“I’m sure some people might think this sounds strange, Mom, but out there in the garage all summer, I felt that the presence of God was with me, showing me things.” She takes a deep breath. Mentioning God in this familiar way is so un-Minnesotan. “I’ve asked Him to heal you of the emotions and agonies of the past. I really, really hope He has, and will.” Saffee leans to give her mother a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, Mom. I’ll be back soon.”
Nels reaches out and squeezes Saffee’s hand, then plants his own kiss on Joann’s cheek.
Hurrying across the parking lot, Saffee holds tightly to Jack’s arm. She’s unsteady, not only from emotion, but also her black suede, toe-pinching high heels.
“Careful, it’s getting icy,” he says.
When they get to the car, he reaches into his coat pockets. Then into the right pocket of his blue blazer, and the left.
“The directions to the party,” he says, “they were right on the dresser. I must not have picked them up.”
He starts the motor and switches on the heater. “It would be a lot of driving to go back to the house, then back this way, and then to the party.”
He looks at her and says, “You know what? There’ll be other parties and I’m starving. Let’s get some Chinese takeout and go home.” He laughs. “We can watch the Times Square celebration on TV—like a couple of old folks.”
“Okay,” she says, trying not to sound relieved. Seeing her helpless mother confirmed that life needs to be lived fully and enjoyed, parties and all, while a person is able. But, as Jack says, there will be other parties.
Jack eases the car over icy patches on the road. He reaches for her hand and offers her a smile filled with love and approval.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
WAITING
1964–1976
Dim, misty years drift by in monotonous discomfort. Joann can manage to slowly turn her head and raise one arm in response to those around her but is unable to speak. Throughout endless, wakeful nights she revisits regrets. Slumber disjointedly jumbles the pleasures and pains that were . . . and calls of things yet to come . . .
. . . The soft touch of her mother’s hand . . . “Joann . . .”
. . . The harshness of her father . . . “High school? Not yet, Joann, not ’til eighteen . . . You’ll clean da guest cottages four years, just like da odders done.” . . .
“Where are her partials? I’ve looked everywhere. I’m sure I put them in this morning. Look at the chart—she’s hardly taking any food.”
“Her partials? Do you think she dropped them in the—no, how could she?”
“That’s it! I wheeled her into the bathroom, had to leave for a minute before I got her on the commode . . . maybe she leaned forward, just let them fall out.”
“Only strained food for you now, Joann. Can’t fit new dentures for someone who doesn’t talk, you know . . . Have you seen the abscesses on her gums?” . . .
. . . “Mom? Are you awake? I’ve come to read to you . . .”
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? . . .
. . . “Oh, Nels! The pain was fierce; I didn’t think I’d live through it! Who’d think a baby would put me through such pain. I feel so weak . . . I’m going to be a modern mother—no nursing for me. Bottle-feeding’s the rage . . . I’ll get some rest that way.” . . .
. . . “Joann. Wake up. Nels is here, your daughters too. Look, see how much your grandson has grown.” . . .
. . . “Rolf! Get away from me! Stop it! I’ll yell for Pa!” . . .
. . . “Mom? Can you hear me when I read?”
When the wicked . . . came upon me . . . they stumbled and fell. Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear . . .
. . . “The psychotropics, we’ve tried them all, Joann, none seem to have helped . . . all that’s left is shock . . . If you don’t consent, it will be a long trip through the courts . . . It’s the only way you have a chance, Joann.” . . .
. . . “Saffee’s a Kirkeborg through and through, Nels, but this one, look at those blue Kvaale eyes! This one takes after her daddy.” . . .
. . . One thing I have desired of the Lord, that will I seek after;
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord . . . to behold the beauty of the Lord . . .
. . . “Joann . . .” The soft touch of her mother’s hand . . .
. . . Memorize the words, memorize the words . . . Hysteria . . . Acute mania . . . Hospital for . . .