CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kelly

I sat down in the chair in the doctor’s office, feeling my legs go weak.

“Thank you for telling me,” I managed to say at last. Doctor Marsden looked at his hands.

“I wish I didn’t have to give you such serious news,” he said. “Though, we must be optimistic about it.”

“Yes,” I said quietly.

He was quiet for a long moment and then he cleared his throat. “Well, then. If you can go through the papers and sign, we can proceed.”

I nodded numbly. Since Grandfather had come into the hospital, his condition had taken a turn for the worse. Even with the diuretics, the fluid on his chest wouldn’t drain. The doctor said they needed to operate if he had a chance of survival. I had to sign to agree to it, since Grandpa was unconscious right now.

I sat looking down at the paper for a long while. Of course I was going to sign it—there was no money in the world worth a human life. I signed.

“Thank you.” Doctor Marsden inclined his head. “Do you want to sit with him for a bit before he goes in? We’re still getting ready to operate.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “Please.”

I went through to the ward behind him. Grandpa was on the bed, face pale, breathing labored. A drip went into his wrist and a catheter left his body, carrying away the fluid that would have slowly choked the life from him. I sat by his side.

“Grandpa,” I said quietly. “I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for what you told me last night, and for being such a great example to me. For showing me the meaning of real strength and care.” I could hear my voice wobble as I spoke and I ignored it. I didn’t care what anyone thought at this point. The nurses hovered somewhere at the edge of ICU and a monitor flashed blindly, recording markers of a life whose value it could never understand.

“Grandpa,” I whispered. “I know you’ll come through this. Of course you will. We’ll sit and laugh about this on the terrace one day, when you’re better…Grandpa? I love you.”

I looked at my hands, my words said. I drew in a big shuddery breath and stood.

“There,” I said to the nurse, who had come over, a worried smile on her face. “I said what I wanted to say to him,” I said softly. “I can go.”

She nodded. “We’ll inform you the moment he’s out of theater, Ms. Gowan.”

“Thanks.”

I nodded and walked out of the room, down the hallway that smelled of disinfectant and coldness and the impersonal smell of fresh laundry. I felt as if I was tearing something inside of myself as I walked through those doors and out into the hallway. I couldn’t see through eyes blinded with tears.

I nodded to the doctor and then walked out, heading for the front doors.

When I got to my car, I sat behind the wheel and just looked out. The town was wet with rain, the smell fresh and relaxing. But I felt numb.

I knew that Grandpa could survive this operation. I knew he probably would. But facing the possibility—however small it might be—that he wouldn’t was too hard.

I have never had to think about this before.

As I drove away, back to my hotel, I realized how many different ways people live with the idea of death. Most of us never think about it until moments like these when a loved one faces death. In the army, Reese had faced it every day. His own death. The death of his comrades.

I will never know what that feels like. This is different. It’s my grandfather.

In one way, it made it worse—he had been in my life since I was born, a mentor and caring presence all my life. In another way, I had always known, I guess, that he would predecease me. More horrible but less surprising. Whatever.

I got out at the hotel and walked upstairs to my room. I sat down on the chair, feeling no real desire to do anything. I felt hollow, as if all the mechanism that drove me to do things had temporarily become absent. I shook myself and stood. I would do something—doing things would make me forget.

“You should go to the farm.”

It was my last day here tomorrow. I should finish the things I needed to finish. I wanted to get the place clean for when Grandpa came out. I had to try and organize care for him, someone to get him home from the hospital when he came out. I wouldn’t be there.

The parson and his family?

Good, honest people, they seemed the sort I could trust. I knew Grandfather went to the Methodist church and I was fairly sure there was only one in this town. I would find the parson and get hold of him. That solves that problem. I did think of Reese, but decided it would be better not to involve him. Better someone that Grandpa knew and trusted—he wouldn’t feel comfortable with a stranger helping him.

“Right. What to do?”

I started packing my own suitcase, going through a mental checklist as I did so. Action kept me from thinking about the big hole that had opened inside me.

As I separated my clean laundry from the dirty, and repacked my suitcase accordingly, I fished out a box of Tampax. That made me frown. Heck. Wasn’t I supposed to start my period today?

I was usually regular, but so far there was no sign of it, not even the slight twinge in my abdomen that I still got that preceded it. I shook my head, impatient.

Probably the stress. Give it a few days. You’ve been traveling. It wouldn’t be the first time a trip had thrown my cycle out by a couple days. I stuffed the Tampax into my bag on the side and carried on my ruthless tidying up.

When I had tidied the room, I took my bigger suitcase down and put it in the car. Then I drove to the farm. My vision blurred and I blinked impatiently and kept going. Almost there.

I jumped out and went briskly up the path and into the kitchen. I looked around. The place was considerably tidier than when I’d arrived, the larder stocked with enough long-lasting produce to keep Grandpa going for a couple weeks. I went through to the bathroom and used up all my energy mercilessly cleaning it.

By the time I was done, I was hot and sweaty and mad.

“How many years ago was it that place was cleaned?” I said to myself. Getting angry was helping to raise my energy and I kept at it, taking out the carpet to beat it on the terrace outside. I coughed as the dust blew back into my face and, coughing and swearing, hauled it in.

I went to his bedroom and changed the sheets, carrying the dirty ones through to the kitchen and wrestling with the washing machine.

After a few hours, I made myself tea and assessed the situation. Every room looked clean. The window that was stuck I’d oiled and drawn shut. There was a new light bulb in the pantry. The only things I hadn’t fixed were things I couldn’t fix.

“Not bad.”

I sat and drank my tea and did my best not to think about anything. For that, a phone was a great distraction. I pulled mine out of my pocket and was surprised to see it was six o’ clock. Two messages waited for me.

One was from Miller, just checking I was okay. I replied quickly.

The other was Reese. I sighed. What could I say? I had more or less said my goodbye this morning. I would spend most of the day with Grandpa tomorrow if I could, and in getting my accounts and things paid and settled so I could leave. And I still need to get hold of the parson.

I didn’t have time for a visit—not time or energy, not now. I sighed.

I went to the window in the sitting room and looked out over the terrace to my right. I could just see the farmhouse next door.

“Goodbye,” I whispered.

Then, blinking back tears, I turned and went out of the room.

I cried all the way to the hotel.