Page 35 of Speak from the Heart

“I could have broken her fall.”

“At what expense? She would have hurt you as well.”

“Well, I’d prefer that to this.” I wave out a hand, indicating where we stand.

“Emily,” Joe Carpenter’s authoritative voice interjects. “Jess is right. Elizabeth could have hurt you had you stood in her way. It could have been even worse for her. The EMTs think it’s a solid break at the hip. They don’t see any neck injury, so now it’s only a matter of checking her head.”

Her head. She’s already not quite right there.

“Which means she could have a concussion or worse,” I snap.

“I know you’re upset,” Joe states firmly. With his fire chief voice, he continues, “Let’s take a seat.”

“I don’t want to sit down,” I stammer, sounding like a petulant child. “I-I need a minute.” Turning on my heels, I head down the hall. I disappear around a corner and quickly realize I’ve come to a dead end. Pressing my back against the wall, I take several deep breaths, spin around, and lay my forehead on the wallpaper. I notice a piece coming unfurled near the handrail.

My thoughts scatter with nothing specific in my head when I feel hands on my hips. I spin, despite the familiarity of his touch. I know it’s him, yet I’m ready to snap like he’s a stranger, unauthorized to touch me. But once I twist, I can’t help myself. My arms lift and I wrap them around his neck, tugging him to me as I clutch at him.

I can’t lose him next.

It’s the strangest thought but not entirely unwarranted. My father left when I was a child. My mother died when I was twelve. Grace moved away. Grandpa passed away ten years ago, and now this. Losing Nana would be the last straw. I don’t want to lose any more people from my life.

I hold him, and he embraces me back, one hand splayed across my spine and the other at the base of my neck.

“It’s all my fault,” he mutters. For some reason, this upsets me as much as if he’d said we shouldn’t have been kissing.

“It’s not your fault,” I say, pulling back from him, but he isn’t letting me leave his arms. My hands come to his shoulders, pressing at them as he growls.

“Don’t push me away.”

There’s no point in pulling him forward.

I don’t see a place with him. He doesn’t see a place for me.

You’d suffocate here. Is that what happened to him?

He told me he was where he’s supposed to be. Where am I meant to be?

I can’t think about these things right now.

“I need to check on Nana,” I say, reminiscent of the words I said earlier when he was on top of me, kissing me, reaching for something more from me.

He releases me and then waves out a hand, and I step forward to head back to the waiting room for word on Nana.

+ + +

I wait until morning to call Grace and explain everything. The kisses. The fall.

“You had a notebook moment.” Grace sighs after admonishing me for not telling her sooner about the rain kiss.

“Notebook?”

“Yeah, the movie, The Notebook. Kissing in the rain.” Her voice sounds dreamy, and I roll my eyes. This is not the time for such things. “It’s so romantic.”

“Nicholas Sparks might disagree. He hates to be considered a romance author,” I say, my voice flat. “He’ll argue that story was a love story. Spoiler alert—the wife dies in the end.” It’s sad on several levels. The wife passes after years with Alzheimer’s. Is this my fate? Is this Nana’s? Will she regress until she doesn’t recognize me anymore? How will I handle this?

“It’s a modern day fairy tale,” Grace continues, and I sigh. “Angst. Frustration. Sexual tension.”

“Grace. Focus. Nana,” I snap. We need to discuss what’s next. The doctors confirm Nana broke her hip, several ribs, and her right arm. She’s brittle, I recall thinking when they listed her injuries. Unfortunately, they also added that with her advanced age, surgery wasn’t the best option. I needed to prepare for extensive rehab at a facility. A counselor came to the room to discuss further options, telling me that because of what I’d told them regarding Nana’s confusion and lack of memory, they believed she might not recover to the point she could return to her house.