Stuck in the Middle (28 page)

Bark, bark, bark, howl.

Ken reluctantly let go of his dream and struggled to consciousness. His eyes felt weighted down. He labored to open them and peer at the clock. 10:36 Saturday morning. He groaned. Last night at the hospital had been a killer. Seemed like they ran nonstop, and he’d even had to bring in the on-call doc to help. When he finally got home after a fourteen-hour shift, he’d barely been able to make it to the bedroom before he collapsed. He didn’t even get to take his morning walk with Joan, which was fast becoming a highlight of his and Trigger’s day.

What was wrong with that obnoxious dog, waking him up after only two hours’ sleep?

Bark, bark, bark, howl.

With a groan, Ken launched himself out of bed, stumbling against the doorjamb as he headed toward the back door. Drat Trigger. Drat Karen for making him get Trigger. Drat the whole world for not letting him sleep!

He opened the door to the back porch, bracing himself for Trigger’s enthusiastic greeting.

“What is the matter with . . .”

Odd. Instead of leaping on him in uncontrolled joy, as he normally did, the dog ran out the doggie door. Ken watched through the window as he raced across the yard, barking like crazy. Probably going for his ball, the irritating mutt. Ken felt sorry for the poor thing, alone all night long and ignored for much of the day, but he had to get some sleep, didn’t he?

Trigger ran back to the porch and stood just outside, barking and watching Ken through the window.

“I know, fella, and I’m sorry. We’ll take a long walk later, I promise.”

Trigger ran to the doggie door, stuck his front half through and barked frantically. Extremely odd. If he didn’t know better, Ken would think Trigger was acting like Lassie, trying to get his master to follow him.

Ridiculous thought. Trigger was a mutt, not a rescue dog.

Still, when he backed out of the doggie door and zoomed across the yard to stand barking at the side fence, Ken knew something had gotten the pup’s attention. Probably a cat. The quicker he checked it out, the quicker he could get back to bed. Giving in to a huge yawn, he followed through the back door into the yard. The pitch of Trigger’s bark rose. The dog leaped up on the fence, his front paws resting against the chain link, barking toward the house next door.

Joan’s house.

A fist of alarm squeezed Ken’s gut. Joan and Carla weren’t there. He’d noticed their cars gone when he came home from the hospital. That meant Grace was alone.

Ken’s feet went into motion. He ran to the gate and unlatched it, Trigger racing through ahead of him. Sure enough, the dog ran straight around to the back of Joan’s house and up onto the deck. Ken dashed up the stairs after him. In a barking frenzy, Trigger stood on his hind legs, front paws on the glass French door.

Ken hauled the dog back. He knocked on the glass.

“Grace? Are you in there?”

He couldn’t hear a thing over Trigger’s barking. The blinds were closed so he couldn’t see in. He twisted the handle. Locked. And he knew they kept the front door locked as well. The tiniest gap at the side of the blinds gave him a crack to peek through.

His stomach clenched into a knot. He saw a movement inside, down low. A white head. Grace! Lying on the floor!

“Grace! Grace, are you alright?” He jerked the doorknob frantically, his gaze sweeping the back patio. He’d have to break in. But with what? There, lining the back flowerbed, dozens of big landscaping rocks the size of his head. He ran down the stairs, grabbed the biggest one he could find, and raced back up on the deck.

“Grace, I’m coming in.”

He raised the rock high above his head.

Joan sat in the back office, going over next week’s labor schedule. Since school started again, the two high school students she’d hired at the beginning of the summer could only work weekends. Rosa agreed to pick up some extra hours next week, but she still hadn’t decided whether or not she was moving to Las Vegas with Luis.

A twinge of loneliness struck Joan at the thought. If Rosa did go, where would Joan find someone to take her place? And not just at work. Her gaze fell on the colorful picture of Cinderella taped to the wall above the desk, the left edge ragged where Tiffany had torn it from the book. Rosa was more than an employee. She and Tiffany had become her extended family.

She tightened her lips and typed Rosa’s name into the Tuesday–Thursday evening schedule next week. Better not to think about that until she had to.

Actually, what she really wanted to think about had nothing to do with work. She’d much rather plan the Shadow Ridge playground project. Her finger tapped the notebook containing her lists. Brittany called last night, ecstatic with her success in securing a truckload of playground mulch. The lumberyard that agreed to the donation wanted to know if there would be any free publicity involved. Brittany wondered if they should contact the
Advocate-Messenger
, letting them know about the project and the generosity of local vendors. They might even send a reporter to cover the event. Joan had to smile at that. She might actually be the subject of a newspaper headline!

She gave in to the silly grin that kept twitching her lips. Things were really starting to look up. True, Ken hadn’t asked her on a date yet, but she was getting to know him, and so far she really liked what she saw. No matter what Tori thought, he was a great guy, and completely normal. His faith only enhanced his appeal, in Joan’s opinion. And he seemed to be enjoying her company as well. This morning was the first time he’d missed walking with her in almost a week.

And this church project was fun, exciting even. It gave her something in common with Ken. But more than that, she felt like she’d finally stumbled onto something she could get enthusiastic about.

Brrring, brrring.

Joan clicked the Save button on the computer before she picked up the phone. “Good morning, Abernathy’s.”

“Joan?”

Her heart stuttered at the sob in Allie’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Eric just called. It’s Gram.”

Gram? Joan’s ears stopped working. Blood roared in her head, and for a moment her senses shut down. The office, the computer monitor, everything dimmed as a gray shroud descended over her vision. Something wrong with Gram? Was it a stroke? Joan closed her eyes, guilt threatening to drown her. She hadn’t been checking the blood pressure medicine. Mom said she would do it, so Joan didn’t. But she should have!

Allie’s voice came back into focus. “. . . ambulance, and Ken will meet us at the hospital.”

Joan’s grip on the receiver tightened. “Ken’s at the hospital?”

“Aren’t you listening?” Hysteria tinged Allie’s voice. “Ken found her. He called 9-1-1 and got Eric.”

“Mom?” Joan’s voice came out in a croak. “Has someone called Mom?”

“Ken did. He called the hospital and had them get her from the fourth floor. She’ll be waiting in the emergency room when the ambulance arrives. I’m leaving right now.”

“Me too.” Joan jumped up from the chair and threw the receiver in the general direction of the desk. She slid the drawer open and grabbed her purse, fumbling for her car keys as she ran through the loading dock area and into the showroom. Customers dotted the store, all of them turning to stare when she shouted at Pat, “I’m going to the hospital. It’s my grandmother.”

She shot through the front door in a flash, aware but not caring that Pat was shouting questions after her. No time for that right now. She had to get to Gram.

Her car zoomed to the hospital with a mind of its own. A good thing too. Joan’s brain refused to concentrate on anything. She was dimly aware that she stopped at a stoplight. Her heart threatened to pound through her chest while her hand thumped a frenzied pattern on the steering wheel. What if Gram . . . Joan choked back a sob. If anything happened to Gram, she couldn’t handle it. She’d lost so many people in her life. Daddy. Grandpa. Roger. She couldn’t handle losing Gram too.

God, why is this happening? Don’t you care?

The light changed. Tears blurred her vision. She scrubbed them out of her eyes with an impatient gesture.
Don’t think
about that. Think about driving. Turn into the emergency room
parking lot. Turn off the car. Pocket the keys.

She leaped out of the car and dashed toward the revolving door.

Inside the hospital, she rushed to the registration window. “My grandmother, Grace Hancock. Is she here?”

The woman at the desk peered over a pair of reading glasses. Joan’s throat convulsed as a look of compassion crossed her face. Why did she feel sorry for her? Was Gram . . . was she dead?

“She’s here,” the woman acknowledged. “Are you Carla’s daughter?”

Struggling to hold back her tears, Joan nodded.

“Just a minute. I’ll tell them you’re here.”

She stood up and disappeared through a doorway behind her at the same moment Allie shot through the revolving door. Seeing Joan, she made a beeline across the room and threw her arms around her. “Is she okay?”

Joan pressed her head next to Allie’s and hugged her shuddering shoulders. In the face of Allie’s tears, Joan knew she had to remain calm. Allie was hysterical enough for the both of them. That couldn’t be good for the baby. She swallowed back a sob. “I don’t know. They just went to get Mom.”

The double doors leading into the treatment area swung open. Joan turned and saw Ken stride through them. As one, she and Allie ran toward him.

“Is she alright?” Allie’s eyes, puffy and red, begged for information. Joan’s breath caught in her throat, waiting for his answer.

Ken put a hand on each of their shoulders, his face an oasis of calm. “She’s doing as well as can be expected. Her vitals are good, except her blood pressure’s high, but that’s not unusual after a trauma like this. Ortho is on their way to do some X-rays, and we’ve just called in a surgeon.”

“Surgeon?” Joan searched his face. “X-rays? Didn’t she have a stroke?”

He shook his head. “No, we think she broke her hip.”

Her hip? Not a stroke. “She’s not going to . . . die?”

The most welcome sound Joan could have hoped for was Ken’s gentle laughter. He squeezed her shoulder. “No, she’s not going to die.”

Joan’s knees threatened to buckle from a sudden wave of relief. Allie’s sobs grew louder, and in a single gesture, Ken pulled them both to him. His strong arm lent Joan strength as she buried her face in his shoulder. She stood there, one arm around Ken and the other around Allie, and let the news sink in. Gram broke a hip. She wasn’t going to die.

Ken continued. “I don’t want to make light of her condition, though. An injury like this for someone her age is serious. We’ll have to check those X-rays and let the orthopedic surgeon give us a prognosis. No matter what he says, I think it’s safe to assume we’re going to keep her here for a while.”

Joan drew in a shuddering breath, and felt a measure of control return. She lifted her head, pressing Allie’s back with her arm. “What happened?”

Before Ken could answer, someone came through the revolving door. Allie gave a cry and flew to her husband’s side. A fresh wave of weeping overtook her as Eric comforted her. She looked so pitiful, leaning over her big belly to reach Eric.

With something like a shock, Joan realized Ken’s arm still lingered at her waist. She stepped away, casting an awkward half smile up at him, just as Allie recovered herself and pulled Eric toward them.

“Ken was just about to tell us what happened,” she told him.

Ken grinned down at Joan. “It was Trigger. He must have heard her cry or something. He barked and howled like a madman until he woke me up from a dead sleep, and then wouldn’t be ignored. He led me to your house, and I found her on the dining room floor.” His grin turned sheepish. “I’m afraid I did quite a bit of damage to your back door getting inside. I’ll get someone out there to fix it this afternoon.”

Eric thrust a hand toward Ken. “Hey, man, don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it. We’re grateful to you.”

As soon as Ken released Eric’s hand, Allie threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much, Ken. If you hadn’t found her, she could have laid there all day. Then she really might have had a stroke.”

“But how did it happen?” Joan shook her head. “Surely her hip didn’t just snap for no reason.”

“She fell off a chair.” Ken frowned disapproval. “I talked to her for a few minutes while we waited for the ambulance, and I told her she had no business climbing up on a chair to begin with. She said she was trying to rearrange the baskets on top of the china hutch. Something about putting them in size order?”

Allie groaned, while guilt stabbed at Joan. This was her fault. Why hadn’t she done more the last time she caught Gram standing on a chair? She should have been firmer, should have extracted a promise. She gulped. She should have told Mom. Gram would have listened if Mom told her not to go climbing on chairs. But Joan didn’t want to tell Mom, because she was afraid. The threat of the nursing home loomed like a dark shadow.

“Listen,” Ken said, “it’s against the rules to have too many family members in there at once, but since your mom is a nurse here, I’m sure nobody will mind if you want to go back and say hello.”