Jude didn’t end the call. She kept the phone in her hand.
She told Taybee, “I forgot to ask her where she is. Can you look it up on Life360?”
Taybee whipped her phone out of her purse. Frowned at the screen. “That’s weird. She told me after Myrna died, she was never going to the nursing home again.”
“Can I borrow your car?”
Taybee narrowed her eyes. She could tell something was wrong. Still, she reached into her purse and pulled out her keys. “I’ll get a lift to the farm. Keep it as long as you want.”
Jude clicked the key fob. The lights flashed on the red Mercedes at the back of the lot. She didn’t remember getting into the car, pulling onto the road, speeding down Main Street. She kept the phone on speaker as she drove toward the highway.
“Emmy, I’m in the car now. I’m about ten minutes away.”
“I’m sorry,” Emmy said. “I can’t—I’m just—”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, but I’m here.”
“Oh-okay.”
She went silent after that, but the panicked breathing continued. Every short intake felt like a box knife stabbing into Jude’s heart. The needle on the speedometer danced around one hundred when she hit the interstate. Jude didn’t think about the last time she’d raced down this stretch of road, that Tommy had been thrown thirty feet from the car and Lee had nearly died. She thought about her baby, the first time they’d been ina car together. Jude had kept Emmy Lou in her lap the entire drive down from Memphis. She had soothed her, sung to her, told her how much she loved her, promised to never, ever let her go.
By the time she spotted the Azalea Place Assisted Living and Nursing Home, tears were flooding her eyes. The dread that Jude felt every time she saw the building had to be exponentially worse for Emmy. Jude had only experienced six weeks of hell. Emmy had endured years of watching Myrna decline. Being back here must have felt like she was trapped all over again.
Jude circled the parking lot. Emmy was sitting inside her cruiser in the row farthest from the entrance. Her hands were gripped in her lap. Her seat belt was tight across her chest, cutting into the side of her neck. Jude got into the cruiser beside her.
“I’m here, sweetheart.”
Emmy looked at her, eyes wide, lips trembling. “I’m—I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Jude placed her hand over Emmy’s. “You’re having a panic attack.”
“N-no shit.” Emmy huffed out a laugh. “Oh, Jesus. Jesus. Wh-what’s wrong with me?”
“Seeing the nursing home triggered your fight-or-flight into overdrive. Your brain perceived danger and rushed a surge of adrenaline that caused your muscles to tense and your heart rate to increase. The choking sensation you’re feeling is hyperventilation. Your thoughts are racing because you feel like you’re losing control, but you’re not. If you don’t get your breathing under control, you’re going to pass out. I told you. If you don’t slow down, your body finds a way to make you.”
“Sh-shit.” Emmy huffed out another laugh. “Lecturing me when—when I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying.” Jude unbuckled Emmy’s seat belt, then loosened the straps on her vest. “This is temporary. You’re going to be okay in a few minutes if you just do as I tell you. All right?”
Emmy’s lips started to tremble, but her chin tilted down in a nod.
“We’re going to breathe together. Inhale slowly through your nose, then exhale slowly through your mouth. Okay?” Jude reached over and closed Emmy’s mouth. “Inhale.”
Emmy’s chest shook as she tried to draw in air.
“Exhale.”
They did a few more rounds together before Emmy’s breathing started to regulate.
Jude took off her watch.
Forty-two years ago, she’d stolen the Cartier Ronde from Myrna’s jewelry box on her way out of North Falls and pawned it at every strip mall from here to California. Every time, Jude would find a reason to go back for it. They hadn’t given her enough money. She could pawn it somewhere else for more. She’d slept out of her car and skipped meals just to keep the watch in her possession. Her attachment to an object her mother had never worn and kept in the box had been the subject of many therapy sessions. Now, she offered it to her daughter.
“I want you to take this. It belonged to your grandmother.”
When Emmy didn’t move, Jude lifted Emmy’s hand and placed the watch on her palm. Then she folded over Emmy’s fingers and held on tightly.
“When you start to feel like you’re losing control, I want you to focus on this watch. Look at the hands on the face. Wind the crown. Feel the texture on the buckle and the band. Find something about it that tethers you to the physical world. I do the same thing with objects when I feel myself slipping out of control. I look at a toaster on a kitchen counter, or a tree by a lake, or the logo on a T-shirt. It’s called anchoring. Just focus and breathe. It helps keep the panic at bay.”
