Stay Tuned

Chapter 59

The fire sprang to life again. Flames swirled from the source of the explosion, and charred places on the roof re-ignited bigger and brighter. In minutes, the nursing home’s roof was lit like a bon-fire. The heat from the blaze intensified.

Rick darted away to get his camera and tripod. Shouts rang out across the lawn and arcs of water filled the air again. For a split second, none of it mattered. The fireman had Mother hugged to his chest. I ran toward them, Chris at my heels. I was afraid she was dead.

But the fireman murmured to Mother and set her down like he was handling fine china. He stepped away, and the paramedics crowded around her. Through the noise and confusion, I managed to get a glimpse of her.

Mother, tinged with streaks of dirt, sat still, her hands folded primly in her lap, gripping her notebook. Over one of the paramedic’s shoulders, she looked straight at me. And smiled.

I gasped. How in the world?

The firefighter adjusted his hat and whistled. “Quite the stubborn one, this little lady.”

I turned to get a better look at his face.

“This is your mother?” he asked.

I nodded.

“She told me she was waiting for her daughter to come get her. Somehow, she had managed to get inside the nursing director’s office, there in the front, shut the door behind her, and wedged her wheelchair in between the desk and the wall.”

I closed my eyes briefly, not wanting to believe it.

“So, when we came through to do a final check of rooms, that one—in the very front corner—had been missed. It was furthest away from the original fire, so she was lucky. When I opened the door, there she sat with that notebook and a dozen picture frames in her lap.”

Mother continued to grip the notebook, eyes focused off in the distance.

The fireman adjusted his hat. “When I told her she needed to come with me, she said she’d just wait right there, that she was fine until you came.” He snapped a strap under his jaw. “She didn’t like it much, but I shoved the photos in my pockets, scooped her up, and carried her out.”

He thrust a hand into his pocket, retrieved two small picture frames, and held them out for me to take. One of Kelly. The other of Chris and me.
  
I took them gingerly. “Thank you,” I said, my hands trembling.

“Thank you so much.” Chris shook his hand. The paramedic moved aside to let us talk to Mother, still holding her notebook.
  
“Where’ve you been?” she asked. “I finally started calling for Sharice. She never came. I thought you’d both left me.”

“Mother,” I said, then stopped. There was more she wanted to say.

Her voice shook. “Now that you had this important job on TV, I knew you’d just forget about me. I’d be alone. And you wouldn’t come back.”

She was worried I didn’t care about her. All of this time.

“Never, Mother.” I threw myself in her lap, not caring if she pushed back. “I love you.”

After a moment, ever so lightly, I felt her stroke my hair.