"Aren't they on the hook?" Noah stepped into the foyer, sipping a cup of coffee. I tried to ignore the fact that he looked like sex on fire with his bare feet, tight faded blue jeans that were unbuttoned at the waist, and an open cotton shirt lying like a lover's kiss over his shoulders.
"Maybe they are. I haven't checked yet," I replied tartly, a little salty because I was mad at myself for how much I still wanted this man. "It takes me so long to get from one point to the other that I try to call ahead nowadays."
Noah chuckled. “All right then, darlin’. You stay there, and I’ll hunt your keys."
I picked up my handbag from where it hung on the closet doorknob and rifled through it, running down my mental checklist to make sure I had everything before I left for the office.
"Do I get bonus points if I found both your keys and your phone?" Noah called as he came back. "They were on the kitchen table. He glanced down at the phone. “Oh, you're getting a call. Do you want to answer it, or let it go to voicemail? It's from California."
"Oh, shit. Can I see it, please? I reached out my hand and took the phone, sliding my finger across the screen to answer it. "Hello?"
"Dr. Wakely?" The voice on the other end belonged to a woman, someone unfamiliar to me.
"Yes, that's me," I said. “Can I help you?"
"Dr. Wakely, this is Annette Carter calling from Peaceful Gardens Home for Care in Marin County, California. I'm the hospice chaplain here. I have you down as the next of kin, the family point of contact, for Daneen Rollins."
My fingers begin to tingle and go numb around the phone I reached back behind me for the banister and lowered myself onto one of the stairs. "Yes, that's right. Daneen is my…" I trailed off. It was always difficult to describe my relationship with my former foster mother. I cleared my throat. "I'm her next of kin. I hold her power of attorney. What can I do for you?" I kept my eyes on Noah, who took one step toward me. In his eyes, I saw a compassion that was nearly my undoing. It was as if he knew already what had happened even before I had heard the words.
"Dr. Wakely, I'm sorry to tell you that Ms. Rollins died this morning. It was very peaceful, and as you probably know, not unexpected. She was not in any pain, and she had been doing fairly well the last few days. She’d shown some improvement, but that's how it happens sometimes. I'm so sorry for your loss."
"I'm-I-I—” I couldn't form words. “Thank you. I'm just . . . what do I do?” I asked. “I don't know what to do. Do I have to . . . is there something—what comes next?"
The woman began speaking, but after a few moments, I realized that I wasn't listening. I didn't understand anything she was saying. Helplessly, I held out the phone toward Noah.
"Daneen’s dead,” I blurted out, and as I spoke, I tasted salt, surprised to find tears rolling down my cheeks. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't understand what this woman is saying. Can you talk to her, please?”
Noah took the phone. I thought he would go into the other room and find out the answers to my questions – what came next, what was expected of me – but instead, he sat down next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He held me tight against his warm, hard chest. And leaning on him there, I found the steadfast comfort that I had needed. I didn't move while he conducted a short conversation with the woman from hospice.
I was never sure how long he was on the phone, but suddenly, he wasn't anymore. He had hung up and balanced my cell phone on his knee. With one hand, he stroked the side of my face.
"I'm so sorry, honey.” His voice was a quiet rumble. “I'm so sorry. I know how much she meant to you. I know how much you loved her."
I shook my head madly even as the tears continued to rivet down my face. "I don't think I ever told her,” I gasped, surprised to find that I was sobbing now, too. "No, I don't think I ever told her that I loved her. It just… we just weren't that way. I don't think I did. What if I didn't? What if she didn't know?"
"Oh, sweetheart," Noah crooned, rocking me gently. “Even if you didn't say the words, I have to believe that Daneen knew that you loved her. She named you as her next of kin. She trusted you to be her family when she had none. What did you tell me about your last visit to her? The one right after you found out you were pregnant."
I blinked, trying to remember. I’d shared this detail with him one night when we’d been sitting together on the porch, watching the stars pop out. It was something that was so wondrous to me, I hadn’t told another soul until Noah. "When she told me about Lana looking for my mom," I whispered. "And Daneen didn't know who I was, she didn’t recognize me, but she was talking about me. She said my name. And I –" I screwed my eyes shut and leaned my forehead against Noah's shoulder. He was so strong, so steady. "I wasn't sure if she was remembering something that really happened, so I asked her who Alison was, and she looked at me and she said –" I was crying so hard now that I could barely speak. "She said Alison'sours.” My voice broke. “Like—like she actually believed I belonged to her. To them. I never knew that they felt that way."
"Of course, you belonged to them.” Noah rubbed his hand up and down my back, making a shushing noise. "Just because you don't say the words, just because it might not look like what other people consider family, it doesn't mean there isn't love. It doesn't mean that—” He broke off. "They loved you, Alison. You have to believe that. I know I do."
I didn’t know how long we sat there on the steps, but eventually, the baby began objecting to how tightly Noah was holding me, its small feet kicking against his arm through my stomach. I eased away from him, wincing as my back twinged. Sitting on a wooden step for a long period of time at eight months pregnant was not a great idea.
Noah helped me get up and led me toward the kitchen. He sat me down at the table and made me a cup of herbal tea while I called the office and let them know that I wouldn't be in this morning.
"I've had a death in the family," I heard myself say. “I just need today to figure out what's going on. I'll call you later this afternoon."
After I hung up, I raise my wet red eyes to Noah. “I've never had to say that before.” I shrugged. "When Tom died, I just said my fiancé was killed. We weren’t family, not yet."
Noah sat down across from me, sipping his coffee. “The lady from hospice said that they'll send us some paperwork later on, and we can talk about what you want to do. The decisions don't have to be made right away. She said Daneen had already paid for her, uh, final services. She’s going to be cremated.”
“I should look at flights.” I reached for my phone.
“Wait a minute.” Noah stopped me with his hand over mine. “What do you mean, flights?”
I frowned. “As in . . . airplane flights to California so I can arrange Daneen’s funeral. So I can say goodbye.”
“Oh, honey.” He picked up my hand and held it between his. “You can’t fly. Not at this point in your pregnancy. It’s too risky. I’m not even sure the airlines would let you get on the plane.”
