Page 101 of Blade

I stared out the car window.

“I don’t know how to process any of it. He died, Jack.”

Turning to look at him, I cried, “We had a funeral. There’s a headstone in the cemetery with his name on it.”

More tears fell from my eyes. I thought when I left Diamond Creek, eventually I would stop crying over Micah Spade.

Guess I had that wrong.

“Beck, it’s ok to be angry that he lied. It’s also ok to be happy that he’s alive,” he told me, putting his arm on the back of my seat to back out of the spot.

“What the fuck?”

I looked over at Jack and turned to see what he was glaring at in the back seat.

“Why does she have a baby seat?” He looked up at me. “Does Sammy have a baby?”

Shrugging, I answered, “I don’t know. You know her better than I do.”

“Apparently, I don’t fucking know her at all,” he mumbled, finally backing out of the space and leaving the parking lot.

We weren’t far from Grams’ house, less than a ten-minute drive. Certainly not enough time for me to figure out what I was going to say to her when I got home.

How could she have not told me?

Why would she keep that from me?

Jack pulled into the driveway and turned off the car.

I sat and stared at the house. I knew if I sat here too long, I would just get angrier. With more force than I planned, I swung open the car door and climbed out. Jack followed me into the house. For moral support, I guess.

“Grams?” I called out, “Grams, where are you? I have a bone to pick with you, old lady.”

I strolled through the kitchen, expecting to find her in her favorite chair. Only she wasn’t sitting in the chair, she was lying on the floor.

“GRAMS!” I rushed over, kneeling by her side. “Grams, wake up.”

I heard Jack on his phone, but I was too preoccupied to even wonder who he was talking to, much less listen to what he was saying. My only focus was my grandmother, who was lying lifeless on the floor.

Oh God, she couldn’t be.

“Jack, I need your help.” He tossed his phone and hit the floor next to me. Rolling Grams over, he felt for a pulse. He must not have found one because he immediately started CPR.

“Beck, call 9-1-1.”

“What? Jack, what’s wrong with her?” I asked, staring at my grandmother’s frail form.

“BECK! CALL 9-1-1, NOW!”

The snap of Jack’s voice jolted me into action. I reached for my phone. I dialed the emergency number and gave the dispatcher the information she needed. Hanging up, I heard the rumble of several motorcycles.

I sat there numb when men came running into the house.

“Becca!”

Micah.

He was here. My attention focused on the doorway as he ran in and pulled me into his arms.

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