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I just look at her with a confused face and wait for her to continue.
"Did Izzy ever tell you I used to be a nurse?" she asks, reaching for my hand.
"I don't think so. Why?"
"How about we order another coffee, and I'll tell you a little story?" Nana suggests.
Pops calls the waitress over. "Can I please order a large pot of coffee with milk, cream, and sugar?"
I'll drive around a bit and give you some privacy," Pops adds, standing up and reaching for his coat. "Call me when you want me to pick you up, Maggie."
He leaves us alone, sitting in a sort of awkward silence, waiting for the waitress to bring the drinks. When the coffee arrives, Nana pours us both a cup, fussing over me by asking if I want cream and sugar and even offering to call the waitress over to get us a slice of cake.If I didn't know better, I'd say she's nervous about something, but I just don't know what.
"Okay, back to my story," Nana finally mutters as she takes an unnecessarily deep breath.
"About ten years ago, I worked part-time as a nurse at the hospital. As I was getting older, I used to just fill in a few days a week, mostly in the oncology ward. It's there that I often chatted with patients who came in for chemotherapy or radiation and were stuck for hours alone. There I met a young woman who was probably only in her mid-twenties, much younger than most of our patients, and I took a bit of a shine to her. We talked regularly about our lives and our families." Nana stops her story to take another sip of coffee and an even deeper breath.
"Anyway, this woman and I chatted for months before she got worse and had to be hospitalized. I would even occasionally visit her when my shifts ended, and we'd sit and talk for an hour or so. It was clear that she wasn't getting better because every time I saw her, she seemed frailer than before. One day, I came to visit her, and she looked like she had all but given up. In the few short months I had been lucky enough to know her, she'd gone from a happy, vibrant woman to one looking thin and emaciated. So much so that she couldn't even wear her jewelry anymore without losing it. So another nurse suggested she wear her wedding ring on a necklace." Nana stops her story again to take another sip of her coffee and another deep breath.I wish she'd just say whatever she needed to. The anticipation is killing me.
"One morning I came to visit her as usual, but I was too late. The thing is, she passed away during the night. The nurses informed me that her husband and children had been called the night before to say goodbye and that she had passed away peacefully in her sleep.
I offered to help clean out her room and pack up her things. It was then that I found her necklace and rings on the floor beside her bed. They must have either fallen off or been removed. I managed to persuade the nurse, who was a good friend and colleague of mine, to give me her next of kin details, so I could return the rings. But when I called, the man on the other end of the phone became abusive and said he didn't want the rings if he no longer had a wife. I begged him to reconsider, but he just told me to throw them away.
I worried that he would one day regret his decision and come looking for them once the shock wore off, but he never did. So for the next five or so years, I kept those rings in my purse, hoping to return them but not knowing anything more than her name and a grumpy voice on the phone. I didn't have much to go on. And it wasn't until I saw the picture in your father's wallet that I realized that my friend, the woman I had met and cared for in the hospital, the woman whose wedding and engagement ring I had carried around all these years, was your mother."
I see Nana wiping away her tears, but I continue to stare at her, open-mouthed and shocked. It's only when I feel her open my hand and put something into my palm that I wake up from my daze and fully register what has happened. I look down at my now shaking hands and realize that I'm holding two small, silver-colored rings in my hand.
I feel like this opens the floodgates because before I have time to fully process the thoughts running through my mind, I feel tears dripping from my chin and onto my hands. I try to wipe them away before anyone sees, but I feel Nana pull me into a hug instead. I start crying even harder now and hug her tightly. My legs feel like jelly, and I think if she wasn’t holding me up, I would have fallen to the floor already. "Honestly, thank you so much. You don't know what this means to me," I sob into her shoulder.
"She never got to meet Bella, but I always felt like she sent her to save me," I admit, honestly.
"I think you saved her too, Nate," Nana confesses, sitting back down and wiping her eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you can never tell her I told you. I'm not even sure she remembers it herself. When she was a child, something horrible happened. It doesn’t matter what, but her parents have never been able to forgive themselves for it. Since then, they've struggled to overcome the shame they feel for not recognizing the signs sooner. That's one of the reasons they're so distant from her now. They feel like they let it happen."
"She remembers, and we've talked about it, but no one else knows. I think it's best if we leave it that way," I say abruptly, feeling protective of Bella. I don't want Bella to feel like we're sharing her secrets without her permission.
"What I'm trying to say is that growing up, she always felt unloved and unwanted by those around her. She was always such a sad, lonely little girl. That is, until you came into her life. Without even knowing it, you brought our happy, smiling granddaughter back to us. You gave her a new zest for life and showed her that it’s okay to open up her heart and trust other people again. For that, we will always be grateful because seeing how much happiness you and all her friends give her makes us immensely proud.
We would be honored to know that she is marrying a man who will always put her needs and desires first. We couldn't ask for a better future husband for Izzy," Nana reveals proudly. "All I ask is that you promise to tell her parents first, as they deserve to know and meet you."
"I promise."
We leave our now cold coffee, and I offer to take Bella’s Nana home, but she informs me she’s already called her husband to pick her up. Which, as awful as it sounds, makes me kind of relieved, as I don’t think I’m in any state to drive yet. My head is still spinning with all this new information and emotions. I order another drink and take out my phone to call a cab when I notice an array of texts from Tucker asking where I am and what’s happening. I decide, rather than texting, to just call.
"Hey, Tucker. Sorry, it’s been crazy."
"Crazy?! It’s been almost three hours since you told me you would be gone for an hour at most, and I’ve been going out of my mind. Ava has been texting, asking what we're up to, and sending me pictures of prom dresses. Apparently, the girls have been roped into some fashion show or something, so they’re staying in the city until tomorrow. But I’ve had to lie to her and make excuses about where you are and why you’re not answering Izzy’s messages," Tucker splutters in a panic.
"I know, but it was worth it. Any chance you can pick me up? I’m in no mood to drive right now," I confess.
"That sounds serious. Text me the address."
I quickly send the address while still on the phone to him.
"Got it. Give me fifteen minutes. I'm leaving now."
