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Juniper scampered out to give me a hug.

“I’ll come and tuck you in,” I said, finding the energy to put my hands on my knees and push to my feet. I wobbled a little, but Jo appeared and helped me to Juniper’s bedroom.

She got in bed and I gave her a hug and a kiss.

“Sweet dreams for my sweet girl,” I said. The same thing I said every night.

“Goodnight, Mama,” she said, yawning. It was so nice she wasn’t fighting me tonight.

Jo and I left the room, closing the door softly.

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

“Come on. You’re having some more soup and bread,” Jo said, poking me and then essentially shoving me toward the couch.

I ended up with more soup in my hands and a plate of bread and cheese on the coffee table.

Things were getting fuzzy around the edges and I knew I needed to sleep soon.

Jo left me to eat while she quietly moved around the kitchen. Cleaning and putting things away, I imagined.

She came back and sat next to me.

“You should eat before it gets cold.” She sounded like she was scolding me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been scolded.

“Thank you,” I said. Inadequate words. Completely and totally inadequate.

“Are you okay? Today was kind of rough.”

That was an understatement. I couldn’t explain why I’d gotten so worked up over a simple surgery. The worry had crept into my mind and clung onto me, whispering all kinds of terrible things in my ear. Rationally I knew nothing was going to happen, but then sometimes bad things did happen during surgeries. Maybe I’d watched too many medical dramas and had terrified myself.

“The worst is over,” I said. “Now she just has to recover, which is going to be a marathon and not a sprint. She’s going to be much happier, though. That hip has been bothering her for a long time. She always said she wanted to be able to run after her granddaughter without pain.”

My parents really were two of the best people in the entire world.

“Well, now she can. In a few weeks,” Jo said, propping her elbow on the back of the couch and facing me. I set the soup aside and reached for a piece of bread. It was slightly warm and crusty.

“You were really there for us today. I know you’re going to tell me you were just doing your job, but you weren’t. You did more. And I appreciate it.”

Reaching out, I squeezed her hand. The gesture was so casual, but it didn’t feel casual. Had I ever touched her before?

Oh, right. I’d collapsed on her today and cried all over her shoulder. How embarrassing.

“Sorry for that little breakdown earlier. I think everything just built up and had to come out.”

She turned her hand over, so our palms were touching. Almost like we were holding hands.

This, like coming home and finding her making soup, felt good. Too good.

“It’s okay, Larison. You don’t have to apologize for having emotions. You’re human.”

My fingers fluttered against her wrist, as if they wanted to stroke against her skin. Reluctantly, I pulled back. She curled her fingers into a fist.

“I know. I guess I just don’t like people to see me vulnerable like that.”

Jo nodded. “That makes sense. But you can be vulnerable with me.” Our eyes met and I sucked in a breath. Beautiful. So incredibly beautiful. Inside and out.

“I hope, maybe, that I could do the same for you, Jo.” Did anyone ever call her by her full name? It was so pretty.