Page 62 of Sugar Coated Lies
“Everleigh,” Carol cries out, tissues in her hands, her eyes red from crying. She inches toward her, feet shuffling across the floor, her shoulders rounded forward. The urgency I heard on the phone is gone.
Not good.
Everleigh runs to her. “How is he?” Where is he?” She glances behind Carol, frantic.
Carol breaks down and covers her eyes and nose with her tissues. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Everleigh grows more upset, tears slipping from her eyes. “It’s not your fault. Where is he? I want to see him.” She steps around Carol.
Carol grips her wrists. “He’s gone.”
Everleigh stiffens, as if digesting the words. She shakes her head. “No. You just got here. He was fine. He has a cold. He’s fine.”
Carol pulls herself together and lays a hand on Everleigh’s cheek, her gaze a mix of agony and sympathy. “He passed right when we got here. It happened so fast, I couldn’t call. They were trying to resuscitate him.”
“No.” Everleigh steps back and glances at the double doors to the emergency ward. She launches in that direction. “I need to see him. He’s not dead. He can’t be.”
I go after her. “Let me talk to the doctor, Everleigh. I’ll find him.” I snatch her wrist and duck my head to be level with her face, catching her gaze. “Okay? I’ll find out everything for you. I’ll get you to him. But I need to speak with the nurses and doctors first. Okay?”
She stares at me for a moment, but I can tell she’s not seeing me. Her head shakes again, and she pulls from me, pushing through the doors.
I follow and speak to the first nurse I see. “We’re looking for Miles Calhoun. He was just brought in by ambulance.”
She nods and gestures toward the doors. “We need you to wait outside, please.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I tell her. “It’s her grandfather.” I want to say he’s all Everleigh has left, but I can’t announce what Everleigh already knows and risk upsetting her more.
“Hang on.” The nurse speaks quietly to another nurse sitting at a nearby workstation. Other nurses cross the hallway and doctors go behind curtains, attending to different patients in beds.
The nurse checking on Miles’s status, grabs the doctor passing by and directs him to us. He walks over, his expression empathetic.
“I’m Doctor Jameson. I treated Mr. Calhoun. Are you family?”
“Yes. He’s my grandfather,” Everleigh says.
I add, “She’s his caretaker.”
The doctor eyes me and nods, then returns his attention to Everleigh. “He came in unconscious and passed as they were bringing him in. We need to wait for his labs to know for certain, but I suspect it was a stroke. He went peacefully. Unconscious means unaware. There can be comfort in that.”
Everleigh’s body shudders with silent cries, her eyes brimming with more tears. “I need to see him.”
The doctor nods and speaks to the nurse, who’s standing nearby.
She walks over. “Follow me.”
We pass by several curtains and stop at a closed one.
To me, the nurse says, “Orderlies are on their way to take him. You have a few minutes. There’s also a chapel on site and grievance counselors on staff should you need either.”
“Thank you.”
The nurse leaves, and Everleigh stares at the small gap in the curtain where you pass through. “Do you want me to join you?” I ask in as gentle a voice as I can manage.
She nods without looking at me. After a deep breath, she squares her shoulders, peels back the curtain and steps inside.
I’ve never seen a deceased person in the hospital. My grandparents are still alive. My uncle died from a motorcycle accident two years ago, but it was a closed casket memorial.
Miles lies on the bed, a sheet covering his entire body and face.
