“I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” At a soft humming, she reached into her back pocket and retrieved her phone. After a glance at the screen to see who was calling, she said, “I should take this.”
“Go ahead.”
“Hello? This is she.” Harper’s face went blank. Then all the color drained out of her. “I see,” she said softly, her voice oddly thin. She sucked in air, nodding. “Okay. I will. Yes. Thank you.”
She hung up and held the phone in her lap, staring past him.
“Everything okay?”
Liquid lined her lower lids. A tear spilled, tracking down her cheek. She swallowed as she shook her head and put her hand to her mouth. After a moment, she spoke. “That was the assisted-living facility. My mom just died.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Harper struggled to maintain her composure as Mitch rushed to her side.
He sat next to her on the couch, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not.”
A ragged shudder ran through her. She picked up her water and took a sip. Numbness took over. A sense of being on the precipice of a great fall.
“Can I do anything for you? Get anyone? Do you want me to call Frankie?”
“No.” She took a few deep breaths. Her mother was gone. In fairness, her mother had been gone for a long time, lost to the malignant encroachment of dementia. But death was so permanent. There was no coming back from this. No chance that some last-minute miracle drug would emerge, that some new protocol would shift things in their favor.
Her mother, regardless of her health issues, was gone.
Harper sobbed, unable to keep the tears at bay any longer.
Mitch pulled her into his arms, taking them both back against the couch. She leaned into him, burying her face into his shoulder and weeping softly.
She cried for the loss of her mother, but she cried for herself, too. She’d been strong about her mom for a long time, doing her best to deal with no longer being able to talk to her mom, or reminisce with her, or even see her these past few years. Now, there was no reason to be strong anymore.
With a deep inhale, she leaned back, wiping at her eyes. “Sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” He handed her a box of tissues.
She took it, pulled a couple free, and blew her nose, then dried her eyes. She sat for a minute before speaking. “I have to fly out there and deal with…things.”
“California?”
“No, Nevada. That’s where my mom was being cared for. It was the best place I could afford. Better than what I could get for my money in California.” She sighed. There was so much to do, so much to take care of. She didn’t want to do any of it.
“When will you leave?”
“Soon. Tomorrow, I guess.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
She balled up the tissues in her hand and looked at him. He was just saying that to be nice. Except, he wasn’t. Mitch wasn’t like that. She did want him to go with her. It would make things easier to have him by her side. But that was a lot to ask.
“You need to write your book.”
“Laptops travel. And the book isn’t as important as you are.”
She swallowed, feeling like she might start crying again. “Thanks.” The word came out quietly, so she nodded. “I would love it if you went with me.”
