Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [59]
My mouth hung open in silent protest, and the room went blurry as my eyes glazed over, but at the same time a kind voice above me said, “There, there, don’t cry. We’re going to take very good care of you.”
I recognized the nurse who had been with me from the beginning, her matronly face so serene I wanted to dive into that peacefulness and have it swallow me up. She dabbed at my eyes with the edge of the sheet and murmured soothing words, and that was the last thing I remember before I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
The canopy of black was pierced by soft, disembodied voices floating somewhere near my bed.
“How’s she doing?” That was Grandpa. I’d know his voice anywhere.
“She’s fine. She came through the surgery like a trouper.” Mom’s hand came to rest on my shoulder. “They moved her out of recovery about a half hour ago. She’s been slowly waking up for a while now.”
“Good, good. Listen, don’t worry about any medical expenses. Everything will be taken care of.”
“But, Dad – ”
“Don’t argue with me, Janis. I know what Marie is paying you at the store, and I know the hospital bill might add up to be a pretty penny. You just leave that for your old man to settle, all right?”
A slight pause, then, “All right, Dad. Thanks. Honestly, I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
They were quiet a moment, and I felt Mom withdraw her hand from my shoulder. Then I heard gentle footfalls move across the room and out into the hall.
Groggily, I opened my eyes. The metallic taste of blood was on my tongue, and something large and painful filled my throat, threatening to gag me. I moaned, and when I did, the placid face – the last one I had seen before the surgery – appeared above me, speaking softly. “Are you waking up, Rosalind? That’s a good girl. Here, I have some ice chips for you to suck on.”
Something cold slipped through my parched lips, and my mouth welcomed the soothing chill. I savored the ice chip as it melted and mingled with my saliva, but when I swallowed I squirmed against the pain.
“That’s right,” the nurse said kindly. “I know your throat hurts and the uvula is swollen – that’s what you’re feeling at the back of your throat. But you’ll feel better soon.”
I managed to smile at her and offer a small nod of thanks. The surgery was over, my tonsils were out, and I was alive.
At home, Tillie fed me Jell-O, Popsicles, ice cream, and cold Cream of Wheat. She doled out my pain medication, kept me supplied with water and fruit juice, and checked me routinely for any symptoms of infection. She nursed me around the clock, even sleeping in the twin bed in my room in case I needed anything in the night.
Mom helped too, of course, but left much of the nursing up to Tillie while she went back to work. “I wish I could be here with you like a proper mother,” she told me on Monday morning. “But as long as I have to work, I can’t be here. So thank heavens for Tillie.”
I nodded, reluctant still to speak. My throat felt better, but I had a ways to go before I was back to normal. I lay in bed wondering about how far I was falling behind in school and what Mara was doing and whether Daddy knew I was all right.
On Monday evening I was propped up on pillows reading when Mom came to my room and sat on the edge of the bed.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Okay,” I said, mouthing the word.
“Better?”
I nodded.
“Can I get you anything else to eat or drink?”
I shook my head no.
She smiled at me, but I didn’t like the way she was squeezing her hands together in her lap. “Roz,” she said, “I need to talk with you about something. It’s about your father.”
My eyes grew wide and my breath caught in my swollen throat. She knew! Mom knew Daddy was there in Mills River and that he had spoken to me! Closing my book and putting it aside, I slid down in the bed until my