouth, closed her eyes, and commenced making a sort of squeaking sound that got louder and louder until it turned into a yelping, “Aww-ha!”
I couldn’t take it any longer. “One of y’all tell us! What does it say?”
It was the doctor who replied, “It says Penny is cured. No cancer. Not even a sign that there ever was a cancer.”
“Ms. Walton is well,” said the nurse.
“It—it was all a mistake?” I asked.
“It was not a mistake!” The doctor held up a manila folder and flung it open. “Here! Test results from one week ago! With her name right on them! Penny W-A-L-T-O-N! And she had cancer!”
“Maybe you read ’em wrong?” I suggested.
“I didn’t read them wrong!” the doctor shouted. “Marta, draw some more blood. We’re doing this again.”
Penny swung her legs out from her bed, set her feet on the floor, and stood up. “No, we’re not. You have your tests and your results, and I have a life to enjoy. I am going home.”
Just so there was no room for an argument, Penny added, “If you’ll just get those release papers. Now.”
“It’s impossible!” said the doctor as Nurse Marta shuffled her out the door.
While the others waited on the paperwork, Travis and I darted into the hall to retrieve some more ice cream cups. It was party time!
Juggling an armful of choco-van stripe, Travis said, “That was curious, wasn’t it?”
“Which part?” I asked.
“Those test results. It’s great, and I’m pleased Penny’s not sick and all. But . . . one week there’s a big old cancer and the next week there ain’t? Don’t it make you wonder? Maybe we don’t understand things—afflictions and whatnot—as good as we think.”
“Maybe. I can’t really say.” For, surely, I couldn’t. Penny hadn’t even wished her sickness away, precisely, but there she was, cancer-free. “All I know is, Miz Walton’s well and I’m glad.”
Travis thought that over and sealed it with a nod. “Kickin’ cancer butt and takin’ names.”
I smiled. “So, everything’s fine. Right?”
He looked sidelong at me. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“No reason,” I replied. “No reason I can think of.”
By the time we got Penny packed and settled into Edie’s car, the weather was feeling a bit more seasonable—chilly, but not bitter. The afternoon sun had melted off the ice.
We were headed back to Sass.
18
Hold Up
I WANT TO STOP THE STORY HERE FOR A MINUTE. You’ve been a real good listener, and I’ve made it pretty easy for you. There have been a few rough patches, but so far, things have tended toward the best good. That’s gonna change here for a time, though, and I find myself wondering how you’ll take it. Or . . . is this what you come for? The gritty stuff? The hard parts?
I’ve heard folks say that the ruts of our sorrow clear a way for the cool waters of joy to flow.
What do you make of that?
19
Powerless
TOM PARKED WITH HIS HEADLIGHTS POINTED AT my house so I could better see to unlock the door. The darkness was nearly complete. Not even a light on inside.
The ground was a little squishy underfoot, and despite the warmth of the heater in the jeep, I felt badly chilled. I was just itching to get inside and put on my dopey but warm Prom Queen pajamas and a pair of thick, dry socks. I couldn’t wait to settle down on my own sofa and pull the covers up to my chin.