Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(130)

Ginger followed her father into Dr. Sheridan’s office and took a seat across from him at one of three guest chairs.

The doctor opened the file on his desk and sighed, looking up at the McHuids with sympathy in his eyes.

“Kelleyanne has entered what we call the end stage of Parkinsons. Ranger, I know you’ve noticed that she’s become more disoriented lately.”

Ginger’s father cleared his throat. “Just lately, in the past couple of weeks. She asks about my sister, Amy, who passed away as a child. Asks to see her.”

Dr. Sheridan nodded. “That’s common. Even expected. I fear it’s goin’ to go quickly now.” He turned to Ginger. “She’s been incontinent for a while now, and we’ve had some issues with chokin’. I need to recommend . . .”—Ginger’s heart dropped—“. . . a feedin’ tube. It’s just safer.”

Safer, but it meant that Gran wouldn’t be able to talk very much anymore. It would tickle her throat and bother her to talk, which essentially meant that their wonderful, long talks would be over.

“When?” she asked.

“I’ve scheduled it for tomorrow. Kelleyanne knows. Can’t say she was pleased, but she’s been fadin’ in and out lately, as you’ve noted, Ranger. I won’t beat about the bush. She’s gettin’ weaker, folks. It’s gettin’ harder for her to breathe, harder for her to swallow. You need to prepare yourselves.” Dr. Sheridan’s voice was kind and level, but Ginger felt the words like a vise around her heart. Her two most beloved friends—one gone, one almost gone—and she’d be so terribly lost without both of them.

“How long does she have?” asked Ranger, blinking furiously.

“A few weeks, I think,” said Dr. Sheridan. “Maybe a month. Not much more’n that. And she’ll be more and more out of it, I’m afraid. But we can keep her comfortable. Make her final days as easy as possible.”

Ginger’s father swiped at his eyes, then slapped his hands on his knees. “Thanks, doc. I know you did all you could for her.”

“Take some time with her tonight, Ranger. You too, Ginger. Talkin’ will be harder after tomorrow.”

Ginger gulped, nodding at the doctor before turning to her father.

“Why don’t you go first, Ginger?” said Ranger. “Doc, if it’s okay with you, I’ll stay with her tonight. Until the procedure tomorrow.”

“Course,” said the doctor. “If Ginger wants to spend a bit of time with her grandmother now, you could go get somethin’ to eat and come back in a few hours. I’ll let the nurses know you’ll be stayin’ over. They can bring in a cot for you.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Daddy, I can stay too,” said Ginger, but her father shook his head and reached over to squeeze her hand.

“No, baby. She’s my momma. It’ll just be me and her.”

Ginger nodded. “I understand.”

Ginger left her father and Dr. Sheridan to discuss the details of tomorrow’s procedure and headed to the elevator. She’d go on up to Gran’s room and stay with her for a while, hopefully have one last conversation.

When she entered the room, Gran was sitting up in bed, her face slack, staring straight ahead.

“Gran?”

“Amy,” she said, her voice soft and breathy.

“No, Gran. It’s me. It’s Ginger.”

“Oh, Ginger.” She looked up at her granddaughter, her eyes taking a moment to spark recognition. “Ginger. How . . . are you, d-doll b-baby?”

Ginger pulled a chair over to Gran’s bedside and sat down beside her. She reached for grandmother’s bony hand and held it gently.

“I’m fine. How’re you feelin’?”

“Tired,” she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.

Ginger gulped softly, blinking her eyes to hold back the tears.

“You look . . . m-miserable,” said Gran.

“I’m goin’ to miss you so much,” said Ginger, laying her head on the bed beside her grandmother’s frail body.

“We been . . . g-good friends . . . you and me.”

“The best.”

“B-but,” she said, each word coming slowly and softly and taking strength Gran probably didn’t have to spare. “You’re . . . g-gonna b-be . . . okay.” She paused for a moment, then Ginger heard her gasp softly. “C-Cain . . . y-you’re here.”

Ginger lifted her head and turned around in shock to find Cain, dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, standing in the doorway of her grandmother’s room with a bouquet of flowers by his side. His face was concerned, almost grave, but he managed a smile for Gran as he approached the bed, and Ginger had to physically restrain herself from launching her body into his arms and sagging against the strength he could offer.

“Came to see you, Miz Kelleyanne.”

“You are . . . t-too handsome.” She looked at his hands. “F-flowers.”

He nodded, laying them on a rolling table at the foot of her bed.

“What are you doin’ here?” asked Ginger, wiping away the tears that spilled down her cheeks. She looked up at his face, her gratitude so overwhelming, it almost made her light-headed.

“You said your Gran was havin’ tests. Thought maybe . . .” He shrugged, squatting down beside the chair where she was sitting and resting his hands on her knees. “Thought maybe you could use a friend.”