Page 130 of Before You Can Blink
“No.” I shook my head in disbelief. This had to be some kind of sick joke, right? Wasn’t I suffering enough?
“I tried calling but—”
“My phone died. Didn’t have a charger,” I explained, emotionless, having gone numb.
“They said she doesn’t have long.”
My head snapped up. “She’s still alive?”
Tripp dipped his chin in confirmation. “They brought her here after a neighbor found her.”
“A neighbor,” I repeated, trying to make sense of it all.
“She hit a patch of ice on the porch and fell. Cracked the back of her head on the edge of the cement steps.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “She’s been declared brain dead.”
The air was sucked out of my lungs like a vacuum.
“Brain dead.” My voice sounded far away, foreign to my ears.
“I, uh—I already said my goodbyes if you want me to stay with Mama,” Tripp offered.
Craning my neck, I tried to catch a glimpse of her down the long row of wide, padded chairs containing patients. Only her shoes were visible from here, propped up on the reclining footrest.
Nodding my head woodenly, I accepted his offer, barely able to absorb the directions on how to get to the room containing my mother, who wasn’t long for this world.
During my walk through the maze of hallways, my mind raced, running through every emotion known to man before finally settling on one that couldn’t be ignored: guilt.
This was my fault.
The woman was eighty-seven years old, for crying out loud. I should never have allowed her to continue to live alone. I should have demanded that she move onto the ranch with us. If I had, this would have never happened.
But I’d been so consumed with Daisy, and these past few years had given me a new perspective on why Ma refused to leave that house. Though it might initially be painful, I wouldn’t want to live anywhere other than the place that held all our shared memories—everywhere I looked, I would see Daisy.
When I reached the glass door to the ICU room, I froze, my heart shattering. I knew it was my ma in that bed, but she was barely recognizable. Her face was purple and swollen, and no fewer than a dozen tubes wereattached to her body, including one down her throat that was breathing for her.
She didn’t deserve to go out like this. No one did.
Chest gone concave, I pushed inside.
A sobbed, “Daddy,” had my head whipping to the side. There against the wall, with red-rimmed eyes and blotchy skin, was Aspen, tucked into Mac’s chest.
She pulled out of his arms and rushed into mine, where we clung to each other like our lives depended on it.
“I’m so sorry.” Her words were muffled against my shirt.
“Me too,” I croaked out.
Mac stepped closer. “How much did Tripp tell you?”
“Enough to know there isn’t anything they can do for her.”
He nodded sadly. “The ventilator is keeping her alive for now, but the bleeding in her brain is what will take her from us. They couldn’t give an exact time as to when that would happen, but they don’t expect it to be very long.”
Swallowing around the lump formed in my throat, I nodded. “I understand.”
These would be my final minutes with my mother.
Gently, Mac eased Aspen from my arms. “We’ll give you some privacy.” With that, they left me alone with the woman who had given me life.
