Chapter 44
Evie
I’m whistling as I enter the lobby of Sunny Days, twirling my employee badge around on the lanyard wound around my wrist.
Nancy, one of my favorite residents, pauses by the front desk. Lifting an arm from her walker, she beckons me closer for a hug.
I lean into her embrace, squeezing her tight. “Morning, Nancy.”
“Morning, sweetheart. You look mighty happy this morning.” She looks me over.
“And very stylish.” I’m wearing my favorite pair of scrubs today; they have little pens and notebooks all over them.
They were a gift from Brandon when I started working here.
About a week after I left Brandon’s practice, a nurse’s aide position opened up at Sunny Days.
When Grandma learned about it, she applied on my behalf.
By the time I found out, all I needed to do was show up for the interview.
I was employed within the week—as if God had orchestrated it all Himself.
“Oh, I’m very happy,” I gush, glancing down the corridor.
“Any particular reason?”
“It’s my birthday.” Grandma thinks I don’t know about the surprise birthday party she’s planned for me. But I opened one of her packages recently—just trying to be helpful—and found some streamers and party balloons.
Nancy gives me an adorably toothy smile, deepening the laugh lines around her bright blue eyes. “Only you would be happy to work on your birthday.”
“What can I say?” I drop an arm to her waist and guide her in the direction of the dining hall. “I love my residents. And the people I work with.” I wave at the daytime receptionist, Jacie, as we pass by the front desk. She winks.
We stop at an occupied table in the center of the bustling dining room. “Well, we love you, too. Don’t we, gentlemen?” Nancy comments.
Her gentlemen friends all nod in agreement.
I’m about to pull Nancy’s chair out and help her into her seat, but two of her table mates spring from their chairs and argue for the honor of assisting her.
She’s a heartbreaker, this one.
When we’re done catching up, I skip toward Grandma’s apartment.
Before my surgery, skipping would have been out of the question.
This very job would have been out of the question.
There were a couple of times when I thought I might have had to resign.
Fortunately, everything worked out. And, praise Jesus, I’ve been pain-free for the past eight months.
After my appointment with the neurologist about a year ago, I learned that I do have spina bifida occulta—no surprise there.
However, what was surprising was learning that that wasn’t necessarily the culprit of my chronic back pain.
My MRI revealed I had a tethered spinal cord.
Fortunately, the surgery to get it fixed was a success.
Looking back, I don’t regret a thing. The pain was a blessing in disguise. It brought me closer to Jesus, forcing me to my knees in prayer in search of answers I thought I would never find.
But I also acknowledge that I’m one of the fortunate ones. Many people live with chronic pain and never find the answers they’re looking for. That knowledge renewed my zeal for caregiving. Well, I never lost my zeal for it, but the pain made it impossible to enjoy some days.
All of that is behind me now. These days, I can focus on taking care of my residents during the day and studying for my nursing degree at night. When I graduate, I plan on returning to Dad’s home care agency as a skilled nurse.
I slow down as I approach Grandma’s door and press my ear against the wood. Mindless chatter greets me from the other side.
Just as I suspected.
I knock twice. “Grandma?”
“Come in!”
Pushing the door open, my entire family rushes forward, shouting “Surprise!” in unison.
Lifting my hands to my cheeks, I feign surprise. “Wow . . .”
Grandma pauses. Grimaces. Drops her hands to her growing hips. “You knew, didn’t you?”
“Since Friday,” I admit, grinning sheepishly. Grandma harrumphs.
Jamie runs up and blows a party horn in my face. Smacking it away, I scan the room, searching for the one person I was most looking forward to seeing today.
The gang’s all here. Grandma, Dad, Francine, Jamie, Rebecka, Isabelle, Hope, Adam, Penelope, Abi, Phil, Davy, Matty, Mitch, a few of my cousins, and . . . no Brandon.
My heart falls.
How could he not be here? He knows how important my twenty-seventh birthday is to me.
After all, it’s my first official year as a Victorian spinster with no money and no prospects.
I am now officially a burden to my parents, whom I’m still living with because they have been nothing short of gracious to me as I pay for school and save money for my upcoming trip to Europe.
Although, I was also kind of hoping it would be my last year as a spinster. But where’s my one-and-only prospect? The year I promised to spend “away” from Brandon is almost up, and yet he’s nowhere to be found.
I don’t have time to dwell on the disappointment, though, because Dad is currently shoving a giant box into my hands. “Open mine and Francine’s first.”
I tear into the wrapping, eager to see what’s inside.
It’s a . . . doll? I squint and take a closer look.
Yes, it’s a fabric doll. She’s got long chestnut brown hair and matching brown eyes.
She’s wearing a black dress with fishnet tights and combat boots—and she’s making the peace sign.
I laugh out loud and hold the doll up for everyone to see. “Is this supposed to be . . . me?”
Dad and Francine exchange a wary look as the room grows uncomfortably silent. Jamie is stifling laughter behind his closed fist.
Scratching his neck, Dad shrugs. “Well, you always liked dolls and stuffed animals growing up. I don’t know.” He blushes. “I thought you’d like it.”
The gift doesn’t seem all that silly anymore. Rushing forward, I throw my arms around him. “I love it, Dad. Thank you.”
Francine embraces me next, whispering low in my ear. “Don’t worry. Your real gift is inside your card.” She pulls back, offers a wink, and steps away.
None of the other gifts I receive are quite as weird or as touching, but they’re wonderful all the same.
Grandma got me a Polaroid camera, and Jamie and Rebecka got me a scrapbook.
Adam’s home group put their heads together to get me some pens, notebooks, and some stationery with the Eiffel Tower on it.
“So you can write to us about all your adventures,” Adam clarifies when I hold the gift up for everyone to see.
When the party’s over, Adam lingers to help me and Grandma with the clean up. He grins when we almost bump into one another while throwing some streamers away.
“Sorry,” he says.
I face him. “Adam.”
Tucking his hands into his pockets, he mocks my serious expression. “Evie.”
“You really don’t have to stick around.”
He laughs. “I know.”
My brows scrunch. “Okay, so . . .” Playfully, I wave him off. “Bye.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”
I glance at Grandma, who is most definitely eavesdropping as she pretends to tidy up her kitchenette. “Okay. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to thank you.”
A shrill, incredulous noise slips past my tongue. “Thank me? For what?”
He shrugs. “I took your advice.”
“My advice?”
He rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Evie. Keep up. Penelope?”
“Oh, yeah!” Penelope—the newest addition to our Bible study group.
I could tell she was smitten with Adam from the moment we went to McDonald’s together that first time.
Like most men, Adam seemed clueless. I had to point out her crush and speak in very plain language about what I thought he should do about it. Ask her out, you dimwit!
“We’re going on our first date this Friday,” he says shyly. “I’m super excited.”
Relief blooms in my chest. I’ve wanted nothing more than to see him happy and settled with a woman he adores. A woman who’s good for him. “Took you long enough to ask her out,” I joke. It’s been well over a year since they met.
“Well,” he says, then hesitates as he runs a streamer through his fingers. “I wanted to make sure that I was over you before asking her out. It wouldn’t have been fair to her otherwise.”
“Oh. Wow. That’s . . .” Noble. Commendable.
He grins. “Don’t worry. I have been for a while.
” He shrugs. “About that. I wanted you to know that I no longer blame you for what you did. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I’m glad you did it.
” He pauses, noting the shock on my face with a sad smile.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I wish you hadn’t done it the way you did, but there are worse ways to end an engagement. ”
I snort. “Probably. But I still suck for doing that.”
His brows rise and cheeks inflate like he’s holding his tongue. “My point is . . . I wouldn’t have wanted you to marry me just because you didn’t want to hurt me. I want the real thing . . . so you spared us both a lot of heartache.”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.
He laughs. “I forgive you, friend.”
My heart swells with gratitude. “Thank you.”
Once Adam is gone, I help Grandma polish off the cookies before getting back to work. Even though the party is long over, I keep stealing glances at the door, hoping Brandon will make a surprise appearance.
Grandma notices my preoccupation. “He’s not coming.”
“Why didn’t he come?” It’s a Saturday afternoon. Even if it’s his turn to have Teddy, they would have both been here to celebrate with me if they could have been. Teddy wouldn’t miss a birthday party of mine for the world.
Grandma shrugs. “Guess he didn’t want to be. I sent him an invitation, just like I did for everyone else. He never got back to me in the end.”
Hurt lances through me. I can’t believe he wouldn’t let Grandma know he had something else going on .
. . or me, for that matter. While Brandon and I don’t exactly “hang out” these days, we don’t go out of our way to avoid one another, either.
We talk on the phone and text all the time, and we still see each other every Sunday at church, where we smile and make small talk, pretending not to be the fools in love we really are.
So what gives?
Grandma shrugs again. “Guess you’ll have to talk to him about it.”
There’s a knock on the door, and my heart leaps before I realize it’s just Bert.
He sticks his head in, then ambles lazily into the room, a folded checkerboard tucked beneath his arm as he shuffles toward the kitchen table.
He’s lost a significant amount of weight since moving to Sunny Days about six months ago, thank goodness.
He’s doing well. He and Grandma both are.
Something tells me it has something to do with each other.
They’ve been suspiciously inseparable over the last few months . . .
“Bert,” I say, crossing my arms. “Fancy seeing you here.”
He whistles under his breath as he sets up the board. “Morning, Evie. Happy birthday.”
Grandma rushes to pour two mugs of coffee, and I take the not-so-subtle hint that she wants me to skedaddle. “Is there anything I can—”
“Nope,” Grandma interjects, winking at me. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
I’ve officially been dismissed. “Have fun, you two.”