He lies crumpled on the floor. The bed shadows him from the rays of sun coming through the window. Above his head, his distress watch dangles from the nightstand.
My fingers tremble so badly, I can barely dial 9-1-1. The dispatcher answers.
“Please come quick. I think my grandfather’s had a heart attack. Please hurry.”
“What’s your name and your address?”
“This is Piper Dunn. I’m at Four Twenty-five Cliffside. Please hurry.” I click off and squat down beside Gramps. “Gramps, can you hear me?”
No answer. His eyes remain closed. He’s lying on his stomach, his legs and arms sprawled, his head turned to the side. I bend down and stick my finger under his nose. I feel a trickle of warm air.
Thank God. At least he’s alive. I push him over on his back. Even though he doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him, he’s dead weight. The dead word freaks me. I pinch his finger. It goes white before the blood rushes back to the surface. “Good. Breath and pulse. Hang in there, Gramps.” I tilt his head back to give him maximum airflow through his trachea.
I move to his right side so I can watch the rise and fall of his chest, ready to do mouth-to-mouth if necessary. Sirens blare in the distance. Several heartbeats later, I hear a pounding on the door. “In here,” I cry.
A tall woman and a thin balding man rush through the door, both wearing blue uniforms. They put oxygen on Gramps before they load him into the ambulance. I follow close behind in Beulah as we rush down the lane and onto the highway, their sirens blaring. The drive seems an eternity, but in reality we make good time.
They wheel Gramps into the emergency room. I’m left to fill out paperwork. From there they usher me to the waiting room where I drink several cups of bad-tasting coffee. The cool air chills my skin, adding to my discomfort. I shudder. Why are hospitals always so cold?
I look up from my contemplation of the design on the green and tan carpet to see Holly and Tyler rush in.
I carefully set the half-empty paper cup on the end table and push to my feet. Holly reaches me first. She grabs me and hugs me. “We just heard.”
I look at Tyler over her head. He gives me a smile of so much love and compassion it confuses me. He wasn’t speaking to me, we broke up and now when I need him…he’s here. When Holly lets me go, he steps forward. I go rigid. He ignores it and puts his arms around me, drawing me close. “I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry.”
“What exactly are you sorry for?” I ask stiffly.
“Everything,” he whispers.
I’m not sure what everything encompasses, but I think he may be referring to this afternoon. “I can’t think of anything but Gramps right now,” I mumble against his chest.
“Of course.” His hands move up and massage my tight shoulders.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
“He’s going to be fine.”
“You can’t know that.” I pull away from him.
“Your grandpa is a fighter. He’s not going to let this beat him.”
For a moment the thought bolsters me, before guilt I’ve held at bay floods my system. “I knew something was wrong. His color was bad and he was tired. I should have taken him to the doctor right away.”
Holly grabs my hand and pulls me down to the industrial green settee in the waiting room. “Don’t do this to yourself, Piper. This isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it is,” I insist. “I told him to call the doctor. I should have taken him myself.” I pull my hands away and wring them.
Tyler moves in front of me, tugs me to my feet, and envelops me in his arms. I stand stiffly. But his lips against my hair and the softly whispered, “You aren’t alone,” is my undoing. I rest my head against his chest, taking in the comforting scents of soap, sun, and pine. Nothing has changed, but for the moment, I’ll take the solace he offers. I take deep, shuddering breaths then force myself to step back.
He shifts his hands to my shoulders. “What can I do for you, Pip?”
Gramps’ pet name for me. I shake my head and start to move away. His hands tighten just enough to hold me in place. “About this afternoon. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me? I was way out of line.”
“I can’t deal with this now.”
“Of course, I understand. Just so you know that I’m here for you.”
I nod, distracted. Doc Johnson steps into the waiting room. He is stooped with thinning white hair, his jacket rumpled. I rush toward him. “How is he?”
“He was lucky. He was hooked up to an electrocardiogram machine in the ambulance that was able to diagnose the severity of the attack. The paramedics phoned ahead to advise us of the situation.”
“What was the severity?” I interrupt.
“No attack is good at his age, but as things go, it could have been a lot worse. In fact, I’ve moved him out of ICU.”
“The electrocardiogram shows a small blockage that I think we can break down with drugs.”
“But he passed out.”
“He was dizzy and hit his head on the nightstand, knocked himself out.”
“He’s awake?”
Doc nods.
My muscles sag with relief.
“Knocking himself out might have been the best thing that happened to him. Allowed us to find that clot. Has your grandpa been under stress lately?”
Why would he be under stress just because he lives with a mutant? Guilt hits me hard. My shoulders slump. “He worries about me.”
Doc gives me a pat on the shoulder. “Every parent or grandparent worries about their children. That’s just part of the life cycle. Has he been working harder than usual, taking out extra tourist tours?”
I shake my head.
“I want him to take it easy, get plenty of rest. I’m going to give him nitrate tablets, but he’s going to be okay. I want to keep him in the hospital for a couple of days to keep an eye on him.”
“Of course.”
“I’m going to put him on a daily aspirin. His blood pressure is a bit high. We’ll put him on meds for that, too.”
Poor Gramps, he hates meds. But he’s going to take them. I’ll make sure of that.
“I also want you to limit his cholesterol and fats and increase his fruits, vegetables, and whole grains.”
“I’ll take care of that.”
“I know you will, honey.” He pats me on the shoulder again. “Do you want to see him now?”
I nod eagerly. He escorts me to Gramps’ room and leaves. I look down at the bed and a lump forms in my throat. Gramps is hooked to a heart monitor. Oxygen tubes run from his nose. An IV is stuck into his hand. He looks so frail.
I lean over and kiss his stubbly cheek. His eyes flutter open. I force my lips up. “Hi.”
“Hi, honey.” His voice is weak and raspy. “I hit my head. I’m losing my coordination in my old age.”
I smile and carefully pick up his hand. “Did Doc tell you he found a small clot?”
“That old man overreacts,” he grumbles, picking at his sheet with his free hand. “When can I get out of here?”
“Two days.”
“Two days? I’m not staying here two days.”
“Yes, you are. And when you get home, you are going to take it easy. And you’re going to take the medication he’s prescribed and follow the diet he recommends.”
“Pip,” he begins.
I cut him off. “Gramps, I can’t lose you. You’re all I have.” I make a supreme effort. But tears leak out my eyes and fall on Gramps’ hand.
“Don’t cry, honey.” His voice is gruff. “I’ll do whatever you say. Don’t worry. I plan on being around a good long time.”
I sniff and wipe my eyes.
His head falls deeper into the pillow and his hand clasping mine goes slack.
“Get some rest, Gramps. I’ll be right here.”
“There’s no need for you to stay. Go home. Do your homework, get some rest. Just do me a favor and don’t go out in the ocean tonight, okay?”
Panic surges through my system. My dolphins. The research vessel. “Gramps...”
“Don’t go out tonight, Pip. And go home. You need your rest.” He tweaks at the sheet restlessly. His head shifts back and forth.
My head begins to pound. Everything is wrong. I need to check on the dolphins, but I won’t lie to Gramps and I don’t dare upset him. His state is so fragile. I want to stay but that would upset him, too. “Sure.” I force a smile.
“Tyler can keep you company, but tell him to behave.”
“Okay, Gramps.” I see no point in telling him Tyler and I have broken up. I kiss him on the forehead. His skin feels frail and papery. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.” His eyes flutter shut.
When I step out, Tyler and Holly are waiting for me. “How is he?” Holly asks.
“He’s going to be fine. He’s just tired.”
“Why don’t you stay with us tonight?” Holly pushes her hair away from her face.
“That’s a great idea,” Tyler chimes in.
Not. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” I start toward the door.
“I’ll see you home.” Tyler falls into step beside me. Holly moves to my other side.
“Tyler, we’re not an item anymore.”
“What?” Holly grabs my arm and pulls me to a halt. “You guys haven’t been going together long enough to break up.”
“It was a misunderstanding,” Tyler begins.
“No misunderstanding.” I look at him before shoving through the door.
“Piper, wait up.”
I keep going. Footsteps hurry behind me. I reach the truck and grab the handle. Tyler puts his hand on the door to keep me from opening it. I start to do a slow burn. Heat floods my face. “Get out of my way, Tyler.”
He drops his hand. “I’m sorry. I was out of line today.”
“It was a mistake from the beginning. I let my emotions override my common sense. You’ll never accept me for who I am.”
He opens my door and I climb inside.
“Who are you, Piper?” he asks quietly.
I don’t bother to reply, just reach for the door to pull it shut.
He holds it open. “Whatever. I’ll take Holly home then I’ll be over.”
“What part of breakup don’t you understand?”
He leans in, his eyes sparking. I blink and start to draw back before catching myself. Instead, I straighten.
“I’m not leaving you alone after what happened last night. Deal with it.”
Before I can protest, he slams my door and stalks away. I watch the stiff walk and straight line of his shoulders, a clear indicator he’s pissed. Too bad, so am I.