Over The Edge

The Delirium Threemen

December 2011 ©

Don't own the copyright to any of the characters depicted in Emergency they are the property of Universal Studios/Mark VII Productions. The content of the show is the property of the original creators. No copyright infringement intended.

All original characters and story content is the sole property of The Delirium Threemen and may not be used without permission.

Parts of this story are based loosely on an actual incident.

The greatest good you can do for another is not just share your riches,

but to reveal to him his own. -Benjamin Disraeli (1804-1881)

Chapter 13

"No more than twenty minutes or if it feels feel numb." The nurse instructed Joanne on how to use the ice pack.

"Thanks, Jan." Joanne smiled as she held the ice pack to her husband's swollen eye.

"If there's anything else, you need just ring the buzzer." Jan turned to leave the room.

"Just one thing. Can you make sure Dr. Early knows his chest sounds congested and he's got a cough?" Joanne requested.

"Jo, it's just a sum—" A round of coughing prevented Roy from finishing his sentence.

"I'll make sure to mention it to him," Jan assured Joanne.

Joanne placed the ice pack on Roy's mouth, stifling any protests from him as he stared daggers at her. She gave him a sweet innocent smile. "It's not gonna hurt to have Dr. Early check it out."

Roy managed to emit a huff of indignation at his wife with his eyes begging her like a mewling stray kitten to be taken home.

"You know Roy, I developed an immunity to that look a long time ago."

An impish smile spread across Joanne's face. "Keep it up and I'll pull some strings around here you'll have THE meanest nurse at Rampart tending to you."

The words you wouldn't dare was implied by the narrow-eyed glare Roy gave his wife.

Jan closed the door behind her and walked over to the Nurse's Station with the chart clutched in her hand. She sat down on a stool behind the counter and opened the chart. The nurse smoothed a stray strand of mousy-colored hair that had escaped from under her cap as she made some notations in the chart in front of her. The ends of her mouth curled in a slight smile as she recalled how the patient's wife threatened him with the redheaded menace of the fifth floor.

A shrill 'ding' from the elevator caused her to automatically put her pen down and close the folder in front of her. She was always cautious about leaving patient information where the wandering eyes of a visitor or a patient's family member could catch a glance at it. Hearing the footsteps approaching the station, she hugged the chart protectively against her chest before looking up.

"Hi there, Dr. Early." She smiled broadly at him.

"Hi Jan." Dr. Early greeted her as he leaned against the counter. "Do you have the chart on Mr. DeSoto handy?"

"I just left his room. I have a fresh set of vitals on him." Jan unfolded her arms and handed Dr. Early the chart. "Looks like he's running a low-grade fever and his wife is concerned about the rattling sound in his chest. He was trying to convince his wife it is just a summer cold. She wasn't buying it."

Dr. Early scanned the open chart in front of him with his glasses perched at the end of his nose. "His chest X-ray isn't buying it either. I was just looking at it downstairs and it showed some congestion."

He finished scribbling a note in the chart and looked up at Jan. "I want to start him on 1 gm of Rocephin every 24 hours, 3 doses to start. I also want you to get a sputum sample to the lab."

"Sure thing." Jan answered.

"Is Mr. DeSoto's wife still around?"

Jan nodded as she put the chart away behind the Nurse's Station.

"Nurse McCall in Emergency is arranging for a cardiac check-up with a patient of Dr. Markovic's. If he calls here, I'll just be in Mr. DeSoto's room."

Hank could have sworn one of his men had almost nailed the back of his heel when they had all dashed into his office after seeing the note scrawled on the board. He flipped through the Rolodex on his desk until he found a direct number for Rampart Hospital's Emergency Department and dialed the number on the rotary phone. He waited impatiently through two and a half rings before someone picked up the line.

"Hello, this is Captain Stanley from Station 51. One of my crew members left me a message to call the ER, a Mr. John Gage."

"That's okay, is Nurse Dixie McCall around? She'll know who I'm looking for. Yeah, I'd like to hold."

"Shhhhhhhhhhh," Captain Stanley hissed at his men.

The engine crew stood in solemn silence around him. It didn't take Captain Stanley long to start drumming his lanky fingers on the wooden desktop as he waited on the phone. Chet started to shift his weight from one leg to the other. Marco threw his fellow lineman a stern look which triggered Chet to start tapping his foot impatiently.

Chet's fidgeting prompted Marco to mutter, "Knock it off."

The annoyed whispers between the three men started to grow louder. Hank cleared his throat loudly as his thick eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. He heard a click on the other end of the line as someone finally picked it up.

"Hey guys, simmer down. I can't hear Gage over all the ruckus," Captain Stanley uttered as he held his hand over the receiver of the phone.

"Hey John… yeah, we just got your message. How's DeSoto doing?"

Captain Stanley nodded his head and added an 'ah-ha' periodically as he listened to the phone. "Yeah, we caught some of that on the TV earlier. They're not releasing any details right now."

"Didn't I try to tell you guys that was Dwyer's truck on the news?" Chet blurted out.

"Shush," Mike hissed at him.

"Okay…John, tell Roy we're glad to hear he's going to be all right and we'll probably pop in to see him tomorrow morning right after shift ends."

"Sure, I can't see a problem with them parking it out back for a few hours. Heck, they can leave it in here overnight if they want to."

"Really? I'm sure someone will make inquiries about Bellingham's black eye."

Chet leaned towards his Captain, eyes wide and pleading for an explanation. Marco grabbed his elbow and pulled him back, giving him a warning glare. Mike stood with his arms crossed and tapping his foot. Captain Stanley scanned the faces of his men and scowled at them warningly.

"Talk to you later, John. Thanks for filling me on everything." Captain Stanley sat up straight in his chair as the conversation drew to a close. "Yep… we'll probably pop by sometime in the morning after shift unless we have a busy night. Goodbye John, we'll catch up with you later."

Captain Stanley hung up the phone and swiveled his chair around so he was facing his three crewmen who stood mutely waiting for him to start talking. His mouth formed a grim straight line as he crossed his arms and glared at them

"How come when I'm on the phone you guys start carrying on? You're worse than my kids."

Chet's mouth formed into a frown which caused made his mustache to droop. "We only want to know the scoop. Roy's alright isn't he?"

Hank looked at the faces filled with concern in front of him. Could he blame them for being anxious after the uncertainty of the last several days? It was hard enough for all of them to leave the search in the hands of others and return to work, especially when the outcome felt grimmer with each passing day. The expression on his face softened and the corners of his lips formed into a broad smile.

"Roy's gonna be okay. A little worse for wear, but according to Johnny none of Roy's injuries are serious. Might be a several weeks before he's back to work."

Chet's mustache twitched upright. "Details Cap, details. What happened, where did they find him, how did they find him?"

"Johnny didn't give me all the particulars, but his truck went over a steep embankment and crashed at the bottom of a ravine." Captain Stanley lifted his gangly frame from the chair and pushed it towards the desk as he stood up. "How about we go to the kitchen and I'll tell ya' what I know over coffee?"

Jim held Harriett's hand tightly as they followed Charlie Dwyer and Dom Barberi though the sea of people and medical equipment milling about in the Emergency Room hallways. Dwyer finally stopped and opened the door to a room labeled Staff Lounge.

"We-hell-LL, hey there," Johnny greeted the quartet as they walked into the lounge.

"Have a seat and grab a cup of coffee." Johnny got up and pulled out a chair for Harriett and motioned for Jim to have a seat.

"How's Roy doing?" Harriett asked anxiously as she sat down.

Johnny leaned back in his chair. "Looks like he'll be locked up here in Rampart Penitentiary for a few days…"

"Johnny." Dixie threw him a sharp look before smiling pointedly at him. "I think Roy's parents really would like to see for themselves that he's okay."

"But Dix, you made me wait here so Joanne…"

"Johnny… I'm sure Joanne and Roy are waiting for them to arrive any moment." Dixie's tone was more forceful as she spoke through a frozen smile. "Why don't we take them up to see Roy?"

Johnny smiled sheepishly as he got up from his chair and held out his arm to escort Harriett. "Shall we?"

Dwyer tapped Johnny on the shoulder as he guided Harriett to the door. "Uh, hold up there, pal. I need the keys back to my truck. Your Rover is parked at the far end of the Emergency lot."

"Oh… yeah… right," Johnny slid his hand into his front pocket and fished around for Dwyer's keys. "Here ya' go. I guess I'm a little more courteous than you. I parked your truck at the end of the first aisle, which is a lot closer to the hospital."

"Hey… wait up," Johnny trotted after Dixie as she led Roy's parents to the elevator.

Roy's parents and Dixie continued towards the elevator. They had just joined several others milling around in front of the elevator when the door opened. They waited for the passengers to exit before boarding it. Johnny had finally caught up to them as the elevator door began to close. Dixie pushed back on the door with her hand to keep it open.

"A herd of turtles can cross a finish line faster than you can get on an elevator, Johnny," Dixie teased Johnny as he joined them.

"Awww, come on Dix, I got held up by Dwyer. 'Sides you know my speed is always in high gear." Johnny gave Dixie a huge grin and nodded politely to the other passengers.

"Oh brother!" Dixie rolled her eyes. "Maybe we should slow this conversation down before the topic drifts into what a fast operator you are around here in front of Roy's parents."

"You want to hear about slow-mo, Dix?" Johnny chuckled. "You should see how long it takes Chet to putting on his SCUBA gear during a drill."

"But does he dawdle around at a real fire?" Dixie inquired as she pushed the button for the fifth floor.

"Now, that's where it gets weird." Johnny crossed his arms over his chest. "He sure has a lot more hustle in him at a fire."

"Maybe he gets nervous because he feels like he's under pressure when he's being timed," Dixie rationalized.

"Then explain how he convinced me that he'd make a great pitcher by throwing a half-eaten apple into a garbage can spot-on? Whatever I handed to him, he'd throw it dead center into the can." Johnny made a slight throwing motion with his right hand. "I even volunteered my own personal time to coach him. He looked like a promising replacement for Dwyer and what does he do?"

Dixie let out a soft sigh to brace herself. She already knew verbatim what Johnny was going to say next. She had heard both the Johnny and the Roy version of this story and had a hunch Roy's was closer to the truth.

"He blows it. When it came to the real game he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. Oh… it gets better," Johnny splayed his hand across his chest. "We get creamed because he caved under pressure and he has the nerve to blame it on my coaching. How's that for gratitude?"

"Well Johnny, sometimes it's the stress to perform that causes people to freeze up. I heard Chet didn't know a thing about baseball and there was the burden of a bet riding on his skills as a pitcher which only magnified his situation. It's no wonder he choked up."

"Seriously Dix? Chet's excuse is he doesn't like it when people expect too much from him. Not that anybody expects much out of him to begin with." Johnny cocked an eyebrow downward. "You do realize that being a firefighter is a high pressure job with heavy expectations. He certainly has no problems towing the line while facing a raging inferno."

"Sounds like it's a situational response with Chet." Dixie gave Johnny an angelic smile as she looked up at him. "It happens to people all the time. I happen to recall an extremely competent paramedic featured in the "Men in Action" series on the local news a few years ago who ended up getting nervous and tongue-tied on television."

"I seem to recall things a little differently." Johnny denied. "It was obvious the one paramedic kept butting in before the other one had a chance to answer any questions. He hijacked the entire interview."

"Well, we must be thinking about two different shows," Dixie dryly drolled. "I must have you confused with another chatty paramedic who couldn't find his voice when confronted by a big, bad camera."

Johnny looked down at his feet. "Okay, you've made your point… B'sides everyone gets a tad nervous appearing' on television."

"Like I said, certain situations can cause get people all befuddled. I've seen it with student nurses who know their stuff, but they get so worked up they either go blank during a written exam or become all thumbs during their clinical." Dixie nudged him slightly with her elbow. "It's natural for them to have some amount of anxiety when they're first exposed to a hospital environment, but sometimes it's bad enough to cause them to flail around like a fish outta water. Often it takes a situation where they don't have time to think about their fears or insecurities in order for their instincts automatically kick in. They are forced to rely on their own intuition, knowledge, and skills to see they are capable of doing the job."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Johnny conceded, "But at least none of them cost everyone on A-Shift nine bucks a-piece."

Jim and Harriett couldn't help but smile as they listened to the exchange between the nurse and their son's friend. Johnny's incessant chattering was amusing the other passengers as the elevator made its slow journey upwards. He wrapped an arm around Harriett's waist and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Over the last several days, Jim saw firsthand the reason his son referred to Johnny as more than a partner, but a friend as well. His normally mercurial quirkiness had been replaced with a focused maturity. Throughout their ordeal, Johnny provided a steadfast support for Joanne that was also extended to him and Harriett as well. He was grateful to all of Roy's good friends and fellow firefighters pitching in and helping to ease the emotional strain for his family. He was a bit more beholden to John Gage, who had managed to provide the calm eye in Joanne's hurricane of swirling emotions.

The excitement and relief of finding Roy alive, transformed John Gage into a babbling brook of verbiage, restoring a sense of normalcy which had been absent in everyone's life for almost a week. A smile started to tease the corners of Jim's mouth as he remembered the time Roy described Johnny as the crabgrass in his lawn of life. It was an accurate description of John Gage in many ways. It could also be argued Roy returned the favor by being the crabgrass in John's lawn of life. No matter how much they drove each other to the brink of insanity; there was no fence preventing either man from giving up their place in the other's patch of grass. They took turns splashing the cold water of reality on one another by pointing out accountabilities or offering unwelcome advice or criticism. Neither one would dare miss an opportunity to bring up a past misfortune about the other for a chance to prove a point or to provide comedic fodder for those around them. They were both honest enough not to be worried about choosing their words carefully in an effort to spare an unpleasant truth. They knew when to say the right words or commit an act that demonstrated to the other that matter what, they'd always have the other's best interests at heart. Their friendship was much like crabgrass; no matter how much you keep pulling it out, as it doggedly persistent in keeping its presence in one's lawn.

Jim looked at the number for the floor number that lit up above the elevator door. One more floor to go, he thought as he smiled reassuringly to his wife.

"I'll probably keep you as my lab rat… err… I mean guest for the next several days." Dr. Early chuckled as he leaned closer to his patient and slipped the earpieces of the stethoscope into his ears as he slid his hand with the chest piece down the front of the patient's gown. "The congestion doesn't sound any worse than when you were brought in. I've ordered a broad-spectrum antibiotic for him, Joanne."

Joanne returned a slight smile of gratitude towards the doctor as she gave her husband's hand a squeeze.

"I'll arrange for a physiotherapist to pop in tomorrow. You're not to put ANY weight on your foot for the next six weeks and with your broken wrist we may have to see about gettin' you a gutter frame walker to get you mobile. Crutches are out of the question since you've just suffered from a dislocated shoulder. I've scheduled a CT scan first thing tomorrow morning for you to check for any soft tissue damage or bony deformities. I'm still amazed that you managed to pop it back in place by yourself."

"I sorta passed out after I put it back in place," Roy answered sheepishly.

"I've gotta give you credit, Roy. You did a good job self-administering treatment to yourself. Using cactus pulp on that leg wound was resourceful; probably helped ward off infection too," Dr. Early commended him.

The door to the room opened and Dixie held it open as Roy's parents and Johnny entered the room and announced. "I brought more visitors."

"Let's try not to overwhelm the patient," Dr. Early quipped, giving Johnny a pointed look.

It didn't go unnoticed to Joanne how Harriett stood near the foot of the bed and gazed towards her son. Guilt started to course through her veins as she realized her mother-in-law was waiting for an 'okay' signal for her to step closer to her son. Joanne imagined that she'd have a hard time restraining herself if it was one of her children in the hospital, no matter if they were full-grown or not. She slid off the side of the bed and walked towards the older woman and gave her a quick embrace before guiding her to her son's side. "He's going to be fine." Joanne reassured Harriett in a quiet whisper.

Harriett brushed Roy's hair to the side as she sat beside her son on the bed. Leaning forward, she gave him a kiss on the cheek and softly crooned, "My poor Bugaloo, you had me really scared over the last several days."

Jim smiled as he stood behind Harriett and said in a gruffer tone, "What your Mom's trying to say is that's quite a fat lip and swollen eye you got there, son. You look like you traded a few punches with the schoolyard bully."

"Roy tried to enlist the help of a swarm of wasps to airlift him outta the ravine. Obviously, it failed. The swelling should be gone within 24 hours or so," Dr. Early joked.

Joanne instinctively knew it was best to give her husband some privacy with his parents before Johnny or anyone else could secure any more embarrassment bombs from his parents to lob Roy's way in the future. She could already hear the playful teasing his partner most likely was going to give Roy over the motherly nickname Harriett had called him. She quickly thought of a discrete way to clear the room. She made her way over to Johnny, whose stomach took that moment to express its displeasure over having not eaten since morning. "How about you come to the gift shop with me so I can pick up some toiletries for Roy and afterwards we can go to the cafeteria to take care of the snarling beast in your stomach?"

"Sounds good to me," Johnny answered.

"I'll be back soon," Joanne called out to Roy as she and Johnny exited the room.

Dr. Early placed a hand on Jim's shoulder to get his attention and spoke in a low voice. "Your cardiologist is making rounds rights now, I've arranged for him to see you while you're here. Just check with the nursing station on this floor before you leave and they'll let you know where to go to have Dr. Markovic touch base with you."

"Thanks for everything." Jim gave Dr. Early a hearty handshake before offering the same to Dixie. "That goes for both of you."

"Well, some of us have to get back to work." Dixie said as she started to guide Dr. Early towards the door.

"No rest for the wicked. I'll check in on you later, Roy," Dr. Early laughed as he followed Dixie.

"We were all so worried sick about you, honey." Harriett started to fuss over Roy. "You wouldn't believe all the people who came to help search for you."

Roy felt the guilt rushing through his veins. The last thing he wanted was for his parents worrying themselves sick over him or his father working himself up into another heart attack. "Is something going on with Dad's heart? Why did Dr. Early arrange for him to see his cardiologist?"

Harriett's answered him with a hushed tone. "Everything is fine, Roy. Your father wouldn't go back to the city for his doctor's appointment until you were found."

"How come you skipped your doctor's appointment?" Distress filled Roy's voice.

"I couldn't chance leaving your mother or wife while you were missing." Jim answered.

"But you promised Mom and ME. you were going to take better care of yourself," Roy voice conveyed his disappointment with his father.

"Now, you hold up there, son. I've kept that promise," Jim defended himself. "Dr. Early checked me over while he was up there with Nurse McCall dropping off stuff for the volunteers."

"Because of the amount of stress I must have put you and everyone else under is precisely why you shoulda kept that appointment," Roy said in frustration.

"Roy," Jim waited until his son's eyes met his. "I would have gotten more worried and anxious over you had I left. Doncha get it?"

"I'm sorry, Mom… Dad." Roy felt ashamed for coming across as upset with his father. "I just wish I coulda prevented you two from having to go through all that."

"You know honey, when you were a boy, I wanted to shelter you from anything that would cause you hurt or pain. But the fact was, I knew I couldn't. The only thing I… or your father could do was to help prepare you to deal with those things or help you ride through the rough patches." Harriett sensed what was truly bothering her son. "What's really going on, Roy? Since your father had his heart attack, you've started distancing yourself from both of us."

"I just don't want Dad to end up like…like…Norman." Roy's voice rustled softly like dried leaves scurrying in circles in a concrete corner from a strong breeze.

Jim was puzzled for a few moments before it dawned on him why a wedge had developed between them for the last while. "Son, is that why you've been shuttin' me out for months? You're afraid I'm gonna end up like Jo's dad?"

"I didn't want to load you with my problems, especially when you don't need any extra strains on your health," Roy mumbled as he cast his gaze downwards; at least he didn't think he had been.

Harriett cupped the side of her son's face in her hand. "Bugaloo, it upsets us more when we feel like you're keeping things from us."

It had never occurred to Roy that trying to filter out his problems from his conversations with his parents, especially his father, was actually having the opposite effect. How could I be so stupid? he thought, I always think things are worse when something is being held back from me. "I never thought of it from that perspective."

"You remember that day we went fishing a month ago?" Jim asked.

Roy cringed as he remembered their verbal exchange from his mind's eye. "Yeah… it kinda felt uncomfortable… most of the talk was pretty bland from my side."

"I was ready to toss you off the pier. You were so aggravating." Jim added.

"Maybe we can make up for all that talk over the next six weeks or so." Roy offered meekly to his father.

"I'm gonna hold you to that." Jim grinned at his son. "You can start filling me in on what you've been up to the last several days tomorrow when I stop by."

"Perhaps we should go see Dr. Markovic now and let Roy rest." Harriett suggested as she looked at her wrist watch.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right, dear." Jim agreed with her. "Besides, we need to meet up with Craig and Bob so aren't waiting around for us when they return the trailer."

"Craig and Bob?" Roy questioned him.

"You wouldn't believe how Craig just dove in and started organizing things and everyone to search for you."

"Really? I don't think either one of us would consider the other a friend… but…" Roy was a bit flabbergasted about Brice's participation before pondering it over for a moment. "He's the perfect person to organize something, be it a drug box or a search and rescue operation."

"It was amazing how supportive him and his buddy Bob were to all of us," Harriett added.

Jim beamed with pride at his son. "Even though you had us scared outta our wits, a part of me couldn't help but feel proud of you."

"Proud?" Roy was puzzled.

"Yes son, I am proud of you. I can't count the number of volunteers from the fire department who stopped by and personally gave us support. Often times, they'd mention something about how you made an impact on them…" Jim's voice started to warble and got gruffer. "They shared stuff with us… about you…"

"My favorites were from the young fellas who did their field training with you and Johnny. They would mention your patience, encouragement…" Harriett smiled lovingly at her son as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "They made us swell up with pride over being the parents blessed to call you our son."

Roy leaned forward in his bed and wrapped his uninjured arm around his Mom. He peered up at Jim. "Am I too old to ask my Dad for a hug?"

"No son, you'll never be too old to get a hug from me." Tears twinkled in the corner of Jim's eyes as he moved in closer to his wife and son to encompass them in his arms. "And you'll never be too old to be called Bugaloo by your mother."

Eunice Johnson sat on her sofa watching the borrowed television set that Roland Gorvett had set up on her coffee table. Roland Gorvett had brought the smaller set over to save her the trouble of walking across the living room to turn off her larger television set until her foot healed. A year or two ago, she would have been indifferent to the fate of her son-in-law. Today, she had felt a sense of relief when Joanne had called her collect a little over an hour ago to let her know that Roy had been found and was going to be fine. She didn't press Joanne for any specifics figuring that her daughter was in a hurry to get back to her husband. Hoping the newscast just starting would provide her with some of those details, she leaned forward and adjusted the rabbit-ears on top of the TV. This only succeeded in increasing the diagonal lines and the speed of them running down the screen. She resisted the temptation to slap the side of the box and returned the antenna back to its original position.

The plastic cover on the sofa squeaked as Eunice sat back and listened intently, gleaning only a few additional tidbits about the accident. Perhaps Joanne forgot to mention the other vehicle they found or didn't know about it, she thought to herself as she listened to the modulated smooth baritone voice of the news anchor.

"The victim of the other crash is possibly Mrs. Sarah Loaring, who has been missing for almost three weeks. A spokesmen from the coroner's office stated that the body still needs to be properly identified."

Eunice let out a quick breath as a recent color picture of Sarah Loaring was shown on the screen. She noticed the missing woman bore a strong physical resemblance to Joanne. However, Joanne's face had a softer contour and was more oval that the heart-shaped face on the screen. Even with a slight smile, her daughter's dimples appeared and when combined with small, slightly upturned nose gave her a type of spritely allure reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn. The face on the screen had some common features with her daughter such as hair color, clear skin, the same arched eyebrows and soft small mouth. Eunice had to admit this woman could easily be mistaken for Joanne upon first glance as she listened to the details of her disappearance. She leaned forward and turned the knob of the set to the off position. It was then, when the screen faded to black that the non-physical similarities between her daughter and the missing woman started to sink in – both were mothers of two school aged children, had husbands, were well-thought of by family and friends.

She was about to get up and get ready for bed, but stopped when she spotted the two letters that lay on the plastic-covered cushion beside her. A tear slowly made its way through the side of her face and through the crevice of a wrinkle on her cheek. The two letters had come in the mail a couple of days ago. She opened the one letter up from her granddaughter and stared at the nascent innocence pictures the six-year-old had drawn her. Underneath an adult had written descriptions of what the pictures represented. Things were so simplistic between her and Joanne when she had been that age. Joanne didn't resist being dressed in little flocked dresses with puffy sleeves and with her little white and black saddle shoes until a few years later. She then opened the page containing the primitive cursive writing from her 8 ½ year-old grandson. This was about the age where Joanne began to question her about things and she wasn't necessarily always in agreement with the answers Eunice provided her. Chris's letter felt like it was written out of a sense of obligation more than a willingness on his part to share his summer camp adventures with her. Deep down, she knew she had herself to blame for that. She never asked her grandchildren about their activities and came across as stiff and indifferent to them.

She folded the two letters up neatly and made a silent vow to herself to make a more conscious effort to show all her grandchildren that she was interested in them. It pained her to admit that Gladys Gorvett had spent the better part of yesterday afternoon helping her write letters back to her grandchildren. It was the first time she had ever sent anything beyond a birthday card to them in the mail. It took her three attempts to write a response to Chris's letter. She had seen nothing wrong with informing Chris about the spelling mistake in his letter when she wrote her first response to him. Gladys had to point out to her that Chris would be reluctant to write another letter to her if she corrected him. Unless she was helping Chris with his homework it wasn't proper for her to correct any mistakes in the letter he had sent her. Her second draft of the letter was more improved, but it needed to be softened up or more 'grandmotherly' was how Gladys had put it. The two of them worked together on the third letter where Gladys pointed out any words that were not within an 8-year-old's vocabulary and made sure that the letter was not overly long. Her letter to Jennifer went a little easier. Gladys had suggested she draw some pictures to Jennifer and write words below the picture. Eunice felt embarrassed and ashamed when Gladys dashed over to her house to grab some crayons for drawing. Eunice never kept any toys or games around the house for her grandchildren to entertain themselves with.

Eunice grabbed the nearby crutches and used them to help her stand up. The plastic cover of the sofa let out a loud creaky sound as Eunice got up.

"Time to get rid of those gawdawful things," she muttered to herself as she maneuvered her way around the piece of living room furniture.

She learned firsthand that the slightest move caused the plastic to squeak and groan much to her annoyance. To top things off, the summer heat caused some excessive condensation on her person while sitting on the plastic. The calves of her uncasted leg felt slimy from being pressed against the covering.

She paused in front of the faux fireplace and stared at the picture of Joanne's family. She pointedly fixated her gaze on the face of her son-in-law. Well Roy, you certainly weren't my vision of a suitable husband for Joanne. Truth be told, not many would have cut the mustard with me. It took me a long time to realize Joanne had to lay the stones for her own path in life and not follow the ones I tried to lay out for her. I did some deplorable things to try and make her see what a mistake you were. The only thing I succeeded in doing was building walls between us. Eunice narrowed her eyes at Roy's image. Gladys is right, I may never grow to like you, but I do have to treat you properly for the sake of Joanne and my grandchildren.

Eunice finally looked away from the picture and hobbled over to the light switch. After being forced to spend time sitting for hours on her own sofa while her foot healed, getting rid of the furniture covers was now a top priority for Eunice. She clicked the light off and stared into the darkened living room. Perhaps when Joanne's down with the children, I'll take them shopping to pick out some toys they can keep here to play with.

Author Notes:

Crabgrass in the lawn of life is a take on this quote:

"Big sisters are the crabgrass in the lawn of life." Charles M. Schulz (1922-2000)