They were in Bodega Bay and Walt had been prepared to move there after his retirement from the Army, but it was Midge who urged him to look further. She knew she wouldn’t last long and she didn’t want her brother to establish a retirement home based on her location. In fact, Walt had retired less than a year before her death and even that had been longer than any of them had predicted for Midge.
The drive from Virgin River to Bodega Bay was about four hours. Tom was dozing in the backseat of the SUV with the baby while Vanni sat up front with Walt. They’d made many such visits—most often Walt went alone, sometimes with Tom, sometimes with a pregnant Vanni—but now they were all going to say a final goodbye. Mike Valenzuela had offered to take care of the horses for them while they were gone.
Vanni said nothing as they drove, but stared out the window.
“I never even had a chance to ask you how your getaway with the doctor went,” Walt said. “With Paul waiting so apprehensively for the same reason, and all…”
“It was fine,” she said. “I was just thinking, I never got down there with the baby to see her—and I should have made that trip the first one. Before Carol and Lance. Midge was on borrowed time…”
“Don’t kick yourself about that,” Walt said. “The household of an invalid is complicated. We talked about it—it would’ve been hard on Midge and Mattie, not to mention Shelby. Midge understood, believe me. And Matt’s parents had a priority there. They lost their son—it was good that we went.”
“Instead of going to Mendocino, I should have gone to Bodega,” Vanni said.
“Vanni, Midge would rather you have had a nice weekend—she was at peace with her destiny. That’s the one thing that gives me comfort. She was ready. She wasn’t holding out for anything.”
“Shelby will need help now, won’t she?” Vanni asked.
“Shelby has her own ideas. We’ve been over this many times. She wants to sit tight for a while, continue with her ALS support group and get her bearings. Caregivers have huge adjustments after the end—she wants to figure things out before she makes a big change. I think that’s smart. After all, she was only a young girl when this all started, she hasn’t had an adult life at all, at least not the usual kind. The house is hers now, and she’ll either sell it or keep it, but it needs a lot of work and I’ll help with that. At twenty-five, it’s finally time for her to start her life.” Then he took a deep breath. “Midge wasn’t in pain. Emotional pain, yes—she felt she was a burden. My little Midge—she didn’t have it easy.”
“Daddy, are you okay?” Vanni asked.
“Honey, I’m relieved. She was leaving us so slowly. At last she has her reward. At last…she can walk and laugh again…”
Shelby had been born in the small house that had been her widowed grandmother’s and she had lived there all her life. Her father had never showed his face during her entire childhood and there were no support payments of any kind—but her uncle Walt had always been there for them. When her grandmother died, Walt refused any of the insurance benefit and took over the house payments. In addition to that, since Shelby had no male role model in her life, she spent summers with her uncle’s family where she learned to ride, shoot skeet, and had what passed for siblings with her cousins, even during Walt’s Army tours abroad. Shelby had lived summers in Germany and Denmark with the Booths. Because of the Booth family, Shelby’s childhood had been rich with family.
The life of a caregiver is a hard one, emotionally draining and physically exhausting. Shelby couldn’t have done otherwise—her mother was her best friend. So when the Lou Gehrig’s began to get bad, although Shelby was very young, her life went on hold to care for her. But hers was not a lonely life by any means—the support system for families with life-limited members was a strong one. They helped each other in every possible way and formed incredibly strong friendships. The evidence of this was obvious at Midge’s memorial—nearly a hundred people turned out for a woman who hadn’t left her bed in over two years. They were clearly there for Shelby.
Midge had been cremated. She had not wanted to take that wasted body into eternity. The house had become run-down during her illness and neither an open house nor a reception was possible; the living room had held the hospital bed and support equipment needed for her care, all of which had been quickly swept away within a day of her passing. Midge’s wishes had been spelled out very clearly—no fuss, just kind words and friendship—but Walt and Shelby had made arrangements with a funeral parlor months preceding her departure and secured a room that was bright and spacious, and refreshments were catered in. There were a few tasteful arrangements of flowers and one large, gorgeous spray sent by Paul Haggerty.