Slipperless Series (Book #4)(12)

“Miss Matthews?” the nurse said, as I answered the call.

“Yes, Julie?” I began, as I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Is everything all right?”

Just then, I heard the sound of Julie swallow hard through the receiver of the phone. In an instant all of my concerns with regard to the Link Protocol disappeared. Instead, I focused my attention on her.

“Julie… What’s going on? Has something happened to my grandmother?”

She remained silent for another moment or two, before at last answering me. “Yes ma’am. She was admitted to the hospital this morning.”

I almost passed out. Collapsing into my chair, I felt my hands go clammy. With one hand wrapped firmly around the phone and the other in the form of a tense fist, I begged her for more details.

“Please tell me everything that’s going on, Julie.”

Sometime in the last twenty-four hours my grandmother’s condition had worsened to such an extent she hadn’t been able to sleep or eat. Not only that, but she was experiencing terrific pain. No sooner had Julie finished explaining things than she asked me a question that made my stomach sink.

“Miss Matthews, do you think there’s any way that you can come home?”

I leaned forward over my workstation. Sliding my palm across my forehead, I squeezed it tight as my hair fell down over my face.

“Julie, is there something you’re not telling me?”

She cleared her throat. “Well, it’s just that… your grandmother is very sick ma’am. I know that you realize how dire her situation is. There may not be much more time.”

I began shake my head. Peering up between strands of my hair, I looked around the mostly empty lab.

Whispering into the receiver, I replied, “No, no, no! She is not dying, Julie. Do you hear me? She is not dying!”

Julie’s voice fell silent. It was plain she’d told me what she thought I needed to hear. But instead of responding to my direct question, she reiterated her own.

“You didn’t answer me, ma’am. Can you come home, and if so, how soon do you think you can get here?”

No longer caring about whether or not my charade would be discovered, half an hour later I pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. This was one of those times when I would just have to deal with the fact that I’d lied.

But as soon as I saw my grandmother, it was obvious I wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with deception on my part. She’d been in and out of consciousness since she’d arrived at the hospital, and was completely unresponsive by the time I got there.

The entire drive over, I’d kept my sadness at arms’ length. But as I stood over her, the emotion began to overwhelm me. It was just her and me there alone in the room, as it had been for the last decade of my life, yet this time I wasn’t sure how much longer that would be the case. Reaching down, I slid my fingers through the thinning, fine gray hairs on top of her head.

For several minutes, I stroked them with soft glides.

“I’m so sorry, Grandmother,” I whispered. “I feel like I’ve failed you. I’ve been working so hard to try and fix things, but no matter how much I do, it all seems so much worse now.”

Frustrated though I was with my situation, she had, through her own stubbornness, made the situation far worse by refusing treatment. But in that moment, there was no room for anger in my heart, only the inevitable sickening feeling of loss. Just then, my tears began to flow, and for once I didn’t care to stop them.

Looking down, I noticed something had changed about her. Her face seemed exhausted, spent—as if signaling the fight was gone from her. As she slept, I stood over her for several minutes, crying and trying to imagine a future alone.

It wasn’t long after that one of her doctors paid a visit to the room and confirmed my worst fears. There was a very small chance that she might recover and be strong enough for another round of chemotherapy, but if she couldn’t pull through soon, then the inevitable would occur.

He offered me a strange mix of condolences and optimism before leaving the room. In a daze, I stared at the doctor as he opened the door and exited the room. No sooner had he finished delivering me the awful news than my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I sniffled, and with two quick wipes of my hand across my cheeks, I tried to collect myself. After the third ring, I pulled my phone out. Swiping my finger across the smooth surface, I read yet another text message from Gabe.

His patience had begun to wear thin. Claiming he’d done all he could to hold off the investors, he needed answers from me and he needed them soon. In a not so subtle way, he once more threatened me with my job if I didn’t deliver what I promised I would when I left the island.