looking into her attentive green eyes, which showed she understood everything even though she wasn’t yet able to speak. His face brightened as Sarah came in carrying her violin case and the flowers.
Sarah put the violin case on the floor and kissed her father on the cheek. “Hi, Dad.”
He smiled as he looked up at her. “Hi, sweetie.”
She turned to her mother and showed her the bouquet of pink roses. “Kelly sent these to you. She grew them in the greenhouse.” She placed the flowers in her mother’s left hand and watched as her mother’s fingers moved to hold them. She noticed that as Rose looked at the flowers, her mouth curved into a slight smile. It made Sarah happy. The doctor was right; her mother was making progress.
“The nurse said she’ll bring in a vase.”
Sarah saw her mother’s eyes focus on the violin case.
“We’ve got a rehearsal tonight. I’m excited about the concert.”
Rose glanced up at Sarah. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but no sound came out. After a moment, she closed her lips. In her mother’s eyes, Sarah saw tears from the pain of not being able to talk.
“That’s okay, Mom,” she said. “I know you’re proud of me. And I know you’ll be able to talk soon. Three days ago you couldn’t move your fingers on your left hand; now you can. You can even move your arm. And when I gave you the flowers, you smiled. Your smile has come back, too.”
Rose looked at her daughter and, with great effort, nodded.
“You moved your head, Mom!”
Sam took hold of his wife’s right hand and squeezed it. “That’s great, Rose.”
Rose looked at the flowers again.
“Roses for Rose,” Sam said.
Sarah sat on the chair beside her father’s and moved it closer to the bed. “Remember, Mom, when Kelly’s granny had Dad build the greenhouse? I was eight. I remember the day Dad finished, you took me to work with you at Kelly’s grandmother’s because it was a school holiday. The only greenhouse I’d ever seen was at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. I’d never imagined someone could have one in their own backyard! I remember her sitting in her wheelchair in the garden, telling you all the flowers she was going to raise in that greenhouse, and she did!”
As she remembered the day Sarah was talking about, Rose’s lips curved into a slight smile again, and her eyes looked wistful. She was thinking about Kelly’s grandmother, Irene; Irene had been more than just a patient to Rose; she had been a close and dear friend.
As if reading her mind, Sarah said: “You really loved Kelly’s granny. I bet she lived ten years longer because of you.”
Sam squeezed his wife’s hand again. “Your mother was the best damned nurse anybody ever had. Irene was lucky to have you.”
Rose’s eyes were full of tears again. So were Sam’s and so wereSarah’s.
“I love you so much, Mama,” Sarah told her. “I just know you’re going to get well.”
Rose looked at her daughter again and, with great concentration, slowly nodded her head.
Eleven
K ELLY WAS GLAD TO see the Dennisons. Michelle Dennison was her closest friend. They’d met at NYU when Kelly had gone back to get her BA after her divorce from Jack. Michelle had been premed; Kelly had majored in psychology. They’d sat next to each other in a psychology class that had ended at noon, and they’d often spotted each other having a quick lunch between classes in the coffee shop on University Place, just north of Washington Square. One day they’d sat next to each other at the counter and begun talking, and that was that—they were friends for life. Whether this was despite their different backgrounds or because of them, Kelly couldn’t say; all she knew was that at NYU she’d felt more comfortable with Michelle than she did with other women their age, and nearly two decades later she still felt the same way.
Kelly had been twenty-three and already had Jeff and Julie when she’d met Michelle. As a
Sarah put the violin case on the floor and kissed her father on the cheek. “Hi, Dad.”
He smiled as he looked up at her. “Hi, sweetie.”
She turned to her mother and showed her the bouquet of pink roses. “Kelly sent these to you. She grew them in the greenhouse.” She placed the flowers in her mother’s left hand and watched as her mother’s fingers moved to hold them. She noticed that as Rose looked at the flowers, her mouth curved into a slight smile. It made Sarah happy. The doctor was right; her mother was making progress.
“The nurse said she’ll bring in a vase.”
Sarah saw her mother’s eyes focus on the violin case.
“We’ve got a rehearsal tonight. I’m excited about the concert.”
Rose glanced up at Sarah. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but no sound came out. After a moment, she closed her lips. In her mother’s eyes, Sarah saw tears from the pain of not being able to talk.
“That’s okay, Mom,” she said. “I know you’re proud of me. And I know you’ll be able to talk soon. Three days ago you couldn’t move your fingers on your left hand; now you can. You can even move your arm. And when I gave you the flowers, you smiled. Your smile has come back, too.”
Rose looked at her daughter and, with great effort, nodded.
“You moved your head, Mom!”
Sam took hold of his wife’s right hand and squeezed it. “That’s great, Rose.”
Rose looked at the flowers again.
“Roses for Rose,” Sam said.
Sarah sat on the chair beside her father’s and moved it closer to the bed. “Remember, Mom, when Kelly’s granny had Dad build the greenhouse? I was eight. I remember the day Dad finished, you took me to work with you at Kelly’s grandmother’s because it was a school holiday. The only greenhouse I’d ever seen was at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. I’d never imagined someone could have one in their own backyard! I remember her sitting in her wheelchair in the garden, telling you all the flowers she was going to raise in that greenhouse, and she did!”
As she remembered the day Sarah was talking about, Rose’s lips curved into a slight smile again, and her eyes looked wistful. She was thinking about Kelly’s grandmother, Irene; Irene had been more than just a patient to Rose; she had been a close and dear friend.
As if reading her mind, Sarah said: “You really loved Kelly’s granny. I bet she lived ten years longer because of you.”
Sam squeezed his wife’s hand again. “Your mother was the best damned nurse anybody ever had. Irene was lucky to have you.”
Rose’s eyes were full of tears again. So were Sam’s and so wereSarah’s.
“I love you so much, Mama,” Sarah told her. “I just know you’re going to get well.”
Rose looked at her daughter again and, with great concentration, slowly nodded her head.
Eleven
K ELLY WAS GLAD TO see the Dennisons. Michelle Dennison was her closest friend. They’d met at NYU when Kelly had gone back to get her BA after her divorce from Jack. Michelle had been premed; Kelly had majored in psychology. They’d sat next to each other in a psychology class that had ended at noon, and they’d often spotted each other having a quick lunch between classes in the coffee shop on University Place, just north of Washington Square. One day they’d sat next to each other at the counter and begun talking, and that was that—they were friends for life. Whether this was despite their different backgrounds or because of them, Kelly couldn’t say; all she knew was that at NYU she’d felt more comfortable with Michelle than she did with other women their age, and nearly two decades later she still felt the same way.
Kelly had been twenty-three and already had Jeff and Julie when she’d met Michelle. As a
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