Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
“Well, I just thought under the circumstances, someone should let you know what was happening.” We stopped right outside a slightly ajar door. “She’s right in here.”
I took a step forward and then looked at the girl. “Should I, uh, you know, brace myself?” I wasn’t sure how else to ask how badly my Gran looked. I was terrified to see her all broken.
“She has a lot of tubes and wires,” she replied kindly. “But she hit the back of her head and it’s all bandaged up. Otherwise, she just looks like Nadine.”
“Thank you,” I breathed.
Charlie’s hand met the small of my back and that small touch propelled me forward.
“Oh God,” I whispered as I got my first look at her.
The girl was right, Gran didn’t look as terrible I’d been imagining, but it was still overwhelming to see her looking so fragile and pale. There was a tube in her mouth and wires coming out of the neck of her gown, but the scariest part of it all was the way her face seemed to be drooping.
“Go talk to her, baby,” Charlie said, his voice full of compassion. “Let her know you’re here, yeah?”
My steps were slow, but the second my legs met the bed, I reached for her hand.
“I’m here, Gran,” I said, leaning forward so I could talk quietly into her ear. “Charlie brought me.”
I swallowed back the sob that pressed at the back of my throat when she didn’t open her eyes and smile at me. Expecting no response was very different than actually experiencing it.
“Hey Nadine,” Charlie said, sounding like he’d just stopped by for a cup of coffee, not like he was speaking to a dying woman. “Good to see you.”
I shot him an incredulous look over my shoulder and he shrugged.
“What happened?” I asked, halfway sitting on the bed by her hip, my hand still wrapped around hers. “Were you driving? You know the doctors said you couldn’t do that anymore.”
I took a shuddering breath.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said gently, shaking my head. “Charlie’s right, it is good to see you. I wish you weren’t hurt—” my voice broke and I shook my head as Charlie reached for me. I had to do this myself.
“Things are going good in Oregon,” I said, tracing the veins in the back of her hand. “Charlie got us the cutest house. The kitchen is tiny, which you’d hate, but the living room has all these windows. In the morning you can watch the sun come up from the couch, and it stays bright in there all day. Sometimes I just lay on the floor like I’m sunbathing and I never have to turn on the lights until it gets dark.”
“We’ve been slowly getting furniture, and we found the prettiest floral couch at a garage sale—well, Charlie found it, but it’s definitely something I would’ve chosen.” I reached up and wiped at my cheeks, trying to stem the tears that were falling so hard that I could barely see her. “I know you’re probably worried that we’re here,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze. “But you shouldn’t.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Charlie. Our eyes met, and for the first time I recognized the look on his face. Love. The kind of love that people killed and died for. I could feel it, like a warm blanket even though he wasn’t touching me.
“Me and Charlie got married,” I said, making him smile and nod. I turned back to Gran. “I know,” I said with a sigh. “It was fast. But don’t worry. He’s so good to me, Gran. He goes out of his way to make sure that I’m happy and he’s so sweet when he thinks no one is looking.” I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “He kisses my head even when I’m mad at him and the only time he yells is if I’m already yelling.”
Charlie chuckled quietly behind me.
“I’m stronger now, Gran,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek. “I wish you could see me. My face is all healed up and I’m feeling so much better.” I sniffed and Charlie handed me the now dry hankie from earlier in the day. “And I’m stronger inside, too,” I whispered. “No one will ever put their hands on me again. I promise. You don’t—” I stuttered. “You don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’m fine. I’m good. You don’t have to be scared for me anymore. I promise.”
I had to stop speaking as a sob escaped my mouth. How was I supposed to do this? How was I supposed to tell her that I didn’t need her anymore, when I did? I wasn’t ready for her to leave me. Would she think I was telling her to die? Would she feel horrible if I tried to convince her that I didn’t need her?