There Was an Old Woman

Chapter Thirty-nine


Evie sat back and closed her eyes. The smell in the ICU was pure hospital, but with all the clanking and hissing and beeping, and beneath that the rush and squeak of rubber-soled shoes, Evie could easily imagine she was in the belly of some huge machine. She’d been there for less than an hour when Ginger arrived.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Ginger said. She was wearing a stretched-out T-shirt and yoga pants, and her hair was damp, like she’d come over right after taking a shower.

“She’s been unconscious since I got here,” Evie said. The numbers on the monitors were still frozen at 85 and 72.

Ginger bent over and kissed their mother on the forehead once, twice, three times. As she did so, one of the numbers changed. 74. 75. 76.

“Look at that!” Evie pointed to the readout. “I think that’s her heart rate. It jumped when you kissed her.” As she and Ginger watched, it dropped back to 74.

“She knows we’re here,” Ginger said, pulling over another chair. “Mom?” she said, taking their mother’s hand, her eyes glued to the numbers. “It’s Ginger and Evie. Can you hear me?”

But nothing happened. Evie sat there with Ginger, taking turns talking to their mother and trying to make the number spike again. Minute after minute dragged by, but Sandra Ferrante just lay there, her eyes half closed, unmoving.

“I’m glad we talked to her yesterday. At least we know what she wants,” Ginger said, yawning and stretching.

“She never even opened my birthday card,” Evie said. In spite of herself, she could feel tears rise and her throat close up.

“Oh, Evie. You know you’re being ridiculous.” Ginger gave her a sympathetic look. “And you look awfully pale. Have you had anything to eat?”

“Just coffee at work.”

“No wonder. Let’s go downstairs and grab a bite.”

“Shouldn’t we take turns?”

Ginger turned and looked at their mother. At the numbers that weren’t moving. A nurse went by and Ginger stopped her. “Would it be okay if we went downstairs, just for ten minutes or so, to get something to eat?”

“Of course,” the nurse said. “Give me your cell number and I’ll call if there’s a change, though I doubt there will be.”

A few minutes later, they stepped off the elevator in the lobby. In the café, Evie grabbed a packaged ham-and-cheese sandwich, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water and got in the cashier’s line to pay.

“I’m sorry,” the cashier was telling the man in line in front of her, “we don’t have lattes. Just coffee. Caf or decaf.”

Ginger got in line behind Evie. She’d ladled herself what looked like a cup of pea soup so thick that the plastic spoon was standing straight up in it.

“Ma’am?” Evie turned. The cashier was holding out her hand so she could scan Evie’s purchases. Evie handed them to her.

The man in front of her had stepped aside. She noticed he had a black vinyl woman’s purse tucked under his arm. That made her sad. There was only one reason why a man would be carrying an old-fashioned and well-worn woman’s purse in a hospital cafeteria.

She gave the cashier a ten-dollar bill. That’s when she recognized the man. “Excuse me,” she said to him. “You’re my neighbor’s nephew, aren’t you?”

The man gave her a startled look. Some of his coffee sloshed onto his hand from the open lid and he jumped back.

Evie said, “My mother. She lives”—she took the two quarters and a penny change from the cashier and dropped them into a tips cup—“I mean, lived—I mean—” Which was right? Evie had no idea. She teared up.

The nephew looked at her in dismay. “Oh, right. Of course,” he said. “Next door to Aunt Mina. Is your mother here in the hospital?” He glanced past her, uneasily shifting from foot to foot like he was afraid to ask how her mother was doing.

Ginger had paid for her soup and stepped out of line. She elbowed Evie. Evie took the hint. “Ginger, remember Mom’s neighbor, Mrs. Yetner? This is her nephew. I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Brian Granville,” he said. “I’d offer to shake, but I’ve managed to spill coffee all over myself.” He snagged a napkin and wiped his hands.

Ginger said, “Your aunt is the one who called to tell us that Mom had been taken to the hospital. She left a message on my voice mail, and I remembered who she was right away. It was very thoughtful of her to call me. Otherwise we’d never have known.”

“My aunt.” Brian blinked three times. “Actually, she’s why I’m here.”

“What?” Evie’s stomach turned over. “She’s here? She’s all right, isn’t she? I mean, I saw her just last night.”

“She lost her bearings in a parking lot. Fell. It was a miracle that a truck didn’t back right over her. At her age?” He shook his head, his face somber. “And, well, you know how headstrong she can be. Did not want to come to the hospital. Not one bit. She’s in surgery now.”

“Surgery—?” Evie started to ask, but Brian’s eyes focused on something behind her, and something in his expression made Evie turn to look. There was Mrs. Yetner’s favorite neighbor, Frank Cutler. He’d probably come over to visit Evie’s mother.

Evie went over to him. “Frank?” she said. “It’s Evie Ferrante, Sandra’s daughter. Did you come to see her?”

“I . . .” Frank Cutler glanced between Evie, Ginger, and Brian. “Yes, of course. I was about to go up.”

“She’d be so pleased. And we’ll let her know, but I’m afraid she’s had a setback and she’s been moved to intensive care. They only let family in.”

“Family. Of course. I didn’t realize.”

“I’m sorry you had to make the trip for nothing.”

“You’ll tell her I was here and asking after her, won’t you?” He started to turn to go.

“Did you know someone broke into her house yesterday?” Evie asked.

“Really? I’m sorry to hear that. Another burglary? What did they take?”

A shipping box. Vitamins. That sounded so lame. “You were around during the day, weren’t you? Because Mrs. Yetner saw you out in the rain, talking to the man who came for my mother’s car. What I wondered was, did you see anyone letting themselves into the house? Because there was no sign of a break-in. Do you know who my mother might have given keys?”

“Keys?” A muscle worked in Frank Cutler’s jaw.

“Maybe she gave you a set?”

“You think I had something to do with this break-in?”

“No,” Evie said quickly. “I’m asking, because Mrs. Yetner saw you—”

He held up his hands to stop her. “That woman. Busybody. Far too much time on her hands. Nothing to do but interfere.” He looked across at Brian. “Sorry, but that’s the truth. And yes, I was there. I wanted to know what had happened to Sandy’s car. If there was anything I could do to help. If there was more vandalism or another break-in. The police told you that, didn’t they?”

It wasn’t until Evie and Ginger were back in the ICU, sitting with their mother and finishing their food when it occurred to Evie that the police hadn’t said anything about a rash of vandalism or break-ins. Seemed like the kind of thing they should at least have mentioned.