They’re giving her fluids and sending her home with some pain meds, but he thinks we need to call hospice.”
“Oh, no! Already?”
“He said he was trying to get her to do it a month ago.”
“That’s our Sophie.” She waited for tears in her eyes to subside so her voice wouldn’t wobble. “So, should I get anything for her, or just wait here?”
“You’re at the house?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Nick said, “I’m glad. Sophie will be relieved.”
Devon walked down the rows of gallon cans set on black plastic cloth. She knew Sophie had started most of the plants either from graft or seed. At one time they had been lush and green. Now the lack of attention had created a slew of yellowed leaves and dried flowers that needed deadheading.
She wandered into the greenhouse where Nick had soaked her with the hose. There was a small wooden sign that read “Sophie’s Specials” posted over a variety of unusual plants on wooden benches. Sophie told her she had collected heirloom seeds of all sorts from local organic growers, and exchanged them for grape cuttings or fruit trees she’d multi-grafted. Devon had sometimes accompanied her on her bi-weekly trips to the local farmer’s market, where she always found something interesting or new. All the farmers shared a common bond: they did what they did because they loved it, not because it made any of them rich.
Devon wished one of them would be able to buy the nursery. That way, ‘Sophie’s Specials’ would survive a few years longer.
Will anyone care about it half as much as Sophie does?
Big tires on the gravel driveway signaled Nick’s return with his precious cargo. She saw Sophie in the front seat, looking even smaller than before, dwarfed by the huge roaring, snorting beast of a vehicle. She would never understand why men liked big trucks. They were expensive to maintain, she’d heard, and, like equally expensive and frivolous racehorses, broke down frequently.
Devon was smiling at Sophie through the passenger window when Nick came up behind her, put his hands on her waist and moved her aside. “Excuse me, pretty, lady, but Marc’s gotta carry her.”
He’d dropped his hands immediately. Marc wiggled his eyebrows and opened the passenger door. He carefully extracted Sophie, who looked a pale shade of green. Holding her under the knees and around the waist, he carried her to the back.
“Nick, I’m gonna need you to unlock the door, please, so don’t get in any water fights yet,” he yelled over his shoulder.
Sophie had laid her head against Marc’s chest in an uncharacteristic move. Devon’s eyes immediately began to water.
“Oh, God, Nick. I’m going to lose her.”
He wrapped an arm around her and gave her a safe squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”
Devon had known this day was coming, but it was happening so fast. She thought she’d have time to prepare, to get used to the idea that Sophie was leaving this world forever. What had she been thinking? She was filled with regret for all the times she hadn’t called her friend right back, for the lunches she’d cancelled because of clients. She wished she’d helped her paint or weed or run the shop, or just do some thing to help out. And now it was all too little too late.
Nick returned, his white T-shirt glowing in the late afternoon sun. “We’ve got someone from hospice coming over tonight for the initial interview. They send a caseworker first. I wish they’d just send a nurse.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Devon said.
“Unfortunately, Devon, I do. I’ve done a lot of it. Except this time it will be my sister.” He abruptly turned his back to her. Their shared pain was becoming unbearable, but there was also something good about being there. She could feel it, as she stood beside him looking out at the golden peaks of the surrounding hills and the big cloudless sky above. She understood she was standing in the
“Oh, no! Already?”
“He said he was trying to get her to do it a month ago.”
“That’s our Sophie.” She waited for tears in her eyes to subside so her voice wouldn’t wobble. “So, should I get anything for her, or just wait here?”
“You’re at the house?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Nick said, “I’m glad. Sophie will be relieved.”
Devon walked down the rows of gallon cans set on black plastic cloth. She knew Sophie had started most of the plants either from graft or seed. At one time they had been lush and green. Now the lack of attention had created a slew of yellowed leaves and dried flowers that needed deadheading.
She wandered into the greenhouse where Nick had soaked her with the hose. There was a small wooden sign that read “Sophie’s Specials” posted over a variety of unusual plants on wooden benches. Sophie told her she had collected heirloom seeds of all sorts from local organic growers, and exchanged them for grape cuttings or fruit trees she’d multi-grafted. Devon had sometimes accompanied her on her bi-weekly trips to the local farmer’s market, where she always found something interesting or new. All the farmers shared a common bond: they did what they did because they loved it, not because it made any of them rich.
Devon wished one of them would be able to buy the nursery. That way, ‘Sophie’s Specials’ would survive a few years longer.
Will anyone care about it half as much as Sophie does?
Big tires on the gravel driveway signaled Nick’s return with his precious cargo. She saw Sophie in the front seat, looking even smaller than before, dwarfed by the huge roaring, snorting beast of a vehicle. She would never understand why men liked big trucks. They were expensive to maintain, she’d heard, and, like equally expensive and frivolous racehorses, broke down frequently.
Devon was smiling at Sophie through the passenger window when Nick came up behind her, put his hands on her waist and moved her aside. “Excuse me, pretty, lady, but Marc’s gotta carry her.”
He’d dropped his hands immediately. Marc wiggled his eyebrows and opened the passenger door. He carefully extracted Sophie, who looked a pale shade of green. Holding her under the knees and around the waist, he carried her to the back.
“Nick, I’m gonna need you to unlock the door, please, so don’t get in any water fights yet,” he yelled over his shoulder.
Sophie had laid her head against Marc’s chest in an uncharacteristic move. Devon’s eyes immediately began to water.
“Oh, God, Nick. I’m going to lose her.”
He wrapped an arm around her and gave her a safe squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”
Devon had known this day was coming, but it was happening so fast. She thought she’d have time to prepare, to get used to the idea that Sophie was leaving this world forever. What had she been thinking? She was filled with regret for all the times she hadn’t called her friend right back, for the lunches she’d cancelled because of clients. She wished she’d helped her paint or weed or run the shop, or just do some thing to help out. And now it was all too little too late.
Nick returned, his white T-shirt glowing in the late afternoon sun. “We’ve got someone from hospice coming over tonight for the initial interview. They send a caseworker first. I wish they’d just send a nurse.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Devon said.
“Unfortunately, Devon, I do. I’ve done a lot of it. Except this time it will be my sister.” He abruptly turned his back to her. Their shared pain was becoming unbearable, but there was also something good about being there. She could feel it, as she stood beside him looking out at the golden peaks of the surrounding hills and the big cloudless sky above. She understood she was standing in the
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