Page 31 of Made for You
Catherine’s voice was filled with fondness. “Oh, Rosie’s so independent, though. From what I understand, a lot of folks end up needing help after an event like hers, but she’s done so well.” Her encouraging smile didn’t waver.
In fact, it looked downright full of admiration. So did Dove’s.
But my mind snagged on the loaded termevent, and it had no chance of moving past that turn of phrase without more information. “She’s had an event?”
Their brows wrinkled as they studied me. Catherine spoke first. “Dove is a nurse…” Her tone was stuffed with uncertainty, like she could tell I was confused but wasn’t quite clicking withwhy.
Dove quirked a brow at Catherine, but filled in more. “Yep, I’m a nurse. I mostly work at the clinic, but I do rotations at Silverton Springs sometimes, so I see a lot of our county’s older population as well. I’ve thought about specializing in palliative care—it’s so needed, you know? But I feel like I haven’t quite learned everything I need to know before I transition.”
“Ladies? Order?” A waiter gave us a toothy grin he must’ve thought looked appealing and held up his paper pad and a pen.
I spiraled internally, unable to speak. What event?What event!?
“I’ll have a lemon drop,” Dove said.
“I’ll just have a beer, thanks.” Catherine’s words came out softer, and I noticed she only flicked her eyes up to the man for a minute before focusing on her fingers.
“And you, miss?” the guy said.
“Uh, a pint of something local. Thanks.” And maybe because I couldn’t let it go even if it did seem a little rude, I pinned Dove with a look. “Can you clarify what you meant byevent?”
Catherine’s brows rose high on her pretty face. “The stroke?”
I swallowed hard, rocks and bits of metal shredding their way down my windpipe as her word echoed in my ears. “Stroke?”
“Oh, no. You didn’t… she didn’t tell you? How could she not tell you?” Catherine took my hand in hers and squeezed.
I turned to the two of them, Dove’s face utterly stricken and Catherine’s aglow with sympathy. “Tell me everything.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Nikki
Catherine shook her head, lips pinched, before jumping in. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I definitely shouldn’t have phrased it that way. Shedidhave a stroke, but it happened before we saw her. She had an incident…”
Her eyes shifted to mine, and I registered the panic clawing at me. Logically, this made no sense. I’d seen Gram not an hour ago and she was fine. Whatever they were referring to had happened before I’d arrived, and Gram had obviously recovered.
Yet, she’d asked me to come. And I’d been so mired in my own self-pity over losing my job and feeling like my life was falling apart, it hadn’t even registered that this was akin to the Earth halting its spin or changing the angle it spun on its axis. Such change meant major things, even one degree of change. The fallout would be monumental, and the cause would have to be… catastrophic.
Catherine continued even as Dove had crossed her arms and clammed up. “She’d lost consciousness and fell. When she woke, she’d hit her head, lost some blood, and was understandably very concerned.”
Terror ripped through me at the thought of her falling alone in her house with no help. No one would’ve known if she’d needed help. A list of to-dos began compiling itself in my mind as Dove pressed on.
“Testing revealed she’d had a minor stroke. It’d come and gone, fortunately with minimal injury, and—” Catherine grimaced when Dove reached for her and grabbed her wrist. Not forcefully, but enough to halt her words.
Dove spoke then. “I’m sorry. I don’t think we should say anymore if she hasn’t told you. I know that’s awful, but this may have already violated HIPAA—”
“No, Dove. You didn’t say anything. It was me.” Catherine clasped her hands together in front of her and sort of clutched them to herself. “I’m so sorry, Nikki. I didn’t think—”
“Say no more. Truly. I’ll talk with her. I just… I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.”
Yet as soon as the words left my mouth, the lie made my stomach twist. It felt like I shouldn’t be able to believe she didn’t tell me, but that was her way. Rosie was warm and loving, but also eminently private about her own issues, and she would never want to worry me.
It was part of the reason I’d so easily accepted when she’d invited me to come live with her and help out. But a not-small piece of my mind had suspected it’d been her way of getting me here without me feeling guilty or like more of a failure. She’d give me the permission of helping her, and then when she didn’t really need my help, she’d give me one of those mischievous grins and I’d be too settled here to do anything but accept her coup.
Reality sank like stones into the pit of my stomach. She hadn’t been altruistically calling for my help. She’d actually needed it.
“I’m so sorry. I never meant to break this news. I—I truly don’t know what to say other than I am so sorry.” Catherine worried her lip, and the twinge in her voice made me wonder if she might cry.
