Page 38

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

F orbes paced at the end of Grandmother’s bed, watching as the doctor examined her. Grandmother hadn’t stirred, despite the crowd in her bedroom. Her steady breathing told Forbes she was resting. He’d rarely seen her asleep. All her worry lines were smoothed out, the tension in her jaw relaxed.

He hated for her to wake up, but at the same time, he needed to ask what had happened that sent Brooklynn running. Assuming Gran would even remember.

Probably not.

Forbes needed to find Brooklynn.

But he also needed to stay.

He needed…he needed help.

Lord, heal Grandmother. Protect Brooklynn. For her sake, help me find her.

Because God wouldn’t do it for Forbes’s sake. He’d proved that over and over.

Today was further proof. Forbes had needed Grandmother to hold it together for twenty minutes, but God hadn’t given him that. It was like the Almighty held a grudge against him. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

“Forbes?”

Grandmother's voice was weak and wobbly, nothing like the strong woman who’d raised him.

“He’s right here.” Dr. Shelley moved away, indicating for him to take her place. As he scooted past her, she gripped his arm and whispered, “Play along. Don’t upset her.”

Right. Play along that he was Forbes, not Ford, when he actually was Forbes, and Ford didn’t exist.

His whole life was one big, convoluted story. No wonder he was alone.

He sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m here.”

She looked weak and vulnerable, but the strength in her grip when she took his hand encouraged him. She was still in there. “I think I said something?—”

“It’s all right.” The last thing he needed was for her to alert the hovering healthcare workers as to his real identity. He turned to the doctor. “Would you mind stepping out, please?”

She left, ushering her nurse along with her. There was no door between this room and the next, so Forbes kept his voice low. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I just have a feeling…” Her words trailed.

“It’s all right, Gran.”

She wasn’t a trailing-words kind of woman. She always said what she meant and meant what she said. Her confusion broke his heart.

“I can’t remember her name.”

“Brooklynn.”

Her lips relaxed. “Yes. I was afraid I’d conjured her. She’s lovely, though I’m not a fan of her wardrobe.”

Only Grandmother, after a medical emergency, would comment on a woman’s clothing.

“She claimed you two are only friends. Are you? Or…or did I mess that up?”

“Don’t worry about Brooklynn, or me.” He kissed her forehead, something he’d never done with his staunch, always-in-control guardian. “You take care of yourself, and I’ll handle Brooklynn.”

“Can she be trusted?”

If she’d asked him a half hour before, he’d have told her that Brooklynn was completely trustworthy. But now that she’d learned the truth—and not from him—he had no idea. “What matters is that you’re taken care of.”

Grandmother’s eyelids drooped, and she blinked. “I’m so tired.”

“Of course you are. Go to sleep. Call me when you wake up, okay?”

Nodding, she closed her eyes. Within seconds, her breathing evened out once more.

He watched her sleep, praying God would protect her and heal her. Then he returned to the living room.

Dr. Shelley said, “She’s having?—”

“Not here.” The last thing he needed was for Grandmother to wake up and hear them talking about her. He marched to the door and held it open until the doctor preceded him into the hall. He unlocked the door, then closed it. “For what we’re paying for this place, I expect better care.”

The doctor straightened, squaring her shoulders. “This is not a nursing home, Mr. Baker. It’s assisted living.”

“Not that ‘assisted,’ apparently. I want a nurse with her one hundred percent of the time until she’s completely recovered.”

“That’s not a service we offer. If you want her moved to the nursing home?—”

“No.” Grandmother would kill him. “I’ll pay for it. Hire someone. Someone trustworthy.”

She seemed to consider the command, her gaze jumping from him to the closed door. “That’s not something we normally do, but in this case…”

This case—because Grandmother was a Ballentine, and her fortune was widely known.

“I’ll find someone,” the doctor said.

“Until you do, have a nurse stay with her.” Before she could tell him how short-staffed they were, he said, “I’m willing to pay whatever it costs.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Bouts of memory loss aren’t uncommon with concussion victims, especially elderly ones. I expect her memory to return, but of course we’ll monitor her. If anything changes, we’ll take her back to the hospital.”

“See that you do. And inform me immediately. Immediately, no matter what she says.”

“Of course.”

He needed to go.

He needed to stay.

He’d purposefully lived his life without anyone depending on him, and now he was responsible for the care of two women. One was dealing with dementia.

The other one was missing.

“I’ll check in with you this afternoon.”

At the doctor’s nod, he swiveled and marched back to the lobby, praying Brooklynn was still in the building. But she wasn’t in any of the sitting areas.

When he stepped into the foyer, the wig saleswoman was dragging a plastic case toward the door. He hurried forward and pulled it open for her.

“Thank you.”

“Did you see my friend? About my age wearing yoga pants and?—”

“Oh, yes. Darling girl. She bought the prettiest silver wig. Straight hair cut into a bob”—she brushed a hand just above her shoulder—“with a full crown.” Now, the woman gestured over the top of her head, maybe in case he didn’t know where a wig was worn. “She said it was for her mother.”

They both moved into the reception area. He let the door close and crossed the space to open the exterior door. “Did you see where she went?”

Before the saleslady could answer, the receptionist said, “She left in an Uber.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“Sorry.” Cheri looked genuinely distressed that she couldn’t help. “She didn’t say.”

Of course not.

“Thanks.” He followed the saleslady out and jogged to his pickup.

But he had no idea where to go. Where to look.

He closed his eyes and prayed for direction. Maybe this time, God would answer.

When he opened his eyes, he had one idea, and it wouldn’t work. But what did he have to lose?

He dialed Brooklynn’s number, thankful he’d taken it down days before.

She rejected the call.

He dialed again.

Rejected.

Anger and frustration had him balling his hands. Rather than calling again, he tapped a text.

I was going to tell you today.

He stared at his screen. The message went from Delivered to Read.

And then the dots flashed, telling him she was responding.

How is she?

Tired. They said episodes like that aren’t unheard of with concussion victims, especially at her age.

Brooklynn’s only reaction was a thumbs-up.

No other response came through.

I needed to talk to her about you. I made her promises.

This time, his text wasn’t even marked as read.

He added one more line.

You can trust me, Brooklynn.

That text got an immediate response. A little Haha.

As if anything about this was funny.

Please, be careful. Don’t let your anger at me deceive you.

He waited for something. A thumbs-up, a thumbs-down. A string of expletives.

After a moment, he decided he’d get nothing at all.

And then, a text came through.

Don’t worry, FORBES. I’m not going to tell anybody who you are or what you’re doing. I’ll keep your secrets. You don’t have to hold me captive anymore.

Captive. Was she insane?

I was protecting you

You were protecting YOU.

Stubborn, hard-headed woman.

Fine. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t want his protection. Problem was, he’d vowed to protect her, and he wasn’t going to break that vow just because she didn’t want him around anymore.

He shifted into drive and headed toward Shadow Cove.