Page 98 of Look on the Bright Side

“Um, sure. Sure. Well, it’s kind of humid out, and um, I guess…rain maybe later.” Oh, God. What would she want to hear about? What had Justin wanted to hear? “I can feel how much love is in this house, Nancy,” she said. “All the family pictures. Three kids, thirty years married, your file says?”

Nancy, eyes closed, gave a faint smile, a half nod. “Thirty…two.”

“How lucky,” Lark said. “A little granddaughter, too.”

“Wanted to see her. Stayed alive…to meet her.”

The tears did spill at that statement, but Lark’s voice was steady. “You did, Nancy. You did that. Your daughter will always have those memories of you and your granddaughter.” Fight, she wanted to say. Fight. Give them another day, another week. Maybe there’d be an experimental—but no. Nancy was dying. Right now. Her hospice training had told her this happened quite often. People chose to die alone, to protect their loved ones from having to see it.

Had Justin done that? Did he die on purpose before she could get there?

No time for him right now. Nancy’s breathing was irregular and jerky. And she wouldn’t die alone. Lark was here.

She’d been around a lot of dying people. But she’d been there to try to save them. To cure them. To give them a little more time. There was always something more that could be done to prolong life.

She’d never been there just to bear witness.

This was a different animal. Hospice was about making the best of the last part of your life. The end was not in question. And Lark’s job, right now, was to help this very last part be…be something more than just a tragedy. To be, perhaps, something a little bit beautiful.

“What was it like, when you held your granddaughter for the first time?” she asked. Tears spilled out of her eyes, but her voice was steady. The cat remained firmly against Nancy’s side, still purring. “Did you smell her head? I bet her skin was so soft. Those sweet little hands, grabbing on to your finger.”

Nancy made a humming sound of affirmation.

On impulse, Lark let go of Nancy’s hand. “Hang on one second.” She dashed from the room into the hallway. There. Six or seven people, plus a baby. Andrew looked the same, more or less, and Nancy was smiling, a scarf on her head. The baby was a newborn, just a little pink burrito with a pink cap on.

She ran back into the room, sat back down and held the picture. “Open your eyes, Nancy,” she said. “Look at all this love. You made that happen. You did this.”

Nancy did open her eyes. She smiled again, and then her eyes drifted closed. Lark set the picture next to her and took her hand in both of hers.

“I’m here, Nancy. You’re not alone.” A rattling breath. “You’re safe. You’re home. You’re not alone. It’ll be okay.”

Another noisy breath. A pause. A breath. A longer pause.

Another breath did not come.

Lark counted to thirty. Put her free hand on Nancy’s chest and felt nothing except bone. For a few minutes, she just sat there, tears streaming silently out of her eyes.

“Great job, Nancy,” she whispered. “Well done. You can rest now.”

Then she let go of Nancy’s hand, gently, gently put it on top of the photo. She stroked Oscar the cat.

“Good boy,” she whispered.

Then she called her supervisor, who said she’d send out the bereavement counselor.

When Andrew got home, Lark met him at the door.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Ah, shit,” he said, his face crumpling. He went into the bedroom, and Lark waited. A few minutes later, he came out, his face streaked with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Lark said again, and he hugged her.

“Thanks for being here with her. I should’ve known she’d sneak out if she had the chance.”

“It was really peaceful,” Lark said.

“You brought her the picture. That was…that was so kind. My kids will be glad to know that.”

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