This is  a guest post by Lisa Brandel

“Take up that Kentucky incense and smoke it, Bernerd!” the old woman said, pointing to the hand rolled cigarette in the ashtray of the fifty-four Fairlane, “A man of yer age and ya ain’t learnt better than ta’smoke.” She scowled folding over the top of her leather purse, “Old fool,” she grumbled.

Bernerd reached over and butted out his homemade smoke never taking his eyes off the night road. “Only and old fool would take an old crank like yew ta’the hospital in the dead’ a night, Ethel. Now hush, I’m in heavy traffic.”

Ethel snorted looking up and down the lonely highway, “It’s only us and one of them Semi-trucks, Bernerd, this old gurl would rip through that plastic like a knife through fresh made butter.” She said patting the cream-colored dash.

The old man mashed his fedora with the flat of his palm, and watched as the semi that they had followed tore off down an exit ramp. “I didn’t want’a test that, Ethel.” He said fishing in his jacket’s breast pocket for another smoke. He could hear her rattle her silver locket over the thick chain, and he knew she only fidgeted with it when something really bothered her. He could not blame her really; if one of his grandbabies were in the hospital dying, he would feel the same. Putting his smoke to his lips he sighed, he would not light it, but it felt better to have it in his mouth.

“We’d been there if yew hadn’t had’ta pee every five minutes!”

Bernerd laughed and coughed all at once losing the unlit cigarette between his legs.

“I don’t think that’s funny, Bernerd.” She said flatly.

“Well, I do, Ethel. See’n as neither one of us has been further than the mart in broad day fer more’na decade. Yer complain’n about a few pit stops on-a four-hour hike in the middle’a night. You know ma’boy is goin’ta send me to the home fer this.”

Ethel looked over at her brother-in-law. In the shadowed car he almost looked like the boy, she knew seventy some years ago, and Ethel could not help but chuckle, “Sure’nuff, Bernerd, Sure’nuff.” she sighed, rubbing her wizened thumb over the cool surface of her locket. Crabbing at her oldest and dearest friend was no way to end her life. “I’m sorry, Bernerd.” She said softly, “I just don’t want my grandbaby to die before I get there.”

The old man’s face pinched up, and he released one hand from the steering column to pat her thin leg, “I’ll get ya there, Ethel, yew don’t worry ‘bout that. How old is Lily now?”

“Too young to be die’n, Bernie, too young. She had her twentieth last week.” She choked. “And I’m goin’ta see that she don’t.” She said looking down at the necklace she had been wearing for over eighty years.

The last of her words hit Bernerd in the chest. “Whut the sam-hell is that suppose’ta mean? You ain’t goin’ta let her?”

“Never-yew-mind. That’s between me’ an her.” She stated firmly, in hopes it would silence his questions. Instead, she found the car drifting toward the shoulder of the highway, “What are yew doin?” she grasped the seat of the car thinking he had lost control, “Are yew crazy, or try’n ta get us kilt?”

Bernerd put the cherry red car in park and turned to face the old woman, “Neither. But we aint go’ in no place until yew tell me whut a hundert-year old woman is goin’ta do about sumthin them PEE-ECH-Dees cain’t.”

Ethel ruffled indignantly, “we’re losin time, yew best get go’ in.”

The metal clink of a Zippo answered her as Bernerd lit his hand rolled cigarette. “I ain’t in any hurry, Ethel, “he said coughing on the first drag.

Ethel’s eyes went forward looking down the dimly lit road. She clutched her handbag, huffing. The old woman knew she should have kept her peace, but it was too late now, she could not take it back. Her lips pursed and her brows knitted as she looked at him, “Yew aint goin’ta believe me even if I tell yew.” She frowned.

“Try me, Ethel, ‘cause if yew don’t tell me we’re goin’ta sit here.”

“We’re goin’ta get picked up by the police, Bernerd, and yew ain’t had yer license in over’ a year now.” She motioned forward with her hand.

“My son’s been look’ in fer a reason to put me in a home fer a long time, Ethel. And this stunt cops or no is goin’ta give him reason, so the way I see it, I got nuthin ta’lose.”

“I do!” she said insistently,” Now, get a wiggle on it.”

Bernerd took another drag and coughed slightly, spitting out a few stray tobacco crumbs from his tongue. “I got my jaw as set as yers.”

Ethel looked out into the lonely night, the highway barely visible to her lit only in soda light polka dots lining the black and grey stretch before her. Her hand went to the thick silver chain around her neck. It seemed to vibrate in answer to Ethel’s unasked question. Would she make it on time? She clutched it in her wizened hand and looked back at Bernerd. “I’ll make yew a deal. Yew drive on now, and I’ll tell ya.”

Bernerd opened his mouth to protest, but the oddly tranquil look on the feisty old woman’s face hushed him. The old man tossed his smoke out the window and nodded. “Deal,” he said, pulling the car out of park and back onto the highway.

Ethel closed her eyes; she knew it would help her pull back the memories of so many years ago. “It twas Nineteen-twenty, Bernerd, the year yew were born, and the year I turn’t twenty. Just before I met yer brother Charles and married him. Oh, at the time I weren’t in no marrying mood. I moved outta my parent’s house and in’ta the city with my girlfriend, Mable. We got ourselves a fine apartment in a section of the city where all the action was. Juice joints, and real swing’n clubs,” she giggled, “We cut our hair and used every dime we earned on buying the swankiest flapper clothes yew ever did see.” She noted with some pride in her aged voice.

Bernerd chuckled through a cough, “That don’t sound like the Ethel my brother met. Yew got yerself a real bona-fide dark past their gurl. My brother woulda never married such a tony dame.” He snorted, “Whut’s this got’a do with yer grandbaby?”

Ethel patted the old man’s leg, “I’m gett’n to it, Bernie, I’m gett’n to it.” She paused a moment, letting the memories of a life lead so long ago come back into her mind. It all seemed like a dream now. “So, Mable and me we got it all figured out. We work during the day as secretaries, then at night we are a couple’ a owls. We doll up in our best get-ups, hit the juice joints fer some good hooch, and try to get us a some swells. Mable figured iff’n we hooked us some well ta’do guys we’d be set fer life.” She leaned in and whispered, “She was sumthin of a gold digger yew see.”

The old man snorted, “Well, seems yuns both were, Ethel.”

Ethel’s pale wrinkled face took on a bright red tinge, “Eh, I was more after the nightlife, Bernie,” she said looking away from him and back down at the long stretch of highway, “Things were the Bee’s Knee’s then, Bernie. Look’n back I don’t know how we did it. Work’n all day, then raising cane all night. And a couple’a times the places we were at got raided.” She shook her head in disbelief, “Can yew imagine! Me of all people run’n from the police in heels. Feathers’n fringe gett’n it down the street as fast as my legs can take me. We were lucky we never got hauled in, why imagine the scandal. And sometimes, we’d get home just in time ta’change and go back ta work.” She cackled and slapped her knee. “Them were some crazy times, Bernie, and what I wouldn’t give fer ta have one more night like that,” She let a long sigh escape her lips, stroking her silver chain, “But we all have our times, and when they’re past we got’a leave’m there. Yup, Bernie, time moves on and it don’t care if yer ready or not.” She fell still and then looked at her friend, “But at yer age, I’m sure you figured that out by now.”

Bernerd nodded, “Sure have, Ethel, and I miss my days too.”

The Ford was silent for a few moments, each of its occupants reminiscing about the joys of misspent youth. Bernerd was the first to speak again, “Well, yew didn’t live it up too long there, Ethel. Weren’t yew and Chuck married in twenty-two? And I know my brother, he wouldn’a married no flapper.” He teased.

Ethel rolled her eyes, “Oh, yer brother weren’t no saint before we married. He was an ice man, and yew knows whut they said about them.”

“A gurl on every block,” he laughed, “but trust me Ethel, it didn’t work fer me.”

Ethel laughed with him, “No gurl on every block, Bernie? Maybe the milk man got to the good’ns before yew?”

Bernerd laughed harder, “I’ll hafta ask him, I hear he’s in the home I’m goin’ta get sent too!”

“Do that!” she cackled, “And while yer at it tell him he still owes me three quarts from nineteen-thirty three!”

Bernerd choked and coughed he was laughing so hard, “Only yew’d remember that! Only yew Ethel.”

“Seventy-five cents was a lot a money back then, Bernerd, and that goat shorted me.”

“I’ll see ta get’n yew refund as soon as I get settled in, Ethel.” He said patting her on the leg.

“Yew do that, Bernie,” she sighed, fanning herself with her hand. She had not laughed like that in a long time.

“So, tell me how you be’in a flapper has anything ta do with us drive’n four hours ta see yer grandbaby in the hospital?” Bernerd said, settling back down.

Ethel cleared her throat, “Yew see Bernie, me’an Mable, we did that fer about’a year. Then, one day while I was at work, I fainted dead away. “She shook her head and her hand once again went to the chain around her neck. “Ya know, Bernie, yew just never know. One minute yer live’n the high life and the next,” She looked over at her dear friend realizing he knew exactly what she was talking about; it was how his departed wife took ill. Ethel licked her parched lips, “Bernerd, let me ask yew a question?”

“Sure.”

“How’d yew manage to carry her outta that woods?” she asked softly.

The car swerved with a violent jerk of the wheel. “Bernerd!” Ethel shrieked, grabbing onto the seat with her eyes closed, until Bernerd righted the car.

The old man trembled behind the wheel, his eyes glued forward as his heart raced in his chest. One simple question had thrown him thirty years in the past. He was carrying his ill wife though the woods where they shared a beautiful spring day mushroom hunting. The twisted pain on her fine features etched forever in his memory.

“Bernerd?”

“I just did, Ethel,” He said as his mind saw the vacant outline of a body in tall blue grass where his wife had been. “Nuthin, more than that, I just did. “

“Would yew do it again, Bernie?”

“No,” he answered instantly, “Know’n whut I know now. No. T’weren’t no dignity in the way she passed. Our son…he just couldn’t accept things, and every time sumth’n came up…He’d see too it. And every time he saw to it…Alice would have another tube in her.” He stopped speaking and rubbed away the stinging tears in the back of his eyes, “So many tubes, Ethel! So many drugs. All it did was prolong her suffer’n. T’weren’t no way’a cure’n her. We knew that in the ER,” the old man fell silent.

Ethel reached over and placed her hand on his leg, “Bobbie thought he was do’n right by his momma. People of his age don’t understand, that what’s best is letting go…”

Bernerd nodded. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cloth hanky to wipe away the tears dripping off his slender nose. “Whut I regret most is that she died in that hospital. Alice should’a been allowed to pass at home surrounded by all the things she loved, not in some hospital bed surrounded by strangers,” he sniffed.

Ethel nodded her agreement in the darkness. “If yew could’a traded places with Alice…take the sickness inta yerself, let her live in yer place…Would yew have?”

“Sure woulda.” He answered without hesitation.

A small smile curled over Ethel’s thin lips, “Then you know why I’m go’n ta see my grand-baby.”

Bernerd snorted, “Ethel, people cain’t do that. Each person’s got’a meet their end in their time, there ain’t no take’n it from them. Ain’t sumthin fair but it is whut it is.” He frowned. “I know it aint right that yer grand-baby is only twenty, and yer over a hundert, but people’s got’a bear the burden of their own life. Aint nuthin no one can do about it.”

Ethel removed her hand from Bernard’s leg and picked up the silver locket around her neck. The smooth cool metal glistened in the light of the moon and highway lights, “Don’t be too sure ‘bout that Bernie.” She said. “Like I said, Bernie, I fainted dead away. When I came too, I wus in the hospital. Doctor said I had the consumption, worst case he’d ever seen. Nuth’n less than a miracle I wus still live’n. He’d do his best to treat me, but he sent fer my family ‘cause he didn’t think I’d live. I had my lung collapsed fer treatment, some kind-a gold therapy. The best treatments at the time I suppose, but it made me sicker and weaker.”

“If yew were that bad off, then how’d yew live?”

“I didn’t,” the old woman said stoically, looking into the night “least not exactly.”

The car started to drift toward the edge again, and Ethel’s head snapped around, “Don’t you dare, Bernerd! Yew wanted ta know, and I’ma tell’n yew. Now yew keep this car move’n!” She punctuated her demand with a slap of her purse on her leg.

Bernerd righted the hulking car back onto the highways. It went against his better judgment, but he did not know what else to do. They were close to the hospital, and he was getting tired. There was no way he would be able to turn around and make another nearly five-hour trip back home. The closer it got to morning, the more likely they were to run into real traffic. He found himself wishing he had asked more questions before he agreed to this crazy trip. Too late now.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t thank me, Ethel, Yer’re sound’n crazy. Yew didn’t live, yer goin’ta do fer her what doctors aint! What kind of nonsense is all this?” he fumed, his knuckles white balls of anger gripping the wheel.

“Now, just calm yerself or yer goin’ta blow that new pacemaker they put in, Bernerd.”

“I aint joke’n here, Ethel! None of this is funny. “

“I aint laugh’n, and I aint making no jokes. Everything I told ya is true, and I aint claim’n noth’n that aint possible. If we get to her on time. Now, Bernie, yew don’t hafta believe me, all yew got’a do is take me to see her, if I’m a crank then no harm done.” She reached over to pat his shoulder, but he jerked away, “Please, Bernie, relax. I aint joke’n and I really don’t want yew to mess that new pacemaker.”

Bernerd snorted loudly,”If’n I do yew can just do ta me whatever yer goin’ta do ta your granddaughter. Hell, from the sounds of it yew could’a saved Alice, yer husband , since you are a regular miracle worker.”

Ethel looked into her lap folding the edge of her purse over and smoothing it with her arthritic hands, “It don’t work like that Bernie, I wish it did, but it don’t.”

“Course not, then yew’d have proof that yer crazy talk was true. You cain’t!”

“You’ll see soon enough, Bernie. Please Bernie; I don’t want’a end it all like this. I aint never lied ta yew before, and I aint now. “

“End it? Now yew think yer dying?” he said through gritted false teeth.

“Of course not.” She lied, it was the first lie she had ever told him, but at this point, she knew she had pressed him as far as she could with the truth. “Here’s our exit.” She said pointing to the off ramp that would take them at last to the hospital where her granddaughter lay in a coma.

Bernerd guided the car down the exit slowly, “Well, Ethel at a hundert-seven yer dying is the only part of this I’d believe.”

Ethel’s lips puckered and she laughed aloud, “Sure ‘nuff, Bernie…should’na bought them green bananas.”

As much as Bernerd did not want to he found himself chuckling, “Or too long’a expiration date on the milk, wouldn’t want milk that is good fur longer than yew!”

Ethel laughed so hard she nearly cackled, and Bernerd joined her until they both fell into silence pulling into the parking garage. When the car came to rest in park, Bernerd turned and fished for his cane in the darkness of the back seat. “Yew don’t hafta come up Bernie,” Ethel said softly.

“She’s my niece too, Ethel. I got the right ta see her, even though none of our younger relation seems ta think so.”

“Fair ‘nuff.” She said pulling herself out of the car, stretching her trip stiffened joints as she stood.

***

The elderly pair walked down the hall of the hospital in silence. Passing the waiting area, they saw two generations of their family sleeping on the couches and chairs. A vigil they both had done many times in their long lives. They looked at each other in silent understanding. Ethel’s daughter had her daughter in her arms, wrapping protectively around the younger woman whose little girl lay in the room only feet away dying.

Ethel froze. She wanted to wake them, tell them everything was going to be all fine. She felt Bernard’s hand on her shoulder and looked back at him, “Come on,” he whispered, “Best see that grand-baby of yers before we scare’m.”

Ethel nodded.

Bernerd opened the door to the room and let Ethel enter first, and then joined her closing the door softly behind them. Ethel pulled back the curtain, and Bernerd gasped. Tubes ran to and from the young woman, bags of blood and medicine dripped into her veins, while a milky liquid ran directly into her stomach from another bag. For a moment Bernerd saw Alice had in the weeks before she passed.

The old man walked to the side of her bed, taking her hand in his. “Poor thing…” he whispered, looking down at the young smooth skin of her hand, in comparison to his own wrinkled parchment.

Ethel took her locket in her hand and stroked its cool surface. “She’ll be ok, Bernie.” She said, stepping closer to her great-granddaughter’s side stroking her raven hair with her other hand.

“I hope yer right,” he whispered bringing her petite hand to his lips, “She’s too young ta be suffer’n like this.”

Ethel looked at the failing life signs on the heart monitor, then back at Bernerd, “Go get yerself some coffee, Bernie, and wait out in the area.”

Bernerd sniffed back giant tears placing the delicate hand of his niece back at her side. He walked around to the other side and put his hand on Ethel’s shoulder, “Yew sure you goin’ta be ok by yerself?”

Ethel turned and hugged him, “Thank yew for” she paused, “everything, Bernie. Yes, I’ll be fine.”

The old man returned her hug, trying to remain as stoic as he could. “I’ll see yew then,” breaking the hug he walked toward the door looking back one last time at Ethel and her granddaughter before leaving.

Ethel looked down at her ailing granddaughter, “Lily,” she said taking the silver chain from her neck placing it around the young woman’s, “I’m goin’ta do fer yew what my grandmother did fer me a long time ago…” as the last words left her withered lips the heart monitor’s weak beat stopped completely.

***

Bernerd sat down and put the coffee on the table next to him. He looked around at the family sleeping, his own eyelids begged to shut. He tried to fight it, but he was too old, and too tired, and sleep was winning the battle.

A hand at his shoulder softly shook him, and his eyes parted to see Ethel’s silver locket, “Ethel?” he said hoarsely.

“No, Uncle Bernie, it’s me, Lily.” The raven-haired young woman knelt before him, the locket and chain lying against her neck. “Grandma Ethel has passed away,” she said the tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around the old man’s neck.

Bernerd looked around over his nieces shoulder. The family was all awake crying and comforting each other. He pushed Lily back and looked into her blue eyes, “But…but…It was…me’ an Ethel we drove up here…”

Lily hushed him, “Shhh…Uncle Bernie. Come on let me get you home,” she said helping him up and looking to the rest of the family, who did not seem to notice either one of them. “I’ll take Uncle Bernie home.”

As Bernerd passed the room, he swore he just left with Lily lying in the hospital bed he saw Ethel’s body, the nurses working at removing the tubes and monitor wires. He looked back at his niece, then the room. Lily tugged him along, “Come on, Uncle, there isn’t anything left for us to do, and I promised Uncle Bobbie I’d get you home safe.”

Bernerd nodded slowly lifting his hand and screwing his hat down a bit tighter on his balding head. He looked at Lily, then into the room where nurses tended to Ethel’s motionless body. He took a step toward the room, then another, and another, until he was standing at the foot of Ethel’s bed. The nurses looked at him and stepped out of the room. The old man was amazed at how serene she looked; her lips curled into a smile that would never fade. “Guess you weren’t as crazy as I thought, Ethel,” he whispered.

A soft hand touched his shoulder, he covered it with his, and “How’d she die?”

“Consumption is what I think she called it,” Lily said looking up at her Uncle.

“Worst case ever seen?”

“Mhm, something like that.”

Bernerd turned and looked down at his niece. The locket rested neatly on her chest like it had already been there seventy years. He opened his mouth, there were so many questions, but he just shook his head. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the keys to his Fairlane, and pressed them gently into his niece’s hand. “Come on Lil, yew’ve spent enough time in this room. Take this old coot home.”

“Sure ‘nuff, Uncle,”

He wrapped his arm over the young woman’s shoulder and walked down the hall toward the garage, “Did yew know yer Grandma was a flapper back in her day?”

Lily grinned, “What’s that Uncle Bernie?”

“I’ll tell yew all’a bout it on the way home.”

Lisa Brandel lives in Ohio, and has been working as a freelance writer on and off for years, writing under various nom de plumes.  ”Lazarus Chain” is the first fiction she claims proudly under her real name.  While she started her still fledgling writing career in the speculative fiction genre, she is currently writing a two book creative non-fiction work that addresses the life and death of her husband to prostate cancer.  ”Lazarus Chain” is dedicated to everyone who ever wished they could make it all better.

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