AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You don’t think this is serious, do you?” His forehead crinkles. “C’mon, I need you on my side. They’re going to discharge me and we can head back home. Ava’s probably got dinner ready for us.”
“Cal.”
He sighs and pats the bed, encouraging me to come over.
Cal’s always been affectionate. Kisses on the cheek, heavy pats on the shoulder. He’s a warm, kind soul, and that’s why I reach down and hug him. I want his warmth, to assure myself it’s still there.
“You really don’t need to worry,” he says quietly, patting my back.
I feel silly. Derek wasn’t crying. Why am I?
I shake my head, not speaking.
“Are you upset about the lack of snacks in this place too? I feel like crying myself if I’m honest.”
I laugh and keep my face buried against his chest.
“Don’t…” Don’t make light of this. Don’t brush this off. “You’re my family,” I whisper against his chest.
“Of course I am. That’s why you have my last name on your name tag. I like the way that looks. It’s true, you know. I only ever had one grandson, but if I could have picked a granddaughter, I would have wanted her to be just like you.”
If his goal was to make me stop crying, he’s doing a piss-poor job.
Now, I’m sobbing against his chest. He’ll have to change his hospital gown with all the snot I’m smearing across it.
“I promise you I’m going to be fine. The doctor already assured me of that. I didn’t have a heart attack. He called it a Tako-something cardiomyopathy. Apparently, it mimics the symptoms of a heart attack, which is why Ava insisted on calling an ambulance this morning, but they’re going to give me some medicine and that should do the trick. They’re even letting me go home. Well, kind of. I’ll have to have a nurse with me and some of these machines will go too. Now, stop this. C’mon. Tell me about the parade. How did it go? Did Derek play his part?”
“I did just fine, thank you.”
I jerk away from Cal, shooting back to my feet and taking a step back. I hadn’t realized Derek was there. I wipe at my eyes and my nose, thanking Cal after he passes me a tissue from the stash beside his bed.
I don’t turn around and meet Derek’s eyes, though I can feel him watching me. The hospital room feels too crowded with the three of us in it.
“A nurse gave me a fruit cup and some walnuts,” Derek says, stepping up beside me and dropping Cal’s food on his nightstand.
“Oh good. Squirrel food.”
“We’ll have Ava fix you something better at home. They’re preparing everything to transport you there now. Heather has booked a care team for you, and we’ll have a nurse stationed at the house. Your cardiologist is happy to check on you there as well later tonight.”
“Good. When can we leave?”
“In an hour or so. I want to make sure they have everything set up.”
Then, ever so gently, Derek reaches over and wraps a hand around my waist, tugging me against him and dropping a kiss to my hair.
Tears spring back to my eyes, but they don’t blur the grin spreading across Cal’s face.
“Well then, we’ll all go,” he says, sounding extremely pleased with himself.
Though I offer to go back to my dorm—not wanting to intrude—Cal and Derek both insist otherwise. “It’s been a long day” and “You haven’t eaten” come from Derek, and “What if I take a turn for the worse?” from Cal. I shake my head then, fighting back a smile at his audacity before I nod and agree to it. After we tell Thomas and Carrie of the new plans, Thomas assures us he’ll get Carrie home safe and they walk out of the hospital hand in hand.
It’s a blur of activity during Cal’s transport back to the house. A nurse is already there to help him get settled. His doctor arrives shortly after we do. Cal doesn’t think another checkup is necessary, but his doctor insists on it. He’ll be back in the morning as well.
I linger in the kitchen, unsure of where I’m supposed to be. I feel kind of useless, tired. I watch Ava move around, finishing up dinner. She’s already sent some food up for Cal, but there’s homemade chicken soup on the stove and cornbread muffins turning golden brown in the oven.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
She’s putting away spice jars, wiping the counters, tidying up the kitchen. I pick up a dishtowel to help her and she steals it back, swatting away my offer. “The soup’s just keeping warm until the muffins are done. Don’t do a thing. Can I make you some tea? Chamomile?”
She doesn’t even wait for my reply before she starts turning to the cabinet. I realize then that Ava is doing what the rest of us are trying to do: staying busy, being useful, keeping it together.
