when she does, it seems to take effort. “Oh, yes. That’s okay.”
“Can I stay with her?” I grab Abuela’s hand. “I’m her granddaughter. I’m family.”
“Yes, of course.” The nurse smiles. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with the IV, okay?”
I nod. “Thank you.”
Abuela sighs. “Temi. You’re good to me.”
“You’re good to me.” I squeeze her hand. “You’re going to be fine. It’s just the shock of the break in. It messed with your body a little bit. But everything will go back to normal.”
“Not for you.” Her voice is so quiet, it’s barely a whisper.
“Of course it will. I’ll figure out how to make school happen, and more hours at work. Don’t you worry about any of it. Please. Just, let’s get you feeling better.”
“I need you to do something for me.” She opens her eyes. “Can you go to the house and get the oatmeal box out? It’s still there.”
“Are you sure? Maybe the thieves found it.”
“No, he didn’t find it.” She sighs. “I need you to go there and open it up. Take out the jewelry box at the bottom, the other one. It has a special brooch. Will you put it on, for me? Before you come back, you need to put it on. Please.” She touches my chest on the left side. “Wear it right here. Promise me. I need to see it on you.”
“Later, Abuelita.” I smooth her forehead. “I don’t need jewelry right now. I’m staying with you.”
“No!” She sits up suddenly, breathing hard, her voice almost angry. “Please. I need you to get it. This is important. You need to do this!”
“Abuela, no. I’m not leaving you.” I’m sort of amused and worried at the same time.
“I just don’t know when it’s going to happen.” She shakes her head back and forth. “So you need to do it right away. Please.”
“What?” I wrinkle my brow. “Abuela?”
The nurse comes back in with some equipment. “Is she okay?” she asks. She comes over. “Mrs. Garcia?” She glances at me and picks up Abuela’s arm. “Her pulse is rapid.”
“She’s worried about something.” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll be fine here.” Abuela looks at me with such a serious gaze that I’m taken aback. She turns to the nurse. “My granddaughter is going to do something of great importance. Then she will come back.” Her eyes burn. “Please.” She breathes harder.
The nurse’s gaze shows compassion. “She’s really going to be fine. If you need to leave and get something for her, that’s okay. I promise.” She glances to the heart rate monitor and then at me.
“Okay, I’ll go get it.” I don’t like how worked up Abuela is, and I just want her to relax. “I’ll get it. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
Abuela closes her eyes. “Good.” Her whole body looks lighter, easier.
In the car on the way back home, I’m confused and frustrated. Why does Abuela care so much about the brooch? I hated leaving her, but it really made her relax when I finally said yes.
I assume her mind is a little messy from the low blood sugar and the dehydration—I know that can make people irrational. Even have them seeing things that aren’t real.
But she didn’t seem crazy. And she’s never been that emphatic about anything.
My heart beats faster as I approach the house, maybe PTSD from yesterday, but the door is closed.
New windows have been installed, thanks to Locke—workmen showed up earlier this morning with a work order. I shouldn’t have accepted it, but I was so relieved to have the protection that I said yes. I’ll pay him back someday.
In any case, everything looks normal. When I unlock the door, there are no stray noises, and it’s obvious that I’m alone.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I head to the kitchen and use a chair to reach the cupboard; no time for finding the stepladder. Although all of the cabinets had been opened and lots of things destroyed during the break in, the intruder didn’t figure out the secret cabinet.
I smile to myself—Abuela outsmarted them. Him? She mentioned a ‘him’ as if she thought it was just one person.
I pull the can out and remove the wad of bills so I can reach the other jewelry box. I flip it open and catch my breath. The brooch inside is heavy and solid, adorned with what look like real diamonds and sapphires. This has got to be worth a small fortune!
It’s almost too heavy to pin to my shirt,