Page 32 of Faking it for Gran's Sake

Mason sits on the edge of the bed and makes room for me to join him.

“How are you feeling?” Mason asks.

Gran smiles. “I’m fine now. Thought I was having a heart attack. Turns out it was indigestion.”

“Huh?” Mason looks at me, brows scrunched. He turns back to Gran. “Are you sure?”

The curtain rails scrape back, and a doctor walks into the cubicle. “Oh, good. You’re still here, Mr. Brooker. We have the test results back.”

Mason stands, and in a flash, I’m by his side. I bite the inside of my cheek.

“Nothing to worry about. Your grandmother had indigestion, but because she panicked, she had throat convulsions making her think she had a heart attack. But our tests show her heart is as healthy as a fifty-year-old’s.”

“What?” I gasp and cover my mouth. “Oh, that’s good news. I mean.” I look to Mason, unsure of what’s going on.

He faces the doctor. “What about her other conditions?”

He frowns. “I’ve called her physician. He’s coming in to meet with you and your father. Dr. Carmichael has all her medical history and wants to discuss this in detail with you today. Can you stick around a bit longer?”

“Of course.”

He looks at me and back at Mason. “He wants immediate family present to implement a plan for Jean’s mental health.”

“I’m right here, thank you very much.” Gran calls over. “No one will be discussing anything without me.”

Mental health? What’s going on with Gran.

I turn to Mason. “I guess I should go. Your dad will be here soon.” I glance at the doctor for a beat before returning my gaze to Mason. “Call me.”

He squeezes my hand. “I appreciate you coming out.”

I smile, then make my way over to Gran. I lean over and kiss her forehead. “I’m glad that you’re doing okay. You scared the life out of me.”

She chuckles. “I scared the life out of myself. Silly old woman.”

I pat her hand. “No. You’re not silly. It could’ve been a real heart attack. You weren’t to know. We’re all relieved you’re okay. I’ll visit you at the nursing home and bring you something sweet.”

“You’re sweet, darling. That’s all you need to bring. Yourself.”

I lean down and kiss her cheek. “Love you, Gran.”

“Love you too, dear.”

***

MASON

Dad paces the ER cubicle like a PacMan hitting roadblocks and reversing his tracks.

“Graham, why don’t you sit down?” Gran says.

I don’t blame Dad for the agitation. What will the doctor tell us? It must be bad news if he can’t tell Dad over the phone. Instead, he wants to make a plan of action.

I approach my father and place a hand on his rolled shoulder. “She’s right. Have a seat. You’re going to burn holes in the linoleum.”

Dad meets my eyes. Deep lines wrinkle his brow. I’ve never seen him so stressed, not even when we lost the Barclave deal.

He lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine.” Dad sits in a padded chair in the corner, leans his elbows on his knees, and threads his fingers. “What’s taking him so long?”

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