A few minutes later, I watch Pop’s eyes flutter open. I immediately leave Madison’s side and stand by the edge of the bed, gripping his hand in mine. I push a nearby button, and the hospital bed automatically raises the upper half of his body into a semi-sitting position.
“Hey, Pop.” My tone is upbeat and happy.
He looks at me and smiles.
“Hi, Ralph,” Madison says. She leans down and kisses his whiskered cheek. “Long time no see.”
He blinks back at her, recognition finally registering on his face. “Hi,” he manages to say, his voice husky with fatigue. “I’m still here.” Even in his worst moments, his sense of humor remains intact.
“I’m so glad,” she replies with a beaming smile.
I trade places with Madison and watch how careful she is with him. She's gentle with his hand as she cradles it while cocking her head to the side.
“How are you feeling right now?”
He licks his lips, and I’m quick with a straw to his mouth. He takes a tiny sip of water from the bottle before he speaks.
“I’m… better. Now that… you’re here.”
I stand tall next to Madison and place my hand on her shoulder. “She’s staying, Pop. Can you believe it?”
His tired eyes seem to twinkle in the ambient lighting, and his slight grin is noticeable. I haven’t seen him smile like that in weeks.
“Our girl… has come home.”
We’re interrupted by Nurse Gale. “Time for your meds, Mr. Jamison.”
He scowls andshakes his head.
Miss Gale looks at me, and I nod. “Well, all right, then. Five more minutes. But remember, we’ve got to stay ahead of the pain.” She walks out of the room, leaving the three of us alone.
Pop sighs, his scrawny fingers trembling as he reaches for Madison’s hand again. She’s the center of our universe, pulling us together, her grasp firm and strong.
The three of us are attached like a thread in a magnificent tapestry. The past. The present. And our future.
And I’m never letting her go.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Madison
Bullies aren’t just schoolchildren. Oh no.
They’re also adults in offices with nice titles, or foremen on farms, who think they have the right to break the spirits of others so they can feel better about their miserable lives.
I’m reminded of this the next morning as I sit in a rocker on Ralph’s front porch and sip my coffee.
“What are you doing here?” Kip growls. His hands are planted on his hips in a defiant pose, and he tips his hat back, exposing his snarling expression.
He’s up bright and early. And he’s definitely not happy to see me.
“Well, good morning to you too. I’m here for George. And Ralph, of course,” I reply.
I continue to rock slowly in the antique rocking chair. My pink robe is tied in a knot around my waist, my hair piled on top of my head in a messy bun, and my bare feet are covered in fuzzy slippers. I’m not self-conscious in the least. George and I stayed in the main house guestroom upstairs overnight, in case the night nurse on duty needed to wake us if anything changed. I hardly slept, and every creak and groan from the old home kept me on high alert.
I left George sound asleep, hoping he could sleep in a bit. Our blissful time together after reuniting reminded me that I made the right decision to come here. Tiptoeing downstairs at the crack of dawn, I was pleasantly surprised by the coffee already brewing. I decided to have my own little quiet time on the front porch and watch the sunrise. I’m excited about my first full day on the farm, and with George by my side, I feel a happiness I haven’t felt in a very long time.
Until Kip came along.
