Page 7 of Someone to Watch Over Me

“Let’s not go there unless or until we have to.”

“I’m preconditioned to go there.”

“I know, honey,” she says with a sigh. “We all are, but just because it’s happened before doesn’t mean it will again. Tom is robustly healthy. I’m sure whatever is wrong can be fixed.”

I cling to the tiny burst of hope that comes with her reassurance.

Gage joins us a few minutes later. “They told his sister he had a heart attack, and they’re taking him to the cath lab for a stent procedure on a blocked artery.”

“That’s good news,” Iris says in a cheerful tone. “See? They’re fixing the problem.”

“Is that… Is it like open-heart surgery?”

“Not necessarily,” Gage said. “I think they can do it robotically.”

“Did his sister ask where I was?”

“I told her you were having a tough time, and we’re taking you home with us. I gave her my number so she can let us know how he’s doing.”

“Oh, that’s good.” I’m so relieved at how he took care of everything for me. “Thank you for thinking of that.”

“Of course. Let’s get you home and settled.”

As if I’m one of her kids, Iris leans across me to buckle my seat belt.

Her kindness has me in tears again. “Thank you.”

She squeezes my arm. “Anything for you.” After she closes my door, she gets into the passenger seat for the ride back to the house where she and Gage live with her three kids.

Since becoming a widow at thirty-two, my fellow widows have become some of the best friends I’ve ever had. They’re the kindest, most compassionate, thoughtful people anyone could ever hope to have in their lives. We see each other through the good times, the bad times and the truly dreadful times in this new existence that none of us signed up for.

They say it’s a club no one would willingly join, but it’s also one I’m thankful for every day. I can’t imagine what my widow life would be like without my fellow travelers, especially Iris and Gage, who set the gold standard for slaying widow life. Although I know for a fact they’ve had their share of setbacks as they build a new life together.

When we arrive at their spacious, two-story home, there’s only one light on. I spend so much time there I can tell the light is coming from the family room.

Her home is our “clubhouse,” or at least that’s how it seems to me, and I’m sure to the others, as well. It’s our gathering place, our safe space, our home away from home, all thanks to the welcoming vibe that comes directly from Iris. She and two of her friends founded the Wild Widows. Tracy has since remarried and moved on from the group. The other, Christy, has recently found new love with Trey, but is still active in our group.

Gage parks the SUV in the garage and leads the way inside through the door to the kitchen.

Iris’s mother, Justine, is there with hugs for all of us. “How is he?”

“In the cath lab for stents on a blocked artery,” Iris tells her.

“Remember how Uncle Bill had that last year?” Justine asks her daughter. “He’s doing terrific.”

“That’s right,” Iris says.

“I’m glad to hear that,” I tell Justine.

“Try not to worry, honey. He’s in very good hands.”

“Thank you for babysitting so Iris and Gage could rescue me.”

She hugs me tightly. “No problem at all. Try to get some rest so you can be there for your friend.”

“I will.”

What will being there for my friend entail? I’ve already spent years as a full-time caregiver to a desperately ill man. I’m not sure I have it in me to play that role again.

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