"Wear that pretty blue dress they bought you for your last birthday." she advised, and I hurried off to do what she said.
She didn't wear a dress, but she wore one of her nicest pants suits. Mama was waiting for us in the kitchen, just standing and gazing out the window.
"Good," she said when she saw us. "Let's go."
We got into the car. Mama decided to sit in the rear, so I sat up front with Brenda. Moments later, we were on our way.
"I didn't even ask you if you knew how to go. Brenda," Mama said once we left our street.
"I went into the office and got directions from the computer." Brenda said, and held up a sheet she had printed. "April will be the navigator." She handed me the printed directions to follow.
Brenda was right about the time it would take. We made a decision to stop for something to eat, if just to break up the journey. Brenda wanted us to do it so Mama would eat something. We both knew she hadn't had anything but coffee. She fell asleep for most of the trip and woke when we stopped at a roadside diner. She at least had some soup and a buttered roll. A little more than an hour later, we entered the small community in which the facility was located. I read the directions Brenda had printed from the computer, and about ten minutes later, we saw the address printed in gold lettering on a large, square, rust-brown pilaster by the entry gate. The building was considerably back from the street and off to the side a bit, and you would have to stop to see it well. The gate was open, so we drove right onto the property.
The long driveway was lined on both sides with long-leaf pine trees neatly spaced. The grounds of the property were very well manicured, the grass and bushes trimmed. We saw some fountains, and stone benches I was sure no one ever sat on. There was no one in sight, and it all had a peaceful, tranquil atmosphere. Even the birds seemed to fly slower, gliding as if they were in a dream before they rested on branches or the fountains and benches. I hesitated to say it was beautiful. I hesitated to say anything nice about a place in which my daddy was dying or in which he had already passed away.
The three-story building itself was so different from any I had seen. It had a light tray cladding with a centered gable and an accentuated front door supported by pilasters, a hipped light blue roof with three dormers, and rectangular windows with doublehung sashes. There were three chimneys. What made it very unusual was the wing set at an angle. It had a separate doorway and looked as if it had been added on some time after the original structure was built.
There was absolutely no name on the building to identify it. It looked more like someone's old mansion. Whatever automobiles were there were parked behind the building, even though there was a distinct area off to the right in front of it for visitor parking. We pulled into a space. and Brenda turned off the engine. For a moment, none of us moved.
"I guess this is it," Brenda finally said. "That was the address."
Mama dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and opened the car door. We all got out and walked slowly toward the main entrance. It was odd, because for an institutional facility that was really a hospital, it had a doorbell to ring. Brenda had tried the door and found it locked. What sort of a place was this? I wondered.
We waited, It was still quiet, not a sound coming from inside, not a soul outside, not even a grounds-keeper. The street from which we had turned in was still, too, with not a car passing by since we had arrived. It was truly as if we had entered a way station between this world and the next. It gave me the jitters.
Brenda pressed the buzzer again. We could hear it ringing inside. She looked at Mama, who was obviously battling back her own hysteria and trembling in her clothes. Finally, the door opened, and a tall woman with very short dark brown hair specked with gray stood before us. She wore a nurse's uniform, but it was more gray than white and had her name in black sewn into the right breast pocket: "Ms. Luther," She wore no makeup, not even lipstick. A fine trickle of lighter brown hair ran down her temples to the top of her jawbone. She pressed her thin lips together before speaking, and her somewhat bony nose dipped and came up as she finally did speak.
"Yes? How can I help you?" she asked.
"Were here to see Matthew Taylor," Brenda said. "We're his immediate family."
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Ms. Luther scrutinized the three of us as if she could tell just by looking at us if we were telling the truth.
"That patient specifically has written on his admittance form that there would be no visitors, and no visitors are to be permitted," she replied. She looked as if she would slam the door closed as well. Her hand tightened on it.
Brenda, being the athlete she was, pivoted her left foot quickly to make that impossible and stepped forward. Mama came around on her right.
"Matthew Taylor is my husband," she said firmly. "These are his daughters. We just recently learned he has checked himself into this... this place, and we insist on seeing him."
"This place, as you call it, is special because we guarantee that we respect the wishes of our patients. It's very, very important to them and to their families. You'll have to contact Mr. Taylor's trustee to see about any possible changes, and then..."
"We're not leaving here until we see him." Brenda asserted. "If you want to have a scene, we'll have a scene. When people are very ill, they make decisions that they would not make if they were well. We don't care who his trustee is or what he says. That's our father, and that's my mother's husband in there. I'm sure this situation will interest newspaper and television people, and that's where we'll go, not to any trustee," she added.
Even Mama was surprised at Brenda's strength. I saw the way she lifted her eyebrows when Brenda finished. My own heart was thumping the way the heart of a coward would. I was ready to turn and bolt for the car. Brenda looked ready to grapple with the woman.
Ms. Luther saw that as well in Brenda's face. She pulled her head up, tightening the skin on her neck and lifting her narrow shoulders against her uniform.
"I am warning you," she said. "I don't intend..."
"Go on, call your security, and start the festivities," Brenda challenged.
"This is outrageous," Ms. Luther said, but I could see that she was weakening. Her shoulders sagged, and her hand loosened its gip on the door. "Mr. Taylor is in a coma and has been for days," she added. "He is off any life support as well, as he dictated in his admittance papers, and before you threaten any lawsuits, I want to assure you, it was all done through an attorney of his choice and properly assessed. That is the only way we accept any of our patients."
"Why do you call them patients?" Brenda asked her. "They're here to die, not to be treated and get well."
"Please," Mama pleaded. "Let us see him. If he is as you say, there is no possible harm done. anyway,"