“You remembered very well. Give me a call when you’re finished with the shopping, and we’ll see how things are going,” Tootsie said. “If she wants me to stay all day, you might just want to go home and come back to get me later this evening.”
“Whatever you want or need, Aunt Tootsie.” He left the engine running but got out and jogged around the front of the vehicle to open the door for her. Tucking her arm in his, he led her past a flower bed brimming with multicolored mums and onto the porch of a white brick house that looked pretty much like all the others on the circle.
“Thank you.” Tootsie reached out and rang the bell.
Sissy opened the door and motioned her inside. “Come in. She’s awake this morning and ready to see you. I haven’t seen you in years, Luke, but I’d recognize those eyes anywhere. They’re just like Smokey’s. Come on inside.”
“Thank you, but I’ve got some errands to run. I’ll be back in a little while,” Luke said as he took a few steps back.
“We’ll look for you later, then.” Sissy ushered Tootsie on inside and closed the door. “She drifts in and out a lot, so be ready for that.”
“Has hospice been here today?” Tootsie asked.
“Earlier this morning,” Sissy answered.
“Do I need to know anything else before I go in there?” Tootsie whispered as they neared the open bedroom door.
“Nothing I can think of,” Sissy said. “Midge, darlin’, she’s here.”
Midge raised her hand and said, “I’m so glad”—she panted a moment before going on—“to see you. Sissy, bring the box.”
“It can wait until later, can’t it?” Sissy asked. “Y’all have some catching up to do.”
“No, I don’t want to die without giving them to her myself,” Midge said.
“You’re not dying today.” Tootsie bent down and kissed her on the forehead.
“Yes, I am, and I’m glad you’re here with me when I take that first step into eternity.” Midge patted the side of the bed. “I’m not afraid, but it’ll be good to have you with me. You’ll be here”—she stopped and inhaled deeply several times—“to see me off, and Gloria will be on the other side to welcome me into the next life.” With shaking hands, she brought out a remote and pushed a button to raise the head of the bed. “Sissy got me this new fancy bed.”
“We’ve got one like it at home.” Tootsie sat down beside her. “Helped with Smokey’s snoring to raise his head up a little.”
“Helps with my breathing.” Midge’s eyes shut, and her breath came in shallow bursts.
Sissy came in and set a box on the foot of the bed. “When she wakes up, tell her that it’s right here.”
“She says she’s dying today,” Tootsie whispered.
“She’s hung on to see you, but when she goes is up to God, not her.” Sissy gently closed the door behind her.
“I got a deal with God that I didn’t”—Midge had to stop for air—“tell her about. That box is for you.”
Tootsie scooted to the end of the bed and removed the lid of the cardboard box that had once held copy paper. Separated and tied by ribbons by the year that they were written were all the letters Tootsie had ever sent her. More than sixty years’ worth, the older ones sporting faded ribbons, the newer ones still bright and shiny. One a month for all those years.
“Want you to have them back. Lots of history there,” Midge said.
Tootsie grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and dabbed at the tears running down her cheeks. “I can’t believe you kept all these.”
“Went back and read them over and over.” That took all of Midge’s air, so she had to wait a minute to continue. “You need to buy waterproof mascara.”
Tootsie giggled even though the tears, stained black, kept coming. “You need to turn up your oxygen.”
Midge’s giggle was barely audible, but her weary eyes glittered. “We had good times. Take a little nap with me.” Her eyes closed again, and Tootsie kicked off her shoes and crawled up into the bed beside her.
Midge reached for Tootsie’s hand and held it tightly. “Twinkle, twinkle,” she said.
“Little star,” Tootsie sang the next two words of the lullaby. When they had been little girls and were allowed to have a sleepover, they had sung that song just before they went to sleep at night. Gloria never could carry a tune and sounded like a toad-frog, but Tootsie and Midge never said a