While Kyla made a congealed salad and tried her hand at Mom’s green bean casserole, I called Enterprise Car Rental. Since I had purchased insurance, all I had to do was return the Explorer, or, if it was inoperable, arrange a rollback. If I needed a replacement, I’d have to come to their nearest location. That was Guntersville.
A few minutes before 11:00 AM, Kyla dropped me off at Walmart. The rep I’d spoken to had instructed me to use duct tape to secure the damaged rear door. He asked if I’d taken pictures. I hadn’t. He also inquired whether I’d called the police. I hadn’t done that either but revealed an officer had come to the ER and taken my statement.
Exiting the parking lot, I almost called Lillian. I’d noted her phone number at the bottom of her email. I was indebted to her not only for my rescue but for the return of my iPhone. The OtterBox protective case had done its job and earned a lifelong customer, even if their products were expensive.
I opted to postpone my call, subconsciously plotting a drop-by visit to deliver a Hallmark thank-you card, a box of chocolates, and a bouquet. Strike the flowers. A potted green plant would be more appropriate. Come to think of it, strike the chocolates also. She’s dieting or thinking of dieting, according to Kyla. Although I hadn’t taken a Vicodin since midnight, my thinking remained unique, akin to chit-chat. Maybe the drop-by wasn’t a good idea either. For now, I’ll keep the card idea for further review. I turned right into Circle K since the Explorer was flashing “Low Fuel.” I’d promised to return it with a full tank.
I completed my purchase, rejoined 431’s northbound traffic, and replayed last night’s voice mail from Rosa. She and Rob had met Leah and Lyndell and their families in Roanoke, Virginia for the long Thanksgiving weekend. This had become a tradition for at least ten years. Rachel and I had never attended. Rachel’s idea, not mine.
“We made it before dark, no problems. The grands should be here in a few hours. Hickory Hill is still beautiful. Wish you were here. Call Rob when you get a chance, he’s not feeling well, so he’s thinking about taking the City’s offer.”
I would love to visit the rustic and secluded cabin in the mountains to the northwest of Roanoke. I’d prefer to be there with just my children and grandchildren. As always, I looked forward to the photos Leah and Lyndell captured every year.
Coming into Albertville, I stopped at Raceway and bought a bottle of water to swallow three Tylenol. Both my head and neck hurt, but enough of Vicodin and its hilarious hallucinations. I am now more convinced than ever that we have little control over our thoughts. They just appear out of nowhere. Like the one that confused me when I reentered 431.
Why was Rachel’s ‘wall’ diary in my briefcase? I’m certain Kyla said Lillian found it and the pistol receipt when she’d returned to the Explorer. I’d left the diary in my bedroom, or so I thought. When I entered Micaden’s office yesterday afternoon, I didn’t see how it had traveled to my briefcase. If it hadn’t, how did it get there after my altercation at Walmart? Unless it didn’t. I wondered if the Vicodin was affecting my memory, or my ability to construct cohesive ideas. I couldn’t help but consider whether my sister and Lillian, or one of them, had found it in my bedroom when they were stripping me down and settling me into bed. If so, why would Lillian say it fell out of the backseat when the unlatched briefcase had opened? Was it unlatched? I hated being confused. If it wasn’t the Vicodin, maybe my head injury was worse than I thought. The car horn from a Toyota Camry scared me. I admit the light at the Highway 431/75 intersection had already turned red.
The rest of the drive was uneventful thanks to my extra precaution and turning on WQSB radio. There’s nothing like country music on Thanksgiving Day to highlight all your blessings. The twang and the drawl made me focus on the road. And trigger a memory from twenty years ago. Leah’s trademark statement concerning country music came during a period of teenage rebellion, but I have to say, she nailed it. It was something like, “listening to country music in reverse, you get your dog back, your truck back, your house back, your girl back, and you stop drinking.” I slowed even more before going down the mountain and fought back random and ridiculous thoughts of getting my girl back.
Enterprise’s holiday staff was nearly as limited as its car inventory. I had wanted another SUV but had to settle for a mid-sized compact. However, it all worked for my good. The Hyundai Elantra is exactly what I need; it’s much more comfortable than the Explorer and should use a lot less gas.
***
My iPhone rang as I eased up the mountain. It was Rosa. “I was just about to call Rob.” I lied.
“That’s why I called. We’re on our way to Roanoke Memorial Hospital.” I thought I heard a siren.
“You mentioned he wasn’t feeling good. How’s he now? Are you driving him?” I was asking too many questions.
“Rob’s in the ambulance. We’re trying to keep up.”
“You’re not driving, are you?” Truth be told, neither Rob nor Rosa should operate a motor vehicle.
“No, I’m riding with Lyndell. Leah stayed at the cabin with the children.”
“What’s going on? What are Rob’s symptoms?”
The siren sound faded. “It’s classic stroke. His face started drooping and his left arm grew numb. We were eating a snack lunch and his speech got slurry. Lyndell helped him to an easy chair and tried to have Rob repeat ‘my name is Rob Kern.’ He couldn’t do it. Leah dialed 911 immediately.”
I pulled into another Raceway and parked to avoid distraction. “Do you want me to catch a flight?” Rosa had always treated me with such respect. Our relationship had grown closer since Rachel’s death. My mother-in-law knew I’d come in a heartbeat.
“No, the EMTs encouraged us since we had called for help so quickly. Maybe it’s a just a mild one.” I wondered if she was trying to convince herself, Lyndell, or me.
“Okay, but you keep me posted. I’ll answer anytime you call.” Rosa didn’t respond directly. She was probably wondering why I hadn’t answered last night’s call.
“Lee, we’re here. Say a prayer for Rob.”
“Okay.” What was I to say? “And tell Lyndell to call me when it’s convenient.”
Instead of leaving Raceway, I sat and imagined the scene in Roanoke. What if it wasn’t a mild stroke? What if they hadn’t acted fast enough? Hadn’t Rosa in yesterday’s voice mail said Rob hadn’t been feeling good? What if Rob died? I didn’t want to think about that, but I considered the legal ramifications.
My mind replayed Rosa’s message. The first time I’d heard it, something had struck me as odd. I grabbed my iPhone from a cup holder and listened again. Her last statement got my attention: “he’s not feeling well, so he’s thinking about taking the City’s offer.” The ‘so,’ implied cause and effect. A causes B. My shortened version: since Rob is sick, he will sell the Hunt House to the City. I laughed to myself, feeling like a 1L. There would be an effect caused by the effect: the lawsuit dismissed. That would be a good thing. Right?
A large semi swung through the parking lot and blasted its air-horn, insisting I pull forward a few feet. A causes B. I admit I had oddly parked. My mind flipped back to legal mode. I needed to brainstorm the real estate closing. There seemed to be only two scenarios; I didn’t like the second.
The first closing would take place while Rob was alive and legally competent (I didn’t know if he’d executed a durable power of attorney). Here, Rob and Rosa would do what they wanted with the money. I’m certain they wouldn’t blow it in Las Vegas. They would probably put it in the bank until their deaths and then their wills would control.
The second closing would take place after Rob died. I forced myself to think it through. Assuming Rob hadn’t changed his will, the proceeds would be divided three ways: a third to Randy, a third to Rachel (since she’s dead, Rob’s per stirpes provision would dictate this third be distributed to Leah, Lyndell, and me), and a third to the Southern Baptist Missions Board.
I looked at the time and needed to get rolling. I reentered 431. Two new thoughts entered my mind. What if Rob had changed his will? Of course, it was his right to do so. My second thought revealed another assumption I’d made years earlier: that Rob and Rosa owned the Hunt House as joint tenants. But what if the title is solely in Rob’s name? The answer came quickly. Rosa would inherit the real estate, assuming she survived Rob. But there would be a delay in distribution. Probate, the legal process of administering a person’s estate after death, is inefficient. I made a mental note to talk to Rob about the Hunt House deed. I certainly was no expert in wills and trusts, but I could still give him some excellent advice: consult an estate planning attorney.
My mind changed gears again when I approached the Guntersville Walmart. If it hadn’t been for the empty parking lot (they were closed for the Holiday), I would have stopped and bought Kyla a replacement crock-pot. Yesterday, I had never made it inside Boaz Walmart to make the exchange, and I’d forgotten to remove it from the Explorer. Maybe because it was no longer in the backseat. Maybe Lillian had returned it to Kyla. I’d have to ask, but that could wait.
I found a classical music channel on the radio and concentrated on my driving. I’d already had too many horns blowing at me since I’d left Kyla’s. She had instructed me to be at the Church’s Family Life Center between noon and 1:00 PM for the most food choices, including Mom’s green bean casserole. I was hungry, so I took her advice.
Richard L. Fricks 