Georgia on Her Mind(43)

Adriane insists on going with me, and as we scurry toward Mrs. Woodward’s walk, I update Adriane on my neighbor’s recurring condition. “She was supposed to have gallbladder surgery, but for some reason it never got scheduled.”

I suspect Mrs. W. avoided confirming the date and time. The front door is unlocked, so we let ourselves in. Elaine Woodward is curled up on the couch, sweating and pale.

I make a command decision. “You’re going to the E.R.”

She’s in so much pain she can’t lift her head, but she has the moxie to protest. “No, no, it’ll pass. Just stay with me.” Mrs. Woodward’s hand trembles as she touches my arm. Her skin is hot on mine.

“Could be rupturing,” Adriane whispers in my ear.

“I concur, Doctor.”

She grins at me, then kneels in front of Mrs. Woodward, brushing a gray curl away from the older woman’s face, and speaks with extraordinary tenderness. This is a rare side of the wounded, pessimistic Adriane Fox. “Hi, Mrs. Woodward. I’m a friend of Macy’s. Your gallbladder could be rupturing. You need to go to the hospital.”

“Macy?” Mrs. Woodward strains to open her eyes. Her dull eyes search the room until she sees me.

“We’re taking you to the E.R. No questions,” I say.

She gives me a slight nod. “No ambulance. Macy, you drive me.”

“Fine.” I run home to get my car while Adriane helps Mrs. Woodward off with her slippers and on with her shoes. I’m so glad she is here to help. I’ve known Addy for many years, but never felt this close to her. I’m grateful for tonight. Amazing how the tragedies in our lives bind us together with cords of camaraderie.

They’re walking out as I pull up. Adriane holds Mrs. Woodward steady as she eases down into the passenger seat. She groans and gasps.

As I shut the door, Adriane whispers in my ear. “Let me take her. You’ve got the interview. I just turned in a manuscript and for once don’t have a looming deadline. Let me help.”

I slip behind the wheel and check the car clock. Twelve-fifteen. By the time I get Mrs. Woodward checked in and wait around, it’s going to be the wee hours of the morning. My flight is in six hours. Suddenly I don’t feel so good.

I smooth my hand on Mrs. Woodward’s arm. She feels so thin and frail under my palm. “I’m supposed to fly to New York in a few hours. Would it be all right if Adriane takes you? She’s one of my best friends. She’ll take great care of you.”

She presses her hands to her cheeks and shakes her head.

Adriane kneels and offers, “It’s not a problem, Mrs. Woodward. I can stay as long as you need me.”

Mrs. Woodward shakes her head again. I’m about to make another command decision, since she’s sort of done this to herself. New York is the biggest opportunity of my life. I’m sorry she can’t have what she wants, but at least she’ll be taken care of in the hospital. And Adriane will be with her. It’s not as if I’m leaving her alone.

“Look, Mrs. Woodward, I have an important job interview—”

She touches my hand with hers. I’m shocked to find it wet with her tears. Suddenly I’m hit with how overwhelmed she is, how scared and lonely. I can’t do it. I can’t leave her. For once, it’s not about me.

“I’ll take her.” I start the engine.

“Macy, are you sure?” Adriane asks. “You’ll miss your flight, your big opportunity.”

I tip my head toward Mrs. Woodward. “No, this is my big opportunity.”

All the traffic lights are green and I make it to the hospital in record time. The E.R. staff tend to Mrs. Woodward with an uncanny swiftness and wheel her into surgery within an hour of our arrival. Adriane calls my cell for an update as I doze in the waiting room.

“She’s in surgery.” I yawn between each word.

“Do you need anything?” In contrast to me, Adriane is wide-awake.

“No, I’m good. I’ll just sleep in the waiting room until they tell me she’s okay and in her room.”

“Let me know what I can do. Really, Macy, I don’t have anything else scheduled and Mrs. Woodward is such a darling.”

“She is, isn’t she? I’ll call you later.”

By midmorning I drive home, exhausted and sore, as if I’d run into a brick wall. My hair is oily and stinky, my face grimy and my breath hideous.

My sweet, darling neighbor came through the operation without complication and is tucked away in a private room until tomorrow. She looked pale and weak when I said goodbye, but the shadow of the Grim Reaper no longer tainted her round cheeks.

“Thank you so much, Macy.” She warmed my heart with a kiss on my hand. “You missed your flight.”

“Not a problem. I’m just glad you’re all right.”

Being with her in a time of crisis reminds me what life is supposed to be about. It takes the edge off recent events and trumpets, “It’s not all about you, Macy Moore.” Mrs. Woodward is one of the precious diamonds I’ve found in the rubble.

“Can you take a flight tonight?”

“I could,” I said with a nod, “if you don’t need me.”

“I can manage. Perhaps Dan Montgomery can come by if I need, or that dear boy Drag.”

“I’d like my friend Adriane to pick you up tomorrow. Would that be okay with you?”