Page 60 of The Shell Collector
“But this weather—”
“Good enough for ducks, good enough for me. It makes me a bit achy, but that won’t stop me.”
“You won’t be saying that if you catch pneumonia.”
Maeve turned and leveled a stare at Courtney. “You know better. Can’t catch a cold from walking in the rain. It’s always caused by bacteria or a virus. Now quit giving me a hard time.” She started toward one of the chairs, then shifted and asked, “Is Doc running late today?”
“Not too bad. Have a seat. We’ll get you right in and out.”
“Low tide is at 3:24 this afternoon.” Maeve tapped the face of her watch. “You know I don’t want to miss that.”
Courtney tilted her head the way she always did when she was going to give Maeve unsolicited advice. “Yes ma’am. I’m well aware. We’ve got you covered.”
Maeve sat in the waiting area. She smiled at the tall redhead sitting with an adolescent boy at her side. Next to them, a man slumped in a chair. He looked like he hadn’t slept in aweek. She rummaged through the magazines, picking up one she thought she might not have already read. No such luck. All of them were months old. She tossed the magazine back on the table, half tempted to steal the lot of them to force them to bring fresh ones in. Crossing her leg, she bobbed the toe of her red boot. Wearing them always cheered her.
She sat quietly, listening to the conversations beyond the counter. How could those nurses not realize everyone sitting out here could hear everything they said? A minute later, Courtney came to the door and called Maeve back.
“How’ve you been feeling, Miss Maeve?”
“Getting old isn’t for sissies.” She stepped on the scale without being asked. She knew the routine.
“Well, it’d be easier if you’d let us get you some help.”
Maeve waved off the comment. They’d had this conversation over and over again.
“I only mention it because we care about you.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine,” Maeve said, doing her best not to scowl. “I’ve made it this far alone.”
“Room B,” Courtney said.
Maeve walked down the hall and got comfortable. There was always a wait.
After a while, the doctor knocked at the door and entered. “Good to see you today, Maeve. How’re you feeling?”
“Do we really have to go through the pleasantries? I’m dying. We both are keenly aware of it.”
“Need more pain medicine?”
Her lip trembled. “Yes. I’m getting low.”
“Thought you might be. The tests came back.” He leaned against the cabinet, her file resting on his leg. “I’m sorry, Maeve. You’re declining. I’m guessing you can probably feel the changes. Am I right?”
She nodded.
“We can still try some treatments if you’ve changed your mind.”
“No. We won’t be doing that.”
“I didn’t think so, but I had to ask. You’ve fought a good long fight.” He flipped the folder against his leg. “You might really think about getting a Senior Helper, Maeve. Someone to lighten the load, help you prepare meals and clean up. Keep you company, even.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “I promised Judy I’d go live with her when the time came.”
“She’s left me plenty of messages in that regard.” The doctor clucked his tongue.
She shook her head. “I’m good to my word. It’s time, isn’t it?”
“You’re an amazing lady, Maeve. I sure wish there was more I could do.”
