Nana's Gift & The Red Geranium by Janette Oke

Author:Janette Oke
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781598567236
Publisher: Hendrickson Publishers Marketing, LLC
Published: 2011-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Mama. Mama.” Lizzie pushed back the handmade patchwork quilt and fought for consciousness. Who could possibly be calling her at this hour? What could be the reason?

At once she thought of Andrea. The young woman was expecting the first great-great-grandchild—but she was not due for another two months. Besides, they had never awakened her before in the night to tell her of a birth in the family. She must be dreaming.

“Mama.”

The voice persisted. Lizzie struggled to make sense of it. She reached up and brushed at the loose gray hair that had spilled about her face, trying hard to focus her thinking and her sleep-dimmed eyes.

“Mama. Mama—I’m sorry to waken you like this.”

She recognized the voice then. It was John who stood near her bed. Her son. Lizzie still could not think of her boy as an elderly man—even though he was about to become a great-grandfather.

“What is it?” she managed, struggling to a sitting position.

John reached out a big hand and brushed back her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said again and eased his frame to a sitting position on the edge of her bed. “I hated to come at this hour but—”

He did not go on, and Lizzie let her eyes drift to the window where the first flush of a new day was gently caressing the eastern sky. In the garden a robin called.

“There’s been an accident,” he managed, his voice husky with emotion.

Lizzie felt weak. She would have dropped back to her pillow had not John been supporting her. The whole world seemed to spin around her. She could not even speak to ask the questions to which she must have answers. John seemed to understand.

“Beth,” he said as gently as he could.

The one simple word jerked her fully awake with its harsh reality. Not Beth. Not her Beth. Beth was to be a bride in two weeks’ time. It couldn’t be.

“It’s pretty bad,” John carefully went on. She had to know.

She just looked at him blankly, willing the whole thing to be a horrible dream. She let her eyes search out the window again. A soft breeze rustled the frills of the lace curtain.

“How bad?” she managed, though her mouth felt dry, her throat constricted.

“She has a few face cuts. Nothing serious. A broken arm. Maybe some internal injuries—they don’t know yet. And . . . they are worried about her . . . spine.”

“Oh, dear God, no,” pleaded Lizzie, allowing the tears to come. John pulled her close to comfort her, and she wept against his heavy flannel shirt.

“Poor Heather and Pete,” Lizzie said when she could speak again.

John nodded. “They are at the hospital with her now.”

“What about Kevin? Poor boy.”

“I don’t know if they have reached him yet.”

Lizzie thought of the shock in store for the young man. He was such a fine young fellow. Her tears flowed again.

“She’s in the County General,” John went on. “There is some talk of taking her to the city by air ambulance.”

Then it was more than pretty bad.

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