“Just sit there for a minute, Nonny,” Rubin instructed. “We’ll talk when I’m up to it.”
Nonny remained quiet. She’d known something was wrong. She’d had the symptoms of a blockage and she hadn’t complained. Women like Nonny rarely did, but she’d known all along. Her son was a doctor. She was surrounded by doctors, and she should have spoken up right away. She could have had a stroke at any time.
Eventually, it was Nonny who moved first, rinsing out the soothing cloth she’d been using on Jonquille. She put the bowl aside. “I know you have to talk to Wyatt and Gator about this, Rubin. Is it somethin’ bad? I suspected. Is it the cancer?” She looked as if she braced herself for the worst news. “From my pipe? I do so love my pipe at the end of the day. I try not to smoke it every night.”
Rubin reached his other hand out to her. Nonny’s hand trembled as she took his. “You can tell me, boy. I don’ fall apart, you know. I was scared to face it for a while. Upstairs, at night, in my room, but once you got home, I knew I had to say somethin’.”
Jonquille wasn’t certain Nonny had said anything. Rubin had been listening and interpreting what she’d been saying or he would have missed it. Jonquille wouldn’t have thought to examine the woman from the little she’d said. In fact, she’d reassured them all that she was just fine. Diego had taken her at her word. Only Rubin had been alarmed. She respected Rubin all the more for his ability to understand women like Patricia and Nonny. She wanted to be able to do the same. Was it experience? Or just natural ability? She had the feeling it was a little of both.
Rubin sat up a little straighter. Jonquille sensed that he was still weak, but Nonny needed to hear his assessment. She’d lived with her fears much longer than she wanted to admit. She was a healer, and one very sensitive. She’d likely noticed the symptoms coming on earlier than most people would have. Shortness of breath. She worked hard. She wouldn’t have said anything, but she gathered her own herbs and mixed her own medicines for the people in the swamp who came to her when they were ill. She gave cooking lessons to the women there in the household and cooked nightly for the men. She would have noticed having difficulty breathing or extreme fatigue.
“You don’t have cancer, Nonny,” Rubin said decisively.
Nonny looked shocked. She had braced herself to receive the news. She was so surprised she nearly slumped down on the bed. Instead, she got up and turned away from them, clearly working to get her emotions under control.
“It was bad. I could tell, Rubin, from the work you had to do.” Her voice trembled.
“It was troubling, in that had you mentioned the problem earlier it would have been easier to take care of. Nonny, you can’t neglect your health this way.” Rubin waited until the older woman sat down in the chair and faced them, gripping the arms tightly with her fingers.
“I know, Rubin. I didn’t want to trouble anyone when you all have so much work. I took healing herbs and thought that would work. When it didn’t, I thought I had the cancer and nothing would do for it. I’m not young anymore, and sooner or later, it’s bound to get me.”
“Not everyone gets cancer, Nonny,” Rubin pointed out. “Two of your arteries were clogged. That put you in danger of having a stroke or heart attack. Either could have killed you or left you in a vegetative state. Ordinarily, you would have to go into the hospital or have one of the others operate here for that. I took care of it, but I would prefer that you don’t discuss that with anyone but Wyatt and Gator. Naturally, that’s up to you.”
Jonquille thought that was another thing about Rubin that was so brilliant—the way he gave choices. He didn’t tell Nonny she couldn’t tell everyone about the doctor who had saved her life. His preference was that she didn’t talk about him, but it was her choice. Nonny was very private, and Jonquille doubted that she’d ever give up Rubin’s secret to anyone but her grandsons.
“Thank you for taking care of me, Rubin. I don’t think anyone else has to know. Is this because I smoke my pipe?”
“Smoking may have contributed, but I checked your lungs and your brain and both are perfectly fine. No signs of small strokes or the beginnings of COPD, most likely because the tobacco is your own blend, without all the harmful additives, and you only smoke one bowl at night. I’m not going to tell you to stop at this late date. It’s something you enjoy. Wyatt and Gator might have a different opinion, but that’s between the three of you.”