Shiloh cracked open the door. “Lois? It’s me, Shiloh.” The dogs were jumping on the door, scratching at it.
“Go in,” her mom said. “Be confident. They can smell fear.”
“Thanks, Jerry Maguire.Lois?”Shiloh called. “I’m coming in!”
Shiloh pushed the door open. Her mom was talking to the dogs in baby voices, already handing out cheese. Shiloh hurried past them, into the living room. She should have asked Cary where his mom had fallen. Was she upstairs?
“Angel?” someone called from the back of the house.
Shiloh headed for the kitchen and carefully swung open the door. Lois was lying on the floor, against the cabinets. Her oxygen can had rolled away from her. Her baggy shirt was twisted up, exposing her stomach. The phone was sitting next to her, like she’d pulled it off the counter.
Shiloh got on her knees. “Lois, it’s Shiloh. Cary called me. Where are you hurt?”
“Shiloh...” Lois said breathlessly. “I think I... I twisted my ankle, honey. If you could help me sit up...”
“It’s just your ankle that hurts?”
“I’m an old woman, everything hurts. If you could just...” She reached out her hand. Shiloh took it. Lois’s hands were soft and felt swollen. She was cold.
Shiloh reached under her shoulder, to lift her. Lois immediately gasped in pain.
“Lois, I think we should call an ambulance.”
“No!” She shook her head. There were tears on her cheeks. “They can’t come in here... The dogs... If Petey bites somebody, they’ll put him to sleep this time.”
Shiloh wondered if Petey was the one who looked like a pit bull or the one who looked like a Chihuahua. “I’ll have them come to the back door, okay?”
“The back porch is a mess.”
“That’s okay.”
“Honey, no... I want to wait for Angel.”
“Lois, I can’t leave you here. I promised Cary I’d take care of you.”
“He worries too much,” Lois said. “I shouldn’t have called him, but I know his number by heart.”
“Shiloh!” her mom shouted from the next room. “I’m waiting on the porch, I ran out of cheese!”
Shiloh got out her cell phone to call Cary. But then she looked at Lois again—pale and gasping—and called 911 instead.
Lois started to cry when she heard Shiloh talking to the operator. Shiloh held her hand. The operator told Shiloh how to check that the oxygen canister was connected.
Shiloh called her mom’s cell phone and told her to make sure the EMTs went to the back door when they got there.
She tugged Lois’s shirt down and slid her own hand between Lois’s head and the cabinet. “I’m sorry,” Shiloh told her. “I promised Cary I’d treat you like my own mother.” She hadn’t promised that, but she would have.
“I hate hospitals,” Lois cried.
“I’m sorry,” Shiloh said again. “I know they’re going to take care of you.”
“They don’t care about”—she took a rasping breath—“fat old ladies on Medicare.”
“We’ll makesurethey take care of you.”
When the ambulance got there, Shiloh went to open the back door.She struggled with the lock. And then the screen door wouldn’t open because there was so much junk on the back porch.
“Shiloh?” Lois said. “Don’t leave me alone.”
