Chapter 24
Harlow
“How’s your throat, buddy?”
“It feels like I have rocks in there.” My poor little man. “Can I have another popsicle?”
“Of course.” Walking to the freezer, I open the door and lift the box. “Do you want cherry, orange, or grape?”
“Grape.”
“Hopefully by tomorrow, you’ll feel a lot better. The medicine usually works pretty fast.”
“Can we have pizza tomorrow?”
“I think we might want to hold off on that for a little longer.” Unwrapping the frozen treat, I place it in a bowl and put it in his lap. Alec takes a few licks before placing it back in the bowl, his eyes never leaving the cartoon he’s watching.
Knock, knock.
“That must be Grandma,” I say in a sing-song voice.
“It is,” she replies as the door swings wide.
“Thank you for coming here. I didn’t want to germ up your place.”
“I appreciate that. I’ll just stay in your guest room tonight.” Mom places some grocery bags on the kitchen counter and starts to unpack.
“Whatcha got there?” I ask, peering into her reusable sacks.
“All the stuff I used to make for you when you were sick. Grilled cheese, chicken noodle soup, Jello, and lime sherbet.”
“Anything else?” I cross my arms over my chest, knowing she’s leaving something out.
“Like what?” I can tell she’s trying not to smile. But she’s so transparent.
Skirting around her, I lift one of the bags and shake. Peeking inside, I see them.
“Alec, Grandma’s here. And she brought you all sorts of goodies.”
Finally breaking away from his show, he sees Mom and comes closer. “Mom said I should wait and hug you tomorrow. After I’m better,” Alec says, his voice all raspy like a young coed back from her first Taylor Swift concert.
“Grandma is going to make you and Justin grilled cheese for dinner. We have frozen treats for dessert, and something to take your mind off of feeling bad.”
Alec reaches inside, retrieving a ten pack of Matchbox cars. His eyes light up for the first time since the school sent him home. “Thanks, Grandma!” My mom had always included some type of fun surprise to lift my spirits when I was sick. Whether it was Mad Libs or a new coloring book, I could always count on her to make me feel better.
Alec scurries off to his room, excited to let his cars join the elaborate city he’s developed, complete with a firehouse, gas station, police station, and a hospital. He just needs a year round Christmas tree in the town center and he has a mini Candy Cane Key on his hands.
“And that’s the last they ever saw of him.”
My mother giggles. “Do you think he’ll ever outgrow them?”
“I hope not. At least they’re inexpensive. Even if you can’t walk in his room.”
“Eventually, they grow up and want bigger toys.”
Is she referring to Justin or her boyfriend? My mother finally filed for divorce when I got pregnant with Justin. I think she wanted to ensure her grandchildren were loved unconditionally. Not when it was convenient. I’ll never understand why she allowed my dad to swing in and out of her life like a pendulum for so long. But once she put her foot down and said he needed to decide if he was in or out, he chose out.
My heart hurt for her, but she shouldn’t have been surprised. And it was about time. She should’ve done it years before. Once the divorce was final, suddenly men were expressing interest. My mother is beautiful and still had a lot of love to offer the right partner.
I was happy for her, even if it was hard to keep up for a while. I mean, it felt like that line from the nursery rhyme, The Butcher, The Baker, The Candlestick Maker. Finally, she chose Mark, a widower, who was a deacon at her church. He seems like a nice enough guy, but I’m not certain he’ll ever marry again. But after all my mother went through with Dad, I’m not sure she will either.
“Mark picked me up for dinner the other night in a brand new Mercedes Benz.” She enunciates each syllable.
“Well, well. Hanging out with the high rollers now, are you?” I laugh. I’m happy for Mom. It’s never too late for Grandma to get her groove back.
“Okay, I’m going to run. I want to check in on someone before my shift starts.” I give my mother a peck on the cheek before grabbing my keys. “Thanks to your quick thinking, you probably won’t see hide nor hair of Alec all day.”
“Bye, dear. Be careful coming home.” I shake my head. Moms. We’re all the same. Never stop worrying about our kids. I carry a weapon in the National Guard. But she’s worried about my ten-minute drive in the dark coming home on a four-lane highway.
I arrived at room 210 before the start of my shift, only to discover Carolyn had been moved to the rehabilitation center attached to Candy Cane Key Medical Center. Luckily, the nurse working was the same one who cared for Carolyn yesterday. She remembered seeing me and provided her new room number.
Reaching her door, I peer in, surprised to find Carolyn all alone in her room. I was certain Harrison would be here, keeping watch like a sentry. But then again, he’d said he might return to Miami once she was placed in rehab.
I gently knock on the door and watch as Carolyn’s eyes open. Looking in my direction, she wears a similar blank expression to those I’ve noticed at her house. I’m unsure if she’s taking any medication for her pain or to calm her anxiety about being somewhere new. Either way, I’m surprised to find her all alone. Noting the Posey bed alarm attached to her bed, I conclude this is why. But I’d still hate to see her fall, attempting to climb out of bed. She’s already proven to be a fall risk.
Approaching her cautiously, I take a seat beside her bed. “Hi. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Harlow. I haven’t been by to see you for a while with Harrison traveling more for his job.” I fiddle with my fingers nervously. She probably thinks I work here, given my scrubs. “I heard you’d taken a fall and wanted to check on you.”
More blank stares. This feels silly. I don’t have a relationship with this woman as Joyce and Harrison do. But she still deserves to have people visit. Share their time. Right?
My eyes land on her hand and my brows pinch together. I’m certain the times I’ve seen her that her nails were painted. Red. Reaching out, I run the pads of my fingers over her bare nails. “You like red. Don’t you, Carolyn?”
My mind wanders back to the beautiful redhead I’d seen with Harrison in the bar. The same one who visited him in the ER the day he fell. Why had I never inquired about her? Had Harrison’s friend painted Carolyn’s nails red?
Reaching into my bag, I feel around blindly in the bottom of my tote. I swear I remember putting a bottle in here. “Yes,” I blurt as I bring the bright red nail polish up to eye level. “Would you like me to paint your nails?”
Again, blank stare. “Is that a yes?” Should I go ahead? I guess if she doesn’t hold still, I’ll stop.
Leaning toward her bedside table, I retrieve a few tissues. Once I’ve lowered the bed railing, I carefully place her hand on a Kleenex before opening the small bottle. I purse my lips, carefully applying the bright glossy finish to her index finger. Her nails are so small. It barely takes more than one swipe to cover it completely, two at most. I’m shocked how still she’s sitting, letting me paint each nail with care.
My last visit to see her had left me with mixed emotions. While she seemed to be doing better than I’d expected to find her, Harrison was not. I tried to remind myself that he’s been overwhelmed with guilt over not being here for her now that he’s been sent to work on a project in Miami. But the way he flinched when I tried to comfort him was jarring.
He’d tried to warn me of his baggage. In retrospect, even being a single mother to two high-energy young boys was no comparison to what he was dealing with. Ex-husbands along for the ride or not.
When Joyce had shared about meeting their neighbor, Tom, who volunteered with the fire department and offered assistance if they needed it, I’d instantly felt grateful that she and Carolyn had someone so capable close by. So, I could only imagine Harrison must feel the same.
“Look at that,” I say after the first hand is complete. “Fire engine red.” I giggle. “Red definitely suits you.” Standing from where I was sitting in an uncomfortable bedside chair, I move to the other side of the bed. This time, I perch precariously on the edge and repeat the process with the tissue before re-opening the little bottle to adorn her remaining fingers. Again, I manage to apply the polish with ease. Until I get to her pinky.
“Harry.”
My hand freezes. Is he here? I haven’t heard from him since last night when he seemed to pull away. I’d gotten so caught up in Carolyn’s nails, I hadn’t thought to prepare myself for whatever mood he might be in today. Had he been talking to a nurse in the hallway behind me? Maybe it’s the redhead. Why am I so nervous? I’m not doing anything wrong. I mean, Carolyn likes red nails. Was this their thing? Just because she’s a redhead doesn’t mean she owns all the red nails.
Gah, I’m losing it.
Biting down on my lip, I carefully glance over my shoulder. But there’s no one there. Had he seen me here and left?
“Harry.”
My head spins so fast, I nearly fall off of the bed.
“Harry loves you.”
I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth. Oh my gosh. Is this really happening? I’m so awestruck, I don’t even consider whether or not I have a fire engine red mustache now. “I… I love him too.”
Her eyes are clear. Bright blue. Not blank like before. Looking closer, I realize her eyes look nothing like her son. Wow, none of them look a thing alike.
Carolyn gives me a small smile, and I have to look away to keep from smearing her polish if these tears start to fall. I try to look down, paint the last remaining nail, but it’s useless. Even if I don’t cry all over her, my hands won’t stop shaking.
“You should be so proud. Of the man you raised. He’s so smart and caring. He works so—”
I stop when I look back up, discovering Carolyn’s eyes are closed, her breaths even.
Did that really happen? Or had I dreamt the whole thing? My head drops forward, questioning my sanity. Until I glance at my watch and realize I’m going to be late to work. I quickly close the bottle, stand, tuck it into my tote, and bend to give Carolyn a quick kiss on her forehead before rushing back to the ER.
But as I walk, I continue to question. Had I imagined that? Was it wishful thinking? In my wildest dreams of Harrison, Carolyn has never made an appearance. Even after the night she came to his door. My first inclination is to call him. Share with him that she spoke to me. Yet, while I’m certain he’d want to know she spoke, I’m not so sure he’d want to hear what she said. And I’d never want to embarrass him by repeating it.
Even if he does love me.