The Moonglow Sisters - Lori Wilde Page 0,78

lean over and kiss Grammy’s forehead. Shelley held back, hanging in the doorway. Gia motioned her in.

Glancing over her shoulder, Shelley shook her head. “The last time we had this many people in here, the nurses bawled us out.”

“Since when did you start following rules?” Madison asked. “Get in here and give Grammy a hug.”

Shelley hesitated, then came on in, shutting the door behind her. She turned and headed over as Madison stepped to the foot of the bed with Gia.

Grammy’s eyes widened at the sight of Shelley with her newly made-over hairstyle. Pure joy illuminated her face and she cried in a halting, scratchy voice, “Beth!”

All three sisters startled and exchanged stunned glances.

Grammy had spoken! But the name she’d called Shelley was the name of a woman who’d been dead for twenty years. Their mother.

Tears streamed down Grammy’s face and her bottom lip quivered. “Y-you c-came . . . home.”

Simultaneously, the three sisters swung their gazes to Darynda, who looked as surprised as they were. Tears brimmed in her eyes too.

Shelley blinked, and then shot a what-should-I-do glance at Madison.

“Helen,” Darynda murmured. “That’s not Beth. That’s Shelley, Beth’s middle daughter.”

Grammy shook her head. “Beth,” she said, her voice clearer, steadier now.

“Should I pretend to be Mom?” Shelley whispered to Madison and Gia.

“Give it a whirl,” Gia said. “It seems to make her happy.”

“Don’t deceive her,” Madison contradicted. “It’s not fair.”

“Okay.” Shelley inhaled. “Not helpful at all.”

“Beth.” Grammy looked from the photo album in her lap to Shelley. “Beth?”

“I told you that makeover made you look like Mom,” Madison said.

Shelley inched over and sank down on the thin ledge of mattress beside Grammy. Spoke the truth. “I’m so happy to be home.”

“I-I—” Grammy’s mouth twisted in upset as she struggled to find the words.

“Shh,” Darynda soothed. “It’s all right. It’s okay. You don’t have to talk.”

Grammy darted a quick glare at Darynda, then gave her attention back to Shelley. “S-so-sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” Shelley rubbed Grammy’s forearm with her palm.

Gia watched her sister with her grandmother. Feeling both of their pain as they struggled to communicate, she wished she could make things easier. The moment seemed weighted, monumental. A long time coming.

A rift between mother and daughter. A rift between sisters. It seemed like her family was full of cracks and fractures, rips and schisms. Gia fingered the woven bracelet at her wrist.

“For . . . give . . . me.” Grammy’s voice was so hoarse that Gia could barely hear her. She worried Grammy was overdoing it. Saw the same fear on Darynda’s face.

“You’ve done nothing to be forgiven for,” Shelley said. “I’m the one who needs to be forgiven. Me. I caused all the trouble.”

“No.” Grammy’s whisper was the only sound in the room. She reached up a hand to touch Shelley’s cheek. “Beth.”

Shelley looked to Madison and Gia again, her eyes asking if she should play along and pretend to be their mother or correct her.

Gia shrugged. Hey, she was trapped in the midst of a pretty big whopper, she had no advice. Madison frowned and shook her head.

“For . . . give . . . me.”

“Shh,” Madison said. “Save your strength. You can talk more later. This is a lot for one day.”

Grammy gave her the same glare dart she’d shot at Darynda earlier. “You hush.”

Gia giggled, glad to see her spunky grandmother was still in there somewhere.

Turning her attention back to Shelley, Grammy repeated, “For . . . give . . . me.”

“I forgive you . . .” Shelley hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Mama.”

Madison made a you-handled-that-wrong noise. Gia poked Madison in the ribs with her elbow. Sometimes a kind lie was better than the cruel truth.

Grammy was crying. Shelley was crying. Gia felt warm tears on her cheeks. Even crusty Madison was sniffling. Darynda passed out Kleenex.

Their grandmother closed her eyes, a soft smile coming to her lips. She looked happy.

Shelley sat beside Grammy holding her hand and saying over and over like a mantra, I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you.

Ironic when all this time, Shelley was the one needing forgiveness.

Grammy’s breathing slowed, and it seemed she’d fallen asleep. Shelley hung on to her hand.

Gently, Darynda took the photo album from Grammy’s lap and settled it onto the bedside table next to the medical accoutrements.

“I need to know something.” Gia surprised herself. She hadn’t meant to speak her thoughts aloud.

Everyone, except Grammy, who was either asleep or so exhausted she couldn’t respond, swung their gazes toward Gia. She’d backed herself into the