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I smile. "You're such a bull. Let the lady do her job. Did you eat while I was gone like I said to?"
She eyes me with guilt, and I laugh. "I didn't have an appetite," she says.
"You're eating before I leave. I'm going to bring in the rest of your cats’ stuff then I'll make some soup for you."
"You're an angel," she says.
Once I unpack her belongings and set up, I'm standing in the kitchen cooking when the nurse comes in to introduce herself.
"I'm Ms. Shelly, and I'll be one of your grandmother’s hospice nurses on rotation."
I almost drop the pan of boiling hot water I’m holding.
"Hospice?"
Fifty-Six
Ms. Shelly looks at me in confusion. "Were you not aware?"
I blink a few times. "Well, I knew there would be a nurse. I just didn't know it would be from hospice."
Her smile is gentle and I find it oddly soothing.
"Your grandmother made the call herself from the hospital. I'll be here four times a week to monitor her condition and check how well her medications are working to relieve symptoms. I'll also be communicating with her doctor should anything arise."
The fact that Grammy called hospice makes me sick to my stomach with dread. No one makes that call unless it's serious and they absolutely have to. My jaw trembles and I sniffle, sucking back my emotions. The only plus I see about hospice is that I'm relieved someone will be here for her when I can't.
"What about at night? Does someone stay?" I ask, my voice a little shaky.
"We can. We can do shifts if it makes you feel better."
I nod. "It would. If you're here that many days a week, the cancer must be worse than I thought. She just doesn't want to tell me. I'd like someone to always be here for her."
"We'll have to modify the paperwork—"
"Don't bother her with that. Whatever it is, I'll take care of it. The papers and cost, anything she needs, I can take care of."
Ms. Shelly smiles appreciatively. "She's lucky to have a granddaughter like you. Now when you're done, I'd like to show you a few things if you have time?"
"Of course. Would you like a bowl of soup?"
Ms. Shelly politely declines. I prepare a bowl, then carry it out to Grammy.
"You didn't tell me you called hospice."
She sits up, scooting close to the table. "I didn't want you to worry. It's just a precaution. I may be hardheaded, but I'm not dumb." She takes a sip of her Tuscan soup. "This is delicious. Thank you, Aubrey."
I smile. "Do you want me to stay the night? I was thinking I would."
"No, absolutely not," she says firmly. "You're not going to baby me because of a few words the doctor said. I can handle myself, plus, I have Shelly here." She takes another bite, then says, "In fact, it's late and you've been helping me all day. Why don't you get going?"
My brows lift. "Are you kicking me out?"
"Yes," Grammy says, but not with any meanness. "I love you, but go home."
I chuckle lightly. After Ms. Shelly goes over everything she brought and explains what her roll is, I kiss Grammy on the head and leave. As I'm walking down the block to the bus stop, I text Daniel telling him to meet me at my place in an hour or so and then I dial up Natalie.
"Hey," she answers.
