Brody - Ellie Masters Page 0,88
“I’m sorry.”
“Why?” His brows pinch together.
“For losing it.”
“Grace…” He grips my shoulders. He bends until his forehead touches mine. “What did Mark say? Is your mom…” He clears his throat. “Did she pass?”
I don’t really know. I’ve been waiting for this moment for months, and just assumed. “He said I need to get home.”
“I’m driving.” He dips down to get to my level. “She may just have had a turn for the worse. You may not have missed it.”
It.
He means her death, but his words are something to latch onto. I nod and glance around his place. I feel so damn helpless.
“I don’t know where anything is.” I have my phone, but as far as anything else I may have had with me last night, I’m lost.
“Don’t worry about anything. Your purse is on the kitchen counter, and I already put your clothes in a bag. It’s time to go.” He grips my hand, lending me enough strength to put one foot in front of another. I lean on him as we make our way to the elevator. When we make it to his car, I collapse as if I’m carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.
The drive home is a blur. More tears fall. Grief hounds me. I curl into a ball and dissolve in a fit of choking sobs. The tears simply won’t stop. All the while, Brody is right there with me, touching me, caressing me, digging out a tissue so I can wipe my nose.
He’s simply there.
When we pull up to my house, I don’t wait for the car to come to a full stop. The door opens, and I run. I fly up the stairs, practically levitating, as Brody shouts from the car to be careful in my bare feet.
I race into Mom’s room and come to a sudden stop. Mark sits at the side of her bed and holds her hand. His head is bowed, and tears stream down his cheeks. His head lifts and he turns red-rimmed eyes toward me.
“Is she…” I can’t say it.
I won’t.
“Come.” He stands and gestures to the chair he was sitting in. “It won’t be long now.”
“She’s still alive?” Her ashen complexion is the worst I’ve seen. Her frail body lies limply in the bed. Her chest isn’t moving. I can’t see if she’s breathing.
“Not for long.” He grabs my shoulders and draws me in for a hug. “I tried calling you last night, but you never picked up. Abbie was here most of the night. She sat with Lucy last evening. She tried to call you too, then called me. The hospice nurse is on her way.”
I grab for a tissue to blow my nose. I’m a snotty mess and stand like an idiot, too afraid to sit down.
“I don’t know what to do.” I look to Mark for direction, but he’s too lost in his own grief. His shoulders slump and his complexion is pale, worn out. He’s tired.
“Sit with her. Talk to her.” He takes my hand and guides me to the chair.
“Is she in pain?”
“No. We called her hospice nurse and gave her something to ease her…” Mark’s voice cracks. He shifts so I can sit and takes a step away. “I’ll give you a moment to say your goodbyes.” He blows his nose with a tissue and wipes at his puffy, red-streaked eyes.
“You don’t have to go.” If these are her last moments, she deserves to be surrounded by those who love her.
“I’m not going. I’ll be in the living room. I need—I just need a moment.”
“Okay.” I settle myself on the stool beside my mom and take her limp hand in mine.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I think back to the last time I remember my mom as vibrant and healthy. I focus on her smile and the brightness of her expression. She was always filled with such joy.
“I’m here, Mom. I’m here.” Gently, I pat the back of her hand.
Her fingers are cold and blueish-white. There’s no muscle tone. I stare at her chest for several long moments, willing her to breathe. Mark said she’s still with us.
Barely perceptible, her chest rises. I gasp and watch again. I breathe three times before she takes another shallow breath. When I glance at her face, there’s no color to her lips. Her eyes are closed and her features slack and loose.
I shouldn’t complain. This is what I wanted for her. It’s what she wanted. To be able to die at