Skyward

“I hate to say it, but it looks like you’re losing.”

His face fell. “That’s the problem. I can’t lose. Her life depends on it.” He reached for the container, checked the test strip against the model, then set it down on the table, satisfied with the result.

“The first week home I screwed up and didn’t check her blood. She was carrying on like this, so I thought I could skip just one. Next thing I knew she was weak and sweaty and her hands started shaking. Thank God for glucose tablets. But I can tell you, it scared the hell out of me.”

“But she’s all right now. That’s what matters.”

“You’re right. And I’m going to keep her all right.” He glanced up at her, the better to gauge her reaction to his news. “I’ve hired someone to live in and take care of Marion full-time.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. “Live in? Here? But, Harris, this house is so small. Where will she sleep?”

“She can have my room. I’ll bunk in my office.”

“You’ll find that awfully cramped. And I’m not talking about just the layout of furniture.”

“Maybe. But it’ll have to do. At least for now.” When Maggie opened her mouth to voice another objection, Harris held up his palm. “It’s all arranged, Maggie. I placed an ad in the paper and she’s agreed to come. Please. I don’t need a lecture. Right now, I need support. Marion and I both do.”

Maggie’s mouth clamped tight against the torrent of words. She nodded her head, then leaned forward to wrap her ample arms around him in a hug of support. In the five years that they’d worked side by side, they’d shared a need for peace and quiet on the job. When they spoke, it was in spurts, mostly about the patient birds and what tasks needed doing. Though Maggie was the mother hen of the organization and gave opinions often and loudly, rarely did she probe into his personal life. Important bits of information they announced plainly, more like bulletins. Bob’s been laid off. Marion’s got the flu. The kids are home from school today. The washing machine’s on the fritz again. Their loyalty and friendship was deep, and though not discussed, it was never questioned.

“You just call if you need me,” she said.

“I always do.”

Harris knocked lightly on Marion’s bedroom door. There was no reply. He put his ear to the door, relieved to hear silence instead of the hiccupping sobs and mutterings of how mean her daddy was. He opened the door slowly, lest she be asleep. He stuck his head in to see her lying on her bed playing with Gaudy Lulu. Her head darted up when she heard him, her blue eyes widening with surprise, then quickly changing to a scowl.

“May I come in?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m coming in, anyway.” He walked to her side, picking up dirty clothes from the floor en route, and sat on the bed beside her. “So, do you still hate me?”

She pouted, stroking the doll’s hair. “I hate the shots.”

“I know you do. But you need the shots for your diabetes.”

“I hate ‘betes.”

His smile was bittersweet. Harris leaned over to kiss the soft hair on the top of her head. “Ah, my favorite perfume,” he said, inhaling the scent of her.

“I’m not wearing perfume, Daddy,” she replied as she always did when he said this to her. It was a little game they played and her response told him the storm was over.

“I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”

She kept her eyes on the doll while she maneuvered the tight bodice of the pearly gown over the doll’s impressive breasts. He waited patiently for her to finish the snap at the tiny waist and set the doll aside. When she raised her eyes to him, he began in a calm voice.

“We have a problem. Or, rather, I have a problem. I’m not doing a very good job taking care of you.”

Marion’s eyes rounded in surprise. Clearly she’d not expected this.

“You need someone who can give you your medicine and watch over your diet.”

“You can do that.”

He shook his head. “No, I can’t. We both know it’s not working out.”

“I won’t kick—”

“Honey, it’s not just that. Well, it is, in part,” he said teasingly, wrapping an arm around her and tucking her close. Marion rested her head against his chest. “I work long hours. I’m gone a lot. You need someone to keep an eye on you all the time.”

“Why can’t Maggie take care of me?”

“Maggie works at the clinic, honey. With the birds.”

“How come the birds get everything?” she asked, sitting up to face him with a scowl on her face. “I’m sick now, too.”

Harris wondered at the level of resentment she had to feel to make that comparison. “The birds are my job, honey. But you’re my heart.”

That seemed to appease her somewhat. She sighed raggedly and leaned back against her father’s chest. “You mean I’m going to get a new baby-sitter, right? Like Katie?”

“Sort of. You know how Katie went home to her own house every night? Well, I’ve hired a lady to stay here with us.”

“You mean, she’s going to live here? In our house?”

“Yes.”

Marion turned in his arms to look into his face. Her own was alert with interest. “Is she gonna be like a mother?”

“Heavens no,” he said with a light chuckle. Then, seeing the light dim in her eyes, he said more tenderly, “Well, maybe a little. She’ll read to you, cook your meals and help you get dressed in the morning. Most important, she’ll make sure you get your medicine.”

“You mean my shots?”

“Yep. Those, too.”

Marion scrunched up her face. “I don’t want her to come. She’s not my mama. This is our house.”

“Hold on, now. That’s not the right attitude. It’s her job to help you and it’s your job to be cooperative. You have to help us take care of you.” He reached into his shirt pocket to pull out a folded white paper. He opened it and held it up to the bedside light.

“I put an ad in the newspaper and I got a few replies. Miss Majors is the one I chose to be your caretaker,” he replied. “She’s a nurse, so she knows a lot about diabetes and how to take care of you. A lot better than I can.”

“I want you to do it.” Her voice was more frightened than belligerent.

“Would you like me to read her letter?”

“I don’t care.”

Harris cleared his throat and began to read.

Dear Mr. Henderson,