Page 43 of Everything We Left Unsaid

I pull back and her eyes flutter open, a soft smile playing on her lips. “That’s not what I meant,” she scolds playfully.

“Jesus, would you two get a room?” Ethan is back, observing us with a look of disgust. Abby pulls away from me and I instantly miss the feel of her warm, silky skin against my hands. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Abby replies. “I’ll be back,” she assures me and goes to leave.

“Not you,” Ethan says. “Jacob.” He motions toward me, annoyance flashing in his chocolate brown eyes.

Abby and I exchange surprised looks and I follow him to the double doors leading to the unit. He tells me what room she’s in and before I can leave, issues a warning. “Don’t upset her,” he growls. “She’s fragile right now and we can’t afford any setbacks.”

“Don’t worry.” I try to keep the sneer out of my voice, tired of all his misplaced anger and contempt. “Believe it or not, I would never do anything to hurt anyone in your family.”

His features relax and he nods. “I know.” He walks away before I can say anything else and I watch him retreat, a little stunned at his last remark. Is he finally starting to believe me?

I find Ama’s room and knock on the door, hesitating before I open it, not knowing what to expect. How will she look? Will her skin still be that dusky grey like it was just before she hit the floor? Will she still be panting, trying to catch her breath like she’s being suffocated by an invisible foe? I step inside and shut the door behind me. Pulling the curtain open, I’m taken aback by how normal she looks.

“Jacob,” she croaks through her scratchy throat.

I rush to her and pull her into a hug. I don’t even think about it; I just do it. Fighting back tears, the unexpected emotion taking me by surprise, I manage to ask her how she feels.

“I’m a little sore,” she admits. “I’ve got a few cracked ribs,” she informs me, and I wince. I’d felt a few of them give way as I delivered compressions against her bony chest. “My throat feels like I swallowed sandpaper,” she continues, swallowing thickly and reaching for her cup of water. After taking a long pull from the straw, she rests her head against her pillow, exhaustion taking hold. “And my groin is black and blue from where they had that giant tube in it,” she exclaims, her eyes widening. “You should’ve seen that thing when they pulled it out! Then they had to press on me for damn near half an hour to get the hole to close up!”

I instinctively grab her hand to comfort her. “I’m so sorry you have to go through all this.”

“Don’t be sorry, Jacob. I’m still here.” She gives a weak smile, her eyes soft and full of affection. “And it’s all thanks to you.” Her eyes shimmer and a single tear rolls down her cheek. “I could’ve been at the house alone,” she laments, “with no one to take care of Chloe. I never would’ve made it if you hadn’t been there.” Another tear slips out and she wipes it with the back of her hand. “My granddaughter, who’s already lost so many people she loves, would have been the one to find my lifeless body on the floor,” she adds on a sob.

“I know what you did for me, and I know it couldn’t have been easy for you,” she proclaims with a meaningful look. “You are truly my hero, and I feel so blessed to have you in my life.”

An unexpected wave of emotion hits me and I nearly lose my composure. Her gratitude feels undeserved. I was only doing what any decent human being would do.

“God brought you back to us. I truly believe that,” she confesses, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “And it wasn’t just for Abby and Chloe. Don’t get me wrong, they needed you more than they realize. But he brought you back for me, too. You came back when you did for a reason.”

Clearing my throat against the lump lodged in there, I give her my sincerest smile. “I’m glad I’m here. I’m so, so glad you weren’t alone. It was the most difficult situation I’ve ever been in, but I’d do it a thousand times over just to know you’re okay.”

“Thank you, Jacob. From the bottom of my heart.” She presses a hand to her chest. “Thank you,” she whispers, the tears flowing freely now. I pull her into a hug again and let her cry into my shoulder. In the last week, I’ve grown to love this woman like family, like I would my own grandmother. I send a silent thank you to whoever is up there listening for putting me in the right place at the right time.

When I return to the lobby, Ethan is gone and Abby is curled up in a chair, chewing on her thumbnail. “Hey!” She stands and rushes to me. “How is she? What did she say?”

“She seems good,” I answer honestly. “She looks so much better. I couldn’t believe it. You can’t even tell she just had a heart attack.”

“I know. I was surprised when I saw her this morning. But then again, she’s a tough old bird. They won’t be able to keep her in that bed much longer.” She gives me a crooked grin. “What did she want to talk to you about?” she asks, looking nervous.

“She wanted to thank me.”

“Oh.” Abby looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to elaborate, but I’d rather keep our conversation between Ama and me. I don’t want to make myself out to be some kind of savior; I just want her to get better and for everyone to be able to move on from this. “Of course,” she acknowledges. “The first thing she said to me was how thankful she was that you were there. She was also worried you’d gone back home and she wouldn’t get the chance to tell you in person. I assured her you were sticking around to make sure she was okay.”

“There’s no way I could leave with her in that condition. Do you know when they’re going to release her?”

“Not yet. The doctor said she’d have to stay a couple more nights to be monitored and to make sure her medication is working. It sounds like we’re going to have a stack of new prescriptions when we leave here,” she sighs.

Her worried gaze drops to the floor and my heart aches for her. Medications can be expensive, and even though Abby has a good job, one outrageous prescription could put a huge burden on their finances. I cup her face, bringing her gaze back to mine.

“If you need help getting her medicine, please let me know. I’ll do everything I can to help.” She glances away, clearly uncomfortable with my offer.

She’s always seemed perturbed by our differences and self-conscious of her socioeconomic standing. It’s never bothered me, but I’ve never been in her shoes. I don’t know what it’s like to struggle. I grew up with the proverbial silver spoon in my mouth, never having to worry where my school clothes would come from, hoping my classmates wouldn’t notice that everything I owned was from a bargain outlet or thrift store. We never had to worry about one of our cars breaking down and not having the money to fix it.

In contrast, she’s struggled most of her life. Even when her dad was alive and working in the coal mines, they didn’t have the means to afford many luxuries. After he passed, her mom spiraled into addiction and wasted every last dime they had chasing a high. Things didn’t get much easier financially when she went to live with her grandmother. Ama lives on a fixed income, so Abby had to make her own money and provide for herself since she was old enough to hold a job. I don’t envy her one bit, but I sure as hell respect and admire her. She works harder than anyone I’ve ever met.

“We’ll be okay,” she assures me. “She has Medicare and a prescription plan. Plus, most of her meds are available in generic form.” She shrugs.

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