This wasn’t something to be discussing with a near-stranger, especially after more than a couple drinks. Hell, this wasn’t something to be discussing with anyone, unless I wanted to get carted away in a straitjacket.
“Listen,” I said, shooting too-handsome Patrick a wistful glance through bleary eyes, “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling pretty tipsy at this point. I’m gonna text my cousin for a ride. She should be leaving work soon. Can we give you one?” My phone was already in my hand.
Patrick shook his head. “I’m close enough to walk to my place. The weather’s not terrible, yet. Still, I’ll hang around until she picks you up.”
I blinked, smiling. “Thank you.”
We played another couple rounds of pool and paid for our drinks before Zoe’s car pulled up outside.
Patrick eyed the car out the window for a moment before taking a step closer to me. “So, would it be okay to ask you for your number?”
“Yeah,” I said honestly, weaving on my feet a little. “I’d like that. You’re cute,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
He grinned and traced the line of my cheekbone with one fingertip in a way that had me shivering.
“You, too.”
We exchanged phones and for a moment I felt like a giddy teenager again. This was only aided by the fact that he caught my wrist as I turned to go, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. It felt like a surge of electricity, the kind of hot, breathless energy that I was starting to fear I would never feel again. It was shocking, to say the least, and I barely stumbled through a goodbye before I was heading out the door, practically swooning on my feet.
Get yourself together, woman, I told myself. You’re almost fifty, for god’s sake.
Zoe raised her eyebrows the moment I got in the car. “Holy god, who was the super-hot mystery man?” she demanded without preamble.
“Just some guy I met. It’s not…we’re not--”
“Sure, sure,” she said, waving a dismissive hand in my direction. “Just like you and Ethan aren’t, either. Honestly, you’ve got to start kissing and telling, Cricket. It’s the only way a boring married gal like me can get any kicks anymore.”
“You’re terrible,” I said, hoping it came out sounding more jovial than I felt. Because now that I was clear of the warming rays of the sunshine that was Patrick, everything else came rushing back. The lies, the secrets, the antiques lady who should’ve been dead a hundred years ago.
“Oh my gosh,” I whimpered.
“You’re telling me. He’s like a fat slice of cherry pie you just wanna dig a fork into,” she said, biting her knuckle. “But what were you doing at a bar during the daytime? Are you still not feeling like yourself?”
“I’m feeling okay. Just a little off. There’s been some drama with Greg and I just needed to blow off some steam,” I lied smoothly, gut churning with guilt.
“So long as you’ll be getting your test results soon and all. I don’t want to worry about you, Crick.”
“You don’t have to. I’m fine.”
I reminded myself of my vow to come clean about everything soon and tried to make small talk for the rest of the ride home. By the time Zoe walked me to the front door, that last whiskey hit me and I was hiccupping, my steps unsteady.
“Get a good night’s sleep and I’ll take you to get your car tomorrow morning, all right there, party girl?” she asked gently.
“Sounds perfect,” I replied, weaving my way toward the basement steps. “Love you, cuz.”
She mumbled an unintelligible reply and headed out.
By the time I got to my bed, I wasn’t thinking about anything at all. Not Connie. Not Patrick. Not even the typewriter. All I wanted was to sleep.
I dove face first onto my mattress and let sweet darkness take me.
Chapter 9
I awoke to a pounding headache and rolled out of bed, grabbing Advil from my bedside table. Mentally, I thanked last night’s me for having the good sense to chug most of a bottled water before going to bed, as I used the last of it to down the pills. I let out a groan, realizing I couldn’t remember anything after walking through the door the night before.
What I did remember, though, was Patrick. My cheeks heated as I recalled the end to our night. That kiss.
I hadn’t been kissed like that in…well, ever. A simple, easy touch that I’d felt all the way to my toes. Quick on the heels of my reminiscing came another thought that cooled my jets almost instantly.
Constance Bagshaw. Vampire? Time traveler? Witch? Demon?
“Stop it,” I whispered under my breath. I had to take a step back and piece this all together as I gathered new information, instead of going off half-cocked.
I stood with a wince and groaned. First order of business, toast and hydration. I snagged my phone from the bedside table, quickly checking to be sure I hadn’t made any weird calls or sent any dumb messages the night before, feeling vaguely like a detective as I did. A horrible hot flash sizzled through me, but I was relieved to find that I hadn’t publicly humiliated myself.
Excellent.
It was only as I passed by the coffee table that I noticed the typewriter.
No longer secreted away in my closet where I’d last left it. And worse? A sheet of paper stuck out from the top of it, fluttering ever so gently in the breeze of the ceiling fan. My heart clanged in my chest as beads of sweat broke out on my upper lip.
What had I done?
At first glance, I nearly wept with relief. The top part of the page was blank. But as I rounded the table to see the sheet from the front, I could see several lines right above the carriage return, and my guts roiled.
Whispering a prayer under my breath, I scanned over the words that remained on the page.
The pain is like nothing she’s ever felt before. A radiating, searing sensation that spreads over her chest and snakes down her arm. She drops the knitting needles into the basket and opens her mouth to cry out for help. Why hadn’t she gotten that Life Alert like Zoe had told her to? Vanity. And look at her now. About to leave this earth knitting like an old lady instead of on the back of a Harley like she’d always hoped.
Before the words could even register through the icy layer of shock, they slowly began to disappear, one by one.
“No no no no no!”
I yanked the paper from the typewriter, whirled around, and sprinted up the stairs.
“Mee-maw! Mee-maw, can you hear me?”
I shot through the door, rushing to the living room to find my grandmother prone on the floor, her knitting needles beside her as the morning news played softly in the background.
“Mee-maw!”
The next bit went by in a haze as I dialed 911 and held my grandmother’s head in my lap. She was non-responsive and unconscious, but she had a pulse, and I held on to that lifeline for sanity as I waited for the medics to arrive.
Seven frantic minutes later that felt more like a year, we were in the back of the ambulance.
“What can you tell me?” one of the EMTs asked as the others worked on Mee-maw.
“She collapsed. We…um, we were together and she suddenly grabbed her arm. She said she thought she was having a heart attack,” I lied, barely choking back my tears for long enough to speak. Though I hadn’t actually seen her pass out, I knew I could trust the typewriter. It had never been wrong before.
He grabbed a clipboard from a shelf on the wall before asking, “Does she take any medication that you know of?”
I shook my head. “No. Not even over-the-counter stuff.”
He arched a brow at me in question, clearly confused by my answer. Most people in their 80’s needed boxes to hold and separate all the medication they took.
“She thinks pharmaceutical companies are working for the Russian government and testing out mind control drugs,” I clarified quickly, lacing my fingers with Mee-maw’s, shaken by how cold they were.
He shot me a clipped nod. “Got it. Does she have a history of heart disease or
any other heart issues?”
“No,” I said. She was about as healthy as a woman her age could get.
“How about in your family?”
I paused, going through everyone I could think of. “Not that I know of.” My answers to the questions only intensified the emotions rushing through me. There was no reason she should be having a heart attack. Had I done this? Connie had assured me that I wasn’t causing these events, but in the moment, all I felt was crushing guilt. If I hadn’t gone out and gotten drunk, would Mee-maw be at home cooking up eggs and bacon right now?
My throat ached and I swiped away a track of hot tears.
“Thanks,” he said, looking up from his clipboard.
“Are we almost there?” I asked.
“It won’t be long.”
I had to call Zoe, but before I could, I realized I was full-on crying now. The last thing she needed was me calling her at work, sobbing. I whipped off a quick text, being as direct as I could without inciting panic, and told her I’d call her as soon as I had any information.
When we pulled up a few minutes later, the medics jumped into action. They pushed me aside, quickly unloading Mee-maw and her stretcher before pulling her through the doors. I hopped out, bustling after them through the emergency entrance. We took a short walk through the halls and they handed her off to a group of nurses and a doctor who seemed to be waiting for her.
“We’ve got her now, all right?” the doctor said, turning to me after a brief talk with the EMTs. He pointed to a man sitting behind a desk at a computer. “Gerald will make sure we get her medical history on file and then show you where you can wait.”
“Thank you. Please…take care of her,” I murmured, but he and his team were already heading down the hall with her, rushing through a set of swinging double doors.
That was good. They didn’t need to be coddling me. They needed to roll up their sleeves and save my grandmother.
“Hi, there. Why don’t you take a seat while I gather some information?” Gerald asked from behind the nearby desk.
“Thank you,” I said, my emotions gradually shifting from a panicked blur to a zombie-like calm. The only thing I could do right now was wait…
Wait to see if she would make it, or if I’d somehow managed to kill the very woman who had raised me.
* * *
“How is she holding up?” Zoe demanded as I picked up on the first ring a few hours later. She’d already come to the hospital and gone, and was on her way back after handling a few things at the bakery and getting us clean clothes from the house.
“I haven’t seen the doctors again since right after surgery, so no news yet,” I said, “but nurses have been coming in regularly to check her vitals and all.”
“I wish they would at least tell us what’s going on.”
“All I know is that they’re keeping her sedated for now and that the bypass surgery was a success. I’ve been Google searching what that means for her all day, but without more information, the answers are all over the map,” I said, clenching my fist.
“I’ll crack some skulls and push them for info when I get there,” Zoe said, her tone leaving no doubt about it. “See you in five.” She hung up in a typical Zoe-style, without a goodbye.
I set my phone down and stared at Mee-maw’s pale, lined face. She’d lived a hard life, but she was about as tough as they come. It was almost unbearable to see such a strong woman look so helpless and weak. Age, however, was the ultimate opponent, and eventually, we were all going down. Just as I thought it, a cold chill shot through me, reminding me of my own aging body.
My fingers tingled as my mind shifted back to the typewriter, the urge to write on it coming sharp and fast. Apparently, writing my grandmother into the hospital, and possibly into the grave, hadn’t been enough.
My phone buzzed and I turned it over to see that Greg was calling. I hit the red button, leaving him one of those auto-reply messages saying that I was busy and would call him later, knowing full well that I wouldn’t. Moments later, it buzzed again. It was Lizzie. I’d been texting with both the kids since that morning, but this was the first time she’d called.
“Hello,” I said, picking up the phone after hitting the answer button.
“Hey, Mom,” Lizzie said softly. “How’re you guys holding up?”
“Fine. Mee-maw’s still out, but they said the bypass was a success. We’re hopeful.”
“That’s great,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Wondering. I was thinking I’d come up tomorrow to visit you for a few days, if you need me. When is Mee-maw supposed to get out of the hospital?”
“Not sure,” I replied, “we haven’t heard anything about that yet. It’s still early in the process.”
“So do you want me to come?”
Jack had made the same offer when he’d called earlier, and, like him, I could hear it in her voice that she didn’t actually want to come. They’d never been that close with Mee-maw and I didn’t want to have to worry about hiding everything that was going on from more people than I already had to. “I’ll be okay. I know you’re busy with work and all, enjoy your weekend.”
“Okay, Mom, let me know if you need anything.”
“Sounds good, love you,” I said. I couldn’t help but be annoyed by how bad things had to get for them to call and check up on me, but they were both still my kids and I cared about the two of them more than anything.
“Love you, too, Mom. Wait a second, though, Dad wants to talk to you.”
Of course she was with him. I had a strong urge to hang up, but I couldn’t get myself to do it. I pushed back my anger and called on patience. The crazy events going on in my life right now were no excuse for shutting out my kid, but I grimaced as Greg’s voice came over the line.
“Hey, Cricket, how are you feeling?”
“Fabulous,” I said flatly. He was the last person I wanted to be talking to right now and I felt like I’d made that pretty obvious when I’d rejected his call but, as always, he couldn’t take the hint. “What can I do for you, Greg?”
He paused. “Nothing, I was just worried.”
I rubbed at my temple and sighed. “Well, thanks for that. Yeah, things are looking better than they were this morning. I will keep the kids posted.”
“Good, that’s good. And hey, no pressure, but have you had a chance to contact that oil tank removal place? The realtor was asking me and--"
“Bye, Greg.” I hung up the phone, a bolt of rage rocketing through me for an instant before fizzling away as my decision to divorce him was reaffirmed, yet again. Granted, dragging my feet on the oil tank issue only prolonged our association, but I’d have time to worry about all that stuff later. Right now, I just had to focus on Mee-maw.
I looked up from her unconscious form as a wiry, thin nurse entered the room. “Doctor Reynolds asked me to come by and let you know she’ll be in early tomorrow morning to update you, but that things are looking good,” he said with a gentle smile. “We won’t be administering any more sedatives, so she could wake up any time now. Do you have any other questions for me?”
“Not now, thank you,” I said, too relieved and drained to think of anything else.
The nurse left without another word. I reached down for my purse and pulled the crumpled piece of paper out to read the only words still printed there for the thousandth time.
One, last, shuddering breath passed through her lips and then…she was gone.
Zoe’s soft footsteps interrupted my thoughts and I shoved the paper back into my purse guiltily.
“Well?” Zoe asked, handing me a wrapped submarine sandwich that had my stomach grumbling. After one meal of hospital food and lots of Saltines, anything from the outside would be a blessing.
“He said that the most dangerous part has passed and that she could wake up any moment now,” I said, trying to force a smile. My writing hadn’t been wrong so far. I just had to pray this time would be no different.
“That’s great news!�
�� Zoe said, standing up to look at Mee-maw with a wide grin. Her grin faded as she met my gaze and cocked her head. “What’s wrong, Cricket? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
I shook my head and winced. Apparently, I hadn’t been hiding my emotions as well as I’d thought. I guess it was silly to think I’d fool the woman raised as my sister with just a fake smile, anyway. “Nothing, I’m just exhausted. The past day has been a nightmare.”
She nodded. “I feel you on that one. But you saved her, Cricket.”
I dug my nails into my arm, stifling the crazy swarm of emotions rushing over me. I wanted to tell her everything, but how could I when I knew nothing? “Thanks, Zoe,” I forced out, knowing I sounded distant.
She sat back down to start on her sandwich and I said a silent prayer of thanks that she didn’t continue pressing me. We ate in silence for several minutes before we were interrupted by a soft groan.
“Where am I?” Mee-maw said hoarsely, looking around the room in confusion. “Cricket? Zoe?”
“We’re right here,” I said, jumping to my feet, tears already streaming down my face.
Mee-maw was alive.
Chapter 10
After days of non-stop activity and little sleep, I was fried, mentally and emotionally. Between trading shifts with Zoe at both the hospital and trying to keep the bakery running, I hadn’t even had a chance to think about my bizarre new power, let alone dig at this supposed “gift” that was my “destiny”.
Heck, between churning out eight dozen blueberry streusel muffins for the Methodist church, and spending most of my nights crashed out on the tiny, criminally uncomfortable couch in Mee-maw’s hospital room, I was surprised to even still be upright and halfway functional. Even Patrick’s occasional text messages to check in and cheerlead couldn’t quite pull my brain out of crisis mode. Though Ethan’s brief stop to bring Mee-maw flowers and a contraband package of Nutter-Butters had brought a fleeting smile to my face.
Writing Wrongs: Crow’s Feet Coven, Book One Page 7