~~~
Paul parked in the parking lot adjacent to the hospital, put the contract under his driver's seat and headed into the sprawling medical complex that ran the entire city block.
His stride was swift, confident and purposeful, it was only then that Timmons' words abated. As he walked he once again grew angry. Feelings that had surfaced earlier were back. He wanted to know the truth. He needed to know the truth.
Down through what seemed to be a labyrinth of hallways, he finally found room number 2412.
Anger had propelled him to the door but now fear gripped him. It had been so long.
What was he going to say?
As he lifted his hand to lightly rap on the door that stood ajar, the door pulled open and his gaze met his older sister Angie's.
Her eyes widened as she engulfed Paul in a tight embrace. As he held her he felt her tremble. She had been standing in the trenches waging war beside their mother and it had taken its toll. But, no matter how haggard she looked, he was stunned to see how much she looked like mom.
Angie tugged on her brother's hand and pulled him into the private room.
Paul cast his eyes toward the bed and caught sight of the frightfully gaunt woman dwarfed by the huge hospital bed. Pale and obviously very frail, Irene lay quietly in bed, her eyes closed. Frightened, he looked back at his younger sister.
"You're not too late," Angie said in a respective whisper.
Paul inhaled sharply and relaxed as he noticed his mother's chest rising and falling, however scant, with normal rhythm.
Before Paul could react, Angie said, "Mom, you have a visitor." Paul followed Angie and stepped past a man their age and a young boy, about six years of age.
Angie stepped back as the man stood, put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Paul shook his head as he realized he was her husband and the boy was the nephew he never knew. He looked to Angie who gave him a solemn look in return. Jesus!
There was so much to fix.
He turned back to the bed and said, "Mom?"
Irene's eyes flickered open slowly as she turned toward the sound. As her eyes focused, her face lit up.
"Paul!" she said feebly.
Paul smiled and reached down and took his mother's hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Horrified, all he felt were bones. Cancer had reduced her to a shell of what he remembered.
Strength waning, she outstretched her arms and Paul awkwardly leaned over the raised bed rail and pressed his body against hers.
"I love you, son."
"I love you, too, mom."
For a long moment, the embrace continued neither one said anything. Tears blurred his vision as he let his mother settled back against the starched white sheets.
"I waited for you."
The words caught him. He had only heard that in movies, never in life.
"Mom, I've wasted so much time. I hope you can forgive me."
Irene nodded as she squeezed his hand.
"I prayed to God to help you see," Irene said, her voice soft.
Paul's eyes widened at the realization and he reached into his jacket pocket. Finding nothing he began to pat all of his pockets, but the sunglasses weren't there.
"What are you looking for?" Angie asked.
"Sunglasses, a pair of sunglasses."
"Sunglasses?"
Paul felt his body temperature rise. How would he explain them anyway?
"You wouldn't believe me..." he began, "but those sunglasses showed me my childhood. All of it. I put 'em on and I was there."
Paul's gaze darted between his mother, to Angie and back to his mother.
"I saw you and Dad, back years ago."
Angie's face registered surprise and confusion.
Paul took a hold of his sister's hand.
"Mom," Paul turned to his mother and said, "I stepped back in time, like I was in some Twilight Zone episode or something. I was back on Edgemont."
"What?" Angie asked, her tone dubious.
"Honest," Paul said, looking back over his shoulder.
Both of her children looked to their mother, the first time she saw them together in so long. Her eyes welled with tears and Irene took in a gasp that caught all of their attention, "God answered my prayer."
Angie leaned closer to her mother, a puzzled expression now crossing her face, "Mom?"
Their mother suddenly had a look of peace about her and as Paul looked to Angie for a second, he could see that the moment filled her with fear.
"I'm okay," Irene finally uttered and it set the whole room at ease. Everyone instinctively knew that the time was near.
"Mom," Paul said, his word cutting into the sudden silence, "Mom, did Dad kill Rusty?"
Angie gasped, "what?"
She didn't know the truth either, not about that.
Irene looked deeply into Paul's eyes nodded, "he was drunk. It was an accident."
Paul squeezed his eyes shut, tipped his head back and took in a deep breath," and not man enough to own up to it."
It was true.
"I don't understand...," Angie began.
"Those glasses," Paul interrupted, "but how?"
Irene shrugged.
Paul looked at the gold necklace, and the cross that laid on her chest as her mother weakly lifted her hand to touch it.
Faith.
"Tell me...why did you let me, us, think that you were responsible for Rusty's death?"
Angie turned to her husband and quietly said, "that was our dog when we were kids."
"I loved your father", their mother said. "For all his faults, I loved him, but he loved alcohol more," her voice slow, yet her words were sure. "And because he asked."
"Asked for what? For you to take the fall?" Paul said, his voice lifted in absolute astonishment.
Angie's touch reminded him to be quiet. This was not the place to have a rant.
There had been so many years, distanced by so much hate, that had festered unchecked for nearly Paul's whole life. If his father had walked into that room at that moment, he would have cold-cocked him one.
"He knew... you looked up to him," she took a breath, "and loved Rusty so much. He didn't want to lose face."
Face!?!
"Oh God, Mom. What I saw...it was...true," Paul said a moment later.
Paul grasped his mother's hand and said, "I just feel like such a fool. I think of your divorce and how it ripped me in half. I blamed you for everything. I was a kid. You let me think Dad was a saint. I didn't know. I wasted time stupidly thinking that you loved Angie more. God, such resentment." And he reached for Angie's hand and their eyes met, "and you...you stuck by Mom all this time. Hell, you tried so many times to make me see."
"You're back together," Irene said, giving them a smile.
"I have so many questions," Paul said, to everyone in the room.
Irene squeezed her son's hand and reached for Angie's. They clasped hands and gave each other a thoughtful, loving look.
And for the first time in four decades of Paul's life, he wished he had that bond with her, too.
"Dad died and I followed him into advertising...because that's what he wanted," Paul said as he shook his head.
"You wanted to be a pilot," Angie said.
Paul gave his mother's hand a squeeze and ran his thumb across the back her amazingly thin hand. He remembered her hand, her fingers long and supple, now were...
An uncomfortable silence followed.
"Instead, I followed Dad. I always thought it was something I was expected to do. I didn't want Dad disappointed in me. Dumb, huh?"
"No," everyone in the room said, except the young lad that was seated on a padded chair behind him.
Irene's breathing became irregular, and she seemed to weaken right in front of their eyes. A nurse checking on her simply gave them a look that said, "it's real close now," and stepped out of the room to
give them their privacy.
"I love you, Mom," Paul said.
"I love you, too," Angie said on his heels.
Angie motioned for her husband and son to join them at the bedside.
"I love you, Mom," the man said beside Paul as the two men exchanged smiles.
The young man, not to be crowded out by everyone standing on Irene's right, ran around to the other side.
"Gran," he said, a look of concern crossed his face, "are you okay?"
Irene smiled, and released Paul's hand to take a hold of his. "Yes. I'm gettin'...ready."
"Ready?"
"To be with God."
Angie started to cry openly, her husband cradled her in his arms.
"You mean God in Heaven? Can I go, too?"
Alarmed, Angie gasped as Paul spoke first, "we all get our turn, you can't go with her, son."
"Maybe he should go outside," Angie's husband suggested.
"No," Irene said, "please."
Instead of being inquisitive, the young man seemed to intuitively "get it". He carefully climbed up on the edge of the bed and leaned over to give his grandmother a kiss on the cheek. "I love you," he said and stepped back down and released his handhold.
"I love you... all..., so......very much," Irene said, "promise me...don't....let..." her voice was sharply weaker. The change in her was dramatic.
"Don't......let.....," the words now were so soft Paul had to lean close to hear them and he repeated to the others what he heard.
"Any......hurt..........," Irene struggled to inflate her lungs, and began to only mouth the words as Paul pulled back for the others to see, also.
Angie offered the words, "get......between......you."
Irene managed a weak smile.
Paul and Angie exchanged glances. It was heart wrenching.
"We love you," Angie said, as fear registered on her face.
"Yeah, we love you very much," Paul said, his voice a bit louder as their mother drifted into unconsciousness.
It was only two more brief breaths