wretched sound and produced a laugh deep from
his gut. Mark followed suit. Delaney exhaled, but her body refused
to yield any sound.
“You’re lucky you’re my favorite oldest son,
otherwise, I might have to get out of this bed and kick your ass,”
she replied pointing her finger accusingly at Mark. Ann had always
joked that Mark was her favorite oldest son; Delaney her favorite
only daughter; and Ben her favorite youngest son. Ann Jones didn’t
have her body, but her mind had yet to fail her.
“How do you feel?” Delaney asked, regretting
the words before she even finished.
“With my fingers,” Ann replied, wiggling her
bony fingers just inches above the blanket.
“I should have known better,” Delaney
replied as she felt the rest of the tension release. Ann Jones
is still with it.
“By the way, guess who they ran into in the
lobby?” Michael asked, moving to sit on the end of the bed by her
feet. He placed one hand on her foot buried deep in the blanket.
Delaney groaned inwardly as she glared at Mark. She felt like she
was being thrust back into high school, her family plotting to
improve her social life.
“Who?” Ann rasped, moving her head off the
pillow with a slight jerk before she surrendered, laying it back
down.
“Relax, Mom. It was just James Anderson,”
Delaney replied, looking at her father. If this is how they
react to almost hitting James, how can I tell them about what I
saw? About Mr. Rowan? The repeated images in her mind of the
knife sinking into his chest made her shudder. Sleeping with Theron
had sent her world into a frenzy. She had been pushed into oncoming
traffic, dodging one horrific scene only to stumble blindly into
the next.
“He’s back in Wisconsin? Good thing I was
here.” Ann’s eyes glimmered for a moment while she waited for her
daughter’s response. She had always wanted James to rescue her
loveless Delaney. Both her parents had always adored James. He was
a frequenter at the Jones’ house since his father often worked late
at the office. By the end of their senior year at Xavier Academy,
Ann Jones had joked that she inherited another mouth to feed, but
they hadn’t seen James since he moved out to California, and
Delaney had failed to mention why they had stopped talking several
years ago, avoiding the topic all together.
“I guess he’s moving back, but that’s
irrelevant. Let’s talk about the wedding before Ben gets here,” she
said, dodging the James discussion.
“What’s there to talk about? I will be
there. Dr. Hansen mentioned I should be discharged - if the night
goes well - by tomorrow morning,” she reported. The exertion of
energy was too much for her as her breathing shallowed. She looked
down at Michael who had lifted his hand from her foot to remove his
glasses. He once again began to methodically rub his temple,
massaging it. Delaney had always heard about the mental and
physical toll caregivers shouldered, though she had never seen it
living, breathing before her eyes like she did now.
“You think you’ll have enough energy for the
wedding, Mom? I think Ben might prefer that you stay home and take
care of yourself,” Mark said, leaning against the chair Delaney sat
in for support. Convincing his mother to stay home from Ben’s
wedding, he knew, would be insurmountable. Ann Jones was the most
incorrigible woman he had ever known and in most scenarios, this
quality benefitted her and everyone surrounding her. They had all
believed her sheer determinedness was why she was alive today; in
fact, she was three years past Dr. Hansen’s projected “expiration
date.”
“Absolutely not. No more discussion on the
wedding, and I swear to you, Mark,” she whispered as she curled her
finger, beckoning him to come closer to her, “I will cut you right
out of the will.” Mark, who had leaned in closer to her, gently
pushed her finger aside before he cracked a smile and moved back by
the chair. Ann let out a small, raspy laugh before
his gut. Mark followed suit. Delaney exhaled, but her body refused
to yield any sound.
“You’re lucky you’re my favorite oldest son,
otherwise, I might have to get out of this bed and kick your ass,”
she replied pointing her finger accusingly at Mark. Ann had always
joked that Mark was her favorite oldest son; Delaney her favorite
only daughter; and Ben her favorite youngest son. Ann Jones didn’t
have her body, but her mind had yet to fail her.
“How do you feel?” Delaney asked, regretting
the words before she even finished.
“With my fingers,” Ann replied, wiggling her
bony fingers just inches above the blanket.
“I should have known better,” Delaney
replied as she felt the rest of the tension release. Ann Jones
is still with it.
“By the way, guess who they ran into in the
lobby?” Michael asked, moving to sit on the end of the bed by her
feet. He placed one hand on her foot buried deep in the blanket.
Delaney groaned inwardly as she glared at Mark. She felt like she
was being thrust back into high school, her family plotting to
improve her social life.
“Who?” Ann rasped, moving her head off the
pillow with a slight jerk before she surrendered, laying it back
down.
“Relax, Mom. It was just James Anderson,”
Delaney replied, looking at her father. If this is how they
react to almost hitting James, how can I tell them about what I
saw? About Mr. Rowan? The repeated images in her mind of the
knife sinking into his chest made her shudder. Sleeping with Theron
had sent her world into a frenzy. She had been pushed into oncoming
traffic, dodging one horrific scene only to stumble blindly into
the next.
“He’s back in Wisconsin? Good thing I was
here.” Ann’s eyes glimmered for a moment while she waited for her
daughter’s response. She had always wanted James to rescue her
loveless Delaney. Both her parents had always adored James. He was
a frequenter at the Jones’ house since his father often worked late
at the office. By the end of their senior year at Xavier Academy,
Ann Jones had joked that she inherited another mouth to feed, but
they hadn’t seen James since he moved out to California, and
Delaney had failed to mention why they had stopped talking several
years ago, avoiding the topic all together.
“I guess he’s moving back, but that’s
irrelevant. Let’s talk about the wedding before Ben gets here,” she
said, dodging the James discussion.
“What’s there to talk about? I will be
there. Dr. Hansen mentioned I should be discharged - if the night
goes well - by tomorrow morning,” she reported. The exertion of
energy was too much for her as her breathing shallowed. She looked
down at Michael who had lifted his hand from her foot to remove his
glasses. He once again began to methodically rub his temple,
massaging it. Delaney had always heard about the mental and
physical toll caregivers shouldered, though she had never seen it
living, breathing before her eyes like she did now.
“You think you’ll have enough energy for the
wedding, Mom? I think Ben might prefer that you stay home and take
care of yourself,” Mark said, leaning against the chair Delaney sat
in for support. Convincing his mother to stay home from Ben’s
wedding, he knew, would be insurmountable. Ann Jones was the most
incorrigible woman he had ever known and in most scenarios, this
quality benefitted her and everyone surrounding her. They had all
believed her sheer determinedness was why she was alive today; in
fact, she was three years past Dr. Hansen’s projected “expiration
date.”
“Absolutely not. No more discussion on the
wedding, and I swear to you, Mark,” she whispered as she curled her
finger, beckoning him to come closer to her, “I will cut you right
out of the will.” Mark, who had leaned in closer to her, gently
pushed her finger aside before he cracked a smile and moved back by
the chair. Ann let out a small, raspy laugh before
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