Silent Night, Star-Lit Night (Second Chance at Star Inn)(26)

The framed quote from the Bible had been on his desk for as long as she could remember. “I’ll treasure it, Grandpa.”

His smile faded. He pulled for air.

Momentary panic set in.

What should she do? He had a DNR.

But could she sit here as a medical professional and watch him pass away?

Peace I leave with you. My peace I give you.

The framed words on the nightstand prodded her to take a breath. “It’s all right, Grandpa. I’m right here. I’ll stay right here with you, okay?”

The smile flickered a flash of warmth, then faded with his breathing.

Celia stepped into the room.

Mia looked up, eyes wet.

“Well, now.” Celia took a seat on the other side of the bed. “Heaven awaits its own, doesn’t it?”

Did it?

Mia swiped a tissue to her face with her free hand.

Celia began humming the warm notes of a hymn Mia heard as a child, a hymn Jed’s mother sang often.

Grandpa’s eyes closed. His breathing slowed . . . then stopped.

Mia couldn’t release his hand.

He’d been her stronghold for so long, the one person she could go to, growing up, and then she’d stayed away on purpose because he’d know something was wrong.

All that time wasted, and now she couldn’t make it up to him.

“He sure did love you, child.”

“I did nothing to deserve it,” Mia whispered around the lump in her throat. “Nothing at all.”

“Well, isn’t that the beauty of true love?” Celia noted the framed sign with a glance. “It’s never about the deserving. It’s about the giving and forgiving, and that’s really all a body needs to know. To love, live, and forgive.”

Forgiveness.

Her father. Daniel. Those other women.

Normal people shouldn’t have to overlook broken bonds of love, should they?

Celia leaned forward and removed a chain from Grandpa’s neck. A small gold cross hung from the chain, flat and unadorned, but strong in its simplicity. “He told me when the time came, to make sure you got this.” She reached over and pressed the cross into Mia’s hand. “And the picture, there.”

And then she prayed, softly, words of commendation and praise, as if they sprang from her heart spontaneously. Mia sat quietly, listening, and when Celia was done, she placed one hand on Grandpa’s shoulder in benediction before turning her gaze toward Mia. “Do you want to sit with him awhile?”

Unable to speak, Mia nodded.

Celia rounded the bed and gave her a big hug. “You blessed him by making it here, child. You gave him permission to go home.”

She left.

Soft carols crooned in the background. Outside, multi-colored strings of lights adorned the trees surrounding the small adult living center. They cast a rainbow’s glow on the snow below.

Grandpa was gone.

The baby squirmed, indignant about the lack of space, a quick, stretching reminder.

Life goes on.

Mia leaned her face against Joe’s and kissed him good-bye. He’d never asked why she hadn’t come back. He just waited until she did, and maybe that’s what true love was all about. Waiting and trusting.

She picked up the picture and moved to the door.

She had patience. She’d needed it with Daniel and nursing.

But she hadn’t been able to trust anyone or anything in as long as she could remember, and maybe that was the push she needed. To take a chance and trust again.

She walked through the open door and there was Jed, waiting.

Her heart jumped.

He was here. Now. In her moment of need. She moved forward, into his arms. “How did you know?”

He shook his head, his cheek against her hair. “I didn’t. I just stayed out here, praying.”

He’d stayed.

Tears stung her eyes again.

He’d stayed without being asked.

It was too much to think about, the blessing of such kindness, but his quiet, steady presence made her think that maybe . . . just maybe . . . things could be all right.

They started forward.

She ground to a halt, grabbed the back of a lobby chair, and breathed.

The pain built, low and deep, then high, circling her middle in a way that promised this was no Braxton Hicks moment.

“Mia?”

Celia moved alongside. “You been feelin’ these pains for a while?”

“Off and on.” She took a deep, cleansing breath. “Yes.”

Celia looked at Jed. “I don’t think you’re going home tonight, Jed Taylor. It looks to me like your first stop is the hospital in Ellensburg.”

“The baby’s coming?”

Celia laughed and clapped him on the back. “I’ll call them to expect you. The roads are clear; the moon’s got her sweet light shining. And then call me, and tell me about this baby, you hear? We’ll take care of Grandpa Joe.”

Another pain started to ripple as she took a step. “I’ll bring the car to the door.” Jed didn’t walk across the festive entry.

He ran. And he was back in less than a minute, holding the doors wide while Celia walked her out. He got her into the car, climbed into the driver’s seat, then pulled out, headed east.

Once they were on the straightaway of I-90, he reached over, covered her hand with one of his. When she looked up, he flashed her a smile so sweet, she thought she might weep again. “Let’s do this.”