no more comfortable than she would have been. Men shook his hand or saluted respectfully; women nodded and smiled or saluted; children kept their distance and saluted.
Lothar’s identification was positively confirmed when he passed close enough for Kim to read his nametag, but he merely nodded toward her without stopping or noticing whether she nodded in reply. She didn't mind; she was no better at small talk than the rest of her family. She did not salute.
When Kim had absorbed enough real warmth to feel her toes again, she became aware of the lateness of the hour. She needed to do what she came for and get back to Madison for her flight back to DC.
Yet the never-ending line of Ottos continued unabated toward Grandma Louisa's room. When she could stall no longer, Kim joined the cousin trail, feeling as if the guillotine waited at the end of the line. The piercing pain between her eyes made the prospect of losing her head almost welcome.
Kim shuffled along with the line advancing at warp speed of two feet a minute, closing the distance in an orderly fashion as each cousin slipped into the sick room alone and stayed precisely sixty seconds before emerging without flowing tears or evidence of sobbing via fists-full of damp, crumpled tissues. Lack of hysteria salved Kim’s anxiety; the inexorable forward movement did not.
Grandma Louisa had never inspired open affection from anyone and Kim wondered how she coped when her stoic progeny remained composed. Did Grandma think no one cared? Or was she, herself uncaring? This mystery had plagued Kim most of her life. Was it she who felt nothing for Grandma first? Or, as a small child, had she absorbed the message that Grandma Louisa felt nothing for her and defended against apathy thereafter?
Kim sighed and raised her hand to knead tension from the back of her neck. Again, she was glad Sen Li was absent. Mom would have created a spectacle of some kind about the Otto family's cold nature, the way she always did, and Kim had no desire to cope with such scenes on top of everything else. At the moment, Kim couldn't recall the precise nature of their last battle. None of it mattered any more. The old lady was on her way out. Whatever the source of their problems, now was the time to set them aside and move on.
Hushed words hummed quietly among the cousins at volumes too low to comprehend, Kim realized. She was sure the conversations were about crops and kids and church and plans for Thanksgiving. Nothing she would feel comfortable discussing with these near strangers, even if they tried to include her, which they did not. Not that it mattered. She'd be gone soon, and so would Grandma Louisa.
Too quickly, the Otto in front of her entered Grandma's room. The door closed quietly behind him. Kim was next and she had no idea what she'd say. She had not seen Grandma Louisa for ten years and the last time they'd met ended badly, as had most of their encounters. Grandma Louisa could not forgive Sen Li for taking Albert away from the family. That grudge engulfed Albert's daughters because they resembled their mother. Kim had accepted years ago that she would never be tall and blonde and German on the outside; it wasn't enough for Grandma Louisa that Kim was as fierce as any Otto on the inside.
Swiftly, the door opened, the cousin came out, looked Kim in the eye and said, “You're up. Good luck.”
Kim considered whether it was too late to run, but she stood as tall as a four foot eleven and a half inch, ninety-nine pound Asian-American woman could stand, squared her shoulders and marched past the threshold, checking for a quick escape route, but finding none. Someone pushed the door and it sucked solidly shut behind her.
Grandma Louisa's bed filled most of the room. An oxygen cannula rested in her nose but otherwise had changed not one iota since the last time Kim had seen her. She wore a pink brocade bed jacket, her grey hair was teased and lacquered as usual, and her hands were folded on her lap the better to display her rings and manicured nails. She wore pearl and sapphire earrings and a double strand of pearls around her sizeable neck. Mauve lipstick emphasized her still-full lips. Blush rosied her cheeks. Stylish eyeglasses rested on her nose visually enlarging her blue eyes to bowl size.
Louisa Otto, matriarch of the Frankenmuth Ottos, held court as she always had, as if she were not just the head of one sizeable but important farming community but Empress Augusta herself.
Whoever had closed the door gave Kim a little shove in the small of her back, prodding her closer to the bed.
“Kimmy,” Louisa said, a moment before she reached out with a strong claw, restraining Kim by engulfing her hand inside a big fist, holding tight. Rough callouses on Louisa's palm scraped Kim's skin.
Perhaps Grandma Louisa was near death, but she seemed a lot more alive than Kim had been led to believe.
“You look great,” Kim said, clearing her throat and covering surprise as she leaned over to kiss a papery cheek dotted with lipstick from previous kissers.
Grandma Louisa replied, “I really do, don't I?”
Kim had to laugh. What could she possibly say in reply?
Not that Grandma Louisa gave her a chance. Maybe Kim's mind had misplaced the facts of last argument, but Louisa's had not. She launched again as if the dispute had concluded ten minutes ago, not ten years ago. “Kimmy, I want to see you married to a good German Lutheran before I die. A baby on the way. Maybe two.”
“You'll need to live a good long while then, Grandma,” Kim said, struggling to eliminate annoyance from her tone as the old feelings flooded back. They'd fought bitterly ten years ago because Grandma had arranged such a union for Kim and Kim had secretly married already, not to a German Lutheran but to a Vietnamese immigrant. Kim was divorced now, but she simply refused to have any part of the old tyrant's nosey meddling.
“I will if you will,” Grandma Louisa said flatly, steely-eyed and uncompromising. She squeezed Kim's hand tighter before releasing her completely. “Now would be a good time to find good husband material before you leave Wisconsin. I've lined up a few prospects for you to see this afternoon back at my house.”
Kim felt anger bubbling up from her now toasty feet, rising to levels that would have the family comparing her to Sen Li, and not favorably. Kim clamped her jaws closed and replied, “Thanks. I'm on my way.”
She didn't say on her way where.
Grandma Louisa beamed as if she'd settled the fortunes of the crown princess. “You'll be glad when you're settled, Kimmy. Like your cousins.”
Kim said nothing. She glanced at the uncles standing on either side of their mother, but neither could muster the guts to meet her gaze. She nodded, pulled her hand away, turned and left the room, saving thirty seconds for the next cousin in line, who was also single and probably wouldn't thank her for the extra time.
No one seemed to notice when Kim continued walking, out of the waiting room, down the hallway, and left the hospital through the front exit where Otto cousins continued to throng the entrance.
She stood at the cabstand and fumed, muttering suitable rejoinders to the old bat under her breath and louder epithets in her head. She barely noticed the frigid outside air for the first five minutes while the heat of her rage kept adrenaline pumping.
Too quickly, the cold bulldozed into her bones. She hunched inside her suit jacket, stomped her feet to knock the snow away from her soles and keep her circulation going. It was freezing out here. Even colder than Grandma Louisa, if that was possible.
Ranting didn't heat the atmosphere even one degree.
Kim felt her corneas might frost. She squeezed her eyes shut and shivered a bit more attempting to raise her body temperature. She wasn't going back inside to wait, even if her feet froze to the sidewalk and her eyelids ice- glued themselves together.
She heard the growl of an engine and opened her eyes expecting to see a yellow cab. Instead, a black SUV had pulled up alongside, Captain Lothar Otto at the wheel. He lowered the passenger window and said, “I'm headed toward the airport. Can I drop you somewhere?”
Kim wasted no body heat demurring. She hopped up into the passenger seat and immediately put her frozen fingers near the blasting heat vent.
“Frontier?” she said.
“Nonstop, huh? You can’t be afraid of flying.” When she failed to reply, he said, “Jumping out of moving planes, now that’s a lot harder.” Still no response. He took a deep breath. “Okay then. Dane County, Frontier Airlines it is.”
