Page 79 of Lovingly Restored

“Don’t leave him.”

“Who Mummo?”

“The boy.”

I place the polish in its basket and tilt my head. She’s confused, thinking of Isaac as a child. Memories of his mother leaving haunt her, and she’s been bringing it up with increasing frequency. Isaac says he has no recollection of that time, but his grandmother does.

“Isaac will be fine. He’s all grown up now, right, Mummo?”

She grasps my hands with surprising strength. “You’ll stay with him.”

I’m unclear as to whether her mind is still in the past. The realization that Iwouldstay with Isaac if he asked washes over me like a rogue wave.

“You’re very special to me, Ashlyn.”

I swallow, trying to smile. I’m getting pretty wobbly too.

“Like a granddaughter. I never had one of those.”

No.

I fight against the muscles in my face that want to scrunch up and push the tide of tears from my eyes. My own grandparents passed away when I was tiny. Isaac is beyond lucky to have her in his life. The thought of him planning to move her into a care facility without consulting her, or me, stings. I can’t bring myself to ask her about it. She’s already barely eating.

“Mummo. I appreciate that. I’m your nurse. And your good friend.” I add, adding a layer of protection between us.

Ever so shrewd, she asks, “Is Isaac your good friend?”

“Yes?”

A moment passes where she seems to peer through me. That blue-eyed stare is so much like Isaac’s. She looks fragile. Her already slim build can’t afford the missed meals.

“I don’t know,” I admit.

A friend, or a boyfriend, wouldn’t keep something like this from me. A tightness covers my chest, like I’ve been laying on my stomach too long and can’t take a good deep breath. It’s clear as the morning dew that, yet again, I’ve treated a patient like a family member. Soon, I’ll have to bear the weight of losing her.

I help her move from her chair to her bed, tucking blankets snug around her.

Her words are slow, eyelids heavy. “He can’t stay here all by himself.”

I want nothing more than to place my head on the quilt next to her and cry. Instead, I choke down a bitter ball of sorrow and rise from my chair.

“Have a good rest, Mrs. Lauri.”

I can’t bring myself to call her Mummo. Not anymore.

She’s not my grandmother. That’s not my garden. And Isaac isn’t my boyfriend. Not like I thought.You’ve done it again, Ashlyn,I think.You got way too close.

I’m lying in my own room. The shadows of my palm play across the ceiling, the tall tree swaying in the draught from the open window. I looked up Breezy Shores. It’s an assisted living facility over an hour away. I shake my head, scoffing in disgust. Isaac is out and I don’t have the slightest idea how to bring this up. Instead of waiting up for him, I’m hiding out in here, which is stupid. This is the first place he’ll check when he doesn’t find me in his bed. I can’t help but wonder if Isaac’s been convinced by his father that demolishing this house and developing the land is the best bet. Surely those two would never agree on anything, but what do I know? I’m the newcomer here. The odd one out. Isaac must have snuck in quietly. I’m too lost in my own thoughts to hear anything other than the nasty voices in my head.

“You here, babe?”

I wince at the pet name. Isaac’s sweet, light energy is at odds with my own emotions.

“Are you asleep?”

Pretending to be out cold would be the easy way out.

“Ugh, no.” I kick my feet to untwist them from the sheets. I’ve been tossing and turning for hours.

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