Page 120 of Fly with Me

She brought up a finger to trail along the newest additions to the board, seeing where Olive was conspicuously absent without commenting on the change. She scanned all of the decorations giving the room color. “I love those photos of you traveling. Doing all the things on his list?”

After a polite knock, Morgan entered. “Hey, Olive.” She hugged her.

“Thanks for calling. Stella, this is my friend Morgan from nursing school. She works here.”

“Nice to meet you.” They shook hands, and then Morgan focused on Jake. “I wanted you to get here so we could talk before anyone else showed up.”

Olive sat in the chair by the window. Her legs had been shaking beneath her. “What’s wrong?”

“We have some new results from that doctor your mom called. And we have reason to believe Jake’s declining.”

She handed over a manila folder. “Do you want me to go over it with you?”

After opening it and reading over the first few pages, Olive shook her head. No surprises there. “No. I just need to think.” She pulled the chair up beside Jake.

“I’ll be back to check in with you in a few minutes, okay?”

“Thanks, Morgan.” Olive folded her hands together, squeezing them into a tight ball. A warm, soft hand covered hers. She looked up. She’d almost forgotten she wasn’t alone now. “You know, I don’t ever hold his hand.” Olive focused on her brother. She hadn’t held his hand since she dropped it that day in the ICU. “My mom and Heather always do. It felt weird. When I’m here, he’s always in my head telling me what he thinks.”

Stella stroked Olive’s knuckles with her thumb.

“I’m glad Morgan works here. She gets it. She tells me what’s going on, and I know she doesn’t believe what I’m sure my mom says about me.”

“Your mom…”

Olive’s mouth tightened. “I know she’s just hurting too. But it kills me, what she’s doing. She’s choosing to cling to the memory of my brother over listening to me. I understand it.” Something constricted in her throat, but she forced the words out. “I really do. I wish I could blame her for it. But honestly, I’d pick Jake over me too.” Her eyes couldn’t blink quickly enough to keep them clear of what was brimming. “She needs someone to blame. And if this is really the e-end…”

Stella didn’t speak.

She wrapped Olive into her arms and held her as she cried.

A knock came on the door. Olive wiped away her tears and straightened as Morgan came back into the room.

“The front desk just called. Your mom and sister are here.”

Olive gave Stella a questioning look. “I can get a ride home with Heather maybe.”

“I’m staying. Just tell me where I can wait and not be in the way.” Stella intertwined her fingers with Olive’s. “Need me to use my pilot voice to talk some sense into your mom?”

Olive gave a watery laugh. “I appreciate the offer. Morgan, do you mind showing Stella where the lobby is?”

As the three women stood, the loud voice of Mary Ellen Murphy echoed from the halls.

Jesus Christ, Olive’s mother could walk fast.

Chapter 43

As soon as Olive and Stella walked out into the hallway, they nearly collided with Olive’s mom and sister and two silent men, neither of whom was Olive’s dad.

“Hi, Father Stiegel. Mr. Adams.” She nodded at the priest and then once at the gaunt-faced lawyer. It was probably the dark humor of nursing but the entire entourage together seemed like the beginning of a joke. Two dentists, a lawyer, and a priest walked into a nursing home…

“Olive?” Heather asked with a twitch of the head in Stella’s direction. Olive’s face was still sticky from crying and her whole body ached with stress, so of course she had been too distracted to have basic manners. Shit.

“Stella, this is my mom, and my sister, Heather.”

Stella donned her most polite smile and shook Heather’s hand, since Olive’s sister was the only one to offer one. Olive’s mom did her usual survey of the room, ignoring Olive and Stella as if they were furniture. She set out five more Christmas cards and made sure they were all evenly spaced. She checked the equipment and settings on the machines at the bedside against a small leather notepad. When she saw what must have been a small amount of dust or grime on the bedside table, she wet a paper towel and then wiped it down with a vigorous scrub.

When she appeared satisfied that all was up to the Mary Ellen Murphy standards, she turned back toward the room and crossed her arms. “Is Jacob’s room now a place for socializing? Are emergency family meetings cutting into your date time?”