Installment #47 Anton Comes to Call

So began the daily routine of Tucker being at home in the day and sleeping at Cynthia’s every night.  Cleo was home alone, but that was how it had to be.  Tucker rather enjoyed being in Cynthia’s home.  He had always felt comfortable there.  He liked her dogs and he liked the cat.  Apparently the cat liked him too, since she always leapt on his lap as soon as he set down.  The recliner was hard for him to get out of, so he was dependent on Cyndi to push the foot rest down.  Tucker had always been independent and never needed anyone, but now he let Cyndi do things for him.  He even ate a little Cream of Wheat every night and every morning.  He had the upstairs bedroom and she slept downstairs.  Once he even thought about how nice it would have been to share the bed. 

     On the third night of the new routine, Anton called.  Tucker had finally admitted that he was not well and it would be alright if Anton wanted to come for a few days.  So this phone call was to work out the details concerning the visit.  He would be coming on Amtrac since he was afraid to fly and did not want to drive.  He would arrive at noon on Monday and Cyndi could take 3 days off since that is how long he would be there.  Tucker thought not.  He was used to her.  He needed her.  Anton was his brother, but she was his what ever she was. Fiancee, he wished.  He liked the sound of it. Maybe he would tell her some day, but for now, just get the brother visit over.

     So, on Monday, Tucker and Cyndi were on the porch when Anton drove up in the rental car.  It was awkward to say the least.  Anton was shocked at the big brother who was now a very thin, pale big brother and it showed.

     Cynthia watched the body language of the brothers as they greeted each other.  It seemed very strained, but then this had to be hard on Anton especially.  He was 15 years younger than Tucker, but he would be without a brother very soon.  Surely he could see that.  There were 3 brothers and Anton was the only one that had married.  He had two sons and those were Tucker’s only nephews.  If the family name was to be carried on, it was all on Anton’s shoulders.

     Cynthia smiled as she saw Tucker smile at Anton and grab him in a bear hug.  Anton was taken aback and this made Cynthia laugh.  She knew Tucker was not a touchy feely kind of guy and she assumed from the look on his face that Anton did not expect this at all.  A simple hand shake was all he was used to having from his brother, but here he stood wrapped in his arms.  Anton had a lot to learn and Cynthia could only hope he was a fast learner.

     When the brothers broke apart, Cynthia took her leave and headed home.  Tucker knew she was as close as the phone and she assured him that she would be there if he needed her, or if he just wanted her there.  She looked in the rear view mirror and said a silent prayer that the visit would go well and they could say their goodbyes.

***************************************************

 OK, kids, push has come to shove.  This installment and #48 and #49 will be published here for you, but after that, I am on strike.  You like to read and I like to write so in exchange for a paltry $5.00 donation you will receive Installment #50 and all other installments in your email box.  So cough up using the Buy Now button below and we will all be happy.  This is my position...I like to know that I have readers who actually like my work.  This is my way of validating.  So far I have collected $5.00.  I will keep a tally going so you know just how rich I am going to wind up.  So, lets get that button to popping and make me a happy woman!

Rating

Liked it some $5.00 USD Liked it more $10.00 USD Crazy about this book! $12.50 USD

Installment #46 And Time passed

     Cynthia spoke with Tucker every morning at 6:00.  He called her right on the dot.  She thought maybe he watched the time so he would not wake her before 6:00 and not a minute after so she would not worry.  Sleep seemed to elude him after he woke up sometime in the night to empty his bladder.  He used to turn on the television and watch the Fox channel, but he saw no reason to do that anymore.  He just waited for time to call Cynthia.

     His hospice volunteer had come at some point in time and seemed like a nice enough fellow.  Chas something or other.  Chas was short for Charles.  Usually Charles was shortened to Chuck or Charlie or something like that.  Chas was an unusual name for an unusual man.  He sure was a good cook and in a different time and place Tucker would have reveled in the meals placed before him, but not now.  Eating was pointless and the sooner Chas agreed the better they would get along.  So Chas cooked and created and Tucker moved it around his plate until Chas took his plate away.  He had researched this and knew that if he ate and kept his strength up, it would prolong the dying process.  He could see no reason to do that.  It was hopeless.  He would never be any better and death was inevitable.  He had thought briefly about suicide, but he thought that through and knew that Cynthia would be the one to find him.  She was the only one with a key and he could not put her through that.  By the time he was comfortable enough with Chas to think of suicide again, Margie has taken all the guns away.  So he just quit eating.

     So Cynthia came every morning and hospice sent workers to bathe him and help him shave and do the many things that they did.  Cynthia went home in the afternoon and Chas came by for several hours.  He and Cynthia had not met, but both asked about the other.  He guessed that was just another form of civility that was necessary to get through this ordeal.  Friends drove down from Denver and one flew in from California.  One friend helped him catalog his Japanese sword collection and mail it to a dealer in St. Louis. The house was getting emptied out and Marge was banking money.  He would need it when he needed more care.

     Cynthia went home every evening when he went to bed.  It was just him and Cleo.  He began to discover that he had a sensitive side he had not known existed.  Tears came easily.  That was not something he had ever done before, but now he noticed when the little Ford pulled away and the brake light flickered at the corner, that he was very sad.  Sad and afraid.  Afraid?  He had never been afraid in his life, but now he heard sounds and woke up shaking.  The second night this happened he decided to tell Cynthia.

     “Cyn, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I am afraid of the dark.  I get really scared when you leave me.”  He looked at Cynthia so sadly that she could only reach for his hand and with a tear in her own voice she comforted him.

     “Tucker, this is not unusual at all.  I have been studying this and it is very normal.  Let me talk to Marge and see what we can do.  I am pretty sure hospice does not send people out at night.  I have the dogs and my geese and ducks that need me at home, so I can’t stay.  Maybe you can come stay with me.  Marge will be here this afternoon and we will work this out.  Right now I am going to make you some tea and toss in a load of laundry.”

     Tucker smiled at her and she smiled back.  She would be there for him.  He knew that.  He did not know why.  He had told Anton several times about how she would wait when he wasn’t ready and never scold him.  She would pull weeds while he talked on the phone.  She would walk the dog when he was tinkering in the garage.  Was it because she cared?  He knew she had other things to do so it wasn’t because she had time on her hands.  She must care.  He tried not to think about it.  It confused him.  She knew he was dying.  No future there.  Maybe she was just a good person.  Who knew.  

     Marge listened as Cynthia and Tucker told her about the fear Tucker felt when he was alone.  Marge was not surprised.  Fear and dying often went hand in hand.  She was pleased that Cynthia would take Tucker home at night and bring him back in the morning.  That way he would still have the comfort of his own home all day and hospice would take care of him there.  She was pleased that Tucker felt comfortable enough with Cynthia to sleep there.  She had never known him to spend a night anywhere except his own house.  And she had certainly never seen the gentle air about Tucker that now was always there.  Tucker had always been rather selfish, but now he was giving.  Giving and kind.  He said nice things for no reason.  And it was not an act.  His whole countenance was one of a caring person.  Must be the dying process.

     So she returned to Denver, promising to return in a week.  She knew she was going to need to fly to Florida and spend some time with her friend Jean, who was dealing with health problems, but for now Tucker was her prime concern.

*****************************************************************

Now you should know, that I have put over a year into writing this.  This is time I could have spent making things and selling them for real money.  So here is the deal...I write, you read and I am now asking for monetary compensation so I can continue to write instead of working.  If you like what you read and want more of it, there is a paypal button following this.  I have given you choices on how much you enjoy my writing and they are all three a mere pittance so I leave it in your hands now.  You will not receive anything, but I will receive money.  Money will enable me to keep writing.  No money will send me to the basement to sew. 
Have a good day and thank you for reading Long Ago and Not Very Far Away

 

Rating

Liked it some $5.00 USD Liked it more $10.00 USD Crazy about this book! $12.50 USD

Your opportunity to contribute to a starving artist.

This is your chance to show me how much you are enjoying reading Long Ago and Not Very Far Away.  Be sure and check out the drop down ratings.  If this works out I can keep doing the online stories and not bother with the publishing business.

Rating

Liked it some $5.00 USD Liked it more $10.00 USD Crazy about this book! $12.50 USD

And thanks for reading.

Installment #45 Sister Nancy comes to call.

     Tucker had gone up to his room to rest after breakfast and Cynthia was putting the last of the dishes in the cupboard when the doorbell rang.  She hurried to the door and pulled it open.  Sister Nancy stood on the porch smiling.  Cynthia reached out and embraced the dear woman.  This woman was truly a gift from God.  Cynthia could not help being humbled every time she encountered her.  Today was no exception.

     “Well, Cynthia, here I am.  I told you I would come and where is our dear Tucker?”

     “He went up to lay down a little bit, but I heard him walking around, so he is not asleep.” 

     Sister Nancy smiled and stepped to the bottom of the stairs.  “Tucker Fuhrman!  This is Sister Nancy down here to see you.  I am in my full habit and you better get down here right now.”  Cynthia smiled at the nun who stood there in a pair of blue jeans, tennis shoes and a cotton blouse.  She was smiling and her whole face beamed.  To Cynthia’s surprise, Tuckers face appeared at the head of the stairs.  He looked like a naughty school boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  As he started slowly down the stairs Cynthia was suddenly filled with happiness.  This was going to be alright.  She knew it!  She reached for the leash and Cleo ran to her side.

     “OK, Sister, you are on your own.  I will be back in an hour or so and if you are gone I will catch up with you later.”  With that she and the dog stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind them and when she came back later, Sister Nancy was gone and nothing was said about the visit.  Tucker did make the remark that “Sister Nancy was not at all like I expected her to be.”  And Tucker seemed to have a more relaxed air about him.  For that Cynthia was grateful.

     And Tucker did have more news.  “Some guy called today from hospice.  He is a volunteer.  I forgot his name, but he is going to come and visit later this afternoon and he says he is a cook.  Well, he actually said he was a chef.  He will fix me something to eat so you do not need to stay unless you just want to meet him.”

     Cynthia smiled.  She knew this would be the “buddy” that hospice had promised.  “I think I will just let you two get acquainted.  I have plenty to do at home.  What time is he coming?”

     Tucker looked confused.  “I don’t know.  He said later, so I guess it will be later.  But you can leave whenever because I think I am going to take a nap!”  He smiled.  Cynthia smiled back.

     “Well, then I am going to leave you to your nap and trust that you will call me later?”

     “Yes, I will.”  He stood and kissed her on the forehead as she stood in the opened door.  Then he closed it behind her, turned the key and started up the staircase toward his bed.  He needed this time alone to think back on his visit with Sister Nancy. 

     As he lay on his bed being very careful not to disturb the covers, he reflected on his visit.  He was glad that Cynthia had taken the dog and left him alone.  At first he had known a moment of panic.  A Catholic Sister in his front room!  He had carefully avoided all things Catholic for many years and now there was one standing right before him.

     She did not have a habit on at all!  She was dressed in blue jeans.  And she was short!  Very short.  Shorter than Cynthia.  And heavier.  And her face was round and her smile was wide and very friendly.  If he had to pick a mother figure out of the women in the whole world, he would have picked her.  He longed to fall in her arms and let her hold him and soothe all his fears.  If only… 

     And then to his surprise, Sister Nancy opened her arms and the 6’2” German from St. Louis who needed no one to make his life complete was suddenly clinging to this tiny woman and pouring out his heart; his needs, his wants, his frustrations, and his terror at the prospect of leaving this world.  And she patted him softly and crooned to him.  Yes! He was home with the beloved Catholic Church that he had left so many years ago.  And Father Pat would come to see him and Father Pat would prepare his soul for it’s journey.

     And as he closed his eyes he could see the beloved Blessed Mary with her arms open wide and behind her was Momma and Poppa.  Oh! And Grandma.  As he drifted in the blessed arms he slept the first peaceful sleep he had known in 50 years.  Thank you, my dear Sister Nancy!

Installment #44 Family ties

      Tucker and Cynthia sat at the table looking into the Arkansas River.  The water was lower than it had been in the early spring, but the rapids were white.  Tucker watched a rafter practicing in the whitewater several feet away.  It would be nice to be out on the rocks like they used to do, but he was unsure of his footing.  He loved this place.  It would get hot later on, but now it was just nice.  He reached over and took Cynthia’s hand.  He was not sure why he did that.  He just felt like for some reason he needed human contact.  She did not pull away, instead she held his hand firmly and turned to face him.

     “Tucker, I need to talk to you.”  Instinctually he started to withdraw his hand, but she held him fast.  “Don’t do that!  I need you to listen and I need you to know why I am saying what I am saying.”  Tucker nodded and left his hand where it was.  “Now I know you have two brothers back in St. Louis.  I do not know why they are not here.  I strongly suspect that you have not told them what is going on with you.”  Tucker looked farther down the river.  This was really none of her business.  He turned to tell her this, but as his eyes met hers he stopped.

     “This is probably none of my business, but let me tell you how I see it.  You are dying.  You know it and I know it.  If you can leave this world with unfinished business you are doing something I couldn’t.  You will die.  You will be gone.  Anton and Albert are going to have to deal with it.  Now who needs to forgive who and why is entirely beside the point, but they need to know the facts.  They need the chance to rectify whatever has gone before, but more important than that is this; You are going to face some sort of God and some sort of judgment somewhere.  You cannot do that with unfinished business here on earth.  See what I am saying?”

     Tucker remained completely silent and Cynthia thought perhaps she had said too much, but she forged ahead.  “And in regards to your immortal soul, I know you are Catholic and I know nothing about how that works.  I do know that Catholics tend to be such their whole life, whether or not they go to church.  So, since I know nothing about it, I have talked to my friend, Sister Nancy and she is coming over this morning and she can talk to you about what you need.”  At these words, Tucker became visibly shaken.

     “No!  That is not going to happen!  I am not having that woman coming in telling me what to do.  I had those damn nuns all my growing up and I am not going to let her in my home!  She works with those migrants and you know how I feel about that!  So just call her up and tell her not to come!  Do you hear me?”

     “Well, of course I hear you.  Everyone on the river hears you, but you might as well bite the bullet on this one.  She is coming.  Whether you call your brothers and work things out is up to you, but I think you will do the right thing there because deep down I know you love them.  And you will meet Sister Nancy.  If you throw her out it will be your loss, but you will meet her!”  Then she softened her hold on his hand, but he did not pull away.  She smiled.  Maybe there was hope for this man.  “Come on.  It is getting hot and I will need to take Cleo for a walk soon.”  And hand in hand they walked the short distance to the ramp that led to his house.

Installment #43 Anton

     Anton Fuhrman hung up the phone and turned to his wife, Stacy.  “He’s lying to me.  I know he is.  He says he is fine, but he doesn’t sound fine.  How am I going to find out what is going on with him?  Damn it, Stacy!”  He put his head in his hands.  He needed to think, but think what?  Who could he call?  He didn’t know who Tucker’s doctor was, and he knew few of his friends.  None of them close enough to call and what would they tell him?

     Stacy studied the top of Anton’s head.  She hated to see him upset.  Anton did not handle rejection well at all.  Ah, she had a thought.

     “Anton!  Who was that woman he was seeing a while back?  Is he still seeing her?  You know, that widow woman?”

     “Oh, Cynthia?  Yeah.  She was over there when I talked to him.  Probably still there.  Cynthia Browder.  She would know.  But how do we find her?”

     “Why don’t we look in the phone book?”  She laughed.  “No one thinks to do that anymore!”  She picked up the phone and dialed 411 for information and soon was handing the number to Anton.  “There, now you can call her!” She turned toward the kitchen wondering what she could make for lunch that would be comfort food for Anton, but not raise his blood sugar.  He followed her into the kitchen like the kid he was.

     “I can’t call her now!  She is at his house.  I will call her tonight.  What is for lunch.  I am hungry.”

     “Of course you are!  You always are.  I think you have a tape worm!  Call her later then.”  And with that she began to tear lettuce into a bowl.  Anton scowled.  Salad again. Damn!

     And later that evening Anton dialed the number on the paper.  He had only one thought in his mind as he listened to the phone ring somewhere far away, “Please, not an answering machine.  I have to know.  Please answer.”  And his silent prayer was answered when a raspy voice answered the phone.

     “Hello?”  Anton tried to conjure a face to go with the voice, but nothing came to mind.

     “Is this Cynthia Browder?”

     “Who wants to know?”  Well, that was strange, but of course she would want to know who he was.

     “This is Anton Fuhrman from St. Louis, Missouri.  My brother is Tucker Fuhrman and I am hoping you are his friend in Pueblo.  Are you?”

     “Yes!  I am!  Tucker has spoken of you.  How are you Anton?”

     “I am good, Cynthia, but I am worried about Tucker.  I got off the phone with him later this afternoon and I want to know how he is.  He sounds pretty down to me.  Do you know why?”

     Cynthia cringed inwardly.  This guy was pretty demanding.  “Well, what did Tucker tell you?”

     “Nothing!  I asked him how he was and he said he was fine.  He doesn’t sound fine.  Is he sick?”

     Cynthia’s mind raced.  This brother knew something was wrong, but not what.  Tucker must be protecting him from the truth.  That would be so like Tucker.  Always the big brother.  “When was the last time you saw Tucker?”

     “A couple years ago, but we talk on the phone real regular.  He just sounds kind of evasive when I ask when he is coming home and when I tell him we might come visit he has an excuse why this is not a good time.  I know something is going on and I hoped you would tell me.”

     Cynthia inhaled deeply.  How could she say what needed to be said  without selling Tucker down the river?  “Anton, why don’t you plan on a visit out here.  I would love to meet you and Stacy.”

     Anton sighed.  He was not going to get anywhere with this woman.  He knew that.  “Ok.  I will talk to Stacy and maybe we can plan on coming out this fall sometime.”

     “No, Anton!  I think you should come sooner than that.  I think you should come right away.”

     “Well, Tucker does not want me to come now.  He said that!  What is going on here?  Is he sick?  Is his cancer back?  I need to know.”

     “Well, Anton, if you need to know then ask Tucker.  I will not discuss him behind his back.  You should know that.  Do this, call him tomorrow evening and let me talk to him tomorrow morning.  That way he will have time to think it over.  Just when you call him, tell him you want to come now.  OK?”

     “Got you!  I will call him tomorrow night.  It is going to be a long day tomorrow.  And thanks, Cynthia, for what ever you are doing.”

     And with that they broke the connection and both went back to their own little worlds, praying that tomorrow would bring some sort of peace of mind.

Installment # 42 Hospice

     Cynthia and Tucker sat on the blue love seat, not touching.  Marge sat on a folding chair in front of the closed up fireplace.  She had her notebook and a pen.  The rest of the room was filled with strangers who also had notebooks and proceeded to write in them furiously.  Cynthia glanced at Tucker and shrugged.  They needed no words.  These people were writing words that shaped his future, or lack of it.

     The head social worker would speak and everyone would write.  “The nurse will come 3 times a week.”  Scribble, scribble.  “The CNA will come every day except Saturday and Sunday.”  Scribble, scribble.  “She will help you with your shower and personal hygiene.  She will do your laundry and fix your breakfast and tidy the kitchen.”  Scribble, scribble.  “Now if you have any pain, call hospice.  Do not call 911.  Do you understand, Tucker?  Cynthia?”  They nodded.  Scribble, scribble.

     Finally the interview was over, the scribbling all done, the notebook on the desk for everyone to write in when they came so everyone else would know what was going on with Tucker.  As they each left they stopped and hugged Tucker and offered him words of encouragement.  They also hugged Cynthia and smiled.  With a heavy heart Cynthia realized that this was the death watch patrol.  They were the ones who would be with him until the end.  They would send the people that would care for him.  She suddenly felt like she was smothering.  Muttering something about poor Cleo, she grabbed the leash and walked to the back door.  Cleo was always ready for a walk and as they walked through the house and out the front door to the river Marge and Tucker watched them quizzically.  Cynthia just knew she had to be some where else or she would explode.

     “What is her problem?”  He asked Marge.  She laughed.

     “Her problem is she is a woman and she is dealing with losing someone she really cares about, again.  She just needs some time.  I think I will fix a sandwich.  Want one?”

     “No, thanks.  I think I will wait for Cyndi.  Think I will set on the porch awhile.  Bring your sandwich out and set with me.”  And she did.  And when she had finished they walked to the path that led up from the river walk.  They sat on the bench facing the river and Tucker saw her first.

     She and the dog were walking very slowly.  She once again emitted the ethereal quality that Tucker did not understand.  Marge watched him very closely and then she smiled.  “What are you thinking, Tucker Fuhrman?  I have never seen that look in your eyes before.  Quick!  Tell me before you decide to lie to me!”  She laughed at his look of surprise and suddenly realized that he was going to tell her the truth because she already knew.  He was not the only person on this earth to see Cynthia in this light.

     “She is special, Marge.  I don’t know what it is, but I do know that she is different.  It is like she can see into my very soul.  She communicates with the dog, you know.  Never talks, just looks and the dog does it.  I don’t think she knows it.  Do you?”

     “Oh, I agree she is special as far as special goes, but she is only human.  I think she is here because you need her and I think you need her because she is here.  Makes sense?  It is like someone in the great cosmos knew what was needed and here she is.  What if you had met her 30 years ago, Tucker?  What if you had met her before your prostate went sour?”

     Tucker watched Cynthia coming up the bank of the levee.  He knew the answer to this one.  “If I had met her 30 years ago, or 20 years ago or 5 years ago, I would have married her.  I would not have thought about it twice.  I would have swept her off her feet and carried her to Shangri-La.  We would have lived happily ever after.  I love that woman, Marge.  I know that clear down in whatever spot in my soul love comes from. We would have had babies and I would have played with them.  A boy and a girl.  The boy first.  The boy would look like me and the girl would look like her.”

     “What about the motorcycle club?  What about all your collections?  What about your photography?”

     “I would have still have had all that.  She would have been the perfect wife.  The guys in the club seem to like her.  She is fun.”

     “Are you going to tell her you love her?”

     “Oh, hell no!  Early on when we were dating, she said, ‘Tucker, I think I love you.’  Want to know what I told her?  ‘Why thank you, Cyndi, that is a real honor.’  Shortly after that we had our falling out and I never spoke to her for five months.  I hope she forgot that, but I don’t think she did.”

     Marge sighed.  “Tucker, you do not have much time.  Are you just going to let this die with you?”  And with that Cynthia stepped onto the pavement and the two fell silent.