Page 73 of When Love Is Lost and Found

"What's wrong, Dad?" I ask, reaching for the jeans and T-shirt I wore last night.

"Sharon got a phone call from her stepdad. Her mother's been rushed to the hospital. It sounds like a pulmonary embolism. She's in surgery right now, but the doctors don't think she's going to make it. Sharon needs to get on the first flight back home as soon as possible. I want you to go with her."

I hang up and stumble into the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a military shower of no more than five minutes. I throw together a bag with enough clothes for a few days and write a short note for Loren that I tape to her back door. She'll see it when she comes out to water her plants in a few hours.

Sharon is sitting at the kitchen table when I walk in. Her hands are wrapped around a cup of tea as if to keep them warm. She's actively crying, and Mom is sitting beside her, rubbing her back, trying to comfort her. Dad's on the phone making reservations for the first flight available.

I walk up to Sharon, not knowing what to say or how to act. Things between us haven't been exactly normal the last couple of days. She stands up and leans into me. I wrap my arms around her as she melds her body with mine, putting her hands on my back. There's no space between us, not physically, not emotionally. I'm here with her, spirit, soul, and body. I'm hers, and she's mine.

"I'm going to go pack a bag for her," Mom says.

"I can do it," Sharon says between sobs.

"Stay with her," Mom says and walks away.

I look down at her tear-filled eyes.

"What happened?"

"My stepfather found Mom on the bathroom floor when he got home from work. He called 911, and she was taken to the hospital. They found a blood clot in her lung. Rick said she'll be in surgery for hours."

"The flight leaves in three hours," Dad says after hanging up the phone. "I'll drive you to the airport. Here are the keys to the house and the car."

***

Sharon is quiet during the flight but lets me hold her hand. She also rests her head on my shoulder and sleeps for an hour.

We land in Los Angeles at nine o'clock.

I do my best to give her space until she's ready to talk.

We take a taxi to my parents' house, where we freshen up and then drive to the hospital.

I reach for Sharon's hand in the car, and she lets me hold it, but she's still quiet.

"Are we okay, Sharon?" I finally ask.

"Thank you for being here with me. I'm sorry about Patrick. I'm sorry about my attitude."

"I'm sorry too," I say.

At the hospital, I open her car door and take her by the hand.

We go to the information desk, where they send us up to the fourth floor.

"Should we take the stairs?" Sharon asks.

"I'll be okay," I say, knowing that all my energy needs to be focused on her. I don't have time for any of my issues right now, and I refuse to be weak when what she needs is someone who can be strong for her.

On the fourth floor, we find the waiting room. Several people are grouped in one area.

"Rick," Sharon says, approaching the group. Rick gives Sharon a fatherly hug. He's a tall Hispanic man in his mid-forties with black hair and dark brown eyes. I can tell he's been crying and hasn't slept in twenty-four hours.

"Rick, this is Jon, Noah's big brother."

When I shake his hand, he gives me a look that unnerves me. I can't put my finger on it, but this man is judging me with his glance.

"Sharon," he says, “you've met my sister, Helen, and her husband, Frank.”

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