The Color of Destiny (The Color of Heaven Series Book 2) (18 page)

Ryan also confided in me about his relationship with Elizabeth. He told me that she stayed over most nights, but that she was still keeping her apartment, at least for now. Not that she had much choice. Ryan had signed a one-year lease.

I was curious about their plans for the future. How serious were they? Would they get married one day? Or was this a temporary affair, meant to distract Ryan from the grief of losing Gladys, and Mom, and me?

These were questions I hoped to answer when I returned for the holidays—so I came home equipped to ask all of them.

Chapter Fifty-seven

“It’s so good to see you,” I said to Elizabeth as I crossed the threshold and stepped into her arms. It felt like heaven to hug her. Gram had been right. She was like a guardian angel, sent here to care for all of us.

I noticed her hair had grown almost to her shoulders. It wasn’t as black as it was when she first arrived. There were red highlights now, but most importantly—as Ryan mentioned on the phone—the butterfly tattoo was gone.

“Come on in,” Elizabeth said. “Let me take your jacket.”

I shrugged out of it and removed my scarf, and she hung everything up in the front hall closet.

Ryan appeared at the door and kicked the snow off his boots before stepping inside. “The temperature’s dropping,” he said, pulling off his leather gloves.

“I’m glad you made it home before dark,” Elizabeth replied.

I found it interesting that she used the word home, as if it were as much
her
home as ours. Maybe some girls my age might have felt threatened by the presence of a potential new stepmother, but the idea created a warm feeling in my belly, because I loved Elizabeth. I was the one who had interviewed her, and I believed I had made an excellent choice. I also knew Gram would not be here forever, and I didn’t want Ryan to end up alone.

“How’s Sean?” Elizabeth asked, linking her arm through mine as we walked together to the kitchen.

“He’s great,” I replied. “His parents will be overjoyed to have him home for Christmas. He’s never been so far away from them before.”

“Have you met his parents yet?”

“No, but I spoke to his mom on the phone, and his little sister. She’s a cutie.” My gaze shifted to the living room. The television was on, but the volume was turned low. “Gram!”

I hurried around the sofa to greet her, but she peered up at me with a knitted brow. Physically, she recoiled when I went to hug her, as if I were a total stranger about to leapfrog over her.

Pausing on the area rug, I spoke more gently. “Hi, Gram. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she replied, and I sensed she was just repeating my words. That she hadn’t remembered it was the holiday season.

“What are you watching?” I asked, sitting down beside her.

She gestured toward the television. Was she having trouble accessing the words to name the program that was on?

“Mind if I watch with you?” I asked.

She nodded to tell me it was okay.

For a long while we sat in silence, then I took hold of her hand and squeezed it lovingly. She looked at me. Our eyes locked and held, and I knew she was struggling to remember who I was.

I’m not sure she ever did. She certainly couldn’t form words to tell me so, but I believe in my heart that she knew I was someone who meant a great deal to her. That was enough.

Chapter Fifty-eight

On New Year’s Eve, Ryan had to cover the ER at the hospital. We gave Justin the night off, so Elizabeth and I planned a special evening at home with Gram, just the three of us.

In preparation, I’d spent hours collecting old photographs from boxes in the basement, scanned them to generate digital files, and created a photo book memento using a website that allowed me to add captions and graphics. The hard copy arrived by mail a few days after Christmas, and I wrapped it in gold foil paper.

The photos I selected mostly came from Gram’s childhood and the early years of her marriage, because I knew that her long-term memory was more accessible to her than what was stored in the short term. I thought Gram might recognize her sisters and parents, and be comforted by the fact that she could still remember
some
things, and that she had lived a full and wonderful life. She was not a person without a past. Without an identity. Or a soul. She was loved and valued by everyone who knew her.

Late in the afternoon, Elizabeth made a last-minute trip to the grocery store to pick up snacks and a cake we had pre-ordered to celebrate the New Year. I remained at home with Gram, who was now in the habit of wandering around the house constantly, moving from room to room, as if exploring everything for the first time. She fiddled with things, moved household items to different and sometimes bizarre locations, and often tried to go outside. We put child safety covers on all the doorknobs, which made it impossible for her to open them, and we also secured the exit doors with battery-operated alarms that Elizabeth had picked up for us at the hardware store.

I was surprised when Gram bent over the steel bucket in front of the fireplace and withdrew one of the beach rocks.

She had not painted anything since before Thanksgiving, but today she carried a sphere-shaped stone to the coffee table and set it down. She stood over it, staring for a long time.

“Would you like to paint that, Gram?” I asked, setting down the washcloth in the kitchen and moving into the living room. “We have paints and brushes.” I fetched one of her other painted rocks, which we kept on the mantel, and showed it to her.

She took it from me and set it down next to the other rock.

“I’ll get your paints,” I said, not waiting for an answer.

After covering the coffee table with newspaper, I poured small amounts of colored craft paint from the plastic bottles onto a foil pie plate, and handed her a brush.

She dipped it into the green, mixed it with some white, and began to paint odd shapes that made no sense to me—at least not at first. But when she began to add blue, I realized she was painting a globe of the earth.

“Is that the world?” I asked, when she appeared to be finished and set down her brush.

She nodded at me.

“It’s fantastic, Gram. You remember your geography better than I do.” I pointed. “Look, there’s Italy.”

I couldn’t wait to show her the photo book later that evening.

Glancing up at the clock, I wondered when Elizabeth would be back, as a light snow had begun to fall, and it was now dark.

o0o

While the paint on the beach rock dried, Gram lay down on the sofa and took a nap. I sat at the computer to watch funny animal videos on YouTube. More than a half-hour must have passed when I heard Gram mumble something. I swiveled in the chair to see if she needed anything, and noticed that the snow was coming down hard and fast outside.

Picking up my cell phone, I texted Elizabeth.

Are you on your way? It’s snowing. Drive safely.

I shoved the phone into the back pocket of my jeans.

Gram sat up and stared for a long time at her painted globe. Then she stood up and walked past me.

“Do you need something, Gram?” I asked when she paused at the top of the stairs that led down to her apartment.

She pressed a hand on top of her head and winced, as if in pain.

“Are you okay?” I touched her shoulder, but she crumpled and fell forward. Down the stairs she went, tumbling fast, head over feet.

Adrenaline exploded like fire in my veins as I dashed down the stairs after her.

Chapter Fifty-nine

Gram was unconscious when I reached her. “Gram, can you hear me?” I didn’t dare move her.

Though I was stricken with panic, I managed to keep my head, and with speedy hands, pulled my phone out of my back pocket and keyed in 911. “Hello. My grandmother just fell down the stairs,” I told the dispatcher. “She’s not conscious. Please send an ambulance.”

While the dispatcher asked me questions and took my address, my heart beat like a drum, and I felt sick to my stomach. Why had this happened to Gram, and tonight of all nights, when Ryan was on call at the hospital? He would have known what to do.

And where was Elizabeth?
I needed her.

I bent forward to listen for breathing, and with a profound sense of relief, found Gram’s pulse at her wrist. She was alive, but I couldn’t bear to think about her fall. Surely she’d done some significant damage, broken some bones—a hip, an arm, or a leg. I checked her everywhere, without moving her. There was no blood anywhere.

“Gram, can you hear me?”

Still no reply. I didn’t know how long it would take for the paramedics to arrive, so I called Elizabeth’s cell phone in desperation. It went straight to voicemail, which meant it was turned off, she was talking to someone, or the battery was dead.

I left a message. “Elizabeth, please come home. Gram fell down the stairs. I just called an ambulance, but they’re not here yet, and I don’t know what to do. She’s not moving. Please call me if you get this.”

I hung up and dialed Ryan’s number. Thank God, he answered.

I told him what happened, and that Gram was still breathing.

“Did you call 911?” he asked.

“Yes, an ambulance is on the way.”

“Is Elizabeth with you?”

“No. She went to get some groceries. Her phone is dead. What do I do? I don’t know what to do.”

I felt dizzy in my panic, but Ryan’s steady voice helped calm me. “Don’t do anything,” he said. “Just stay with her and keep checking her pulse. And for God’s sake, don’t move her.”

“I won’t,” I said.

“Just wait for the paramedics. They’ll have the right equipment to keep her stabilized. I’ll be here in the ER when she arrives, and I’ll take good care of her. You did well, Marissa. I’m proud of you.”

But
I
wasn’t proud of me. Gram had fallen down the stairs while under my care.

I knew I would feel guilty about that for the rest of my life—there would be no escaping it.

A vehicle roared into the driveway. Hoping and praying it was the ambulance, I ran up the stairs to unlock the door.

Two male paramedics were just getting out of the cab. One hauled out a black supply bag.

It was cold and dark outside. White snow gusted off the roof. I could see my breath.

“You’re going to need a stretcher,” I told them, and pointed to the side of the house. “There’s an entrance to the basement apartment just around that corner. It has a wheelchair ramp. I’ll go unlock the door for you.”

They went to fetch the stretcher, while I shut the door and ran back downstairs.

o0o

As soon as the paramedics entered Gram’s apartment, I backed away and gave them room to examine her. She was still breathing, but had not regained consciousness.

“My name is Gary,” one of them said while he hooked her up to a heart monitor. “Can you tell me what happened?”

I explained how Gram fell, and how long ago it occurred.

The second paramedic pulled a neck brace out of the bag. He was just putting it on Gram, and they were getting ready to move her, when Elizabeth came bounding down the stairs.

“What happened?”

I felt a great sense of relief. “Thank God you’re back. She fell down the stairs.”

Elizabeth looked down at her. “Has she been conscious at all?”

“No,” I replied. “Not since the fall. I feel terrible. It’s all my fault. I was standing right next to her. She paused at the top of the stairs, then she just collapsed.”

“She collapsed?”

“Yes.” I shook my head, as if to clear it. “She pressed her hand to her head and winced. I touched her shoulder and asked if she was okay.”

Elizabeth turned to address Gary. “What’s her BP?”

“One-ninety-two over one-o-eight.”

She fished through the paramedic’s bag, searching for something.

“What are you doing?” Gary asked.

“Where’s your pen light? Here.” She pulled it out of the back, flicked it on, and checked Gram’s pupils.

“Have you called Ryan?” she asked me.

“Yes, he knows we’re coming.”

“Call him again and tell him Gladys likely had a stroke.”

“A stroke?” I replied. “Are you sure?”

Both paramedics looked at Elizabeth questioningly.

“She’s not breathing,” the younger one said.

“Shit,” Gary said. “Let’s bag and mask her.”

My whole body went rigid.

Elizabeth rose to her feet and moved impatiently around the paramedics. She began pacing like a caged tiger.

“It’s because of the stroke,” she said. “She’s got a blown pupil and the pressure on her brain is causing her to cone. You’re going to have to intubate her. What’s your name?”

“Gary.”

She watched Gary dig into his bag and pull out a lighted scope, then he searched for the properly sized breathing tube.

“Maybe we should get her to the ambulance first,” the other one said.