The Family Wish (Match Made in Devon Bridal Shop Book 3) by Danielle Blair

Author:Danielle Blair [Blair, Danielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-05T16:00:00+00:00

13

Freesia

Freesia had been as hot as the chamomile tea in her hand since the evening call from Doctor Starnes. Camille had taken to her bed, choosing not to eat a mostly empty vegetable broth, saying food no longer had taste or smell. Bedtime tea settled her, but Freesia’s hand shook the saucer, made a rapping sound as she crossed the room and took a seat in the formal dining room chair she’d moved beside the bed.

Her mother stirred, eyes open.

She’ll turn inward, talk less, focus more on herself. What you’ve done for her is admirable, Ms. Day, but don’t expect anything in return. She’ll take more than she can possibly give.

“I brought your tea, Mama.” Her words were no stronger than the soggy leaves at the cup’s bottom, an attempt to drown her anger. Camille’s lies had accumulated: her bank account would satisfy her massive IRS bill; the hospital hadn’t kicked her out—she’d left by choice; she hadn’t kicked a pregnant nurse when she refused her meds; she hadn’t been diagnosed with type-2 diabetes years back; Charlotte had been unkind to her. The last lie had been particularly hard for Freesia to stomach. Fierce and protective didn’t often adhere in Freesia’s personality, but Charlotte was the Velcro that held Freesia together most days when she’d wanted to rip apart.

Freesia helped her mother prop pillows, shifted her to her side so the rasp gathering at the back of Camille’s throat would subside, resettled the pieced quilt that Charlotte insisted had never draped Stella Irene and Elias’s bed. The frame and mattresses had been a hard enough mental hurdle after what Alex had said in the field. What had become their nightly ritual served to ease Freesia’s pulse this night. In a room where death introduced itself anew each day—different pain, different losses, different ways to grab hold and not let go—Freesia had no choice but to sit for a while and become acquainted.

Camille’s first sip of tepid tea dribbled past her tense lips. Freesia scanned their surroundings for something to dry her and spotted a stack of tea towels Charlotte had placed by the bed. She reached for one, placed it beneath her mother’s chin, then held the cup by its bowl, close by necessity and tipped it into her mother’s waiting mouth.

“I spoke to your doctor. Why did you tell me you had treatment, when he said you refused every bit of it?”

“What does he know?”

Freesia inhaled fully. Days ago, she had decided those first five seconds of response time to Camille’s abrasiveness was the most volatile, most reactionary, most pained. An inhale kept her blood pressure even. Beneath a blanket of fresh linens and bathed and powdered skin, Freesia’s nose still detected the essence of sickness.

“More than you.”

“He wanted to open me up. Ain’t natural.”

“Would have bought you more time. Us, more time.”

Another sip. Over the top of the cup, energy her mother didn’t have twisted her expression sour. “Plenty’a time for dying.”

The cup’s base rattled the saucer. Freesia

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