PROLOGUE
April 1, 2003, 8:45 a.m
The fact that it was April Fools Day hadn’t even crossed my mind as I poured myself a second cup of coffee. Uncharacteristically, given my aversion.
I’d already called work to say I’d be in mid-morning and was enjoying my quiet house when the phone rang. I saw the scroll come across my handset with the words “Charlotte, NC” and recognized my sister and brother-in-law’s number.
“Daisyhead Maisy!”
My cheerfulness was always genuine for my youngest sister. “It’s always a good day when I can talk with you! Hi Daisy, how are you?” I drawled the “are” just like I’d heard my daughter do with her friends.
“Josie, listen,” her serious call to attention was sobering.
I set my coffee cup on the counter and my free hand on the cool granite.
“Annie Jo’s had a stroke,” she said.
The words pounded my forehead in cadence and faded the volume of her words as she continued.
“She’s at Piedmont and it’s pretty bad.”
Please not Annie Jo.
“I’m leaving for Atlanta within the hour,” Daisy said.
I bent in slow motion toward the kitchen chair.
Please no. Erase. Get back to the innocence of the morning. Please no.
I could hear my heart beating as I pushed my shoulders against the wooden slats at the back of the chair.
Images of my grandmother flashed before me as if I were looking through the View-Master slide projector I got for my eighth birthday. Daisy’s words grew fainter and harder to grasp as each new image of Annie Jo — the Flint family’s rock — pulsed through my mind and the click of the imaginary View-Master grew louder in my head.
Click
Making homemade noodles with Annie Jo and adding pink food coloring for Ansley’s birthday dinner. Chicken and pink noodles, her favorite.
Click
Annie Jo dressed as a clown and twirling a baton through the Inman Park July 4 parade while I rode my bike along her side dressed as a ballerina.
Click
“Who’s with her?” I finally managed.
“Mother’s there. I haven’t called Ansley yet,” she said.
As the oldest, I’d always been the organizer for the Flint sisters, but once Daisy married and had a son, she’d noticeably shed her baby-of-the-family role and proven herself masterful with all family matters.
“I’ll call her as soon as I hang up with you,” she said. “I’ll leave for Atlanta as soon as I make arrangements for Charlie and the dogs. Doc’s on his way to the hospital now.”
Each step of her pre-crafted organization swatted at the nerves behind my eyes as I tried to think through logistics in my head.
What day was it? Oh right. Tuesday. Work is fairly clear. Dentist appointment Tuesday. Bridge club Wednesday night. Client meeting on Friday, but Bud can handle that.
“Why didn’t Mother call me?” I whined.
“She was driving to the hospital, Josie! She probably came to my name first on her phone, I don’t know,” Daisy said impatiently. “She asked me to call you and Ansley right away.”
“All this is just so scary, Daisy.”
“I’m sorry, Sissy,” her voice steadied. “I know you’re upset. I’m really anxious to see you, though. Can you go meet Mother there now? I should be there by 3.”
“Yes. Of course, I’ll leave as soon as I get dressed,” I said, trying to ignore the role reversal. “Do you want me to call Ansley?”
“No, you’re the closest to the hospital. Just get there for Mother. I’ll call Ansley.”
“Daisy?”
“Yes.”
“Where was she? When she had the stroke?”
“Oh, that’s the lucky part. She was outside getting her newspaper and collapsed on the steps near the mailbox. Mr. Faulkner saw her when he was walking the dog and called an ambulance. Otherwise, who knows how long it would have been before we would have even known? Mrs. Faulkner called Mother.”
The View-Master’s click.
The Faulkner family. The brick steps we used to sit on when we ate homemade popsicles at Annie Jo’s duplex. 42 Mathis Street. I could almost hear sounds of the Northbridge High marching band practicing behind the dirt hill across the street.
Annie Jo’s yellow sun hat.
Annie Jo: Our rock.
“Okay. I’ll see you there. I love you. And I’m anxious to see you too, Daisy. What are you going to do about Charlie?”
“I’ll worry about that. You just get moving! And I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Okay. Thanks for letting me know, Dais. Love you and be careful driving.”
I gulped the rest of my lukewarm coffee and grabbed my calendar.
April 1. April Fools Day.
Of course.
