What About Lissa

This story is a work of fiction, but it is based on the lives of two good friends of ours, both of which have recently passed away, he of a heart attack, and she of Covid-19. Both were in their eighties. I've changed a few things to hopefully enhance the story, but the basics of her moving in with him while his wife was still alive, and an invalid, remain.

All characters in the story are eighteen years of age or older.

I hope you enjoy it, and I would greatly appreciate ratings and comments as they are a great help in improving my writing.

Either way, thanks for taking the time to read.

*****

"Cayla, honey, Mama called today and wondered if you'd be able to help her get the cabin ready this year."

My gramma had a cabin on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and it had been closed since the previous October. Getting it ready for the summer wasn't that difficult, but at seventy-four, Grandma Hilda needed help. I had been that helper last year, but only because I had a few days' break between assignments. I'd been a caregiver for the past five years, sometimes for very short periods of time, but once for over a year. I loved the work and the people I worked with.

"When does she need me, Mom? I'm expecting an assignment any day."

"Now that you mention it, she didn't say when she was going. I'll call her. What do you do up there, anyway?"

"Just a lot of cleaning, uncovering the furniture, washing the dishes, making sure the electricity and water are on, stuff like that." I had only been there three days last year, making the several hundred-mile drive home by myself.

"It seems that if Mom can't do those things by herself, she shouldn't be up there alone." Mom seemed very thoughtful as if she hadn't really considered that possibility.

"She does pretty well on those things, but getting the outdoor furniture out of the shed and setting it up... oh, and putting in the screens. Those are some of the things that give her problems." I was trying to picture her time at the cabin and all the things she'd done there. One thing at the forefront of my remembering was not a thing but a who -- Anders Kingscote, not an Upper Peninsula name at all. But, he was there to visit me last year, seven years after we'd broken up, and acting like nothing like that had ever happened, even asking if I'd have dinner with him.

I had been peeved at his audacity -- I'd made it clear those years ago that I had no interest in having any type of relationship with Anders, yet there he was, the moment I'd returned to the Peninsula. I was confident it would be the same this year, too, if I returned. My response had been more subdued than I'd have liked, but I didn't want to lash out in front of my grandmother. And I couldn't allow that to deter me from helping.

Anders was a little like his name sounded, particularly the "King" part. I had been young then and hadn't really noticed at first, as he was on his best behavior with me -- at least early on. But as I spent more time with him and he relaxed to normalcy, that self-centered side of him appeared, and I didn't like it. Thus the breakup, with Anders not being happy about it. I think he felt that if there was to be a breakup, he would make the announcement, not the mousy little redhead from Ohio.

"Well, I can understand her having trouble with those heavy things. I hope you can help her."

"Me too, Mom," I said, a little less than enthusiastically. I hated to disappoint both of them, but I'd have to see how things worked out.

Things worked out with me having no new assignment, thus being able to drive Grandma to her cabin, about a seven-hundred and fifty-mile trip each way. I have to admit I enjoyed spending the private time with the repository of both family and social history that was Gramma's brain. I loved it when Gramma told stories of paying nineteen cents a gallon for gasoline, putting a sign in the window to tell the iceman to stop, having bread and milk delivered daily, and going to a neighborhood grocery store about the size of our living and dining rooms combined.

Gramma Ellis really seemed to enjoy sharing with me, intent on helping me understand what her life had been and how that influenced her life today. I think she wanted to share her generation with me, and feared that if she didn't, it would disappear and be lost. She was raised by parents who'd lived through the Great Depression, and when dinner was over, and there was a small portion of mashed potatoes remaining on one plate, it was carefully wrapped and stowed in the Frigidaire for future use. All refrigerators were called Frigidaires in those days, she told me. She laughed, saying the refrigerator would become loaded with small packages, and it was a challenge to remember which was which. The habit continued long after the depression ended.

I felt that, if it was just me, I'd make the trip in one day, but with Gramma along, who needed to stop frequently for various things, including ice cream, we'd stop in a motel part-way there. Gramma always wanted to pay, but I insisted on splitting the cost, which always brought a grunt from my gray-headed passenger. The travel morning usually started with a tasty breakfast at a familiar diner, and we'd arrive at the cabin at about one in the afternoon, giving us time to get a good start on "opening up."

All had gone as planned, and it was a little after two, and the dishes were being loaded into the sink for washing when there was a knock at the door. I felt a chill go down my spine since I was almost certain who was knocking.

"Oh, Anders, come on in," Gramma said, smiling at me. She'd never accepted the fact that Anders was a part of her past and had no place in her present -- nor mine.

"Hello, Mrs. Ellis... and Cayla," Anders said, a rather tentative smile on his face. "Your hair looks good in a ponytail. It's a lovely shade of red.."

Before he could say more, I snapped, "Did you install a GPS tracker on my car so you'd know when I get here?" the sarcasm evident in my voice. And he was always complimenting my red hair.

"Better than that," Anders countered. "Old Mrs. Ramsey at the turn-off watches for you. I mow her grass, and she gets a free one if she spots you."

"You mow her grass?" Knowing Anders, that seemed highly implausible.

"Yeah. Since her arthritis has gotten so bad, she can't do it. It's not bad -- only takes a half-hour or so. She insisted on paying me to do it, and when I wouldn't accept the money, she told me not to mow.. She insisted she wasn't a charity case."

"So she has a free one coming then, huh?"

"Yep, and no GPS tracker on your car."

"Thank heaven for that." I sensed there was something different about Anders and wondered what it might be. I debated probing, my natural curiosity pressing me to do it.

"So, what have you been up to this last year?" I asked, finding myself actually smiling at him.

"Been a busy year," he began, giving me an uncertain look. "Since dad died, I've been running the bait store at the lake."

"Your dad died?" I knew he couldn't have been very old.

"Pancreatic cancer. Only lasted five months."

"Anders, I'm so sorry. I don't know quite what to say."

"Thanks, and it's okay. I've heard about everything there is to say about it. At least you got to meet him a few times."

"I did and enjoyed the time with him."

"That's good."

"So you're doing the bait store... and the boat rental too?"

"Yep, and it'll keep me busy all summer. I have three cabins too that I rent, and they're booked for the entire summer and into the autumn as well. Keeps me jumping."

"Sounds like it. I guess you don't have time for much else, then."

"I wish. I was elected to the town council for this term, and I'm in a tutoring program at the high school, working with kids who need a little extra help."

I felt like asking what had happened to the real Anders since this didn't sound at all like the guy I'd dated for a pair of summers. Even the tone of his voice had changed, the strident know-it-all sound having disappeared.

I felt my cell phone vibrate, saw a strange number on the screen, and thought of ignoring it, but remembered I was hoping to get a call for a new assignment. Holding up one finger to Anders in the universal sign to 'hold on a sec' I answered.

"Hello."

"Am I speaking with Cayla Beddington?" a pleasant-sounding male voice asked.

"You are indeed."

"Wonderful. This is Nick Wright, and you were recommended to me as an outstanding caregiver, and that's exactly what I need as quickly as possible."

"My thank you to whoever recommended me, and that is what I try to be. How can I help you?"

"My wife, Lissa, was severely injured in an automobile accident a few months ago, well, actually over a year ago now, and she's been an invalid ever since. I need someone to help me care for her. Two people have assured me you're excellent, so I'm hoping you'll be able to take on that responsibility. I assure you the pay will be more than adequate. What do you think?" There was no mistaking the anxiety in his voice.

"Mr. Wright, it sounds exactly like what I do. When would you want me to begin?" I decided I'd trust his "more than adequate" for my pay since I didn't want to haggle on the phone from the Upper Peninsula.

"As soon as possible -- this afternoon would be perfect."

"Are you in the Columbus area?"

"Yes, suburban Columbus."

"That part is good, but I'm currently in the Upper Peninsula of that state up north, helping get my grandmother settled into her cabin." I heard Nick chuckle.

"That state up north, huh. O - H."

"I - O," I responded.

"Well, that complicates things slightly, but if you're willing to take the job, I'm not going to search any further. I'm taking time off work to stay with Lissa, so the sooner, the better. And, it's always good to have another Ohio State fan around."

"I'll do the very best that I can. Can I call you at this number?"

"Yes.. Let me know when you can be here."

"No longer than two days, hopefully, sooner."

"Keep me posted, and good luck with getting your grandmother settled."

"Thanks, and I sure will."

I turned to Gramma, nibbling my lower lip.

"So, you have a job? And you need to get there quickly?"

"The sooner, the better," I nodded.

"You just go then. I'll get by here."

"I can't do that, Gramma."

"Sure you can," Anders said. "I'll get Mrs. Ellis settled in here."

"You can't do that; you have the bait shop and all that other stuff to do."

"Willie Starner will help at the shop, and I'd be happy to help out here. You take off, Cayla. We've got it covered, right, Mrs. Ellis?"

Hilda nodded. "Go," she said simply.

I looked at my watch. It was two-thirty. The slightly over ten-hour trip would get me home a little after midnight. That was doable. I'd be ready to start in the morning.

Anders walked me to my car.

"Please drive carefully, Cayla. And it was great to catch up a little."

"I will, Anders, and I think I did most of the catching up. You've changed, you know."

"I guess I know that and it was needed, I think."

I smiled. "We were going to go to the grocery store tomorrow."

"Listen, wipe all those thoughts out of your mind. I'll take care of everything, and I'll stop by to check on her this summer, too. I know she's not getting any younger."

"Thanks so much." It seemed so natural when I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, not surprised when he hugged me firmly.

"Be safe, now."

I backed out of the gravel driveway, waved to Anders, and was on the way home, calling Nick before I got to the main highway.

"I hope everything is okay," Nick answered.

"I'm on the way home."

"I also hope I didn't foul things up."

"Nope, an old friend is going to take care of Gramma. Why don't you text me your information so I'll have it with me? I should be home a little after midnight, so I can be there tomorrow morning."

"You're a wonder," he said sincerely. "I hope I can make it up to you."

"No need. I'm just anxious to meet you and Lissa."

"Please be careful."

*****

The trip was uneventful, with a stop for coffee about eight o'clock and arrival home at about twelve forty-five. I was exhausted but took the time to read the very extensive text message Nick had sent. I was familiar with his neighborhood, large homes with equally large lots. Now I had one more thing I was anxious to see, but I fell asleep, imagining what tomorrow might be like.

Nick said in the text message that I could arrive any time after six-thirty but that I should be sure to get my rest. Still, I was anxious to get started and knew Nick was probably just as anxious. My alarm sounded at six; I showered and was dressed by six-twenty and arrived at the Wright's home at six-forty-five. The house was not as large as some I'd passed, but I decided I'd be happy to have one like it someday.

When the door opened, the smile that greeted me from the warmly handsome face very closely matched the voice I'd heard on the phone. I smiled back.

"If you're Cayla, I'm so glad you're here, but I suspect you should be home sleeping... and please come in." He stepped aside to allow me to enter, then extended his hand.

"Yes, I'm Cayla, and I'm anxious to get started, so here I am." We shook hands, and the aroma of his cologne or after-shave matched the tone of his voice and the big smile. I'd have to get used to that.

"Before we go any further, I'll be paying twenty dollars an hour, plus bonuses if you work out, which I'm sure you will."

"That's very generous. Thank you."

"Let me show you around before you meet Lissa," he said, and I followed him to every room in the house, spread out all over the single floor, as well as the basement, skipping one of the bedrooms. I assumed that was Lissa's room, and I'd be visiting it later. I marveled at the beauty and the careful way it had been decorated, and I complimented him about it. He paused, the smile fading.

"Lissa did it all," he said, a sad pride coloring his voice. "Come along now; you need to meet her."

We moved to the one room we had previously skipped, and Nick opened the door, stepping aside so I could pass. I immediately heard and saw the large TV sitting on top of the dresser, but my eyes were drawn to the bed.

"Lissa, this is Cayla," Nick said, moving to the bed.

Instinctively, I grasped one of the thin hands lying on top of the covers, finding it surprisingly warm. I gazed into the pretty face and was sure I could detect a smile. I squeezed the hand gently and looked at Nick. He nodded and smiled.

"Cayla will be spending lots of time with you, Lis. I think you'll love her." He bent and kissed his wife, then motioned for us to leave.

Outside I took a deep breath and gave Nick a questioning look.

"Coffee?" he asked, gesturing toward the small table in the kitchen.

"Black," I replied, pulling out a chair, anxious to hear what Nick was going to say.

He sat across from me, sliding a cup of coffee in my direction.

"Did you see her smile?"

"I thought she did. I was happy to see it.."

"That's about the only reaction you'll get from her now. The last lady we had was, well, much older, and it just didn't work out. You're off to a good start. But, anyway, there was the accident, not her fault. There were internal injuries and a head injury. She hasn't spoken since the accident, and, honestly, the doctors can't explain why she's still alive. But she is. I hope I'm not frightening you."

"No, not at all. I think she and I will get along fine." I had no reason to think otherwise.

"We're not sure what she sees or hears or processes. You saw the piece of equipment on the table. It's attached to a feeding tube that goes directly to her stomach. The pump periodically feeds her. She had an operation to place the feeding tube... and I can never remember what it's called."

"A percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy?"

"Yes, that's it." Nick looked amazed, but I knew I'd gained one more iota of respect.

"One of my previous patients had one as well."

A big smile from Nick and an appreciative look.

"I leave for work at about seven, and sometimes I'm late getting home. If you have something you need to do on any particular day, just let me know. What else do I need to tell you?"

"Don't worry about it. I trust you to be fair and honest."

Nick looked at me carefully. " Thank you," he said very sincerely. You've only known me an hour."

I shrugged. "I'll stick with what I said," I added, chuckling softly.

We returned to Lissa's room, and I received instructions about the feeding tube and the medications involved. Lissa seemed to be carefully watching me, and I was hopeful I could be a help and comfort to her, trapped in this state far before her time. Plus, I might be able to make Nick's life a little simpler as well.

Nick left, and I was alone with Lissa for the first time. I wondered if there was any way to communicate with her. The TV was still on -- Nick had said they left it on during the day, only turning it off at bedtime. Bedtime. Bedtime for Lissa was all of the time. I needed to talk with Nick about her, hopeful that I could understand a little more of what she'd been like before the accident. I wondered about the TV as well. Did she understand what was happening? Did she watch or just listen? In the short time I'd been here, I'd not seen Lissa looking at the big screen. Perhaps it was just the sound that entertained her.

I straightened the bed, spreading the covers neatly and smoothing out the wrinkles. I gave Lissa's hand another gentle squeeze. As the TV sound droned on with lots of meaningless words, something sprang to mind. I grabbed the remote, brought up the index, and began scrolling. There it was, a large grouping of music channels. I guessed Lissa had to be in her early forties, and there it was -- Music of the Nineties. I pressed the "OK" button, and the room was filled with melody. When I looked at Lissa, the smile was unmistakable.

Another idea. I gently turned Lissa's head. very slightly to the side. Then, I started to dance. I wasn't a trained dancer but had danced in high school and after, and I hopped and spun around, laughing aloud at how silly I must look. But when I returned to the bed to straighten Lissa's head, the smile was even more pronounced than before. My heart warmed immeasurably. I wasn't sure I could come up with something new every day, but Lissa and I were communicating on the very simplest level.

Nick was home a little after five, looking a bit exhausted.

"Thanks, Cayla. Go on and head home," he said unenthusiastically.

"Well, thank you, but I'll stay a while so you can just relax. You look like --"

"-- like the world has kicked me in the ass," he interrupted, dropping into a chair.

"A little bit. But I have things to tell you and to ask of you. Let me prepare some dinner for you and we'll talk."

"Cayla, you're a caregiver, not a maid or a cook. But I would like to hear what you have to say, and I can answer questions too."

"When I'm a caregiver, I get paid. When I'm a cook, it's free." I got a very different look from Nick now.

"Understand," he said, his eyes boring into mine. "when you're here in this house, you're getting paid. You keep careful track of the time and let me know at the end of each week. Promise me you'll count all the hours."

"It doesn't seem right; you already pay me so well, but okay."

"Just so you know, there was a significant settlement after the accident, and the bank pays me well, too. Money isn't an issue or a concern."

"Okay, then, but I'm still fixing dinner. You do look exhausted."

"Tough day, but I've survived."

Nick made suggestions for dinner; I found the necessary items, and, as I cooked, I shared with him all the things that had filled my and Lissa's day, including the music and the dancing.