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  We stopped outside a blue curtain. “Is she awake?” I whispered.

  “No. She’s slipped into a coma. I don’t think there’s much hope for her coming out of it.” Margie opened the curtain. Laying a hand on my shoulder, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Fluffy pillows framed Mrs. Canard, and her short gray hair looked like a halo around her head. While she’d always been pale, now the blue veins were visible in her hands and on her face. She seemed even more fragile than she had this afternoon.

  “I was with her earlier today. I don’t understand. She seemed fine.”

  Margie checked the machine that was keeping a watch on Mrs. Canard’s stats. “That’s the horrible thing about strokes; one minute the person seems perfectly fine, the next they can’t speak and they’re paralyzed. It’s terrible.”

  Two orderlies arrived with a bed and moved the older woman onto it so gently I barely saw her jostled. Sweet is a small town, but the hospital is state of the art. It isn’t very large but there are four floors. I rode in the elevator as we made our way to room 411.

  Sam was there and helped get her settled. “I’m sorry, Kira. I know how much you love her.” I’d told him about her when we were in college and how she was the one who encouraged me to go after my dreams.

  “Is there nothing you can do to make her better?” It was more of a plea than anything.

  “We can try to make her as comfortable as possible, but there’s just been too much damage to the brain stem.” He hugged me.

  “It isn’t fair. There isn’t a kinder woman on the planet.” I choked up, trying hard not to sob.

  “I know. So let’s make her last few hours as peaceful as possible. We can play her favorite music, and it’s important for you to talk with her. Do you know what she loved most?”

  That was an easy one. “Books.” I pulled away from him. “I have a paperback she gave me earlier in my purse.”

  “That would be great, and I’ll go downstairs to see if I can find a CD player or radio. Music is always good.” He paused at the door.

  I stared at Mrs. Canard. She already seemed so peaceful, her mouth curved in a gentle smile, her skin smooth of tension. “She loved music too. Whatever you find will be fine.”

  He smiled. “You keep talking to her. We still haven’t found her family, but we’re working on it.”

  Sam left and I moved a chair closer to the bed. I took her hand in mine. It was a little cool, and I rubbed her fingers. “I want you to know how much you are loved, not just by me, but by this whole town.” I sniffled. “You taught half of Sweet how to read and encouraged the rest of them to love books as much as you do. When I was a kid I wanted to be you. I thought librarians were the coolest people in the world.

  “Well, until I saw that episode of The Practice and decided I wanted to be a lawyer.” I laughed softly. “I remember the look on your face when I told you I wanted to study law. You were so surprised, and then you went and found some college textbooks on corporate law for me. What they were doing in the library, I have no idea. I thought they were boring at first, but you told me everything must be looked at in context. You were right. Years later, when I could compare those cases to others, I was absolutely fascinated.”

  I sighed. “You did that for everyone you met. Helped them along with their dreams.” I scooted my chair closer.

  “Okay, enough with the mushy stuff. You know how much I love you.” I cleared my throat. “I happen to have a copy of Emma in my bag. I know what an Austen fan you are.” I read to her about Emma Woodhouse and her misguided schemes until my voice was a hoarse whisper. When I could read no more, I rested my head on my arm and dozed for a few minutes at a time.

  Around five in the morning, a hand rubbed the middle of my back. Thinking Sam or Margie had come in to check on her, I turned with sleepy eyes to see Mrs. Canard standing beside me.

  I closed my eyes and opened them again. She was still there. Then I looked down at the bed, where she lay looking even paler than before.

  I’m dreaming.

  “Kira, I’m sorry. I don’t want to frighten you but it’s time for me to go.” She patted my shoulder.

  I shook my head, not really understanding.

  She smiled. “I must pass to the other side. I’ve foisted a huge responsibility onto your shoulders and I want you to know that no matter what you choose to do, I will always love you. You can walk away from it all, and I will never think less of you. But know you are special and your talent can help so many. It will be difficult at first, but you’ll come to love it as much as I did. If you give it a chance.” Mrs. Canard turned her head as if listening for something.

  “I’m confused. What responsibility? If you need me to take care of the arrangements I will. Money is not a problem.”

  “Oh, no. All of that was taken care of months ago. I really must go, dear, but I’ll be back to help you along when I can. These things take time. Remember, you are special. No matter what, never forget it.”

  She faded and an alarm started beeping. Sam and the nurses rushed in and stood beside the bed.

  We all watched as her struggling breaths slowed and then stopped.

  “We’ve lost her,” Margie whispered as she checked the machine.

  Sam looked at me, and then at the clock on the wall. “Time of death, five after five.”

  Chapter 7

  Indeed, when I am in really great trouble, as any one who knows me intimately will tell you, I refuse everything except food and drink.

  THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST

  By Wilde, Oscar, 1854–1900

  Call #: F-WIL

  Description: 154 p.; 23cm

  I’m not sure how I made it back to the house, but I did. I couldn’t stop the tears and my chest felt hollow as I fell back into bed in a fitful sleep. Mrs. Canard’s words about responsibility weighed heavily on me, and I wished I knew what she meant.

  Around two in the afternoon someone buzzed the front door. At first I tried to ignore it, but they wouldn’t go away. I’d never bothered to change, so I stumbled to the door in my wrinkled jeans and sweatshirt.

  Sam and Caleb stood on the other side of the door.

  Sam pushed his way in. “I know you’re upset and you don’t feel like eating, but you’re going to anyway.”

  Caleb looked at me and shrugged. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Thanksgiving? I’d forgotten all about it.

  “Hi,” I croaked, suddenly very aware I had morning breath at two in the afternoon, my throat still sore from reading for so long.

  “Hey.” Caleb touched my arm. “I’m sorry about Mrs. Canard. She was one nice lady.”

  “Thanks.” Sam had taken off toward the kitchen. “Well, I guess since Mr. Bossy Man has taken over, we might as well put the meal together.”

  “Might as well,” Caleb answered as he closed the door behind him. “Everything has already been heated, we just need to open the packages and dig in.”

  I hadn’t had anything to eat since dinner with Caleb the night before and my stomach growled. I showed him to the kitchen, and we pulled out the plates and platters.

  “Do you guys mind if I run and freshen up a bit?”

  “Brush your teeth while you’re at it,” Sam quipped.

  “Oh, nice one.” I stuck my tongue out him.

  Caleb laughed.

  “I probably look like crap.” I grimaced.

  “I don’t think so,” Caleb said softly.

  Sam snickered. “Well, hurry up. Once we get this food on the plates I’m not waiting.”

  When he was in bossy mode, there was no getting around it. I ran back to my room and jumped in the shower. Eight minutes later I was ready to go. No makeup—since Caleb had already seen me at my worst, I didn’t see any reason to waste the time.

  Rather than setting one of the tables in the dining room, they put everything on the end of the large granite breakfast bar. They were talking about football teams when I walked in.

  “
Okay. Let’s eat.” Sam sat down on one of the bar stools. Caleb waited for me to sit, and then he did. It was very gentlemanly.

  “Kira, it’s your house, so you say the blessing.” Sam bowed his head.

  I panicked. I’d never been to church much, and though I believed in God, I wasn’t really up on the latest prayers. “I, uh…”

  Caleb put a hand on my arm. “You’re probably still tired. Would you like me to say grace?”

  What I wanted to do in that moment was kiss him. My head bobbed up and down.

  “Dear Lord, thank you for this food. Please be with our family and friends who could not join us today. And Lord, we ask that you look after our dear friends who have come to join you in heaven. Bless this food to our use. Amen.”

  I choked up at the sentiment. “Amen,” Sam and I both whispered.

  I was saved from making much dinner conversation as we were in rapture from the meal Ms. Johnnie and Ms. Helen had prepared. The silence wasn’t weird, just peaceful.

  After a few minutes Sam finally broke the silence. “Are you still going back to Atlanta this week?”

  I hadn’t really discussed my plans with anyone. Though I didn’t know Caleb well, I felt like I could trust him. “I have some interviews with various firms and companies beginning Monday. So I have to get back.”

  “Interviews?” Caleb put down his fork. “I thought Sam said you worked for Zeb Corp.”

  I cleared my throat. “I did until this last week. Seems there were some budgetary concerns and there have been layoffs.”

  Caleb looked perplexed. “They showed a thirty percent gain last year. That’s insane.”

  It seemed odd a carpenter would know Zeb Corp.’s profits for the year before, but he was right. Almost 20 percent of that was due to deals I brokered. “You must have stock with the company.”

  Caleb sat back and gave Sam a strange look. “Not exactly, but I do keep up with the financials of the top one hundred companies.”

  I waved a hand. “Well to be honest, I’m glad to get out of there. It’s time for a change and this situation forced the issue.” I meant what I said. For the first time in a long time I felt like I could breathe. There wasn’t a heavy weight resting on my chest. “I’m kind of looking forward to seeing what’s out there. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even move out of Atlanta.”

  The idea hadn’t even come to me until then. I was free. I could live anywhere in the country I wanted. As upset as I’d been over being let go, they had set me free.

  Sam scooped the last of the potatoes onto his fork. “After we clean up, would it be okay if we toured the vineyards? I’ve been meaning to get out here to check them out, but I never seem to have the time.”

  “Sure.” So full I could barely breathe, I picked up my plate and reached for Caleb’s.

  He moved it out of reach. “I’ll get my own. If we all pitch in we’ll finish faster.”

  I smiled and nodded. I really did like this guy.

  Opening one of the two dishwashers, I began loading in the silverware.

  Sam stopped me. “I’m all for convenience, but why don’t we do this the old-fashioned way. That way you won’t have to worry about the dishes later on.”

  He pushed me out of the way and began washing the dishes by hand. Caleb dried them and I put everything away.

  We worked for several minutes, each of us busy with our chores. “Any word yet from Mrs. Canard’s family?” I finally ventured.

  “Her daughter called this morning. She’s in Vancouver, but she’s heading this way tomorrow. She’d already been on the phone with Tate’s.” That was the funeral home in Sweet. “There won’t be a funeral, but they do plan a memorial for a week from Friday. That’s what Mrs. Canard wanted.”

  I turned away. Looking out of the window onto the stark but beautiful West Texas plains, I had to crinkle my nose to keep from tearing up. “This place won’t be the same without her.” My voice was a little froggy sounding.

  Caleb put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re right. We’re all going to miss her. I’d visited the library to do some research on architecture a few weeks ago and the books she came up with were amazing. It was if she always knew exactly what you needed.”

  I smiled at him and nodded. Turning again to face Sam, I told him, “I don’t know when all of my meetings are scheduled, but I’ll be back on Friday for the service no matter what.” I’d said my good-byes to her at the hospital, but now I would pay my respects.

  I’d convinced myself the dream involving Mrs. Canard had been my way of dealing with the greatest of tragedies. But I wondered what my subconscious was trying to tell me when Mrs. Canard mentioned the responsibilities. Maybe she meant moving on with my life. Or maybe that’s what I was trying to tell myself; that it was up to me to make new choices and to be smart about them.

  The guys were talking as we finished up, and I realized I’d zoned out.

  “I think that’s the last of it.” Caleb handed me the platter that had held the turkey.

  “You guys make sure you take the leftovers. I’m leaving tomorrow and I don’t want Mom and Dad coming home to a fridge full of meat and sweet potatoes with marshmallows. My mom will have a cow”—I laughed—“or at least a soy bean if she sees that crap in her house.”

  “We’ll take care of the leftovers,” Sam promised.

  I went in search of a jacket. I didn’t really have one that was appropriate for the thirty-degree temperatures outside. In my mom and dad’s room I found a parka I thought would work. It belonged to my dad and was about four sizes too big. I looked like a big green apple when I put it on. I grabbed a knit cap and made my way to the back of the house.

  Caleb and Sam were already outside looking at the sculptures. “These are incredibly cool,” I heard Caleb say as he stared at a huge funnel-like creation made out of rusted metal. “Who did them?”

  In that moment I was really very proud of my dad and his “yard art.” “My dad.” I pulled the cap down over my ears and stuck my freezing hands in my pockets.

  “Has he had any showings?” Caleb was a man full of surprises. He had an interest in art and seemed to know what was going on in the business world.

  “I honestly don’t know. I haven’t been home much the last few years since I moved to Atlanta.” I moved past them. “I don’t think there’s much to see because most of the plants are dormant this time of year, but the vineyards are this way.”

  They followed me up the hill. It was around four in the afternoon and the sun had dipped pretty low, and so had the temperatures. I shivered even with the big jacket on.

  The vineyards were on various levels of the hills, almost like they’d been carved out of them. There were acres of vines draped on wooden posts and wire.

  “I hadn’t realized they’d done so much this last year.” Sam climbed to the top and looked down. “He’s got pinot noir and chardonnay. Do you know who is buying his harvest?”

  Again, I didn’t have any answers. I’d so disengaged myself from my parents that I didn’t know anything about their lives now. It was sad. “No.”

  “Well, find out for us. I’d love to come back in May and taste some of the grapes.” Sam walked back down, Caleb right behind him.

  “Your parents must be cool people.” Caleb pulled on his gloves.

  I shrugged. “When they’re your parents, you really don’t see them that way. I guess they kind of are, except for their unreasonable worship of bean curd.”

  Both men laughed.

  Back at the house, Sam checked his watch. “I’d better get to the hospital for evening rounds.” He headed for the fridge. “I put a couple of slices of turkey and some sweet potatoes in a plastic bag for you, just in case you get hungry tonight.”

  After everything we’d eaten, I was pretty sure it would be a couple of days before I could stomach anything else.

  He gave me a stern look. “You have to take better care of yourself. Eat three meals a day and preferably something that doesn’t come in a b
ag. Get sleep and take a vacation now and then.” I followed him to the front door, his arms loaded with leftovers.

  Sam was one to talk, given his hours. Between his practice and the nursing home I’d bet he didn’t have much more free time than I did. “Yes, Doctor.”

  He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you next Friday, and if you don’t look any better I’m putting you in the hospital and hog-tying you to the bed.”

  I did a fake gasp and put a hand to my chest. “Why, Sam, I never knew you were so kinky.”

  He gave a stern look and then laughed. “Just be careful this week. Your temperature barely broke and your defenses are down. Your immune system is a walking sponge for germs.”

  The visual on that was nothing short of gross. “Okay, okay.” I waved him out the door.

  Caleb had been watching the whole exchange with great interest. He held a couple of grocery bags filled with the leftovers Sam hadn’t been able to carry.

  “This was fun.” He lifted a bag. “What time are you leaving in the morning?”

  “Around ten. My flight isn’t until four tomorrow. I figure with the three-hour drive to the airport that should be just about right.”

  He nodded. “I could fly you into Dallas if that would help.”

  “Wow. Thanks. That’s incredibly generous, but I’m going to leave my car there so I can get back for the memorial service on Friday.”

  He shrugged. “I can come get you then, if you’d like, and bring you back. Hell, I can fly to Atlanta and pick you up.”

  Warning lights went off in my head. Too much, too fast. Did the guy have any idea of the price of fuel these days? I couldn’t figure out why he was being so nice, and I wasn’t sure what to say.

  I must have looked startled, because he laughed. “Whoa. Sorry. I just wanted to spend a little time with you before you left, and I’m sure that came off sounding crazy.”

  I shook my head. “Oh, no.”

  His right eyebrow lifted into a look that made me laugh.

  “Okay, maybe a little.” I paused. “You want to spend time with me?”

  “Yes. You are incredibly beautiful and I happen to like the way your mind works. I enjoyed our dinner the other night.”