Ford took the Saturday-morning shift, since both Lucy and Dan had a wedding at the inn to set up.
“She’s been awake several times,” Lucy told him as she scanned the emails on her phone. “Each time she seems to be a bit stronger, though she’s still a little confused about what happened.” She paused. “You said you saw her fall?”
Ford nodded.
“Was there someone behind her on the steps?” she asked. “Someone with her? A woman?”
“No. Mom was the only person on the stairs when she fell. Why?”
“It must be the drugs, then.”
“What must be the drugs?”
“Oh, last night she was muttering something in her sleep, something about someone named Alice having pushed her or somehow had caused her to fall down the steps.”
Ford shook his head. “She was dreaming. She was alone at the time.”
“Funny.” Lucy appeared thoughtful. “I remember hearing about someone named Alice who Mom knew when she was younger …”
“What about her?”
“Nothing.” Lucy shook off whatever she’d been thinking. “In any event, she’s been a little more lucid each time she wakes.”
Lucy paused at the door. “I hate to leave.”
“You go. I’ve got this.”
“You’ve had, what, six hours of sleep since Wednesday?”
He’d stayed from the time they’d admitted Grace until Friday morning, when Dan and Lucy insisted that he go back to the inn with Dan and get some sleep.
“More than that. Go ahead, do what you have to do. We’ll be fine.” Ford picked up the book he’d brought with him and moved a chair closer to the window, where the light was best, and sat down and tried to read the spy novel he’d picked up earlier in the week, but he couldn’t concentrate. All he could think of was the woman in the bed, and how her life was going to change, at least for a while.
When he’d wished for something to happen, this wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind.
“Mom? You’re awake.” He closed the book and switched to the chair next to the bed in one smooth movement. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” She hesitated before asking, “Was I hit by a truck?”
“You fell down the main staircase at the inn.”
“Ah, yes, I do remember now that you mention it. Sorry. I seem to be a bit forgetful. I think Lucy told me … Is Lucy here?” Grace’s head moved slowly from one side of the room to the other.
“She was here last night and earlier this morning, but she and Dan have a wedding to deal with and—”
“Of course. The McGonigal wedding. Lovely people.” She grimaced as she tried to move.
“What can I do for you, Mom?” Ford was on his feet. “Do you want to sit up a little more?”
“Yes, and I’d like some water.”
“Let’s see if we can get you upright a little without causing you any pain.” He reached for the bed controls and raised the back by inches at a time.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Ford, just get me up,” she said impatiently.
“I’m trying to go easy.”
“Well, I’m fine.”
Ford paused. “You want to rethink that last one?”
“All right. I’m not fine. Just move this contraption a little faster.”
He maintained the slow speed on the controls, watching her face to see if she showed any signs of pain.
“There. That’s good. Thank you.” She nodded. “Now if I could have a drink …”
He held the large tumbler to her lips, but as soon as she had the straw in her mouth, she snatched the cup with her good hand and drank. When she finished, she handed the cup back to him.
“Nothing wrong with my left hand, Ford.”
“I can see that.” He set the cup on the tray next to the bed and pulled the chair closer to the bed. “Now, how are you really feeling?” he asked as he sat.
“My left leg hurts like the dickens,” she admitted, “and my right arm isn’t feeling too good either, and I have the headache to end all headaches. Other than that, I’m fine and ready to go home.”
“Do you want me to ring for the nurse and see if it’s time for your pain meds?”
“She’ll bring it when it’s time. I hate to take that stuff, you know. It makes me groggy. And it’s addictive. Why, I’ve read any number of stories of how people have become addicted to prescription medications.”
“We’ll make sure they cut off your supply before that happens,” he said drily.
“Oh, you.” Her left hand reached out for his and he took it. “I’m so glad you’re here, Ford.”
“I’m glad, too. I’m happy that I was here when …” He gestured to her casts. “Of course, I’d be happier if we could have skipped this part.”
“It is what it is. Into each life a little rain must fall, and all that.” Grace sighed heavily, and Ford knew that she was in pain. She closed her eyes and winced.
“Mom, what can I do for you?”
“Nothing, dear.” She winced again, her hand squeezing his. “It’s enough to know that you’re here.”
She closed her eyes, and Ford thought she was drifting back to sleep, but a few moments later, her eyes still closed, she asked sleepily, “What day is it, anyway?”
“It’s Saturday.”
“Saturday?” Her eyes flew open. “But it can’t be Saturday.”
“Yesterday was Friday, Saturday usually comes next.”
“Well, then, they’re just going to have to let me out of here. Give me that damned thing so I can call for the nurse.” She sat up and reached for the buzzer.
“Whoa. Hold on, Mom. What’s the big deal about Saturday?”
“I have an interview this morning. An important one. It’s for the paper and I—”
“So we’ll call whoever you’re supposed to talk to and explain what happened.” If they didn’t already know, he added to himself. He was pretty sure that everyone in St. Dennis knew by now that Grace had taken a tumble. There were almost a dozen flower arrangements lined up on the windowsill. “I’m sure whoever you’re supposed to meet will understand. We can reschedule and—”
“No. You don’t understand.” Her eyes filled with tears and she began to cry. “I wanted to write a series. The articles are supposed to spread out over the next weeks. It’s important. I have it all planned …”
Ford couldn’t remember seeing his mother cry since his father died. A few tears now and then, but she was really crying.
“Mom … Mom … it’ll be okay.” He tried to soothe her.
“I’ve never, ever failed to get the paper out on time. Not one time, in all the years since my father passed it on to me. Not even when your father died. I’ve always gotten the paper out on time.” She began to cry harder, and Ford thought for sure her heart was breaking.
He ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t stand to see his mother so upset. It almost seemed that this realization—that her beloved Gazette might have to go on hiatus—was more devastating to her than the physical pain of her injuries. “Mom … look, tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you need.”
“You would?” With her good arm, she reached for the tissues on the tray next to her bed. Ford handed her the box and she pulled a tissue free. “You’ll help me get the paper out?”
“Of course, Mom. Whatever you want me to do.” He patted her left shoulder reassuringly.
She pulled another tissue from the box and wiped her eyes. “I’m afraid it’s more complex than you might think.”
“So you’ll walk me through it.”
“You’d really do this for me?”
“Mom, I’d do anything for you.” The lump in his throat cautioned him not to say more.
She rested her head back against the pillows. “You’ve taken a huge weight off my mind, Ford. I don’t know what I’d do if we couldn’t …”