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I call Rockwell one more time before I leave. Still nothing. I climb in my car, adrenaline pushing me forward, and wave out my window while I drive away. It only takes me an hour and a half before I pull up to the hospital. It takes me another ten minutes to find a parking spot and actually get inside. By this time, my nerves settle in. What if he’s annoyed I’m here? What if he never wants to see me again?
I drag my feet up to the nurse’s station, one hand on my backpack strap and the other wrapped tightly around my lunch box. “I’m here to visit Sandy Davenport, a patient who came in last night after a stroke.” I’m not sure what information to give, and I feel like I’m rambling.
A middle-aged nurse with a round face and short black hair looks up at me. She doesn’t even blink at my explanation. “Your name, miss?”
“Brie Holland.”
“Relationship to the patient?”
I lick my lips. “Family friend.” I hold my breath, worried she’ll send me away. She types something into the computer and stares at it for a moment. It feels like an eternity.
“I need to call up to the nurses’ station on her floor. Give me a minute, please.”
I watch quietly as the nurse explains my desire to visit. It takes a few minutes, and I’m not sure why, but finally, she hangs up.
“Take the elevator at the end of the hall . . .”
I listen carefully as she tells me how to navigate to their heart stroke center. I thank her and hurry to follow her instructions down the sterile halls before I forget them. When I get to Sandy’s room, I set my hand on the handle to open the door but freeze again. I’ve come this far. I can’t turn back now.
I swing the door open and walk right into Rockwell.
His hand catches my arm to steady me. “Brie?”
I’ve never seen Rockwell look so tired. His eyes are bloodshot, and his normally styled short hair is matted in front and sticking up in back. I give him a crooked smile, worry and insecurity likely plastered over every inch of me. “Hey.”
He gives a half-groan-half-sigh and throws his arms around me. Maybe it’s his tight hug and he squeezed the tears right out of me, or maybe it’s the relief he isn’t angry I showed up, but I’m silently crying on his shoulder.
When he pulls back, his eyes are glassed with emotion too. “Thank you for coming.”
I nod, not wanting to confess how weak I’ve been, and wipe at my eyes. This isn’t the time to talk about us. I’m here as a friend. “How is she?” I whisper. I can’t see her over Rockwell’s shoulder, but I sense she’s close.
Rockwell keeps his voice lowered too. “She’s been asleep most of the time. Her brain scans are looking pretty good, considering. Tomorrow they’ll start her therapies, and we’ll know more.”
“I’m so sorry this happened.”
“Me too.”
“Jocelyn packed you some snacks, and I can stay and keep you company or come by again tomorrow. Whatever you need.”
Rockwell finds my hand with his. “Would you stay awhile?”
My heart twists inside me, and I almost cry again. He’s not promising everything will work out. But for now, it’s all I need. “Of course.”
He smiles at my words and tugs me into the room with him. Sandy is tucked in with an off-white blanket, and she looks so peaceful while she sleeps. I set my backpack and lunch tote on the floor in a corner and observe Sandy for a moment. I’m so relieved she’s still with us and her tests are good. It’s a miracle. A Christmas miracle.
Rockwell comes and puts his arms around me from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder. We stand like this for some time, both of us watching his mom sleep. It’s not the worst Christmas after all. It’s not the best either, but my gratitude for the gift of life patches up the achy parts of my soul, leaving me with a sense of peace again.
Chapter 26
Rockwell
Islapacarddown on the small table between Brie and me. “I win.”
“Noooo!” Brie whines. We’ve played this particular game a dozen times in the last two days, and her winning streak is officially over.
“Finally.” I sink back against the olive-green leather chair and grin at Brie’s exaggerated frown. Her hair is in a braid over her shoulder, and I reach over and give it a tug. “Victory is sweet.” And so is having a moment alone with Brie. They wheeled Mom out for another MRI, and the nurse said it would be at least an hour.
“Let’s play again,” Brie demands, shuffling the cards. “I’m going to beat you so hard.”
