“Yeah, I know,” Robin sniffed.
“That’s because your grandpa knows a good man when he sees one, and Jake, he’s a good man. What he doesn’t have in wealth, he makes up for in integrity. Hard to find a man like that these days.”
Boy, that was the understatement of the year. Robin sniffed again, dipped her finger into the cookie dough, swiped a huge dab.
“And if you do find a man like that, you better hang on to him, ‘cuz you won’t find better,” Grandma added as she began to mold the cookies.
Robin knew that, too. She just hoped it wasn’t too late.
Grandma bent to put the cookies in the oven then turned and smiled brightly at Robin. “I’ve learned in my seventy some-odd years that you won’t ever know true happiness without a little hurt, but if it’s meant to be, it will be.”
“Lil!” Grandpa shouted from outside. “Lil, come out here and see this squash! I’ll be jiggered, that is the biggest darn crookneck squash you’ve ever seen in your life!”
Grandma laughed warmly, patted Robin’s hand again. “It’ll be okay, sweetcakes. That man loves you as much as you love him,” she said and walked outside to see Grandpa’s squash before Robin could argue.
Robin stayed until Sunday afternoon. Thankfully, neither of her grandparents remarked how odd that was, or pushed her for why. Grandma just fed her cookies and chicken spaghetti and more cookies, and by the time Robin waddled out to her car Sunday afternoon, she was feeling more hopeful about Jake and life in general.
But in the evening hours, when she still couldn’t reach Jake on any phone, she began to panic, and looked up Norma Manning in the phone book.
Her fingers trembling a little, she punched the numbers into the phone. It rang several times—Robin was about to hang up but a woman answered breathlessly, “Hello?”
“Uh . . . I, ah, I was trying to reach Norma Manning, please?”
“She ain’t here. She’s at the hospital. Who’s calling?”
Robin’s heart seized. Hospital. Oh God, oh God, if anything had happened to Jake—
“Hello?”
“Uh . . . Robin Lear—”
“Robin! It’s Vickie!”
Robin jumped to her feet. “Vickie! What happened? An accident? Who—”
“Yeah, he had a pretty bad accident, but he’s holding on,” Vickie said, and Robin couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, could only stand rooted to the floor, staring straight ahead at the freshly painted walls around her. “I came by to get some of her clothes. Norma’s been there all day and night, and she’s just about worn out,” Vickie was saying.
Breathe. Breathe, breathe. Robin tried, but caught a sob in her throat.
“She ain’t leaving his side, I’ll tell you that right now. Can’t say as I blame her, I mean, just last night we thought we was gonna lose him. But he’s better today and they upgraded him to stable, thank God. Not that he’s out of the woods yet, but that’s a whole lot better than what we was dealing with yesterday.”
Robin felt sick. The guilt was already choking her. If only they had gone to the coast like they had planned, if only she hadn’t been so damn selfish, so intent on that goddamned acquisition. “What happened?” she forced herself to ask. “When?”
“Thursday night. He snuck out, got caught up with that little Frankie shit, and before Norma knew he was gone—”
“Frankie?” Robin closed her eyes. “Did you say Frankie?”
“Yeah, you know, that little juvenile delinquent?”
A wave of unconscionable relief swept through her. Not Jake. Not Jake—Oh God. Robin opened her eyes, felt cold fear wrap around her heart and squeeze tightly again. Not Jake . . . Cole. It was Cole! “Where is he?”
“Ben Taub.”
“Thank you, Vickie! Thank you!” she cried and hung up, already running for her shoes.
The family was gathered in the intensive care waiting room of Houston’s Ben Taub Trauma Center. All of the family except Jake, that was. Nevetheless, Robin clenched her fists to stop her hands from shaking and walked in.
Norma was the first to see her; her icy gaze passed over Robin as she folded her arms defensively across her middle. The woman was even more drawn than usual, Robin noticed; her jaw set in a smokeless clench, her lips all but disappeared.
Vickie and Wanda were there, as was Derek, and a few others Robin didn’t know who seemed to be with the group. And Zaney, thank God, Zaney.
He got up when Robin stepped across the threshold, met her at the door. “Hey,” he said flatly, the buoyancy gone from his voice.
“How . . . how’s Cole?” she whispered.
Zaney frowned, shook his head. “Things ain’t lookin’ too good for the Colester.”
“Where’s Jake?”
“He’s down there where’s he’s been the whole time, just standing outside the little dude’s door,” Zaney said. “But he ain’t in a talkin’ kinda mood.”
She ignored that piece of advice and pointed to her left. “Down there?”