her able hands

Seeing it’s such a busy week at work, and I’m daily blogging this blog, and the other one and working on the novel, I think I’ll post a few more short scenes from what I wrote last year. I’ll share a little taste of each character. And thanks for such positive feedback on that first bit, you guys helped me out of the rut I started in.

Henrietta thought that maybe Lucy would have more time for her mother if she wasn’t so busy wasting her expensive education, and putting them all in such an awkward and potentially illegal position. Maybe if she gave her family a little more concern, she would see that she was on the verge of ruining all of their lives. But she chose to keep that inside, and instead said to Lucy “Well, dear, if planting tomatoes is more important, I’ll just be waiting right here for you. It’s not as if I can go anywhere without you.”

Lucy sighed audibly, and cleared her throat. “Mom, it’s not that I think it’s more important, it’s just that we have a dozen volunteer members here today, and I promised James I would keep everybody on task. If you had given me a little more notice, I could have made other plans, but I can’t just drop everything to come over there this minute. James will be back from his errands for lunch. I can leave then.”

Henrietta sighed in return, “That’s just fine Lucy, I’m not complaining. I’m just looking forward to getting home. I have been in this godforsaken hospital for two weeks, after all.”

“I know, Mom. And I think it’s great you’re well enough to be at home. Let’s talk more about what we’re going to do when I get there, okay?” she said.

“What do you mean, ‘what we’re going to do,’ Lucy?” Henrietta snapped. “We’re not going to do anything. You’re going to bring me home and I’m going to take a nap in my chair.”

“Okay, Mom. I didn’t mean…” she trailed off and Henrietta listened to her breathing on the other end of the line, waiting for her to finish, ready to cut her off at the pass if she brought up that damned senior condo nonsense again. Fancy words for a nursing home, and she’d rather die than live like that. But Lucy didn’t finish, she just kept breathing into her mother’s ear, so Henrietta changed the subject, “Listen. I would appreciate it if you would bring me back my box.”

“Your box…Oh! The cigar box. Okay, of course.” She said.

“Yes, my cigar box. Don’t try to sound like you forgot about it, dear. I don’t know why you took it with you, it doesn’t belong to you.”

“I took it with me because you were unconscious. I didn’t want to just leave it in your hospital room to get stolen. Then I did forget about it. I’ve had a few other things to worry about besides your box, Mom. I’m not trying to keep it from you.”

“Well, I hope not. And I certainly hope you haven’t been rifling through it. Those are private things, between me and your father.” Henrietta said.

“I didn’t read the letters, if that’s what you mean. But it seems to me like that box is something that Dad kept private for himself, like it didn’t have anything to do with you at all, Mom.”

Henrietta cast around for the right words, and only came up with, “That’s not true. He told me to look for the box.”

“We can talk about it when I get there. I’ll see you around one o’clock.”