Page 115 of Capturing You
She wasn’t a trailing-words kind of woman. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. Her confusion broke his heart.
“I can’t remember her name.”
“Brooklynn.”
Her lips relaxed. “Yes. I was afraid I’d conjured her. She’s lovely, though I’m not a fan of her wardrobe.”
Only Grandmother, after a medical emergency, would comment on a woman’s clothing.
“She claimed you two are only friends. Are you? Or…or did I mess that up?”
“Don’t worry about Brooklynn, or me.” He kissed her forehead, something he’d never done with his staunch, always-in-control guardian. “You take care of yourself, and I’ll handle Brooklynn.”
“Can she be trusted?”
If she’d asked him a half hour before, he’d have told her that Brooklynn was completely trustworthy. But now that she’d learned the truth—and not from him—he had no idea. “What matters is that you’re taken care of.”
Grandmother’s eyelids drooped, and she blinked. “I’m so tired.”
“Of course you are. Go to sleep. Call me when you wake up, okay?”
Nodding, she closed her eyes. Within seconds, her breathing evened out once more.
He watched her sleep, praying God would protect her and heal her. Then he returned to the living room.
Dr. Shelley said, “She’s having?—”
“Not here.” The last thing he needed was for Grandmother to wake up and hear them talking about her. He marched to the door and held it open until the doctor preceded him into the hall. He unlocked the door, then closed it. “For what we’re paying for this place, I expect better care.”
The doctor straightened, squaring her shoulders. “This is not a nursing home, Mr. Baker. It’s assisted living.”
“Not that ‘assisted,’ apparently. I want a nurse with her one hundred percent of the time until she’s completely recovered.”
“That’s not a service we offer. If you want her moved to the nursing home?—”
“No.” Grandmother would kill him. “I’ll pay for it. Hire someone. Someone trustworthy.”
She seemed to consider the command, her gaze jumping from him to the closed door. “That’s not something we normally do, but in this case…”
This case—because Grandmother was a Ballentine, and her fortune was widely known.
“I’ll find someone,” the doctor said.
“Until you do, have a nurse stay with her.” Before she could tell him how short-staffed they were, he said, “I’m willing to pay whatever it costs.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Bouts of memory loss aren’t uncommon with concussion victims, especially elderly ones. I expect her memory to return, but of course we’ll monitor her. If anything changes, we’ll take her back to the hospital.”
“See that you do. And inform me immediately. Immediately, no matter what she says.”
“Of course.”
He needed to go.
He needed to stay.
He’d purposefully lived his life without anyone depending on him, and now he was responsible for the care of two women. One was dealing with dementia.
The other one was missing.
