Chapter Twenty #2
Ezekiel guided Nora to the couch and rocked her side to side as she finished crying.
Even Tristan joined the comforting, butting against her side and worming his way underneath the arm pressed against Ezekiel.
By the time she’d regained control of herself, Ezekiel’s coat front was wet and—to her mortification—snotty.
Tristan had curled into the spot where her and Ezekiel’s legs brushed together, the cat’s purrs a soothing rhythmic rumble.
Nora blew her nose with her own handkerchief, then accepted Ezekiel’s to dry her tears.
After such an intense cry, her eyes must be puffy and bloodshot and her nose red.
If this monstrous face didn’t scare Ezekiel off, then maybe he was a worthy suitor.
When she’d sufficiently settled, he brushed loose strands of hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry for the lie, but I thought you might do better without her useless words.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was thick and hoarse all at the same time.
“I’ll have her bring some water when she returns. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“You’re not going to ask why I so completely lost control?”
“There is no need to explain. Whatever news you received, I’m right here with you. I can even be silent if you need me to be.”
She chuckled and sniffed. “For what? Two minutes?”
“For you, I can stretch it to three.”
The laugh helped to shake loose some of the shock.
She did need a few minutes to gather herself and to think.
If this was to be her last visit with Mum, and a shortened one at that, she needed to think through what she would say, what she needed to ask.
“Do you think you can push it to four, maybe five minutes?”
“With God’s help, absolutely.” He pulled her against his side again.
Tristan’s silky fur slid between her fingers as she absently stroked his back.
What did one say to their mum knowing it was likely the last conversation they would ever have?
There would never be enough words to adequately communicate her love or desire for Mum to heal and come home.
And what about this man holding Nora and showing her a depth of care and friendship she’d never felt before?
Her friendship with the Guardians was no less precious, but this was different.
He made it different. Made her different.
Should her last conversation be asking Mum how she knew Father was the man for her?
Because right now, Nora wouldn’t mind becoming the Donna Anna to Ezekiel’s Don Ottavio.
But then there was the trouble of Katherine Yates.
Who was she? Was her story fact instead of fiction?
What would she most regret not saying?
“Ezekiel?”
He looked down at her with one corner of his mouth tipped upward. “Yes, Nora?”
An underlying purr at the use of his given name undergirded his words, but she couldn’t muster the same pleasure. “If this is to be my last conversation with Mum, what do I say?” Silent tears escaped down her face once more.
His eyes widened, then darkened with understanding. “They’re forbidding your visits.”
She nodded, unable to voice all that meant.
A grief that nearly matched her own carried his words on the back of a heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t rush into an answer but brushed away her tears as he thought it through with a troubled expression.
Of all the people she knew, only he understood the weight of her question, and it showed in the shared tender brokenness glistening in his eyes.
When he spoke, it was in low, aching tones.
“When I thought I’d lost Ma, there were so many things I wished I’d told her.
Hold on a little longer. Keep fighting. Don’t ever doubt I love you, want you, and need you in my life.
I wished that I had prayed with her, hugged her longer, and kissed her cheek.
But the hard truth is, it will never be enough.
I will always wish for more time. More conversations.
” He was quiet for a moment. “Tell her you love her and say whatever comes to mind. There’s nothing else you can do.
Don’t waste precious time rehearsing what you’ll say. ”
Nora drew a shaky breath and laid her head on his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for this, so I guess we best tell Nurse Abbott to get our mums.”
He squeezed her in a side hug, and she’d swear he kissed the top of her head. “Hold Tristan so he doesn’t dart out the door while I notify her.”
Tristan didn’t protest too loudly when she cradled him in her arms, but his plaintive yowl declared he expected a can of sardines as repayment for his kindness.
Ezekiel returned a few minutes later with water and a damp rag. “I thought you might like to wipe your face before your ma comes. You’ll always be beautiful to me, but it is obvious you’ve been crying.”
“Trying to charm me while saying I look awful?” She accepted the rag, and the coolness felt good against the heat of her puffy face.
“Not awful, just heartbroken, and there’s nothing wrong with showing it. Hiding your pain and thoughts doesn’t make you a stronger person. It makes life lonelier to walk through.”
“Would you mind to play the piano while Mum and I talk? I haven’t decided what to say, but I’d like a veil of privacy from Nurse Abbott.”
“It would be my honor. Maybe I can even get Ma to help me.” His wan smile reminded her of his own grief.
He was a good man to comfort her while contending with his own troubles. She squeezed his hand. “I pray it will spark something in her and be the start of healing.”
“Thank you. I’ll be praying it as well.”
They continued to sit there, silent companions upon a sea of grief, buoying one another in the face of certain loss.