"What do you mean 'kind of'?"
"The ladies and I went out to the throwback night at the roller disco a few weeks back. Only, we all found out that quite a few of us can't disco anymore. We especially can't roller. You put them together, and… let's just say, I was doing just fine with shaking my booty and doing the hustle, but Alice did not find herself in Boogie Wonderland."
"Let's not say that, ever again. What happened?"
"We all ended up in one big pile in the middle of the roller rink floor. Problem was we were all wearing so many sequins, and they had just put down the disco ball, so we were shining like Glory. The little teeny-boppers they have working out there couldn't figure out where one of us ended and the other one started, so we got even more tangled, and ended up sprawled out there for almost half an hour."
I recall the image of Fiona sprawled out on her bedroom floor and try not to think about the tight little peaks of her nipples in the soft cups of her bra or the curve of her sweet ass beneath her black panties.
Come on, Cade. Back to reality.
"And that's how you broke your ankle?"
"Well, not exactly. We finally got undone, but by the time I made it home, I was just as stiff as Rupert's pants when I got a new can of starch. I tried to get up the stairs, but the banister wiggled and threw me off-balance, and I ended up skidding my way down. It was just like Mexico."
"And that's when you broke your ankle."
"Well…"
"Grammie, did you even hurt your ankle?"
"Yes," she insists. "I twisted it like nobody's business."
"Twisted it?" I ask.
"Yes. Hurt like a bitch, too. So, I thought about Fiona. I had really missed the two of you. I don't see either one of you nearly often enough, even with our lunches. So, I called her to come and take care of me so I could spend some extra time with her. And you have to admit, the house legitimately needs repairs. I was going to hire you anyway, I just figured I would coordinate it with when Fiona was going to be here, so I could see both of you at the same time, and maybe the two of you could see each other."
For a second, I'm not sure how to react. Then I feel the tingling in the corners of my mouth again and start to laugh. I knew this couldn't possibly be what it seemed. Grammie isn't the kind of woman to be taken out by a set of stairs. There had to be more to it, and now I know for sure.
"You could have just told me," I say. "You know I'd never let you hire me to do any repairs. I'd never charge you to do any of this stuff. Besides, I'm happy to see you and to be back here after so long. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. And anything I can do for you, I want to do. It's the least I can do after everything you and Gramps did for me. Without the two of you, I wouldn't have any of the skills or knowledge I have, and I wouldn't be able to be where I am now."
"And Fiona?"
"I don't know. I don't think she's ready to see me. It doesn't really matter how I feel about it."
"But you do feel," she says. "You feel a lot."
She's looking at me in that knowing way she always does, but it won’t work. Not this time. I know Fiona never told her what happened between us. Even over the years when I've stayed in touch with Grammie, and seen her, we've never talked about why Fiona and I went our separate ways. I don't feel like it's my story to tell. If Fiona ever wants Rose to know, she'll know. Beyond that, she'll just have to settle with knowing that things didn't work out between us.
"You've got to take it easier on Fiona," I say.
"You're not going to tell her, are you? She's going through something right now. I don't know what it is, but I'm worried about her. When I realized my ankle wasn't badly hurt, I wasn't sure I would even ask her to help me. But then I talked with her on the phone, and she just sounded so lost. I thought coming out here would be a good opportunity for her to take a break, and maybe reevaluate some things in her life."
This confirms many of my own suspicions about Fiona, and I shake my head.
"I'm not going to tell her," I say. "Frankly, I think it's funny as hell you've convinced her that you’ve become some feeble old woman. But you have to promise me you're going to go easier on her."
"I will," she says. "To be honest with you, I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to keep this up, anyway. There is only but so many times I can watch the same episodes of Unsolved Mysteries and count the stitches in my blankets. I am bored out of my mind just laying around here. I might have to have a miraculous recovery soon. I'm only holding off because I don't want her to go home just yet."
"I'm sure you'll figure out something," I say. I start toward the door, then turn around to face her. "And I recommend you check your boot. I think it might be on the opposite leg from when we first got here."
"Damn. I told myself it was the other one that had been hurting. But what do I know?"
"Where did you even get the boot?"
"A friend of mine is dating a doctor. He had one sitting around."
I chuckle at her and walk out of the room, closing the door behind me to give her the chance to swap her boot without getting caught. Still smiling, I walk out of the house and toward my truck. From the back of the house, I can hear Jace is still chopping his way through the pile of wood. Some of it I'll use for some building projects, and the rest I'll put aside for Grammie to burn in her fireplace for the winter. I briefly question my decision to leave him here, but then remember the way Fiona looked at me from the floor.
She won't be coming out of that room any time soon.
* * *
The next morning…
I have just finished breakfast, and I am planning on doing a few things around the house before Jace shows up for the day, when I hear the screaming of a siren in the distance. The sound gets louder, and I walk out onto the front porch just in time to see an ambulance speed up the drive and skid into place in front of the house. Fiona comes running down the stairs and out onto the porch with me.
"What the hell is going on?" she asks. "What's happening?"
I look at her, realizing she is still in her pajamas, her hair tousled from sleep. I shake my head.
"I don't know," I admit. “I wish I did.”
The doors to the ambulance open and two men rush out. They run around to the back and open the double doors, pulling out a stretcher.
"What's going on?" Fiona demands as they run past us and up the stairs.
Fiona looks at me frantically and turns to chase after them. By the time we get to the top of the stairs, the two men are helping Grammie up onto the stretcher. She meets my eyes as she settles back and one of the men straps her down.
What is she up to now?
"Grammie," Fiona gasps. "What's happening? What's wrong?"
The older of the two men steps away from the stretcher, approaching Fiona.
"I'm a doctor," he says. "I heard from your grandmother early this morning that she isn't recovering. This is very concerning. I think we can both agree that Rose's advanced age puts her at serious risk."
I see Grammie's eyes slide over to the man in disdain, and bite back a laugh.
"But why are you here? Where are you taking her?" Fiona asks.
"I believe she needs additional care in a specialized environment. I'm going to bring her to the rehab center and start an intensive program with her. There is truly no time to waste."
"I'll help," I offer.
Now that Grammie is strapped to the stretcher, there isn't any place to go but down the stairs, and by the looks of the doctor, I don't have much trust in his ability to carry Grammie at that angle, even with help from his younger accomplice.
"I'm going to be fine," Grammie reassures Fiona as we roll her out of the room. "Don't you worry. I'm going to be in the best hands, and I'll be all better before you know it."
"She's right," the doctor says. "We'll get her into the center, and she'll come back better than ever."
I help the men get the stretcher down the stairs and out to the ambulance. We push her
up into the back, and I climb up with her.
"What are you doing now?" I mutter to Grammie as I ensure she's securely in place.
"Don't you say a word, Cade Sawyer," she snaps. "You promised."
Before I can say anything else, Fiona pushes her way into the ambulance and leans down beside Grammie.
"You be good," Grammie says. "Don't worry about me. This is for the best."
"We really have to be going," the doctor says nervously.
We back out of the ambulance and step back up onto the porch as both men climb into the ambulance and screech out into the distance. Fiona wraps her arms around herself and lets out a shuddering sigh.
"I can't believe this," she says. "I thought she was getting better."
"She's going to be fine," I say. "You heard the doctor. She's going to get treatment, and she'll come back better than ever. I'm sure he just wants to make sure she heals as fast as possible."
"People don't just get whisked away by an ambulance so they can finish healing. There's something seriously wrong."
"I really don't think so.”
Fiona glares at me.
"How can you care so little?" she asks. "Doesn't it matter to you what she's going through?"
"Of course, it does," I say. "But I don't think you should get so worked up over it."
I almost tell her what I know about Grammie, but I stop myself, remembering her plea in the ambulance. This is important to her, and I have to respect her wishes, even as Fiona stomps back into the house and locks the door behind her. I walk around to the back of the house and let myself in through the kitchen. I've already had two cups of coffee this morning, but the shiny new black coffeemaker sitting on the counter is calling to me, so I turn it on again, filling the reusable cup with grounds just as Fiona storms into the room, glares at me, and stomps back out, not saying a word.
Chapter Nine
Cade
The next day…
Jace isn't supposed to get in until early afternoon today, so I'm allowing myself to get some extra sleep. The sun had just made its way up over the horizon, however, when the sound of a shrieking smoke alarm cuts through the silence of the morning, bringing me sharply to my feet. Not bothering to throw anything on over the boxers I wore to bed, I run down the hallway.
"Fiona?!" I call out.
"Son of a bitch!"
Well, at least I know she's alright. A billow of smoke is streaming from the kitchen, and I choke my way through it to find out what's happening. I look around and see the room is empty. The back door is wide open, and as I walk through it, I immediately notice Fiona standing in the middle of the backyard. She's wearing one oven mitt and holding a baking sheet, which appears to be the source of the noxious smoke.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
She looks at me, and she grimaces.
"You heard the alarm?" she asks, a guilty expression crossing her face.
"I still hear the alarm," I say. "I also heard you yelling. On the bright side, if there were still a bucket brigade around here, they'd have heard you, too, and would be on the way."
I notice her eyes traveling over my body, then meeting mine.
"That's comforting," she says.
"What are you doing out here, anyway?" I ask.
Fiona looks at the still-smoking pan in her hand.
"I was trying to make cookies. I think I set the oven too high."
"You were making cookies before dawn?"
"Yes," she says. "I wanted them to be ready when you woke up."
"Why?"
Fiona heads toward the house, and I walk back into the kitchen so she can follow. She tips the pan into the sink and turns on the faucet, pouring water over the smoldering lumps of charcoal that used to be cookies.
"I wanted to say I'm sorry for the way I acted yesterday," she says. "I shouldn't have been so short with you, Cade. I was really worried about Grammie, and I was upset that you weren't more upset. But I might have overreacted."
Of all the cold, harsh encounters I've had with her over the few days, I find it interesting that this is the one she chooses to feel bad about. But I'll take what I can get, I guess.
"It's fine," I say. "I know you're really worried about her. Do you want to call and check on her?"
"Do you have the number to the rehab center?" she asks.
I feel like Grammie must have when I asked her about her boot.
"No," I say quickly. "But I do have her cell phone number. I assume she has it with her."
"At least I hope she does," I think silently to myself.
Fiona nods, and I pull out my phone to call Grammie. When it starts ringing, I hold it out to Fiona. She takes it, her face anxious as she waits for Grammie to answer.
"Hello?" she finally says. "Grammie? Is that you?... What's all that noise?... It sounds like water." Fiona looks down at the phone in her hand and presses a button to start speakerphone. "Say that again," she says.
"Dr. Barnes brought me to the rehabilitation center," Grammie says through the phone. "He has me on a very stringent program of major physical therapy. He says if I'm dedicated enough to it, I will make a full recovery."
"That's great," Fiona says. "But what is that in the background? It sounds like water."
"It is," Grammie says. "He has me doing hydrotherapy. He says it's extremely good for my joints. Low impact. The resistance will help me regain my strength after having to spend so much time in bed. "
Fiona opens the oven, and a new gush of smoke causes the smoke detector to go off again. I take the phone from her hand as she rushes to grab a towel and run to the smoke detector. Carrying the phone outside, I turn off speaker phone and put it against my ear.
"Alright, where are you actually?" I ask.
"Is it just you?" Grammie asks.
"Yes," I say.
"I'm on a senior's cruise," she says.
"What are you doing?"
"Right now, I'm sitting by the pool. I just won the limbo contest."
"It's eight in the morning."
"A lot gets done on senior's cruises. We're early risers, you know."
I don't particularly want to contemplate that statement any further.
"Who was that fake doctor who picked you up yesterday?" I ask.
"He's not a fake doctor," Grammie tells me. "That was George Barnes. I told you about him. He's my friend's boyfriend. It was his idea to spring me from the house when I told him I was getting stir-crazy. He said taking me away in an ambulance would make it more believable. We barely got it back to the rehab center before we got caught."
"He stole an ambulance to take you from the house, just so you could go on a senior's cruise?"
"Can you think of a better way to get me out?"
I don't see a destination for this conversation that's going to make any sense to me, so I walk back into the house. Having defeated the smoke again, Fiona reaches for the phone, and I hand it to her.
* * *
Fiona
"Grammie? Are you there?"
"Where else am I going to be? What was all that noise?"
"The smoke alarm. It's fine."
"Don't burn down the house, Fiona. I don't ask much of you, but I'm going to have to insist you don't burn down the house."
There are a few things wrong with that comment, but I decide to move past it.
"When are you going to be able to come back?" I ask.
"I'm not sure," she says.
I start to feel a little frustrated.
"What do you mean you're not sure? Hasn't the doctor given you any type of idea of how long you're going to need treatment? Or when you might be getting better?"
"He's not sure either," she says. "He believes that I will make progress quickly, but he doesn’t feel comfortable sending me home until I make considerable improvement. I think it's really important that I recuperate as much as I possibly can. We don't want me coming home and getting hurt again, do we?"
An unexpected surge of anger rushes u
p inside me.
"I just got here," I snap. "It's only been a few days since I showed up to take care of you, and you just take off? You have no idea when you might be getting back here, and if you're going to need any help or anything when you do, so I'm just sitting here with nothing to do. It doesn’t seem fair, Grammie."
"I appreciate you coming all the way out there," Grammie says. "Really, I do. But you want what's best for me, right? Just like I want what's best for you."
"What does that mean?"
Grammie breezes right past my question.
"Besides, with all the noise from the repairs, I couldn't be expected to get proper rest. And Cade said that the repairs are only going to get more extensive and disruptive from here on out. I need to be somewhere conducive to healing, not a construction site."
"I guess that's true," I confess.
"And I might have mentioned to Cade that I wasn’t comfortable with Jace in the house helping him with all of the repairs. Now you’re free to help them with projects or just supervise. I really feel so much better knowing that you're a part of it. You learned from your Gramps right alongside Cade. You might not have been as interested in it as he was or nearly as good at it, but you learned it."
"Thank you for that super inspiring pep talk."
"You’re in charge," she says. "You watch over the boys, and make sure that when I get back, the house will be safe and comfortable for me. How does that sound?"
I know it doesn't really matter how it sounds. No matter how I feel about the situation, I'm not going to be able to talk Grammie out of it. And at this point, I don't even know if I want to. That's another of her magical powers. She can talk anyone into anything.
Damn it.
An hour later, Jace arrives early. The men immediately head toward the back porch, and I follow them. Surveying the work they've done, I notice how much this rarely-used part of the house has improved. It seems strange to see them working on the porch when other, more pressing things can be done, but it is nice to see the screens replaced, and the supports reinforced.
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