The Words We Whisper by Mary Ellen Taylor

CHAPTER FIVE

ZARA

Richmond, Virginia

Saturday, June 5, 8:30 p.m.

“Gina tells me you’re dying,” Zara said.

“Still direct,” Nonna said.

“Did you think I might have changed?” When Zara saw her grandmother struggle to rise up, she automatically moved the pillows up behind her and helped her to a sitting position. She noted the glass of water on the nightstand and held it up to Nonna’s lips. The woman drank thirstily.

Nonna gasped in a breath. “I had hoped you had not changed too much.”

“Why is that?” Zara set the glass on the table and pulled up a wooden chair. “You always said I was too bossy.”

“You were, and I can see you still are, but I need someone like you. Now is not the time for the weak.”

“I can care for you and keep you as comfortable as I can. And I know doctors who might offer a second opinion.”

“More doctors are not necessary. I am dying. I accept that, but in the time that I have remaining, there are tasks that must be done. Gina is not up to the job.”

“She’s done well.”

“She’s a nervous wreck,” Nonna said. “She smiles all the time because she thinks smiles hide everything, but they do not.”

“What is she hiding?”

Nonna shrugged and fussed with her sheet. “How would I know?”

“You know everything.”

“You overestimate me.”

Zara regarded her grandmother. “Well, then you’re in luck, because I don’t smile much.”

“No, you do not.” She smoothed out the wrinkles on her sheet. “I need the attic cleaned out before I die.”

“The attic? That’s it?”

“I want to make sure that all my belongings are disposed of properly.”

“You can’t go up in the attic?”

“No, of course not, but you can. You can assist me as I go through what’s up there.”

Zara supposed this change had to do with her health. “You always said that I shouldn’t worry about what was up there. That it was junk.”

“I said that so you would not snoop.”

Zara shrugged. “Smart play. If not for the lock on the door, I’m sure I would have been up there rooting through the junk.”

“Why do you think there was a lock?”

“What are you looking for?” Zara asked.

“I’ll know it when I see it.”

“You have the sharpest mind of anyone. You don’t forget anything. You know exactly what you want.”

“You give me too much credit. And now I am old, and I have forgotten. I need help remembering.”

Zara nearly called her out, but something in Nonna’s tone backed up the words. Nonna would be ninety-eight on her next birthday, and it was possible the memories were scattering.

In Virginia’s June heat, the attic would be sweltering most of the day, limiting her work to the early morning hours. That was just as well. It would give her time to care for Nonna.

“I’ll pay you, of course,” Nonna said.

“Excuse me?”

“I know this is what you do for a living.” She waved her lined hand, as if searching for the words. “You shepherd the dying.”

“I’ve never heard it put that way.”

“It’s true, is it not?” Nonna asked.

“I suppose.”

“Well, I am dying, and I would like to be guided through these last days.”

“Wouldn’t you rather do something fun? I know that sounds trite, but you used to love clothes and the feel of good fabric. You and Gina could design a piece together like you did when I was a kid.”

“I don’t want another dress. I want my life in order. And I expect you to do that.”

“Your life is not the attic,” Zara said.

“It is.” She allowed a tired breath to leak over her lips. “Don’t argue, Zara. I do not have the will.”

With dying came extreme fatigue and a narrowing of life. Life’s broad spectrum of colors faded and then tapered to a pinpoint. That was where Nonna was now.

“Okay, I’ll start on the attic in the morning.”

“Why not now?”

“It’s ninety degrees outside and a hundred and ten in the attic. This is going to be an early-morning gig.”

“Very well. But do not throw out any item until I have inspected it.”

“I’m a pretty good judge of junk.”

“I must see each piece.” Her voice was trailing and her body slipping into a deep sleep.

“Understood.”

Zara tugged the blanket up over Nonna’s chest and tucked it close to her chin. She smoothed her hand over the old woman’s thinning white hair. This was the first time in years she had not seen Nonna made up with her hair styled. Zara used to tease her grandmother about being so pulled together, and now that she wasn’t, it bothered her more than she could have predicted.

She left the room and closed the door behind her. She found Gina in the kitchen, sitting at the table, legs crossed, Little Sister in one hand and her teacup cradled in her other. The boys slept on the kitchen floor and barely looked up. “How is she?”

Little Sister whimpered when she saw Zara, so she took the dog from Gina’s arms. “She wants me to clean the attic out.”

“The attic. Good God, who in their right mind would spend their last days cleaning out that bird’s nest?”

Zara sat across from Gina and sipped tea that had now grown cold. “I don’t know. Maybe if I can clear out a little, that will appease her.”

Gina extended her hand and studied her manicure. “Don’t count on it.”

“I need a bedroom,” Zara said. “Looks like you and Nonna turned mine and the spare room into storage.”

“You weren’t here.”

“I’m not placing blame,” Zara said tersely.

“Don’t you sleep in your van?” Gina asked.

“I do when I have to, but I don’t have to now. There’s room in this house for me.”

“And the dogs?”

“They’ll sleep with me.”

Gina sighed.

“What’s with the attitude? You called me,” Zara said.

“I shouldn’t have had to call,” she said.

“Why not?”

“You should have checked in more.”

“I call twice a week,” Zara said.

Gina shook her head. “Never mind. There’s nothing you can do.” She rose and picked up the cups.

“I know you’ve taken care of a lot for me over the years, but this I can do. So I’m going to do it.”

The cup rattled on the saucer. “You should have checked in more.”

Zara stabbed fingers through her hair. Gina had always acted like a mini mom to Zara, and that had worked when she was a kid. But she was an adult, not a frightened orphan. “I’m here now.”

Gina planted her hand on the counter and leaned into it. Her sister’s skin had always been milky pale, but today her pallor was sallow. “Yes, you are.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m tired. And there’s an air mattress in the closet of your old room. It should do the trick. Push the clothes aside.” The dogs whined, and Gina shot each a warning glance. “Do they need something?”

Zara grabbed the dogs’ leashes, hooked each up, and snatched one of the disposable bags she kept in her back pocket. Then she and the three dogs headed outside for a walk.

The air had cooled, and the sky was clear as they strolled toward the collection of rocks on the river. Called Pony Pasture, it had been a favorite hangout of Zara’s when she had been a teenager. No better place to sneak a cold beer on a hot day.

Whenever she and the dogs walked new territory, the dogs were alert and engaged, determined to study, sniff, and pee on every patch of ground. They ambled for a half hour before Gus started to slow. Zara had heard in his puppy days he could run for miles, but these days the arthritis in his hips limited him.

They made their way to the house, and as they approached the van, the dogs wagged their tails. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “This is home.”

She opened the side panel, pulled out the dogs’ bowls, and filled three with kibble and the fourth with water. As they ate, Zara rolled out a six-by-eight carpet and set up a folding chair. She grabbed a soda from the small refrigerator, popped the top, and sat. The trick to living on the road was creating home wherever you were.

Zara stared at her grandmother’s Mediterranean home and thought about the Sunday and Wednesday evening calls she always made to her grandmother. Lately, she’d listened while Nonna had talked about Papa and her son and how much she missed them. It was not like her grandmother to be nostalgic. But lately, the past had drawn Nonna more and more.

An older man dressed in ironed khakis, a crisp white shirt, and sturdy athletic shoes strolled along the street. She recognized Mr. George Harper, who had practiced law with her grandfather for forty-plus years. He had been a solemn, stoic figure at her father’s and grandfather’s funerals.

“Zara,” he said.

She rose, left her can in the chair’s cup holder, and crossed and hugged him close. “Mr. Harper. How are you?”

“I’m well. How is your grandmother?”

“Not well.”

“I thought as much when I saw your van.”

Some of Zara’s clients remarked that Death rode shotgun with her in the van. “You’ve been talking to Gina?”

“I try. She’s a little scattered.”

“I’ll take that blame,” Zara said. “I should have come home sooner.”

“Your job has great meaning, and you can’t walk away from an assignment like other people.” He scratched each of the dogs between the ears. “Are you staying for long?”

“For the duration,” Zara said.

“Good. Renata is in good hands.”

“Thanks.” Zara looked around for his black Lincoln. “Where’s your car?”

“I had the Uber bring me.”

“The Uber. You’re not driving?”

“Naw, gave it up. My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

Mr. Harper lived ten miles west of here in a quiet suburban neighborhood. When he and his wife had bought their house in the midsixties, the houses had been cheap and the lots big. His wife, Stacey, had died a couple of years before Papa. Zara remembered that her grandparents had all but adopted him, having him to dinner several times a week for a couple of years. She envied the deeply rooted friendship the three had shared.

“You still look pretty fit to me,” Zara said.

“I am,” he said with a grin.

“Are you going into the office each day?”

“I am. Just for a few hours.”

“Keep the young ones on their toes?”

He winked. “That’s exactly right.”

“Hey, I’m going to cook dinner as soon as I can get my grandmother and sister settled. I’ll call you, and you can get yourself an Uber and come? Can’t guarantee that Nonna will be up and about, but you never know. It would do her good. By then I’ll have some of the stuff cleaned from the attic, and we can play Giveaway and Keep.”

“The attic?”

“It’s Nonna’s only request. She wants me to clean it out.”

Nodding slowly, he looked up at the house toward Nonna’s window. “That sounds nice. I’d like that. Call me when the ladies are up to it.”

“Great.”

A black SUV pulled up in front of the house, and Mr. Harper jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s my ride. I always get dropped off and picked up here.”

His way of checking in. Zara leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “See you soon.”

“Looking forward to it.”

She walked him to the car and closed the door when he was settled inside. Standing on the sidewalk, she watched the car drive off and vanish around the corner.

“Nonna, you aren’t sitting in that bed for the rest of your days. That I promise you.”

From the van, Zara grabbed one of her empty notebooks she used for her clients, and she and the pups closed up the van and went inside. She found Gina in the kitchen and spent the next half hour going over Nonna’s medications and making meticulous notes. She documented her grandmother’s schedule, her latest dietary preferences, and her sleep schedule. “When does she go outside?”

“She hasn’t in weeks,” Gina said.

“It’ll be a shame to waste these early mornings and evenings.”

“She sleeps a lot.”

“Do you have a wheelchair?” Zara asked.

“It’s in my room. She refuses to use it. She doesn’t even want to look at it.”

“Okay. I’ll put it in my room.”

“She won’t use it,” Gina insisted.

“We’ll see.” Most of her patients came to the end of their lives kicking and screaming and desperate to hold on as tightly as they could. Wheelchairs and walkers became a necessary evil.

“I’m going out tonight,” Gina said. “I need a break.”

“Take all the time you need. I have this.”

“Are you sure? You won’t forget the pills?”

“I do this for a living,” Zara said.

“I don’t know how you do it. These have been the most depressing days of my life. Dad and Papa were here one day and gone the next. But this slow walk to the light is agonizing.”

“I know it can be very difficult.”

“But how do you do it?” Gina searched her sister’s face, as if hunting for the secret.

“I find the joy,” Zara said simply.

Gina shook her head. “There is no joy, Zara.”

“That’s not true. Less time can magnify the good in the remaining days.”

Gina grabbed her small black leather clutch purse, snapped it open, and removed a mirrored compact and lipstick. She freshened her rose-tinted lips. “I’m going to find some real joy. He’s tall, good looking, and serves a mean gin gimlet at Red’s bar.”

“I tried to sneak in there with a fake ID once. And the bouncer caught me and was going to call the cops.”

“And you called me, and I talked him out of it right over the phone.”

“You’re kryptonite to men, Gina. They cannot ignore you.”

That prompted a smile as she dropped her gaze to her phone. “I know. Speaking of which, I’m heading in that direction now.”

“Have fun.”

“You know it.”

A car parked in front of the house, and she left. When the front door closed, a thick silence settled over the house. The grandfather clock ticked. Zara set up the dogs’ beds in the kitchen and checked in on Nonna. She was sleeping soundly, but her face still had a troubled expression. She always worried. About Papa, the shop, her son and granddaughters. She always feared that if she took her eye off them, they would be gone.

Zara closed the door softly, climbed the stairs to the second floor, and opened the door leading to the now-unlocked attic. It was going to be hot as hell up there, but Nonna had never once mentioned the attic in all her years. And now she needed it cleaned ASAP.

Her curiosity overriding potential discomfort, she opened it and was slammed by the day’s pent-up heat. After flipping the switch, she climbed the wooden stairs toward the lone bulb that spit out a faint ring of light on the wall-to-wall clutter. There was not a square inch of the attic that was not packed full of every piece of furniture or lamp that Nonna and Papa had ever purchased and then set aside.

Sweat beaded on her brow and between her breasts. The heat in the attic gave hell a run for its money.

“And so the adventure begins.”