Once Upon A Half-Time 2(144)

The one who tried so hard to instill good values, morality, and kindness in me…even when he suffered from his own vices.

Well, it was changing. And this time I meant it. Every time his health deteriorated I swore I’d do something different—more visits, different doctors, a new plan. It never worked, but this time wasn’t like before. I let myself get distracted. Gave my heart to a man who cared so little for me he’d work for the bastard who caused Granddad’s illnesses.

He needed the money, Maddox said. Didn’t we all? Couldn’t selling my property buy better treatments for Granddad? Clearing his debts would let me rebuild my shop. A little luck could turn everything around.

“Granddad?” I took his hand. He felt cold, but he always did. Said he busted the nerves when he was shocked one too many times doing electrical work. “How are you doing?”

His eyes opened, hidden under bushy eyebrows that turned the same wispy white as the five o’clock shadow on his chin. He looked…paler. It was strange. I always thought our skin shared the same shade. Even my mother hadn’t been as dark—though I only remembered her from the pictures before the accident. They were lost in the fire too. Hell, I couldn’t imagine her or my dad now, even if I wanted to. It never mattered before, not when I had Granddad.

But how much longer would I have him?

“Jo-Jo, it’s late.” He opened his eyes. “You should be home.”

“It’s only nine, Granddad.”

“And if you want to live to a healthy age like me…” The joke was lost in a wracking cough that hurt my own lungs. He gave up on the smile too, waving his hand. “Go home. You don’t want to be here with an old man.”

“No old man here.” I reached for his water before he did, pouring him a glass. “Just a big baby. Let me help you.”

“I’m fine.”

“They said you took too many of your pills.”

His eyes closed again. “What do the doctors know?”

“Um. A lot. Like…that you took too much medication. If you want the nurses to help—”

“Stop worrying, Jo-Jo.” His words trailed off. “You need to let an old man rest. Can’t get any sleep around here.”

I leaned back in the chair, exhaling instead of yelling or crying or just rehashing the same conversation again and again. I looked away, but my gaze settled on the framed photograph on his nightstand.

Where did he find that?

“Granddad…” I reached for the picture, touching the faded image. “How did you get this?”

He didn’t answer. I swallowed, but my mouth was dry.

I hadn’t seen this picture since the fire. I didn’t think it survived.

Me. Him. Nana. At the shop. The ice cream cones stacked.

“Granddad.” I squeezed his hand. “I thought this was gone. How…”

He stirred, frowning at the frame. His shoulders shrugged. “Copy. Someone gave it to me.”

“Wow.” The tears returned. “I just…I haven’t seen a picture of Nana in so long. And the shop. Look at the shop.”

“Take it.” He waved me away. “And those papers on the dresser. Those are yours.”

I ducked away from the IV and took the folder. My stomach turned.

Last will and testament. Great.

“Granddad.”

“Yours.” He forced a smile. “Now go. I’m fine. Just an accident. Want to get some sleep.”

No arguing with him. He closed his eyes out of spite.

“Okay.” I held the frame to my chest. “But I’ll be back in the morning.”

I left my number at the nurses’ station, just to make sure they had a sticky note on their computer monitors in case something went wrong. With his will and paperwork in my arms, I felt more than a little paranoid.

Home wasn’t much better than the care facility. I pushed through my locked door and ignored another barrage of calls from Maddox.

The pitter-patter of rain tinked off the windows. It beat down harder as I struggled to find something to do to keep from thinking about Granddad. Dishes didn’t help. I already did most of my laundry. I didn’t need more cookies.

I made peanut brittle instead.

But my eyes returned to the stack of papers Granddad passed to me. His will. I hadn’t read it, didn’t even know what would still be relevant inside of it. Most of everything was lost in the fire, and what wasn’t was already sworn to his debts and medical care. I thumbed through the folder and started to read.

My feet thunked from the coffee table to the floor.

The signature and date had to be wrong. There was a mistake.

Granddad updated his will two days before the fire?