or I might just send her running for the hills.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
She blinked up at me with utter wonder, the gold flecks in her eyes flickering in the fluorescent light. “I still have no idea what we’re doing.”
I grinned and swept her dark curtain of hair back, tucking it gently behind her ear. “I want you to meet someone.”
“Okay,” she said, tentatively.
“Okay,” I replied, offering her my hand.
When she took it, relief followed by courage swelled through me.
This would work—it had to.
Chapter Forty-Four
Layne
Wyatt knocked on the door and pushed it open when a voice beckoned us in. I was surprised to see Mrs. Nash sitting in a chair by the window, a tablet on her lap. She seemed just as shocked to see us.
“Wyatt? What are you doing here?” she asked.
He nodded to the clock on the wall. “It’s ten o’clock.”
She looked up, even more shocked by the time, apparently. “So it is.” She stood up slowly. “I guess I wasn’t sure you were coming today.”
“I come every Sunday, Mum.”
“I know, but didn’t you say something about finishing your recordings for the competition today?”
“We still plan to, but that’s no reason to break tradition, is it?” he replied, grinning as he looked at the two frail figures in their therapeutic beds. Wyatt raised his voice. “I have a surprise for you, Gramps,” he said, holding up the box of donuts to the old man who was transfixed by the television.
I wasn’t sure if he could even hear Wyatt above the volume. Either way, he didn’t move.
“Your grandfather can’t have too much sugar,” Mrs. Nash said, rushing over.
“I know,” Wyatt replied, opening the box to show a dozen plain cake donuts. He touched his mother’s shoulder. “I’ve got this. Take a break, Mum.”
She sighed and finally gave in. “Okay. I’ll be back in an hour,” she assured us.
“Take your time,” Wyatt called as she hurried out the door.
When his mother was gone, he crossed the room to the simple kitchenette and put the box of donuts down on the counter. Taking one out, he cut it into quarters, splitting the pieces between two plates. He walked back over to me, handed me a plate and took my hand again. “Come on, I want to introduce you to my grandparents.”
A warm stab of sympathy jolted my heart as I watched how kind Wyatt was when he approached his grandmother. “Hey, Gram-cracker. I want you to meet someone very special. This is Layne,” he said, putting my hand in hers. “Layne, this is my grandmother, Rose McAllister.”
His grandmother’s face lit up. “Hello, puppet. Aren’t you darling?” she said, taking me in.
I smiled at her adorable phrasing. “Thank you. It’s very nice to meet you.”
The sweet old woman patted my hand and then looked at Wyatt. “And you’re very handsome, too, young man. What’s your name?”
Understanding crackled through me as Wyatt patiently took my plate and set it down on the nightstand with his. Then he took his grandmother’s hand. “I’m Wyatt.”
She smiled serenely. “I have a grandson named Wyatt.”
“I know,” he said, returning her smile.
“Oh, do you know him?”
“I do,” Wyatt said.
His grandmother clasped her hands together, overjoyed. “He’s a good boy. He’s starting fifth grade,” she replied. “I would so love to see him again. Please give him my love, won’t you?”
I watched Wyatt’s throat bob with emotion. “I will, Gram-cracker.” He picked up one of the plates he’d set on the nightstand. “We brought you something,” he said, gently setting the plate on the soft blanket covering her lap. “It’s from my new favorite bakery.”
She smiled. “My Henry loves sweets. I wish he were here to enjoy this.” A sadness swept into her eyes so suddenly that I felt my heart constrict. She closed her eyes. “I miss him,” she gasped. “I miss him so much.”
“It’s okay,” Wyatt said, taking the plate away and pulling a small handheld recorder out of the top draw of the nightstand. “He’s still here,” Wyatt said, placing the recorder in his grandmother’s shaking hands.
He pressed play and a deep male voice filled the room. A peaceful look fell over his grandmother’s face as she sank back against her pillows, closing her eyes as the man in the recording spoke to her.
“My dearest, Rose. You’re as beautiful as ever. I still remember the day we met. You were sitting on your front steps, wearing that brown dress with the white polka dots.” He paused to give a raspy laugh. “I was up to no