The Cottage on Juniper Ridge by Sheila Roberts

Author:Sheila Roberts [Roberts, Sheila]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 2013-02-24T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Sometimes it’s good to ask yourself, “Do I own my things or do they own me?”

—Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity

Please, God, don’t let Nana die, Stacy prayed as she and Dean rushed to Mountain Regional Hospital. At least not until I’ve had a chance to say goodbye. The thought of losing her sweet grandma made her eyes prickle with tears.

Dean reached across the seat and laid a comforting hand on her leg. “It’ll be all right.”

It probably wouldn’t, but she appreciated him for saying it, anyway.

They got to the hospital to find her family all in a waiting room. Her uncle Jack sat nursing a cup of coffee and talking on his cell phone, alerting family members. Her father was missing, most likely outside, smoking. Her aunt Vivian was the oldest of Nana’s three children, but she normally worked hard to look young, keeping up the illusion that she was still a blonde, maintaining a svelte figure and dressing well. Tonight she wore sweats and she looked as if she’d aged ten years, every wrinkle in her face a deep crevice of pain. She was slumped in a chair, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Stacy’s mother wasn’t in much better shape. She was the youngest of Nana’s children, but tonight she looked old and tired. She hadn’t bothered with makeup, which made the dark circles under her eyes even more prominent than usual. She was pacing the room as if she could somehow walk her way out of this trouble.

She smiled sadly at Stacy and held out an arm, and Stacy hurried over to hug her.

“How is she?”

Mom shook her head. “Not good.”

“Is she going to die?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can we see her?”

“In a little bit. They’re getting her settled in her room.”

How long did it take to get an eighty-eight-year-old woman settled? Stacy hugged everyone, helped her mother pace, got some coffee then paced some more. Finally the nurses opened the curtain in Nana’s room and allowed everyone to enter.

The woman on the bed looked so small, a fragile outline holding up the bedcovers. They all gathered around her and Stacy’s mother took Nana’s hand and squeezed it. “How are you feeling, Mama?”

Nana tried to smile. Only half her mouth cooperated.

Blinking back tears, Stacy stood at one end of the bed. This is where we all end up, sooner or later, she thought. “Nana, you have to get better. You’ve still got quilts left in you.”

Again, Nana tried to smile. She said something but her voice was so slurred Stacy had no idea what it was.

Stacy lingered until Nana’s eyes drifted shut. “You may as well go home, honey,” said her mother.

Dean put an arm around her and led her from the room. “I hate this,” she said bitterly as they waited in the hall for the elevator.

He squeezed her. “I know. It’s hard.”

It was just as hard the following day, seeing her grandmother still prone in the bed. “I love you,” Stacy told her, and squeezed her hand.

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