Page 1 of Wild Valentine
1
HAZEL
“Only a week till Valentine’s Day.”
Mom’s bony fingers grasp mine so weakly, I barely feel the pressure. Panic rises in my chest at how feeble she is and I swallow it down, returning her weak smile as best I can.
“It’s our lucky day, Hazel.” Mom’s voice is croaky and I lean forward to hear her better, hoping she doesn’t see the distress in my face.
Valentine’s Day is my mother’s favorite day of the year. It’s the day she met my father, it’s the day they got married one year later, and it’s the day I was born exactly one year after that.
But Valentine’s Day is also the day my father was in a car accident three years ago that he never recovered from and the day my cat was run over two years ago. And it was Valentine’s Day last year that Mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and given twelve months to live.
Valentine’s Day has gone from being a happy day for my family to a curse.
But Mom refuses to acknowledge the bad stuff. She’s at peace with her diagnosis and can’t wait to be reunited with my father.She believes they’re soul mates, and soul mates, “find each other no matter what realm they’re in.”
Yeah, my mom has gone all woo woo in the last few months, but it gives her comfort, so I hope like hell she’s right.
I’m glad she has her newfound beliefs to comfort her, but I’m also terrified that in exactly one week, on Valentine’s Day, Mom will choose to say goodbye to this ‘realm,’ as she calls it, to go join my father. Leaving me behind with the grief of being a grown up orphan.
But I can’t let Mom see my pain. This could be her last week in this world, and I won’t bring her down by being upset about it.
“Can I speak with you, Miss Lumley?”
The man in a suit isn’t the doctor, and my heart sinks at the folded paper in his hand.
“Sure,” I say brightly. “I’ll be right back, Mom.”
We duck into an office next to reception and I pull my shoulders back, trying to do the whole ‘entitled to be here, so what’s your problem’ thing that I’m never very good at.
“I’m sorry to bring this up at this difficult time, but your mother’s bills are overdue.”
I furrow my brow as if this is the first time I’ve heard about it, and I haven’t been dreading this conversation for the last few days. Mom lost her insurance when she became too sick to work and lost her job. I’ve been covering the costs ever since.
“There must be something wrong with my account.”
The man looks down and taps something into his computer. “It’s the, ah, third payment that’s been late…”
He leaves it hanging because I know what he’s going to say next, and he at least has the decency to feel embarrassed about it.
“I can pay now if you have a machine.”
I fumble in my wallet and pull out the credit card that I think has the most money on it.
“Because of your mother’s continuing care and the, ah, late payments, we’re going to have to ask for the next month in advance.”
My heart sinks. I don’t have that much money on credit, and I’ve got two cards maxed out already.
“And what if she…?”
I can’t bring myself to say it. But the man looks at me with a kind expression. “If you find you no longer need the bed, we will of course refund the money.”
A sharp pain stabs my chest at the implication. Mom could be gone in a week, and it hits me like a freight train. My expression crumples, and no matter how hard I blink the tears fall.
The man looks horrified as he hands me a box of tissues.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Lumley, for this difficult time.”
