Chapter Twenty-Six
I offer my hand, and she steps forward to take it, gripping it with everything she has. I’ll take it. Let her try and crush my bones. It means she’s warm, and alive, and most important - here. With me. She blinks as we step into the harsh light that permeates the hall. A pair of Hospice volunteers wait patiently.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, extending her other hand their way. “For taking such good care of Mama.”
They exchange additional words, but I concentrate on the tips of my shoes. I’m an interloper in these conversations, but she still has my hand in a death-grip. A moment later, she gives my hand a tug, and we make our way to the lobby. “Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere but home,” she replies.
“I’ll send a driver for your car.”
She nods mutely and follows my
