Free Dying Wishes by Judith K Ivie Page B

hostess.
    “Do
come into the parlor,” she urged. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day and are
looking forward to your tea. Sister, our guests are here.” This last was
trilled down the hallway toward the kitchen at the back of the house. “Make
yourselves comfortable while I see what’s keeping Ada and put this dratted dog out back.” She whisked out with Henry at her heels.
    “I’m
all for that,” Strutter commented. “Cute mutt, but
he’s a broken hip waiting to happen.” I couldn’t disagree, having some personal
history with Henry in that area.
    We
settled ourselves on the sofa as Ada wheeled an
old-fashioned teacart into the room. It was obviously a relic from their days
in the Victorian next door. “I know this doesn’t go with our little bungalow,
but it’s an old friend, and we simply couldn’t part with it,” she said without
preamble. “Charlene, I’m so glad you could join us. How are those two beautiful
children of yours? Do you have any photographs with you?”
    Strutter was happy to oblige and produced a handful of prints from her purse. Their
small talk gave me a chance to assess this new state of things. I was, quite
frankly, amazed. The woman before me bore no resemblance to the agitated weeper
of the previous week. This was the Ada I remembered,
the clear-eyed older sister and mistress of the house. Her hair was freshly permed , her sensible shoes gleamed with polish, and the
ancient teacart groaned under its burden of delectable goodies.
    The
demeanor of the two sisters flummoxed me. It was as if I had imagined my last
meeting with Ada , or perhaps I was the one whose
mental faculties were failing. Before I got too far down that path, Lavinia returned and cleared up my confusion.
    “Would
you be good enough to pour, Sister?” she asked Ada ,
then addressed Strutter and me. “A little tremor left
over from my recent unpleasantness, don’t you know. Just a tiny stroke, thank
goodness, but those doctors didn’t leave a stone unturned, let me tell you. By
the time they finished poking and prodding and sticking me with needles, I felt
exactly like a pin cushion,” she confided. “That big machine that clanked so
was the worst. I couldn’t hear myself think, and I had to keep absolutely still
for the longest time.”
    “An
MRI,” Ada explained as Lavinia fussed with plates and napkins. As requested, she took up her position behind
the teapot and filled three bone china cups. “Cream or lemon?” she asked me,
smiling at what must have been the astonishment on my face.
    I
finally found my tongue. “Lemon, please, and a little sugar. A stroke? That must have been very upsetting for you, Lavinia , but it’s hard to believe that’s what it was. You
look so well.” I ignored Strutter , who was
telegraphing what-the-heck-is-going-on-here to me as she accepted her cup from Ada .
    “It
was a TIA,” Ada explained once again. “It stands for
a transient ischemic attack, and the key word here is transient. The symptoms
disappear very quickly, and medication is prescribed to prevent future blood
clots.”
    Lavinia picked up the story again. “It wasn’t really upsetting, at least to me,” she
said, looking at her sister with sympathy. “I didn’t even know it had happened
until Ada insisted that we see Dr. Petersen right
away. She called a taxi, and off we went before I knew what was what. It
doesn’t seem to matter how old we get. Ada is still
my big sister.” She smiled fondly at Ada , whose eyes
were very soft, and I felt myself growing a bit misty, as well. Strutter plunked down her teacup and openly wiped her eyes
with her napkin.
    “We’re
so glad that it wasn’t more serious,” she managed. “We were all very worried
about you.”
    “That
was so kind, wasn’t it, Ada ?”
    Her
sister seemed to have a little difficulty speaking, too. She cleared her throat
with a sip of tea. “It was indeed. I can’t tell you what a comfort it is to
know we have wonderful friends