Becoming Calder (A Sign of Love Novel)(83)

"How long has she been like this?"
"She seemed to be doing well this morning, just the same cough," my dad said. "She had a seizure . . . and then—"
"Mom, go get Mother Willa," I interrupted.
"Mother Willa? I don't think Maya's in pain."
"Just go get her!" I raised my voice, then closed my eyes momentarily at the look of pain that crossed my mom's features. "Please. Maybe she can do something . . . anything."
My mom nodded, but it was Dad who left the room to go get Mother Willa.
Fifteen minutes later, Mother Willa entered the small room where we all waited; I was still holding Maya's hand. She moved to the bedside and stood there, simply looking down at Maya, sadness on her face.
"This child was never long for this world," she finally said.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded. "We don't need your predictions; we need your help. What can you do for her?"
Mother Willa met my eyes. "There's nothing I can do for her, boy. Her heart is weak. It always has been. You're lucky you've had her for as long as you have."
I groaned. I felt stunned and helpless. How had this come on so suddenly? Was I not paying enough attention? Was I too caught up in my own world, focused on my own needs and desires, every waking thought on Eden?
"Move aside," Mother Willa said. "I can at least make the child more comfortable."
"She's not a child. Are you in pain, Maya?" I asked, my voice sounding extra gritty. I cleared my throat.
Maya's eyes met mine and she shook her head, no. "I just feel sleepy," she said, blinking her eyes in an effort to keep them open.
Mother Willa put her hand on her own chest and looked up as she inhaled a breath. Then she put her hand on Maya's chest. "Not enough air," she finally said. "Because of the heart. She will simply fall asleep."
I relaxed a little. "She just needs to sleep and she'll be better?"
Mother Willa shook her head, sadness in her expression. That sadness enraged me and made me feel even more desperate. I pulled her arm gently and she followed me a little way from Maya's bed, as my parents took my place at Maya's bedside.
"Tell me what's going on with Maya if you know."
"It's like I said. Her heart is weak. It's failing. Soon it won't be able to provide her with enough oxygen and she'll fall asleep. She won't wake up."
"No," I shook my head, shaking off the very idea. "No. You're not right. How would you know that anyway? Just from looking at her?"
"Aye. I see it. When things are imminent, they grow very clear." She put her hand on my arm. "I'm sorry. I see your love for her, too. It's like a brightly colored butterfly."
I studied her ancient face, those ageless eyes, not knowing what to think, and then pulled loose from her hold and walked back to Maya to sit on the other side of her bed.
I clasped her hand in mine and sat with her as Mom and Dad prayed. As I listened to the words from Hector's Holy Book, the room seemed to sway and blur all around me. When I blinked my eyes, I realized it was because I was crying. I sat up straight and looked out the window. I wasn't going to cry. Maya was still here, her warm hand holding my own and a small, serene smile on her face.
As I stared at her, she opened her eyes and looked right at me, and then just over my shoulder. She smiled just a little bit bigger. "Oh, Calder, it's so beautiful, so simple," she whispered.
I furrowed my brow, not understanding what she meant. She met my eyes again and her hand squeezed mine so gently, three times. I. Love. You. I squeezed her hand back and her smile grew bigger. "I know," she whispered. And then she closed her eyes, a small puff of air escaping her mouth, her hand slipping from my own.
"Maya?" I choked, putting both hands on her shoulders and shaking her just a little. She remained unmoving, her eyes closed, the small smile still on her lips. My mom began to cry and my dad bowed his head. I looked up and saw Mother Willa standing quietly in the corner, her eyes downcast as her lips moved silently in some kind of prayer.
My dad picked up Maya's wrist and put his finger to her pulse and we all watched as pain moved across his face. After a minute, he laid her arm down gently. "She's gone," he said very quietly.
I stood up quickly, the chair beneath me scraping against the floor. I felt hot, short of breath, like all the light in the room was suddenly too bright, piercing. I needed to get out of there, from Maya's still body and the seemingly tangible feeling of loss all around me.
I stumbled toward the door as Mother Willa reached out her arm and clutched mine. "This is not your fault," she said.