Page 60 of Hello, Summer
Conley tapped Lorraine’s sunspotted arm. “What happened here?”
“Just a scratch from the garden,” Lorraine said, swatting her hand away. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“She got cut when she fell,” Winnie said. “Bled so much I thought she was dying.”
Angry blue-black bruises were already blossoming on both of Lorraine’s arms. “I suppose I tried to catch myself when I had that sinking spell.” She held out her arms to survey the damage herself. “This old skin of mine is like tissue paper,” she complained. “If I as much as brush up against something, this happens.”
“What did you have to eat today?” Conley demanded.
“I ate like a fat old pig,” Lorraine said. “I had breakfast—”
“Black coffee and a piece of leftover pecan pie,” Winnie volunteered, poking her head around Conley. “I told her she can’t eat like that, but she never pays attention to what I say.”
“You just mind your own business,” Lorraine snapped. “I’m a grown woman, and I can eat whatever I like.”
“No. You can’t,” Conley said. “According to Gray, your doctor says you’re prediabetic. You’ve got to limit your carb intake, eat protein, balance your diet, and drink plenty of fluids. Preferably not black coffee. Do you even drink water? Did you take your meds today?”
“And what medical school did you attend, young miss?” Lorraine asked.
“I attended the school of common sense.” Conley pressed her grandmother’s bony hand between her own two hands. “Damn it, G’mama. This isn’t funny. If you don’t start eating right and taking your meds,you’re going to kill yourself, and Gray will blame me. Do you want that on your conscience? Because I don’t. You’re all I’ve got, you know.”
Lorraine studied her granddaughter’s stricken expression. “That’s not quite true,” she said quietly. “You’ve got your sister. And your mother is still alive. She might not be around, but she cares about you. I know she does.”
Conley bit her lip and looked out the bedroom window. It had gotten late while she was in town. The sun was starting its descent toward the horizon. A palmetto frond rasped in the breeze outside, and a small green lizard crept across the window screen. The sun’s rays slanted across the rumpled blue-and-white-striped sheets on the bed and illuminated the network of fine lines on her grandmother’s narrow face.
She looks old,Conley thought. Not indestructible. Aged. Aging. Not yet fragile, but no longer the indomitable force of nature Lorraine DuBignon Conley had always represented.
“If Melinda cares so much, why didn’t she come home when Dad died? Do you even know where she is these days?”
Lorraine turned her head toward the pillow. “I’ll try to do better,” she said finally, avoiding, yet again, any discussion of a topic she disliked. Her voice was muffled. “No more pecan pie for breakfast.”
“We need to get you in to see your doctor,” Conley said, seizing the moment. “And when you go, I’m going to be right there in that room so I can really understand what’s going on with your health.”
“All right,” Lorraine muttered. She managed to raise herself to a sitting position and, to Conley’s amazement, swing her feet over the edge of the bed.
“What are you doing?” Conley protested. “You need to rest.”
“I’ve been resting,” Lorraine said. “It’s nearly suppertime. I’m going to take a nice, cool bath and wash off this garden muck. Then I intend to eat something healthy, as you insisted, and drink some water.” Her voice turned steely. “And then you and I are going to have a talk, young lady.”
“About what?”
“Help me up,” G’mama commanded, holding out her hand. “Bath first. Then we talk.”
Lorraine allowed Winnie to run her a bath and lay out a clean set of clothing for her before shooing her and Conley away.
“I’m not convinced she doesn’t need to see a doctor,” Conley fretted to Winnie once they were out in the kitchen.
The housekeeper was chopping up the chicken she’d roasted earlier in the day, placing it on a bed of salad greens, then adding thick, deep red slices of tomatoes and hard-boiled eggs.
“Me either. But you heard her. She thinks she’s just fine. Nothing but a sinking spell.”
Winnie shook her head. “Never saw such a stubborn old fool.” She went to the refrigerator and brought out a jar of her homemade buttermilk ranch dressing.
“I’ve got an idea,” Conley said, reaching for her cell phone. “He’s not a doctor, but she loves him, and maybe he can kind of check her out and see if she really does need medical attention. Do we have enough for one more mouth for supper?”
Winnie gave her a look. “Have you ever known me to run out of food?”
“I was just going to call you,” Skelly said. “I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat today. I know you didn’t mean any harm, asking Mama questions.”
