I didn’t stop.
I finished that song and started another. Mrs. Fairmont was unconscious, but I wasn’t singing to her mind—the lyrics were intended for her spirit. I knelt on the floor beside her bed, continued through three songs, then tapered off to another hum. I finished by praying in a soft voice for healing, salvation, and blessing. When I lifted my head, Flip was watching me through a single, drooping eye. I slipped quietly from the room.
Several hours later, I came upstairs in my pajamas for a drink of cold water before going to bed. Mrs. Fairmont was sitting in the den watching the late-night news. I peeked in at her. An empty dinner plate was on a table beside her chair.
“Hello, Tami,” she said when she heard me. “Did you have a good day at work?”
“It was challenging,” I answered.
“You must have worked late. I had a long nap and feel much better. Gracie left supper, but your plate is still in the refrigerator.”
I’d been so upset by the events earlier in the evening that my appetite had disappeared. “I may eat it tomorrow.”
“That’s fine. I’m going to bed after the news is over. Good night.”
“Good night.”
SATURDAY MORNING, Mrs. Fairmont was back to normal. I brewed her coffee and fixed a light breakfast that we ate at a table on the veranda that opened into the den. She didn’t mention the chaos of the previous night, and I didn’t see any benefit in bringing it up. While I watched her carefully spread orange marmalade to the edges of an English muffin, I thought about her irrational anxiety and felt a lump in my throat. Aging was part of life, but I wished people could leave earth in a blaze of glory like Elijah, not spiral down into pathetic incompetence.
“Are you all right?” Mrs. Fairmont interrupted my thoughts.
“Yes ma’am. Would you like another cup of coffee?”
“That would be nice.”
I went to the kitchen. The doorbell chimed. Flip charged in from the veranda to warn the possible intruder of the dog’s fierce presence. I followed him into the foyer and opened the door. It was Zach Mays with his motorcycle helmet under his right arm.
“I hope I’m not too early,” he said.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s a nice neighborhood. May I come in? Did you just wake up?”
“No, I’ve already run four miles that included a quick trip by the office. The parking lot was empty at six thirty.”
The young lawyer stepped into the foyer. “I’ll be there later today but wanted to go for a ride before it gets too hot.”
“Mrs. Fairmont is on the veranda. I’m getting her a fresh cup of coffee.”
Flip, continuing to growl, circled Zach’s feet.
“Will he bite?” Zach asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s probably a good thing you’re wearing boots.”
Zach followed me into the kitchen. Together, we went to the veranda.
“Mrs. Fairmont, do you remember Zach Mays?”
The old woman extended her hand. “No, but it’s good to see you again. Please sit down.”
For the next thirty minutes, we enjoyed a pleasant conversation. Mrs. Fairmont asked Zach questions. She was mostly interested in people he’d met whom she knew. I didn’t try to sort out the cast of characters. The intricacies of Savannah society seemed as complicated as Chinese history. At a pause in the discussion, Zach looked at me.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked.
“I’m not working today.”
“I’m not talking about the office. I meant for a ride.”
“On your motorcycle?”
“Make sure you wear a good helmet,” Mrs. Fairmont said.
“I have an extra with me,” Zach replied. “It’s strapped to the bike.”
“But I’ve never ridden a motorcycle.” I paused. “And I don’t have any jeans. I wouldn’t feel comfortable behind you on the seat.”
“You don’t have to put your arms around my waist, and you can wear anything you like,” Zach replied. “I have a sidecar. It’s not much different than the fancy convertible you were driving, just a little bit closer to the ground.”
“It sounds like fun,” Mrs. Fairmont said. “Ferguson Caldwell used to own a motorcycle. He took me for a ride.”
“I’m not sure,” I said.
Zach held up his hand as if taking an oath. “I promise not to go any faster than you like. If you feel uncomfortable, we’ll just go around the block, and I’ll drop you off by the front door.”
I was wearing a loose-fitting blue skirt and a white short-sleeved blouse. “I need to do the breakfast dishes,” I said.