Free The Way Back to Happiness by Elizabeth Bass

to get the tee she used as a nightshirt. “What a day you’ve had—and tomorrow will be another long one.”
    She enunciated those last words with such maudlin relish, they shot through Alabama like sonic doom.
    “Why?”
    “We need to get up early to start packing the car,” Bev explained. “So you’ll be ready to come back to New Sparta with me.”

    This was her aunt’s plan: Alabama would go immediately to live with Bev in New Sparta, with Gladdie to follow as soon as the doctors released her from the hospital. Then, after she recovered, Gladdie would return to Dallas while Alabama remained. She would enroll in school there. Probably Bev hoped she would get stuck there and become her latest craft project.
    Alabama had other ideas, but she had to be realistic. Staying in Dallas while Gladdie was hospitalized was a battle she couldn’t win. Maybe this was part of the bargain she’d made in the ER. I’ll do anything, she’d prayed. Welcome to anything.
    But surely she could come back once Gladdie was released?
    She hadn’t predicted how awful Gladdie would appear when they visited her. She was flat on her back in a bed that had bars like a stainless steel crib, with only a curtain between her and someone wheezing on the other side of it. An IV tube dripped into her arm—an arm that looked more slack and veiny than Alabama had noticed before. Her face was paler than it had seemed the previous night, even.
    My fault.
    Gladdie’s reddish-blue eyelids fluttered uncertainly before she stared up at them leaning over her.
    “How are you feeling?” Bev asked in a loud voice.
    “They took out my gallbladder, not my eardrums.”
    A geyser of nervous chuckles spewed out of Bev. “That’s the way, Mama—laughter is the best medicine.”
    Gladdie’s lips tensed in a grim line. As her eyes met Alabama’s, her gaze conveyed so much—exhaustion, irritation, resignation. Her grandmother’s thin hand covered hers, giving it a feeble squeeze, and Alabama felt guilty for the depression and anger she’d been prey to all morning. Being taken away to New Sparta sucked, but Gladdie was way worse off.
    “Done in by a cheesecake,” Gladdie said.
    “We’ll get you out of here.”
    “ ’Course we will,” Bev said. “In a week or so, you’ll be home with us.”
    Weak Gladdie might have been, but Bev’s words seemed to clear the fog of morphine and give her a jolt of strength. “I’ll be returning to The Villas in a week or so.”
    “But you’ll need someone to take care of you,” Bev argued.
    “I can stay at the health center.”
    Following her bout of pneumonia, the health center at The Villas was the place Gladdie had dreaded most. And now she was going there again willingly rather than stay with Bev.
    New Sparta must be quite a town .
    “You said you hated the health center,” Bev said. “Let me look after you this time.”
    “I’m not ready to live the rest of my life on a rocking chair on your front porch, Bev.” Before Bev could lodge her protest, she added, “Besides, that house of yours isn’t big enough for all three of us.” Gladdie looked at Alabama. “I’m sorry. Our plans will have to be . . . postponed.”
    Alabama nodded quickly. “That’s okay.” Postponed. That word gave her hope, even if it was contradicted by the dull resignation in Gladdie’s eyes.
    “When the wind’s not in our favor, we adjust our sails,” Bev said, a determined smile on her lips.
    After that, the visit seemed to drag. No one really knew what more to say.
    “Can we get you anything, Mama?” Bev asked as they were about to leave for lunch.
    Gladdie swallowed and blinked. “No thank you.”
    “Would you like us to turn on the television?”
    “Good Lord, no.” From her tone, Alabama would have guessed she never watched TV. Television would have been better than listening to the wheezer, in her opinion.
    “You can’t just lie there,” Bev argued.
    “I can if I want,” Gladdie said petulantly.
    Her