Chapter 8
We bounced between hospitals. Different cities, different specialists.
Tubes everywhere. My arms turned into pincushions–purple and yellow from constant needle sticks.
I finally met him properly. The boy from high school. Jenna’s husband now.
Soft–spoken, considerate. He handled everything quietly–made sure she ate, reminded her to rest, stood beside her without making a fuss.
And I met my granddaughter. This tiny, chubby–cheeked miracle who could barely string two words together.
Nothing like Jenna was at that age.
All smiles, bright–eyed, clearly adored. Two little ponytails bouncing when she moved.
She’d crawl onto my lap and blow on my IV bruises. “Grandma, blow–blow. Make it better.”
I took mountains of pills. Sat through dialysis session after dialysis session.
Still hurt like hell. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep.
But I faked it. Closed my eyes and stayed still.
Jenna stayed up with me. I’d hear her cry when she thought I was asleep.
Quiet crying. Just tears in the dark.
I’d reach for her hand. She’d grab mine–rough and worn–and squeeze.
“I know you’re in pain. I know you can’t sleep.”
“Mom, what am I supposed to do? Just tell me what to do.”
Just getting here–seeing her husband, meeting this little girl–I’d already been given more than I deserved.
She was okay. She’d be okay without me.
“Jenna, I’m done fighting this.”
“I want to go home. Be near your grandma.”
She didn’t say anything for a long time. Then she nodded through tears.
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Chapter 8
We flew this time.
From up there, Appalachia looked completely different. Rolling mountains, endless green, stretching as far as you could see.
My granddaughter pressed her nose to the window, mesmerized.
For a moment, I felt young again.
Running through fields. Helping with the animals. Sitting on the porch with my mother, shelling beans, listening to crickets…
The baby took to it immediately. Could barely talk but was already trying to clap along when the neighbors played music on their porches.
I sat in my chair, smiling, watching this tiny girl bounce and giggle.
Jenna’s brother showed up.
Shocked at first. Then wary. Standing next to Jenna, he looked old–way older than her, even though he wasn’t.
He wasn’t warm with me. Not cruel, but not kind either.
Still
angry
about how I “played favorites.”
But with Jenna, he turned on the charm. Stood close, brought up old memories.
“Got two boys now. And a girl. She’s a handful–reminds me of you when we were kids.”
“Things are tight, though. My wife’s always on my case about money. Truck needs work. Kids need school clothes.”
“Jenna, you gotta help me out. Just a loan. I’ll pay you back once things pick up.”
“If Mom hadn’t babied you–keeping you in school forever–I could’ve gotten started earlier. You two cost me years.”
I turned away, exhausted.
He’d become exactly what his father was.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
