Chapter 20
[Taxi]
Idon’t know how long the tears fall, but eventually I fall asleep with my forehead against Aunt Trudy’s arm.
A gentle nudge to my shoulder has me lifting my head with a sudden jolt, causing my neck to crack.
Tipping my head forward again, I squeeze on the kink in the back of my neck before noticing someone standing close to my side.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” The deep, but quiet tenor has me looking up and up and up at the tall figure beside me.
Stone. He’s still here?
Our eyes meet only briefly. His are kind and concerned as he puckers his mouth, causing that thick mustache to twitch above his lip.
The sound of machines humming and steadily beeping must have lulled me to sleep. The dim room suggests it’s late.
“What time is it?”
“Actually.” He pauses. “It’s time to go.” He glances toward a nurse entering the room.
“I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over,” she cheerfully announces.
Visiting hours? I’m not visiting. I’m family.
I swivel my head in the direction of Aunt Trudy. Earlier, I removed her wig and wrapped her head in a silk scarf I had in my bag. The vibrant burst of color next to her dark skin only slightly brightens the stark image of wires and tubes and a hospital bed.
And I don’t want to leave her side.
“Do I really need to go?”
“Hospital rules,” the nurse says, smiling sympathetically. “We open again at eight a.m.”
Eight a.m.? What will I possibly do all night?
“I can give you a ride somewhere,” Stone says, as if reading my thoughts. “To Trudy’s. Or maybe Judd’s.” He hesitates a second. “You could even stay at my place.”
As much as I don’t want to be alone, I cannot impose on Stone, nor do I want to disturb Judd. He and Genie have a newborn baby, plus Simon is there right now. I need to see Simon, but I’ll hold off until tomorrow when I have a better grip on my emotions and this situation.
Without answering where Stone should take me, I give one final glance at Aunt Trudy.
Don’t you dare die on me. It’s a harsh prayer but a desperate plea. As much as I might not feel like I have a physical home to return to, I’ve always had her. She’s my home base.
With my sisters scattered, I’d be even more untethered without Aunt Trudy.
And what about Simon?
Slowly, I rise from the plastic chair and lean over Aunt Trudy, placing a kiss on her forehead.
Guilt slams into me. I should have visited her more often. I should have told her more things. How I felt about her. How important she is to me. How I selfishly still need her, need to know she’s still here for me.
Stone steps to the side when I push back my chair, allowing me to step in front of him.
He picks up the duffel bag I hastily packed and dropped as soon as I entered the hospital room.
He places his hand on my lower back, much like he did earlier, allowing the heat to seep into my skin, which I hadn’t realized was so cold.
With the gentle pressure at the base of my spine, he guides me out of the ICU and down the quiet hospital hallway to an exit.
When we reach his sheriff’s truck, he opens the passenger side door for me and holds out his hand to help me up.
Ignoring his offer, I reach for the bar on the edge of the door frame and hoist myself into the passenger seat.
When he shuts the door, my pulse begins to throb as I spy all the equipment between the seats and a computer screen attached to the dashboard.
I swore I’d never be in a cop car again.
Like the one where they put my sisters and me, huddled together in the backseat, clinging to one another, uncertain what was happening to us or where they were taking our mama, who was placed in another car, separated from us.
I shiver at the memory and flinch when Stone slams his door after taking the driver’s seat.
“Sorry,” he mutters, noting the jolt in my body. He adjusts in his seat, presses the ignition button, and turns on the heat, although it’s still the middle of August.
“It’s too warm for heat,” I comment.
“I know, but you’re trembling.”
Glancing down at my fisted hands, I straighten my fingers to find them shaking. I slip them underneath my thighs as if that will stop the tremor.
“Where to?” he asks, all reserved and business-like. Like I’m any other person he’d give a ride.
I shouldn’t be thinking about how he kissed me once upon a Tennessee evening. Nor how much I could really use a hug, and I remember his hands being strong and his arms solid.
Swallowing, I stare out the windshield. “I guess take me to Trudy’s, please.”
I catch Stone’s nod in my peripheral vision, and he reverses out of the parking spot. We spend the next half-hour in silence, letting the hum of his tires on asphalt be the soundtrack in this truck.
When we arrive at Aunt Trudy’s, he cuts the engine, and before I even reach for the handle, he’s around the front of the truck and popping open my door. He grabs my duffel from the back.
I could argue that he doesn’t need to walk me in. The distance is only a few feet, but I don’t have the energy. I fumble through my oversized tote for the beaded keyring that has actual car keys needed for Gloria and a single house key.
Pulling the screen door forward, Stone props it open with his body, while I fumble with the house key. My fingers are still shaking.
Eventually, he covers my hand with his and guides the key into the lock. With his hand over mine, he twists, forcing the key to turn and pop open the front door.
“Appreciate the—What the heck?” As I’m thanking him for the ride, he follows me into the house. “Just what the hell are you doing?”
Without an ounce of chagrin, he states, “I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”
Crossing my arms, I glare at him in the dark entryway. “What if I want to be alone?”
“Then I’ll sit in another room, but I’m not leaving.”
“You can’t sit in another room.”
What’s he planning to do, spend the night in a chair?
Ignoring my statement, he turns to close the front door and flip on the hallway lights, appearing rather familiar with Trudy’s home.
The layout is simple. The entryway is a short hall with the small, square kitchen to the left. The hallway ends in the living room, which is long and narrow. Another hall leads off the living room to two bedrooms and one bathroom.
Pretending as if Stone isn’t present, I make my way to the linen closet and return to the living room, where Stone has taken a seat on the couch.
“You’re on my bed,” I snap.
He glances left, then, right before looking up at me. “You sleep here?”
“Sofa city. Trudy only has two bedrooms. Simon’s and hers.
” She’d bought the smaller place because it would have less space to keep clean.
Plus, she expected visitors in that extra bedroom, not a permanent resident.
She would never begrudge Simon’s presence.
She loves him, but I’ve sensed her struggles when we’ve spoken on the phone.
She’s already raised children. In her retirement from foster care, she took on a second career as a real estate agent. She loves finding new homes for people.
Stone stares at me for a long minute. Those blue eyes remind me of my recent visit to Montana, and he gives me a puzzled look before he hefts himself off the couch and enters the kitchen.
While I fling the sheet over the cushions and cover a bed pillow with a silky case, I hear Stone rustling around in the kitchen.
“Don’t even think about stealing Trudy’s food,” I holler, like he’s conducting a jewelry heist in the other room.
When the couch is made up, I sit heavily and tip back my head, staring at the ceiling. Sensing Stone’s approach, I glance at him.
With a plate in hand, he says, “I made you a sandwich. Turkey on wheat. It’s all she had.”
I stare at the dish. Aunt Trudy’s trusty 1970s Corelle. A white dish with a gold floral pattern around the rim. Then I take in the sandwich. Brown bread. White meat, neatly folded between the slices. Beside the sandwich are apple slices. He holds a can of cola in his other hand.
And I burst into tears.
What is with all this emotion?
Covering my face, I pitch forward, bracing my elbows on my knees. Stone is suddenly sitting beside me, hand cupping the back of my neck, and I tip into him. He wraps his arm around my back and the other around my front, pulling me tighter into his side.
I’m typically not a crier, so I don’t know what’s come over me.
I allow myself a moment in the strength of his arms and the press of his forehead into the back of my head before I hastily swipe at my cheeks and straighten. Instantly, I miss the warmth of him holding me, but that’s not why he’s here.
“You haven’t eaten all day. Take a bite.” He picks up the plate he’d set on the floor and holds the sandwich toward me.
“Thank you,” I whisper as my throat feels too raw and my tongue too thick. The first bite is like an explosion in my mouth. He’s right. I haven’t eaten all day, which makes me snippy when he doesn’t deserve my hangry tone. Of course, he wasn’t stealing Trudy’s food.
While I hold the sandwich, he sets the plate on his thigh and reaches for the soda can with his other hand. Popping the tab, a sharp hiss fills the room. I’m not a big soda drinker, but I take the can he offers me.
“You need a little sugar to settle the nerves.”
Seems counterintuitive to calm the jitters, but I don’t argue. Instead, I take a sip and set the can on the floor near my feet.
“Another bite,” Stone softly commands, and I take a second one while he watches me.
“Why haven’t you asked how I’m doing?” I question for some reason.
“Because I’m assuming from the shakes, you’re still in a state of shock, resulting from lack of food and decent sleep, and the struggle to process what Trudy’s heart attack means. What it could have meant.” He pauses for effect.
We both have the same thought. Trudy could have died today.
“But you tell me if I’m wrong. How are you holding up?”
Befuddled by his accurate assessment and observation of me, I don’t respond. Then I remember his position. His career. He probably deals with this kind of thing all the time. The shock. The loss.
Only I didn’t lose today. Trudy is still here.
“What happened?” I whisper, like I haven’t already heard the particulars from Judd and then the doctors. Several thoughts slam together at once before he can answer my rather rhetorical question.
“I should have been here. She should not be raising Simon on her own. She’s growing older. She needs to take better care of herself. I should be taking care of her.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down.” His hand swipes up my back again, and he gently squeezes the nape of my neck.
I bristle, but not for the reasons he must think, and he instantly removes his hand. His touch was firm yet tender. The heat of his palm caused me to shiver again. And I wish he’d put it back on me.
Instead, I take another sip of soda.
“I don’t think any one thing, nor a single person, is to blame for Trudy’s genetics. Heart attacks happen.”
Stone speaks like Aunt Trudy simply tripped when the doctor explained how Trudy has been having heart issues for years.
She’s never mentioned it to me. Had Sedona known?
What about Jolene? Neither of them ever said anything about Trudy’s health the last time I talked to them.
Then again, between the three of us, I’m the closest to Trudy.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” I whisper, more to myself than Stone.
“Because that’s not who Trudy is. She doesn’t want people to worry about her. She doesn’t want anyone to make a fuss.” His voice is gentle, a smile in the corners of what he’s saying. He knows my aunt well. She’s someone who cares about others, but apparently isn’t taking care of herself.
I snort and take another bite of the sandwich. I’m not certain turkey on whole wheat has ever tasted so good. When I eat an apple slice, I’m suddenly full and sleepy. I should shower, but my limbs feel too weak to bother.
I pick up the other half of my sandwich and push it toward him. “Here . . . you should eat too.”
He glances at it, then at me, those blue beams of his eyes catching mine. For a second, he studies me, like he’s noticing something new.
I shiver again at the intensity. At how deeply it seems this man observes me, sees something in me. The sensation from the night we first met tickles over my skin. Like he is different. Special, even.
“Thanks,” he says, voice low, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He lifts the sandwich carefully, as if the gesture matters more than the food itself.
While he eats the remainder of the sandwich, I settle back against the couch, letting the quiet linger, small and comforting.
Thinking this is how having a home might feel.