Page 41 of Remembering You
11
Marty barely slept at all that night after seeing Ronnie laying in that hospital bed. Logically, she knew her daughter would likely be fine. The nurse in her was assured that Ronnie and the babies were mostly out of the woods, but the concerned mother in her? That was a different story.
The next morning, Marty poured her coffee into a to-go container and dropped a piece of romaine and a carrot into Bolt’s cage. “Here you go, little guy,” she said and refreshed his water bowl. “Steve will be by later to give you your shot.” Bolt’s head crept into his shell. “I know, I know. None of us like shots, but you need it to feel better.” She tapped the glass of the cage gently before grabbing her coat.
Locking the front door behind her, she headed to the hospital to be there as soon as visiting hours opened. Lex had chosen to sleep over with Ronnie in the hospital that night which eased her mind a little, knowing someone was there with her while Lydia and Cam kept an eye on Olivia. At eight a.m. sharp, Marty tapped her knuckles against Ronnie’s door which was already ajar. “Knock, knock,” she said aloud.
“Hey, Mom,” Ronnie smiled and pushed off her palms to sit a little higher up in her bed.
“Don’t sit up for me, hun.” Marty leaned down and kissed Ronnie’s cheek which was notably pinker than it was last night. “How you feeling?”
“Sore, but even with the surgery, far less pain than last night.”
“Good, good.” Marty pressed her palm to Ronnie’s forehead. Old habits die hard. It didn’t matter that the hospital had her hooked up to all kinds of monitors… she had to feel for herself that Ronnie wasn’t feverish.
“Sorry to give everyone a scare,” Ronnie said as Marty picked up her chart and flipped through it. “And on Valentine’s Day.” She rolled her eyes in spite of herself and groaned.
“Yes. How dare you sprout a cyst and turn your ovary over from within your body.” Marty looked up from over the chart and winked at her daughter to ease the sarcastic bite.
“You know what I mean. It was a nice holiday night and I had to go ruin the fun for everyone.” Ronnie paused. “And I do meaneveryone.”
Marty swallowed, ignoring her daughter’s pointed statement and flipped the page on Ronnie’s chart. “Oh, good! It looks like you can eat solid food!” She grabbed her purse and pulled out the egg sandwiches she grabbed from Elsa’s on the way. “I didn’t want to show you these if you were on a liquid diet.”
Ronnie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, thank God. I saw the oatmeal mush they were bringing around to patients this morning and my stomach turned. Is that—”
“Egg and cheese on an almond flour biscuit just for you.” Marty handed her daughter the sandwich and grabbed her own from within in her bag. “Where’s Lex?”
“He went to the bakery to let Callie into the upstairs apartment.”
“Callie’s here?”
A twinge of guilt pinged in Marty’s gut that she didn’t realize her youngest daughter was back in town.
“She got in early this morning. We figured she could just stay at the old apartment since no one is living there right now.”
Marty nodded, trying to hide her disappointment that Callie wouldn’t be staying with her. “That makes sense. Gives her a little privacy, too.”
“We were thinking she wasn’t the only one who needed privacy…”
There it was again. That little tone, the implication. Marty smiled, but slanted her eyes at Ronnie. “Is there something you’re insinuating here?”
Ronnie wiggled her eyebrows and took a big bite of her sandwich. “A little birdie told me that one of my surgeons yesterday is more than a little friendly with you. And that my torsed ovary interrupted a little rendezvous—”
“No,” Marty interrupted. “There was no rendezvous. There was no vous-ing of any kind.”
“Dost thou protest too much?”
Marty sighed. No matter what she said in response, her kids would see what they wanted to see. “Unfortunately, the date didn’t, um… go so well.”
It wasn’t quite the truth. The date itself had gone really well… it was everything that came later.
“Really?” Ronnie said. “He seemed so nice. At least from the little bit that I’ve spoken with him.”
“He is nice. That’s not the issue.”
“Then what is the issue?”
“It’s… it’s complicated.”
