In Her Shadow by August McLaughlin

unease—toxic fumes to fuel their journey to the hospital in Hastings. Hank peers in at her from the driver’s side as he fills his tank. “Can I get you anything? Coffee or soda? Toss that in the trash?”
    Though the tissue clenched in her fist is soggy and useless, she can’t seem to let it go. “I’m good, thanks.”
    She leans her head against the passenger window as they drive, observing landmarks she’s driven by countless times on her way to or from her grandparents’ house. The Mega-Mall— “an atrocity...too damn big for its own good,” by Grandpa’s standards. Sun Fish Park, where he dropped her off for summer camp as a kid. A billboard for Treasure Island Casino. “Grandpa took me there for my eighteenth birthday,” she tells Hank.
    “The casino?”
    “Yeah, he had this speech prepared. Something about how...life is a gamble and all you can do is try your best and use your head. But every once in a while you should say ‘Screw it,’ and risk everything. Put it all out there on the table.”
    “Sounds like a pretty philosophical guy.”
    “I think it was just an excuse to take his granddaughter to the casino.”
    Hank smiles. “A fun guy then, in any case.”
    “He was. He is.” How could she have said that?
    “Did you win anything?”
    “No. Luckily I only had twenty bucks to start with.” She hadn’t cared about winning or losing. She told Grandpa he could leave her alone at “the tables” since she was “now a grownup and all.” She never told him, but she was relieved that he stayed.
    Hang on, Grandpa. I still need you .
    “Guess this is it.” Hank pulls into the Regina Medical Center parking lot.
    At the sight of the hospital, she feels numb, unable to breathe. Her anxiety increases from a wave to a surge as Hank walks around the car and opens her door. “Wait.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing... Can we just sit here for a minute?”
    He squeezes her hand. “You’re going to be okay.”
    She wishes he was speaking as a doctor rather than her boyfriend. But it isn’t merely Grandpa’s state or prognosis that frightens her. Something even worse awaits them. They’re all in harm’s way—she feels it. The hospital houses not only disease, but a vicious monster.
    Get a grip . Are you listening to yourself? Stress is triggering paranoia, she decides, noting that her other problems seem trivial compared to Grandpa’s condition. Her feared “stalker” could drive up in his fancy SUV and she might not care; nothing matters but Gramps. Maybe that’s why entering the building seems petrifying. Hospitals have never troubled her before, but they’ve never held her grandfather in the ICU.
    With clammy hands she unbuckles her seat belt then places her feet on the ground outside her door. She freezes up again. “I don’t think I can do this.”
    She feels like one of her phobic patients, one who feels they can’t fly or swim or face spiders. A magnetic force field seems to push her away, promising distance between her and the facility. What is going on?
    “You can, come on. Let’s take it slow and easy.” Hank helps her to her feet. Her knees buckle as they walk, but she prods herself to keep moving, fighting the urge to turn and run in the opposite direction. She tightens her grip on Hank’s arm; they were almost there.
    They approach the reception desk. “Gil Adolfsson,” she hears herself say.
    “Ah, yes…” The nurse glances at her computer screen. Claire understands few of her words: “...ICU...your grandmother’s with him...”
    She moves like a robot, clutching Hank’s arm as he ushers her toward the room. Through Grandpa’s doorway her eyes draw to the piece of machinery—an IV drip, tubes hanging down, fluid pulsing through them.
    “You okay?” Hank asks.
    She takes a breath. “I...think so.”
    A nurse stops the two of them. “You’re both family?”
    “I’m his granddaughter,” Claire says.
    “I’ll be right here if you need me,” Hank