Liv hadn’t planned on having a heart attack that day. True, she wasn’t feeling well when she’d gotten out of bed, but what was a little nausea and sweating? They were evidence of fatigue. They were inconveniences caused by a restless night and anxiety over Jasmyn’s departure.
And so she had worked, planting sweet alyssum—they did so well in the coastal winters and filled the courtyard with their intoxicating fragrance—and then boom. She could scarcely breathe.
Now, lying in a hospital bed, she felt suspended, a marionette with feet—or in this case, backside—not quite touching the earth. She was awake, but not fully. She was asleep, but not fully. She was drugged, but not to the point of pain-free. She spoke coherently, but because no one responded, she assumed the conversation was an internal monologue.
“Apparently, I am alive. Otherwise Syd would have shown up to greet me. Instead, I got Keagan and paramedics.”
They said it was a mild heart attack. Mild.
“Mild. I suppose that means it was a pickup and not a semi that parked itself on my chest.”
The thing had immobilized her right in front of the fountain. Naturally, Keagan was the one to find her there, gazing at the blue sky as though she were sunbathing. She heard his typical, unruffled voice long before she saw his face bent over hers.
“Olivia, what are you doing? Taking a break?” When he knelt, he was already talking into his cell to a 911 operator.
Everyone else at the Casa had left for the day. It was Saturday, their day to play, run errands, or, like Sam and Piper, to work extra hours. It was Jasmyn’s day to go back to Illinois.
Back to Illinois. Less than twenty-four hours after Liv had dared to ask the Creator of the Universe what He was going to do about her undeniable, aching desire for a daughter that had begun to grow all out of proportion the day He plopped Jasmyn Albright on her doorstep…
“You know, Abba, You could have just taken me home. Have it over and done with. I’ve had a good run, a solid six decades and then some. I would have been fine with leaving. But no. My biological clock starts ticking. Whoever heard of such a thing? I’m pushing seventy and I end up flat on my back, whining and gasping, making a fool of myself. ‘Keagan, oh Keagan. Please, please, bring Jasmyn back. I need her. I just need her here.’ ”
Not that she thought for one minute that God had zapped her with a heart attack. Applesauce. That was her own fault. She ate an appalling diet, forgot on a regular basis to take her prescribed blood pressure and cholesterol medications, and she walked briskly the third Tuesday of every other month.
But the timing. Ah, the timing was curious.
Jasmyn had no reason to stay in Seaside Village, and Liv had had no right to keep telling her she could. Or to think a heart attack gave her an excuse to ask her to.
Sending Keagan after the girl had been wrong. Liv felt like a conniving old biddy. Syd wouldn’t recognize her. Or would he? Maybe it was her true self coming out. She hoped Keagan failed.
Liv heard approaching voices now and knew he hadn’t. No surprise, really. He never failed at anything.
“Oh!” Jasmyn’s whispered breath overflowed with compassion. “She looks so…so…” Her voice trailed away as if she did not want to express how perfectly ghastly Liv must look.
A throat cleared. Keagan. “Well, she did have a heart attack.” His neutral tone slipped a tiny bit.
Liv smiled and opened her eyes. Nothing appeared before them, not even ceiling tiles. She sighed. Like the smile, it was probably real only inside her head. Okay, she could go with that, if only Jasmyn and Keagan were not imaginary.
She heard the bedrail go down and sensed a weight on the mattress. A soft hand touched her arm.
Well, that seemed real enough.
“Liv.” It was Jasmyn, her voice firmer. “You look a little peaked, that’s all. But my goodness, who wouldn’t after what you’ve been through?” She spoke as if Liv were fully engaged. “Other than that, you look wonderful.”
Wonderful? Right. Liv hooted in the silent way she had going.
“Can she hear you?” Keagan said.
“You never know. My grandpa was out of it for weeks after his stroke. Then one day he sat up and griped about specific things we had been saying and doing.”
Keagan made a noise that almost resembled a chuckle. “We don’t have to worry about Liv griping.”
“No, we don’t.” Jasmyn stroked Liv’s arm, gently and rhythmically. “She’s not like that.”
Silence filled the room.
It was a deep, comfortable silence, and Liv felt embraced by it. One by one the anxious thoughts slipped off into the blurry edges of her mind. The marionette fell gently against the pillow and mattress.