He’s alert and propped upright. There’s a bright twinkle shining from his eyes. His hands fidget in his lap as though he can’t stay still. There’s a vibrant air that circles around him today. The deathly shadows are completely gone.
“Aha, there you are. I thought I was going to have come find you myself at the rate Nash was going.”
I let go of Nash’s hand and hurry to the bedside. I pick up that fidgeting hand in mine and pat it. “I’m so glad to see you this morning. So very happy.” And I mean it.
Can you fall in love with someone else’s grandpa? Because I think I have. I want this man to live to be one hundred twenty years old.
He smiles at me, squeezing my hands and keeping ahold of them as he leans to the side to speak with Nash. “You know, I do believe she means it. We shall have to keep her.” He leans back against his pillows and looks at me as he announces, “I like you.”
“I like you too. I don’t wear high heels for just anyone.” I hold out my new purple heels. “Brand new, just for you.”
“They’re very nice,” he assures me.
Nash pipes up, “Don’t let her fool you, Grandpa. She wears high heels every day at work.”
“Oh, hush, you.” I roll my eyes at him and point at his grandfather. “I’m trying to make the recovery feel special,” I whisper loudly.
I wonder how he knows I wear heels every day.
The nurse from last night walks in the door, carrying a tray of something. She looks as though she hasn’t slept in a week. Maybe she hasn’t.
“I’ve brought you some breakfast,” she says to Nash’s grandfather.
He scowls as she sets a bowl of applesauce in front of him.
I glance at Nash to see that he’s hiding a grin. I catch his eye, and he winks at me as if I understand the joke.
“Mary, why don’t you go get some rest?”
The nurse looks at Nash as though he uttered words she can’t understand.
“You’ve been up for who knows how long,” he says.
“I don’t want to leave him unattended.”
“The doctor’s coming soon, and I’ve arranged for a relief nurse. I’ll be here with him until they get here. Go get some rest.”
My heart melts as Nash speaks warmly to Mary. She looks like she’s ready to melt, as though she ran an ultramarathon and is about to collapse on the finish line. Poor thing.
Alexander waits for the nurse to leave the room, then sets the applesauce aside. “Who thought applesauce was a good idea?”
“The woman who’s been helping keep you alive.”
Alexander waves his hand through the air. “No. I mean, in general. Who thought mushed-up apples was a good idea?”
“Probably the same people who thought of apple pie,” Nash answers him.
Alexander scowls. “Apples are the laziest fruit. They hardly taste like anything. What are we going to do about your wedding?”
His quick change in subject sends my head spinning.
“I was thinking this Sunday would be perfect for it,” he says while I choke on air.
Nash drags a stuffed chair closer to the bed. His movements are unhurried, and he takes his time to get comfortable when he sits down.
“Why not Saturday?” Nash asks.
I wonder if he can understand what my bulging eyes are trying to tell him. His grin grows when he looks at me. I offered to be a fiancée, not a wife, so he’d better explain himself on this one.
