Chapter 27
Life As We Know It
Heath will be back in a couple of days, and I wish the time would hurry the hell up.
The distance gets harder the longer he’s away, and my nerves unravel a little more with each passing day, spiraling tighter until I can barely breathe.
Thankfully, my conversation with his dad helped ease some of those worries, and I’m grateful he took the time to reassure me how much his son cares.
Betty was also a great distraction last night, and having Heath text me while I was getting myself off was the icing on the cake. Although nothing will ever compare to having him buried inside me, making me lose control the way only he can.
I can’t wait until this is all behind us and I’m no longer a nervous wreck. It can’t come soon enough, especially since Heath didn’t reach out this morning and my call went straight to voicemail. Good thing I have a very special mission to keep my mind off things for a few hours.
Florence’s bag arrived yesterday, so I’m taking it over to her before I open the shop. I rarely visit this early, but she won’t mind once she sees what I’ve brought her.
The wrapped box is tucked under my arm as I walk into Meadowbrook.
I’m practically giddy imagining her reaction when she opens it.
It should earn me at least a year of exclusive gossip, though, knowing Florence, she’ll expect another trinket the next time.
I might tease her about it, but I’ll happily bring her as many presents as she wants if it makes her happy.
I immediately sense something is off when I enter the lobby. There’s no classical music playing in the background, no cookies at the reception desk, and most importantly, Florence isn’t in her chair.
It’s still early, so maybe she slept in or took a nap before all the action starts.
I stride to her room with a bounce in my step, eager to find her. Her door is wide open, but I knock anyway.
“You in here, old bat?” I holler, stepping inside when I’m met with silence.
Since Florence is usually in the lobby, I rarely visit her here, so I take a moment to look around.
A corner curio cabinet is filled with shiny trinkets, and a large jewelry box sits on her dresser, with several dishes beside it for her overflowing collection of necklaces, rings, and bracelets.
There’s also a partially quilted pink blanket draped over the back of her armchair.
It brings a smile to my face knowing it’s for my little peanut.
I scrunch my nose, confused when I notice Florence’s bed has been stripped and her walker is parked nearby. She never goes anywhere without it, which sets off alarm bells ringing in my head.
“Hi there, are you lost?” A nursing aide I don’t recognize asks from the doorway.
My brows knit tightly. “No. I’m looking for Florence. Do you know where she is?”
Her expression softens with concern. “Uh… are you family?”
“Yeah,” I state.
“And no one called you?” she asks softly.
I shake my head, sighing in frustration. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but if you could tell me where Florence is, I can go find her myself. I brought her a special gift.” I nod to the box under my arm.
A somber look crosses the aide’s face, making me take a cautious step back.
“Why don’t we go to the administrator’s office and she can explain everything,” she suggests.
There are only two reasons staff defer families to the administrator, and in this case, it’s obviously not related to a late payment.
“Th-that’s okay,” I stutter, gripping the gift box tighter with shaky hands. “If you can just tell me where she is, I’ll be on my way. I’m sure she’s waiting for me to share the latest gossip, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.”
The aide steps closer, her eyes soft with empathy. “I’m so sorry, but Florence passed away last night. The administrator should have reached out to everyone on her emergency contact list, so I’m not sure why you weren’t notified.”
I blink, frozen in shock. “What? No, that can’t be right. I saw her a couple of days ago, and she was perfectly fine.”
My mind races as I think back to us sitting in the lobby, sipping iced tea and talking about baby names.
Her hip had been giving her trouble, but aside from that, she was in great spirits, teasing me that I’d better bring a better gift next time if I wanted to hear the latest scandal about a new resident who moved in this week.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss.” The aide’s voice sounds muffled as I stumble backward and sink into Florence’s armchair.
I sit there with the box clutched to my chest, vaguely aware of her walking out, leaving me alone in the empty room, the silence getting heavier by the second.
A part of me is convinced there’s been a big mistake, and Florence is going to barge in any minute asking why I’m sulking when I should be in the lobby with her, handing over her latest sparkly acquisition.
I lose all sense of time as I’m eventually pulled out of my shocked state by a pair of gentle hands covering mine.
“Charlie, honey.” Grams’s voice makes me lift my tear-filled eyes. “There you are. I was beginning to worry.”
“Is she really gone?” I choke out.
Grams nods, tears falling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. If I’d known you were coming, I would have been waiting in the lobby for you.”
As the fog lifts, I take in Grams’s appearance. Her usually neat, coiffed hair is down in a tangled mess, secured by a headband. Her eyes are swollen and red.
“What happened?” I whisper.
She sits on the edge of the chair beside me. “Florence wasn’t feeling well yesterday and said she was going to take a nap before dinner.” She briefly pauses, glancing at the empty bed. “When I checked on her a few hours later, she was gone.”
A fresh round of sobs wrack my body as Grams pulls me into her arms. She strokes my back and shares words of comfort.
“She didn’t finish the blanket,” I manage, barely able to get the words out.
“Oh, honey,” Grams replies, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I’ll finish it, I promise.”
“And she didn’t get to meet my baby,” I choke out, the heartbreaking truth crushing me all over again.
The realization plays on a loop like a tragically broken record, and I’m not sure how I’m going to survive this. Her absence is already a gaping hole that I’m not sure will ever mend.
“That doesn’t mean your little one won’t grow up hearing all about her great-aunt Florence and her love for gossip and beautiful shiny things. I’ll make sure of it,” Grams says with a wistful smile.
“Promise?” I hiccup.
“Cross my heart,” she vows, making an X over her chest.
That’s a small comfort, particularly because it means Grams will have to stick around for a long time if she’s going to keep her promise—and she’s never broken one yet.
Still, it doesn’t stop me from being swallowed by grief paired with a sharp sting of hurt slicing through me at being left in the dark. I think about how I was curled up in bed last night, laughing at an episode of Schitt’s Creek, totally oblivious that Florence had already passed across town.
I shudder at what would have happened if I’d gotten the news from a customer at the shop or while grabbing coffee if I hadn’t come straight here this morning.
“Why didn’t you call me?” I ask between shaky breaths.
“I wanted to tell you in person,” Grams admits. “And I didn’t want to put undue stress on you and the baby while you were home alone.”
My heart aches at the reminder that Heath is out of town. I’d give anything to have him with me. I’m not sure exactly when he became my person—the one I want by my side in sickness and in health, through every high and low—yet he’s not here when I need him most, and that cuts deep.
“You shouldn’t have to worry about me being a blubbering mess,” I manage to get out.
Grams laughs softly. “Don’t worry about me. Florence and I have been giving each other grief for years over who was going to kick the bucket first. I’m honestly shocked that she was first. I figured she’d stick around forever just to spite me.”
“How can you joke like that when your friend is dead?” My voice cracks at the end.
Grams looks at me with misty eyes. “If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry too.
One of us has to keep it together, and with those pregnancy hormones, it’s certainly not going to be you.
” She takes a deep breath and stands, holding out her hand.
“Come on. Let’s get you to my room, and you can lie down for a while. ”
I glance around Florence’s room, a lump forming in my throat at the sight of all the treasures she’s collected and left behind. I keep the wrapped gift tight to my chest, hoping that wherever Florence is, she somehow knows how much I love her.
With tear-filled eyes, I turn back to Grams and take her outstretched hand, forced to face the harsh reality that no matter how much I wish otherwise, Florence is never coming back.
A few hours later, I wake up in a daze in Grams’s bed. I sit, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and glance around the room. She isn’t here.
For a fleeting second, I wonder where she and Florence disappeared to, but then the painful truth crashes over me as I remember Florence is dead. That word is cold and final, tearing open the wound I prayed would remain numb.
I pick up my phone from the nightstand and call Heath again. I tried reaching him earlier, but it went straight to voicemail, like it is now, and the silence is deafening.
I know I have an incredible support system ready to rally around me, but right now, there’s only one person I want to talk to.
I need Heath.
He’s shown up for me in every way that counts these past few months, from the big moments to the seemingly unimportant ones. So where the hell is he when I need him more than ever?
My breathing becomes uneven, and I’m desperate for fresh air.
I leave Grams’s room and head for the exit, biting my lip to keep from crying as I pass through the lobby, unable to look at Florence’s now-vacant chair.
The weather matches my mood—cloudy skies and a light drizzle. Droplets cling to my hair and lashes as I wrap my arms around myself, hugging tight against the chill in the air and struggling to keep it together.
Goose bumps rise on the back of my neck, and I sense I’m being watched.
I whip my head toward the parking lot, and a sob rises in my throat when I find Heath striding toward me, eyes fixed on me.
I don’t think twice before running toward him.
He opens his arms, taking me in his embrace as the tears start to flow.
“I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs.
I tilt my head. “You know?”
He rubs my back in slow circles. “Grams wanted me to be here when she told you. I drove through the night and accidentally left my charging cable at the cabin so I couldn’t check in sooner.
When you weren’t at the apartment, I assumed you were already here,” he explains, his voice heavy with regret.
It eases the knot in my chest, knowing he wasn’t deliberately ignoring my calls and that he rushed to get back, understanding how much I would need him here.
“Florence is gone, and she’s not coming back,” I cry into his chest.
Heath runs a hand through my hair. “I know, hellcat, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
I appreciate that he doesn’t try to calm me down or fix things. He simply holds me close while my tears soak his shirt. After a few minutes, the rain picks up, so he scoops me into his arms and carries me toward the parking lot.
“Where are we going?” I whisper between sniffles.
“Home.”
“What about Grams and my car?”
“I’ll call Walker to pick it up once we get home, and I’ll have Birdie and Briar come with him so they can keep your grandma company for a bit. I’m sure Ma will head over too, once she hears the news.” He opens the passenger door of his truck and sets me inside.
I’m stunned at how fast he’s come up with solutions for everything. He must be exhausted from driving all night, yet he’s stepped up in ways I never expected, and it melts the loneliness that had been weighing on me just moments ago.
I slide my hand along the stubble on Heath’s jaw. “Thank you for coming.”
“For you? Always,” he vows, kissing my temple.
The loss of Florence is crippling, but as Heath gets in the truck and pulls onto the road, the gentle hum of the engine lulls me back to sleep. I welcome the reprieve from the sharp ache settling in my bones, knowing I’ll be all right now that he’s here.