twinkling. Besides,” Darynda said in her no-nonsense voice, “you’ve had five years.”
Right. Everyone wanted her to forget what Shelley had done. As if it were all Madison’s fault the family had fallen apart. “I’m trying, Darynda, I’m trying.”
“That’s all anyone can ask.” Darynda’s smile softened and she reached over to pat Madison’s hand.
Like an embattled knight after a bloody fight to the death, Madison felt dents in her armor. She’d taken a lot of hits and was still standing. That was saying something.
“Wouldn’t it be nice,” Darynda murmured, “to let go of perfect? It’s okay to be human, Maddie. More than okay. Your mistakes make the rest of us feel better for not living up to your lofty standards.”
Madison blinked and stared out the window. Darynda was right. She had a hard time showing her vulnerability. Terrified she’d be taken advantage of if she dared let down her guard.
At the hospital, they found Erma Kelton, the feistiest Quilting Diva, asleep in the chair beside Grammy’s bed. Darynda woke her gently and helped Erma gather her things.
“I’ll walk Erma to her car,” Darynda said. “And be right back.”
“You don’t have to stay. I’ve got this.”
“I want to be here.” Her tone said she had every right to be there and Madison supposed she did. Darynda was the one who’d been here for Grammy when the sisters had all gone their separate ways.
“Good morning, Grammy.” Madison took the chair Erma had vacated. “No need to worry. We’re getting things straightened out at the Moonglow Inn. Doing renovations. Paying the back payments on that mortgage.” She reached for her grandmother’s hand lying so white and still against the covers.
Grandmother’s skin felt hot. Too hot.
She was burning up.
Fear blazed a path up Madison’s spine. She leaned over to press the call button to alert the nurses and tell them her grandmother had a fever, when suddenly a loud, obnoxious beeping blasted from the monitor and the squiggly heartbeat pattern on the screen went crazy.
What was happening?
Madison froze. Every bone in her body seemed made of rubber.
You’re the oldest, Madison, the taskmaster voice in her head countered. The voice that sounded a lot like her late mother. You’re in charge. You’re responsible. The same voice that had whipped her throughout her life. Chiding her when she messed up or took a wrong step. Castigating her whenever she did not measure up.
Instantly, medical personnel flooded into the room. Men and women in scrubs, bustling and barking orders.
One stern-faced nurse grabbed hold of Madison, tugged her to her feet, and shoved her out the door. No apology. All business. She grunted, “Go.”
Over the intercom, a woman’s voice repeated, Code Blue ICU stat, Code Blue ICU stat, Code Blue ICU stat.
Anger crawled up to sit next to the fear inside Madison’s chest. She would not allow them to shunt her off. Not when her grandmother’s life hung in the balance.
Madison pushed back into the room.
The medical staff surrounded the bed. There were so many of them she couldn’t see Grammy.
“Push a bolus of lidocaine,” said the man in a lab coat with a badge identifying him as Dr. Pullman.
Madison took a pen from her purse and wrote that down in the spiral notebook she carried. “What’s going on?”
“Ms. Clark”—the charge nurse took her by the elbow and propelled her from the room—“I know this is difficult, but please let us do our jobs. We’ll come talk to you as soon as we can.”
With that, she shut the door in Madison’s face.
“But—” Madison was ready to shove the door open again. She had medical power of attorney over Grammy’s care. She had every right to be in that room.
“Madison.”
She turned to see Darynda standing there, eyes wide, hands trembling. “What’s happened to Helen?” The poor woman looked as if she were about to collapse.
Madison wrapped her arm around her. “Come on. Let’s go sit in the waiting room. They’ll come tell us something soon.”
Darynda barely nodded, shuffling along as if her feet were too heavy to lift.
“I know it’s scary,” Madison murmured. “I’m scared to pieces too.”
“Is she going to die?”
“Not if I can help it.”
Darynda leaned against Madison’s shoulder. “I’m glad I talked her out of signing a Do Not Resuscitate. If she dies before—”
“She’s not going to die today,” Madison vowed as if she actually had control over it.
“But if she dies and we’re just sitting out here in the waiting room, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Do you want to go into the room and be with her?”