Letting Go (Triple Eight Ranch) - By Mary Beth Lee Page 0,37
whirring and beeping.
When the room door closed, she brushed her mother’s cheek. “Oh Momma. You’ve really gone and done it this time.
Whir-beep-whir-beep.
She reached to the hand that wasn’t connected to an IV. In the recesses of her mind she could remember holding her mother’s hand for real. But most of her memories were tied to a con job. The best part of her childhood cons had been making herself believe her mother really did care, really was worried, really did love her.
The anger boiled up inside her again, but she held on to her mother’s hand anyway.
“What are we gonna do this time, Tammy Jo? I bet you’re talking to whoever you can, trying to work out a deal to get through this. The nurse says you can hear me, so you better listen up. You still have a lot of work to do at the Triple Eight, so you need to get better.”
Clarissa’s voice cracked and she realized she was crying. She wiped the tears from her face, but she didn’t let go of her mother’s hand. Couldn’t.
“Momma, you gotta get better,” she said. “You can’t just die on me. You’ve got to fight this.”
For some reason Clarissa thought maybe her words would have an impact, change something in her mother’s response. But nothing changed. Not the machines, not her mother’s sickly face, not the weird antiseptic smell of the room.
Clarissa closed her eyes and tried to find a peaceful place, but closing her eyes just brought how hateful she’d been to Tammy Jo to light, and that just piled on the pain.
She patted Tammy Jo’s hand and stood. She’d need to talk to Pete and Bev, make sure her shifts were covered. And she’d need to see if Susie Dillon could bring some lotion or something up to keep Momma’s hands from drying out too much. And she’d need to talk to the doctor again. Try to understand what exactly was wrong and what they needed to do to get Tammy better.
Behind her one of the machines made a different whirring noise, and an alarm rang out. Nurses streamed into the room, the one who told her Momma could hear her, took her hand and calmly told her she’d have to step out.
Clarissa shook her head. “No really, it’s okay. I’ll stay over here out of the way.”
“Ma’am, you have to leave,” the nurse said, this time sternly. “I’ll come and get you as soon as I can.”
The machines shrieked louder and an urgent call sounded on the PA system. Nurses called out numbers that meant nothing to her. Between two of the people gathered around the bed, Clarissa could see her mother.
She wanted to go to her, to tell her it was okay. She started to walk forward, but Jed was suddenly there, hand on her shoulder.
“I’ve got her,” he said to the the nurse, and then he pulled her to him in a hug she couldn’t resist even if she’d wanted to.
He rested his chin on her head and spoke quietly but firmly. “Come on, Clarissa. Let them do their work.”
In the waiting room the Dillons sat, grave concern on their faces.
Paul Dillon stood when she walked in. And that’s when Clarissa noticed the others. José and the rest of the crew. Hats in hands, concerned faces.
“We’ve been praying,” Paul said, and she nodded, said thanks, then looked back at the Triple Eight crew.
“Thank y’all for coming,” she said.
José spoke first. “Your momma doesn’t know much about being a farm hand, but she’s done good work, Miss Clarissa.”
The other men echoed his sentiments and Clarissa didn’t know how to respond. Tammy Jo’s work ethic had never been a strong suit. Suddenly it seemed everything she thought she knew about her momma was in question.
Susie stood and pulled her into another hug then told her to sit beside her. Jed brought her a cup of coffee. Paul said a prayer about peace and courage and God’s will.
And all the while Clarissa kept her mind on the room up the hall where doctors and nurses were working on her mother who was dying in a bed hooked up to monitors because her body quit on her.
Clarissa didn’t know how much time passed before a doctor appeared at the door. It seemed like hours and seconds at the same time.
“Miss Dye,” the doctor said, and Clarissa and Jed stood.
“I’m going with you,” Jed said, and she didn’t argue. She didn’t want to go into the private room off the