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“No damper after Drea called. Everything’s fine now. How about you lean on me a little?”
“Leaning’s good. Maybe an extreme way to get out of dish duty, but mission accomplished.”
The stairs that had happily become just stairs turned into a mountain again.
So she leaned, took it slow while her mother hurried ahead.
“Plenty of pillows,” Elsie said, “to keep you elevated. We’ve got your book, your laptop, and your crocheting within easy reach. I’ll help you change into your pajamas. Dean, why don’t you go down and make Sloan some tea?”
“Just the water’s fine, Mom.”
“I’ll be right downstairs.”
When Sloan sat on the side of the bed, Dean bent down to kiss the top of her head.
And Drea held out a pill and a glass of water.
“Thanks for organizing me. Sincerely. But don’t get used to it.”
“I may not be able to give it up. Such a surge of power. I’ll be downstairs with Dad.”
“Here now, let’s get you comfortable.”
Before Elsie could help Sloan off with her sweater, Sloan took her hand. “I know I worried you. Worried everyone. I’m not going to do that again.”
“Oh, baby, when you’re sixty and I’m… we won’t say that number out loud—I’ll still worry about you. Love demands it. You know what your dad’s doing right now? He’s sending a group text to the family to let them know you’re home. Because love demands it.”
Gently, she exchanged Sloan’s sweater for a soft thermal shirt.
“You’ve been working so hard to stay inside the lines. I know howhard it is for you not to lift boulders and race the wind, but you’ve done the work. This is a bump, that’s all,” Elsie assured Sloan as she helped her undress. “A nasty bump, and you’ll get over it and through it.”
A tear spilled out; she simply couldn’t stop it, or the one that followed.
“I feel weak again, Mom, and… breakable.”
Elsie drew Sloan’s head to her breast, stroked her hair, murmuring as Sloan gave up and let the tears come.
Then she drew Sloan back, met those teary eyes.
“You’re only weak physically for now. Your will isn’t weak, and trust me because I’ve run up against it since you were born, it’s not easily broken.”
“Okay.” Sloan took the tissue Elsie offered, dried her face. “Okay.”
She helped Sloan into bed, tucking covers as she had when Sloan was a child.
“Are you sure you don’t want that tea? Some pie?”
Sloan shook her head. “The pain meds make me sleepy. Drea’s a rock, Mom.”
“Both my girls are. They take after me. I put your phone right there on the charger. If you need or want anything, text.”
“I will. Promise.”
“Lights on or off?”
“Off, thanks.”
In the dark and the quiet, she settled back, propped up by a mound of pillows.