SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS
1
Staring pensively at the NO SMOKING sign on the wall right in front of her, Janet pulled out a pack of cigarettes and absently lit one.
She smoked in silence, seemingly deep in thought. Then, after a few minutes, she said to the empty room:
"Conner, don't hover out there. If you've thought of something else to say to me, get in here and say it."
The dining-room door opened, admitting a red-faced Conner.
"Sit," commanded Janet. "Where's your lunch?"
"I dumped it in the trash," said Conner abruptly.
"Way to conserve resources. Wanna get something else?" Janet nodded towards the lavish buffet.
Conner shook her head.
"Something wrong with the food?"
"Nah. Just lost my appetite."
"Why is that?"
"How the hell would I know?" bristled Conner. "You don't seem to be doing much better, either."
"True. So, what's up?"
"Look here, Dubois," started Conner with her usual panache – and then broke down. "Listen, I am sorry! I am sorry! I am so damn fucking sorry!"
"Okay, okay, relax. Want one?" Janet offered her the cigarettes.
Conner hesitated, then took a cigarette and lit it from Janet's.
"Now start over. What are you sorry about?"
"Like you don't know!"
"First, pipe down. Second, it wouldn't be much of an apology if I had to say it for you. Not five minutes ago, you stormed out of here in a huff and with self-righteous anger written all over you. Has something happened to change your attitude?"
"Yep. I was hit by a wave of self-disgust. It was just disgraceful, that whole thing. Both him and me – and you swallowing it all – never standing up for yourself – like, what the hell's wrong with you, Dubois?"
"Your apologies clearly need work." A faint smile touched Janet's lips. "I thought I had taught you better than that. Did you miss the class on standing your ground?"
"No, I didn't miss that class. Nor the one on owning up to your mistakes."
"Then go ahead and own up."
"I mean – I mean – how dare he? Where does he get off treating you like garbage? I thought I'd die of shame!"
"For the Chief?"
"For you! That's why I snapped at you, too!"
"Okay, you've lost me." Janet shook off the ashes from her cigarette. "Let me try to unpack this. You didn't like the Chief giving me shit, so you decided to show him up? How am I doing so far?"
Conner suddenly giggled. "Not bad. First, he keeps interrupting you as soon as you open your mouth and putting you down like you were a grade-school kid in the principal's office. He should know by now that if there's something you think needs to be said, he should shut up and listen! Right? You are not one of the Agency's top operatives for nothing!"
"I do tend to run on sometimes."
"You tend to run on! You ever heard one of his speeches? Man's so much in love with the sound of his own voice he won't hear anybody else's! And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, he – he – "
"Conner, settle down! What's up with you? The stress of this mission from hell must've gotten to you even worse than I thought."
"That's right, it did get to me. But it was no picnic for you, either, especially with you running point. And instead of showing appreciation, he – "
Janet held up a palm to stop her. "Top performance is something that's expected of us. If we gave any less, we wouldn't even be here. Did you expect him to prostrate himself before us just because we had done what we were supposed to do?"
"The least he could do was show you some common courtesy. Instead, he insults and humiliates you. He has to know how much you hate that kind of vulgar talk. How dare he say to you all that stuff about farting and stinking – to you! Even I felt like throwing up!"
"Aha, that's what got you in a snit. I admit, that wasn't exactly the highlight of my day. But if you think that after what we've just been through, I was gonna fall to pieces at hearing the word "fart" – "
"It wasn't just the word, it was the way he applied it to you. I was sure you were gonna punch his daylights out. Instead, you were like "Yes sir, no sir, sorry sir..." I couldn't believe my ears!"
"Aren't you forgetting something, Conner? Whether or not you approve of his manners, he is still head of the Agency. Insubordination is a serious charge even for operatives of our level. And don't even get me started on assaulting a superior."
"Our level. That's sweet. I am not on your level yet."
"Speaking of which. Whether or not you approve of the way I handled the Chief, I am still your superior."
Conner flushed so hard her cheeks seemed to be burning up.
"On the other hand," continued Janet, "all you've done was speak your mind. I'd like to think you've always been able to do that with me."
"And so I have. But I didn't have to be quite so harsh. I could've shown you some empathy. After all, I do know you are not just being a princess. I know firsthand you have a very good reason for needing to get away. I may not know exactly what it is, but then it's none of my business. And yet, all I could think of at that moment was how it affected me. How it ruined my own triumph."
Janet sighed wearily. "You are entitled to your own feelings. Including occasionally getting frustrated with me. You wouldn't be human if you didn't."
"Listen, Dubois, after all the years you've given to the Agency and especially after this mission, you wouldn't be human if you didn't feel some burnout. It's not my place to judge you. You'd be justified if you brought insubordination charges against me."
"I have to say, getting browbeaten by both my superior and my subordinate within ten minutes of one another has to be some kind of record." Janet glanced at Conner, who looked as if she were about to go up in flames, and suddenly broke into her most impish smile. "But you can't say I never stood up to you. Didn't I just threaten to use this remote in a rather unconventional manner?"
Conner smiled in relief. "I'd like to see you try to make good on that threat."
"Perhaps I should've. But today, just today, you get a free pass. Even though I am still trying to wrap my head around your reasoning. You feel bad about the way I am treated – and take it out on me?"
Conner hesitated. "Look, Dubois – er, I mean, permission to speak freely?"
"Well, don't stop now." Janet stubbed out her cigarette and lit another. "I am all ears."
"I didn't really expect you to punch him. But I've known you long enough to know you didn't need to! You could've put him in his place with just one look! You could've shut him up with a frown! Instead, you totally kowtowed to him!"
"Oh, I see." Janet paused. "And in so doing, I've disappointed you? Lost your respect?"
"No, never! How could you even think that?" exploded Conner, then settled down with a visible effort. "But seeing you disrespected and humiliated like that – it just made me so mad! And since I couldn't punch him any more than you did, I got mad at you for taking it. Am I making sense?"
"Unfortunately, yes." Janet gave a wry chuckle.
"Back when I first met you, I knew right away you hated all sucking up and encouraged your trainees and subordinates to level with you."
"That's true. But I never encouraged anybody to be rude. I just discourage them from kissing my – "
"Yeah, I knew I wouldn't get anywhere with you by kissing your ass!"
"I was gonna say "ring" but "ass" works just as well."
The two women laughed.
"But this better be the first and last time we are having this conversation."
"It will be, promise." Conner seemed uncertain whether to go on, then made up her mind. "I know why he's so mean to you."
"You do, don't you? Okay, let's have it."
"He feels intimidated by you! He knows you are ten times the operative he could ever be! And that by rights, you should be the one running the Agency! And that you would be, if only we didn't live among a bunch of male chauvinist pigs. How could they possibly stand the idea of a woman going all the way to the top?"
"Hold your horses, Conner. I am not saying they aren't. But is that what you think – that I can't get promoted because I am a woman?"
"What else can it be? You deserve it more than any – "
"Hey, no ass kissing, remember?" Janet smiled. "Okay, if you really want to know. I've been offered that position several times, and every time I've turned it down."
"What?! Why?!"
"You ever watch the original Star Trek?"
"What's that to do with – Oh, I get it. You and Captain Kirk both."
"I knew you would. Neither of us wants to be kicked upstairs. I did not sign up for a desk job."
"Well… knowing you, I gotta say that makes sense."
"Which is what happened to Montgomery".
"Montgo… who?"
"Oh crap. I mean, the Chief. He hasn't always been a bureaucrat, if that's what you think. I still remember him as a dauntless, resourceful operative. One of the Agency's best."
"I am beginning to see your point."
"Now, I am not saying running the whole Agency is easy or unimportant or that anyone could do it. All that responsibility, being in charge of everything and everyone, coordinating every move, every operation – it does take the best of the best. Only the problem is, once you stop going out into the field and start ordering people around from the safety of your office, over time you forget how it is to be out in the field."
"Oh man! I never thought of it this way."
"I don't know if he is intimidated by me, as you say. What I do know is that he envies me and you and others like us. He even envies us all those horrors – the mortal danger, the hardships, facing the deadly enemy, making split-second life-and-death decisions. Along with the powerful highs, the excitement, the rush of adrenaline… He misses all that. And knows he would no longer be up to it if he had a chance."
"Wow! How do you know this?"
"Straight from the horse's mouth. He hasn't always been a shit to me. He once was – " Janet drew in a sharp breath, "perhaps the closest thing to a friend we can all be to each other. We used to get together for a drink or two and just talk."
"It's kinda sad, come to think of it."
"It is. It hurts him when someone like you or me brings it home to him that he would no longer cut it as an operative."
"Even so, it gives him no excuse – "
"After all, where was Tom Langdon while I was out there, being molested and nearly tortured to death? Sitting on his ass in his nice safe office and breaking his old heart over feeling helpless to do any- " Janet went on as if she had not heard Conner.
"Hey, Dubois!" The younger woman touched her shoulder. "What are you talking about? Tom who?"
Janet came to with a shudder. "Oh Lord, what's wrong with me? Having a pre-senior moment, I guess. Anyway, what I am saying is – what the hell am I saying?"
"Listen, Dubois, you must be dead on your feet. You need to get some rest ASAP. Do you want me to get you a drink?"
"I am fine." Janet rubbed her eyes. "Just fine. Anyway, remember another of my classes – on picking your battles? This is what I do when the Chief gets nasty. You are right, I could've put him in his place but chose not to."
"Oh. So, we both get a free pass?"
"Yes. Just remember, yours expires today."
"And I guess his has no expiration date on it. So, next time he talks to you in the same way, about farts and stinks and all that – "
"I am gonna curtsey and go: "Yes sir, no sir, sorry sir". Costs me nothing and makes him feel a tiny bit better about himself." Janet glanced at her watch. "Wow, where did the time go? You must also be dying to get some rest, and here I am, going on and on."
"I don't mind. I've learned quite a few valuable things today." Conner got up to leave but then sat back down and leaned closer to Janet's ear.
"Hey, who's that guy?" She nodded towards a man in a white lab coat sitting by himself at a table in a far corner of the dining-room. "From the looks of him, he must be from R&D. He's not even supposed to be in here! This dining-room is for operatives only."
Janet took a good look at the man. "Wait, I think I know him. That's Dr. Whitney."
"Am I supposed to know who that is? Is he some kind of celebrity?"
"You can say that. He's an Agency legend in his own right. Brilliant scientist. Genius. Maverick."
"Oh, I see. You legends can get away with doing what we mortals are not allowed to," laughed Conner pointing to Janet's cigarette, then to the NO SMOKING sign.
"That's right. Otherwise, where's the fun in being a legend? It would be nothing but a big headache."
"Look, he's coming this way. I think he wants to talk to you."
"Strange." Janet looked puzzled. "What could he want? I've never actually met the man face-to-face."
"Here's your chance, then." Conner jumped up. "Well, I'll be going. Have fun with your fellow legend!" She grinned and headed towards the exit, just as the man in the lab coat approached Janet's table.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked.
2
"Get in here, Dubois. Shut the door."
"Gladly."
"On the inside."
"Less gladly but you da boss."
"Okay, Janet, take a seat – "
"Oh, "Janet"? Are we being unofficial?"
"Totally unofficial and off the record. Just two old friends having a chat."
"Good to know, Montgomery. In that case, before I forget..." Her solid punch nailed him in the shoulder. "Here's something I've been meaning to do."
"Hey, you crazy?" he yelled rubbing the sore spot. "What's that for?"
"You know very well!" She glared at him. "If you wanted to put me down that badly, although I can't think why – "
"I was just in a pissy mood is all."
" – you had your pick of insults! You can call me a bully, a harridan, a witch, a bitch – "
"One of these does sound tempting," muttered the Chief under his breath.
" – but you know I can't stand that kind of gross vulgarity! That's absolutely the worst thing anybody can say to me! Even Conner gave me shit for not standing up to you!"
"Did you at least stand up to Conner?" He snickered. "Hey, you said "shit"!"
"Damn right I did! But I didn't say you had dropped trou right there in the briefing room, squatted down and shat! Get the difference?"
The look of contrition on the man's heavy-jowled face was ludicrous. He tugged at his right earlobe. "You know, you are right. I was out of line."
"Way out!"
"Well, got it out of your system? Now come here." He held out his arms to her. They hugged.
"Okay, Monty, let's have it." She disengaged herself. "Where's the fire?"
"If this were about a fire we wouldn't be off the record."
"Then what do you want?"
"I've been wondering about something. Like, when you are gonna take this job off my hands."
"Oh no, not that again. Does never sound soon enough?"
"It sounds lousy. What would it take? Want me to beg you on my hands and knees?"
She shuddered in mock revulsion. "Please, spare me the visual image."
"What's the problem? Think you are too good to run the whole damned Agency?"
"Monty, listen." She sat down and looked around her as if searching for something. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and held it out to her. She lit up and inhaled deeply. "You know very well what my problem with your job is. You got saddled with it, you do it. And anyway," she shook off the ashes, "why are you in such a rush to palm it off on somebody?"
"Why do you think?" He was silent for a moment or two. "I am on my way out. Getting too old for all this, you know. I am just about ready for an engraved watch and a "Happy retirement!" cake. And there's no one I'd rather see in this seat than you."
"Seriously? Last time I checked, there was no shortage of top-tier operatives who would kill to get their asses in it."
"You'd look a damn sight prettier sitting in it than any of those old farts."
"What is it with you and farts? Are you obsessed with them? Anyway, why do you have to push it on the one person who doesn't want it? Makes no sense."
"On the contrary, makes perfect sense. That's how I know you would be right for it. You are pure at heart, girl. You couldn't care less about power or honors or personal gain."
Her eyes flashed. "If you think I am the only one, you don't know your people as well as you ought to! Those who are in it for personal gain don't make it to the top. Or just don't make it, period. Our job has a way of separating the grain from the chaff. If you don't believe in what you do, you are in the wrong line of work."
"Like I said, pure at heart." He sighed. "After all these years and all the horrors you've had thrown at you, still an idealist."
She shook her head. "Let's put a lid on it, Monty. Once and for all. There's a very good reason I won't be taking over your job. I am also headed for retirement, and you can keep the cake."
"What?! You?! For fuck's sake, why?"
She stared sadly past him. "You just called me an idealist. You were right about that being an asset. But wrong about me being one. Not anymore. Somewhere along the line, my idealism wore off. And besides," she threw him an impish look, "how old do you think I am? I am also getting there."
"I know exactly how old you are, Janet. I wouldn't be head of the Agency worth my salt if I didn't."
"Why so surprised, then?"
"Even knowing the number, I still have a problem thinking of you as a retiree. I don't know how you do it but you haven't aged a day in the past twenty years."
"What's any of this to do with how old I look?"
"I am not talking about looks. But your skills, stamina, physical form, lightning-quick reflexes, razor-sharp mind – "
"Laying it on pretty thick, Monty. Hey, since when do you sweet-talk me, or anybody else, for that matter? This doesn't sound like you."
"That's how I know I am getting too old for this. Losing my edge."
"Definitely. Are you about done?"
"I am just getting started. You have all the benefits of top-notch training and decades of experience plus the physicality of a woman in her prime."
"And you want me to waste all that sitting on my ass in this office? I seem to remember you didn't boast this," she pointed to his belly, "when you first got promoted. Back then, your physical form and reflexes weren't too shabby either. Wouldn't vouch for that now."
"Whatever." He made a dismissive gesture. "I fail to see your logic. You don't want to waste your potential of an outstanding operative on a desk job, even as important as this one, fair enough. And yet, you don't mind wasting it on – what? Sitting on your porch knitting?"
"Monty, for goodness' sake listen to me!" She leaned over the desk, her voice earnest. "Yes, I have been a pretty good operative, if I say so myself. And I've always preferred to continue as one rather than being kicked upstairs. But now I am done! There are certain qualities which may be even more crucial than training or fitness, and I am sorry to say I've lost those. Somewhere along the line, they must've gone the same way as my idealism."
"Gotcha. Burnout. Nothing I haven't seen before. Listen, girl, I get it. Take a few weeks off, recharge your batteries, go someplace where you can forget all this – "
"Like, where? One of your luxurious prison camps? Under the 24-hour surveillance by my own staff?"
"Oh, come on. You can go wherever you damn well please."
"Sure I could, if I really wanted to."
"I know. Oh crap!" The Chief slapped his forehead in frustration. "See what you do to me? I almost forgot what else I wanted to talk to you about! Did Whitney approach you with that new invention of his?"
She nodded.
"And did you try it out?"
"You bet I did. Out of curiosity, if for no other reason."
"So? He told me everything would ride on whether you signed off on it or not. Are you gonna?"
"What do you think, Monty? You should know me well enough to know the answer."
"I am not playing guessing games, Janet. Just tell me."
"Okay." She sighed. "Look, this is not to say Whitney is not a genius. The science behind that thing, the engineering, the technology which is way ahead of our time… It's more than brilliant. It's beyond belief. But…"
"But?"
"It's the concept I have a problem with. The idea of replacing reality with fantasy."
"Is that how he pitched it to you? I was under the impression it was just some gizmo for inducing pleasant dreams to get you all nice and relaxed."
"Ay, there's the rub," chuckled Janet.
"That's most apt."
"If he meant it to be a kind of therapy, a chance to relax for an hour or so and then wake up well-rested and revitalized, I'd say, Why not? But what he proposes... It's trying to cover a very deep wound with a tiny Band-Aid."
"What exactly does he propose?"
"His idea gives the expression "a dream vacation" a whole new meaning. Instead of simply dreaming of a perfect getaway, our operatives could literally get away – from reality, from the Agency, from all the treachery and blood and danger and killing – in their dreams."
"How do you mean, in their dreams?"
"Whitney found a way to tap into our deep subconscious and access our memories, desires and regrets. Once hooked to his machine, you fall asleep – and in your dreams go wherever you want and do whatever you want, be reunited with people you left behind decades ago, revisit your happiest memories and even participate in events which have never occurred and will never occur in real life. And you won't just see the visual images – no, it would be perceived as real by all of your five senses. It would be even more vivid and tangible than reality. Travel far and wide in your sleep without ever leaving the loving bosom of the Agency for a minute. How does that sound?"
"Sounds like a doozy. What could be wrong with that?"
"Nothing. And everything."
"Great. More riddles."
"Picture this, Monty. You've just had an amazing experience in your dreams. You've revisited the best moments of your past and traveled to a rosy, perfect future. You wake up happy – happier than you've felt in years. And then you open your eyes and blink – and there you are, lying hooked up to that contraption of Whitney's, staring up at this institutional ceiling, and none of that has happened or will ever happen. How would that make you feel?"
"Hmm... I think I see your point."
"Let me put it this way. What if, instead of actually going out on our missions and doing whatever it takes to accomplish them, we just dreamed about doing it? Would that help anybody?"
"Right. So, this means no go?"
"Not in the way he meant to use it. I told him so. But otherwise, I don't see why not."
"Just curious. Is this experience what got you thinking about making tracks from here?"
"Oh no. I've been thinking of it for the past several years. Monty, I've given more than enough of myself, in every sense of the word. And I've trained a cohort of bright young operatives. Let them take over. I don't know how long I have left." She started unbuttoning her top.
The Chief's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Whoa, hang on there, woman! What do you think you are doing? Trying to give me a heart attack?"
"Relax. Just wanted to remind you." She opened her top just wide enough to reveal several ugly scars crisscrossing the once perfectly smooth skin. "These aren't skin deep, you know. Nor are they the only ones I have. Sooner or later it will all catch up to me."
"That's a load of crap. You still have many years in you."
"Monty, get real. There are old operatives and bold operatives, but there are no old, bold operatives. I daresay I've been pretty bold. I still have unfinished business on this earth before my time runs out. Not in Whitney's sweet dreams but in real life. I am already many years behind but I don't want to be too late."
"Damned if I know what you are talking about."
"You don't need to know. As long as you know I am getting out, whether you like it or not."
"We'll see about that. But first, there's work to be done."
"There's nothing to see. Wait, work? What work? Is there something going down right now?"
"Yep. You were spot-on about a fire that needs to be put out. I just wanted to talk to you first."
"Okay, we've talked. Now, where is the fire?"
"This time, literally in our own backyard. Right here, in Washington. A very short commute."
"Oh. Domestic terrorists."
"Worse. Mercenaries working for domestic terrorists."
"You are right, that is worse. When?"
"Twenty-three hundred. Pick your team. Briefing at nineteen hundred."
"Yes, sir." She rose and turned to leave, then halted and looked back at him. "I was not kidding, Monty. This better be my last op."
"What if I don't accept your resignation?"
"I'd much rather you did. But if not, I'll do without. I'll just walk out of here one day and vanish off the face of the earth. You know I can do that."
"Indeed. I am not even sure I know how you do that, but I do know you can. Let's deal with this first. Hey, seriously, how come you don't age?"
"Take your best guess. Perhaps I sold my soul to Satan. Or perhaps, in a garret somewhere, there is a portrait of a hideous crone – "
"That garret better be well guarded. You don't want that portrait stabbed. But I doubt you'd look hideous even as a crone."
She shook her head sadly as her gaze again drifted away from the man. "No beauty can survive old age. Nothing remains. Nothing." She shuddered slightly. "Okay, Chief. I am dismissed."
"Oh – right – so you are. Dismissed, Dubois."
"Yes, sir!" She rose, did a mock salute and an about-face, walked out and slammed the door.
General Montgomery Wilkes stared after her, tugging on his right earlobe.
3
The old woman opened her eyes and blinked at the two pre-teen girls hovering in the doorway.
"Janet? Jenny?"
The girls cautiously approached the bed.
"No ma'am, I am Terri and this is my sister Kate, and Jenny's our – "
"Don't call her ma'am, stupid! She's our grandma."
"But I don't know her! I've never even met her!" The younger girl tiptoed closer to the bed and studied the woman, eyes narrowed and head to one side, then said: "I am so sorry you are not feeling well, Grandma."
"Sweetheart! I am such a silly old fool! I took you for my own kids. Of course, my kids are all grown by now. You must be Jenny's little girls. Where is she? Where is my Jenny? Is she here?"
"She is in the living-room, talking to the lady who looks after you."
"And Janet? Do you know my Janet? Is she here?"
"You must mean Auntie," said the elder girl. "Sure, we know her."
"She's awesome! We love her! We just don't get to see her too often. Hardly ever."
"Mom says she's away a lot, working abroad, traveling for work. I still don't have a clue what kind of work she does. Mom doesn't say."
"Must be something real important. Like, maybe, she's a foreign diplomat. She's smart enough to be one. Or something just as cool."
"Hey, you chatterboxes, I told you not to go in without me!" said a loud whisper from the doorway. "Don't bother your grandma! She's resting!"
"Jenny?" The old lady propped herself up on her elbows with obvious difficulty.
Jenny crossed the room in two strides, dropped to her knees next to her mother's bed and hid her face in the pillow.
"Mama," she wailed softly. "Oh mama. I am so sorry."
"Don't be sorry, baby. Why didn't you come in with the girls earlier?"
"I didn't know you were awake! Or aware," she added sotto voce. "I wanted to talk to Susan first, to get a better idea of your condition before I saw you."
"And Susan gave you a litany of the many ways I've been misbehaving." A faint smile touched Mrs. Wood's pale lips.
"Oh mama..."
"Don't cry, baby." She stroked her daughter's hair gently. "My, what gorgeous hair you have. Always had. I've almost forgotten."
"Mama, I am sorry," again whispered Jenny into the pillow.
"Those are two beautiful girls you have. At first, I took them for you and your sister. But of course, they are my grandkids. Couldn't wish for better ones. At least, I finally got to meet them."
Before Jenny could again plunge into her regretful apology, Kate called her quietly from the doorway.
"Mom? Mom, come quick! Auntie is here. She's outside."
...
The nurse Susan was given the night and day off and ushered out the front door while Janet slipped in through the back door.
"You took a huge risk coming here," said Jenny an hour later, leading the way up to the attic.
"What did you expect me to do? I got your urgent message saying just "It's Mom", and what was I supposed to do about it?"
"You probably did the right thing, whichever way you managed it. Susan called me yesterday to say that Mom could go any minute. I bundled up the girls and hopped on the first flight out here. The poor kids didn't even have a clue where we were going or why. But by the time we got here, they had already figured out, based only on my occasional disjointed grunts, that they were on their way to meet their grandma for the first time, and that she was very sick and probably didn't have much time left."
"You can't put anything past those two."
"I know. Sometimes it's scary." Jenny unlocked a room in the attic and ushered her sister in. "Poor Mama! She must've thought you were an apparition."
"I hope the shock wasn't too much for her," said Janet with concern. "I didn't know what state she would be in or whether she was even gonna know I was here."
"Fortunately, it seems to have worked out for the best. Susan told me she had been pretty much out of it for quite a while, so I never expected to see her so lucid and coherent. And when she saw you – "
"She was happy, wasn't she?"
"And how. But it could be that at that precise moment it had escaped her how many years she hadn't seen hide or hair of you, so it wasn't as much of a shock as it might've been."
"Whatever works." Janet sighed wearily, sitting down on the bed. "God, it's musty in here."
"Sorry we haven't turned out a guest room all ready for you. Now, talk. How are you even here? I got that message out to you because I thought you would want to know how serious it was, but I didn't expect you to show up just like that. How did you swing it? What if Susan sees you? Or the doctor? Or the girls blab to someone? Or even Mom herself? I can't swear them all to secrecy."
"Jenny, relax." Janet reached up to hug her sister. "I didn't have to swing anything. I'm officially resigned."
"What?! How do you mean?"
"Simply. I am a civilian now. I have every right to visit my dying mother."
"As simple as that?"
"Quite. Sure, they'll try to keep tabs on me for the foreseeable future. So what? They have their tricks. I know every trick in the book, and I have come up with a few of my own."
"Still, you better stay in here for now. I'll go downstairs and distract the girls, tell them you had to run an errand or something. And then we'll figure it out. Anyway, it shouldn't be long now. Could be literally any minute."
...
Susan enjoyed a paid vacation while Jenny and her daughters held the fort. They were on the phone several times a day with briefings as to Mrs. Wood's care.
Before Janet could come down from the attic, all the doors leading outside were locked and blinds drawn.
A week went by, then another. The girls, at first exhilarated by the unplanned break from the school routine, were beginning to get fidgety and concerned about having to catch up to the rest of the class later.
Mrs. Wood seemed to be feeling stronger and healthier and even looking younger with every passing day.
Finally, her doctor was summoned. Janet went into hiding in the attic, the girls were impressed upon not to utter a sound, and the doctor spent a couple of hours by his patient's bedside, giving her a thorough examination, talking to her and gauging her reactions.
Finally, he came out and joined Jenny in the kitchen, looking pleased and bewildered.
"I don't have any explanation, Ms. Wood. I swear to you, just a couple of weeks ago your mother was, not to put too fine a point on it, a goner. That's why I told the nurse to alert you ASAP. I wasn't sure you would be able to make it here before it was too late."
"So, what's going on with her now?"
"Nothing short of divine intervention. Of course, I'll need to get her to a hospital to do a few tests, and then we'll have a better idea whether she is in remission. But from the way things look now, I'd say she could be with us for months. Perhaps even a year. Please don't ask me for any medical explanation and just think of it as one of those miracles."
Jenny sighed. "I've never been religious. But I think I am getting my religion right now."
"There was just one thing your mother seemed to be confused about. She was perfectly normal and lucid most of the time, but once in a while she would mention how happy she was that both her daughters were here. Is that so? I didn't know you had a sister."
Jenny shook her head. "Oh, poor mama. Even as clear-headed as she is now, she is still confused about some things. I did have a sister. But we lost her many years ago, when she was quite young. My mother has never quite gotten over that tragedy or been able to accept that her daughter was gone. So, I am not surprised she keeps bringing her up."
"That seems like a small price to pay for Mrs. Wood's miraculous improvement, wouldn't you say?"
Jenny smiled mysteriously.
...
Eventually, they knew they were going to leave.
Jenny invited Susan for a nice dinner, gave her a generous gift, thanked her for her caring and dedication which seemed to have produced a most beneficial effect on her patient, and assured her that she was going to move in and take over her mother's care, and Susan did not need to worry about her ever again.
In truth, she had been lucky enough to find another live-in nurse who came highly recommended and had until then lived and worked in another county, so it was unlikely that hers and Susan's paths had crossed or would ever cross.
The day before their departure, Mrs. Wood called Jenny in and indicated that she had something to say to her in private.
"Jenny, listen to me. I am only going to say this one thing, but you need to pay attention. Your daughter must know her mother."
Try as Jenny would to get her to enlarge on that enigmatic statement, she refused to say another word on the subject.
Saying their goodbyes was tearful all around and at the same time oddly hopeful. Kate and Terri were almost impossible to pull away from their newfound grandmother. They promised to visit and keep in touch. It felt almost realistic and possible.
"So, what now?" Jenny asked Janet. "Where are you headed?"
"I go wherever you go. Unless you've changed your mind about that."
"Like hell I have," said Jenny firmly.
April 30, 2023
To aging parents and all the older people dear to us