Living London

Chapter One



The tears started to fall even before I opened the stiff door to the nursing home. The only thing worse than saying goodbye was not saying goodbye. The wall's cream color blurred as I walked slowly down the hall toward Nanna's room. As I passed each wooden door, I glanced at the bronzed nameplate beside it. Each person within these walls had once been young like me, full of life, and now… now they waited.

Thankfully, Nanna wasn't fully aware of her surroundings; ignorance was bliss in her case. Usually the moment I opened the door to her room, a gentle smile would greet me. On a good day, she'd recognize me and try to fuss over my clothes or hair but today… today I knew that wasn't going to happen. The hospice nurse had called earlier urging me to come and say a final goodbye. My heart clenched.

As I drew closer to the door, I paused. I reached up to touch the nameplate, knowing someday soon it wouldn't be there anymore. Elinore Westin. With a heavy sigh, I turned the handle and entered, immediately assaulted by the sounds of an oxygen machine and the subtle scent of cleaning fumes. The bulky hospital bed made my grandmother's small frame appear even more delicate. She rested quietly beneath a pale pink quilt she and I had made years ago. Everything about her screamed fragile. I walked over to her bed and placed my hand on hers. The cool temperature of her skin gave me an involuntary shiver. There wasn’t much time left.

"Nanna? It's me, Jocelyn. I'm here to keep you company for a while. I know you missed me — I sure missed you since yesterday." There was no response, but I wasn't really expecting one. Nanna's hand began to warm as I held it gently. The soft white hair that was usually pulled into a knot at the base of her neck was carefully combed and draped over her shoulders. I brushed a few wisps away from her face and bent to kiss her wrinkled cheek. The familiar scent of her vanilla perfume comforted me. I leaned back so my tears wouldn't fall on her skin and wiped my face furiously. The nurse for hospice had said hearing was the last sense to go, so I knew she could hear my quiet sobs. In spite of my grief, I grinned. I could hear her voice in my mind berating me for shedding so many tears over her. She was ready to pass on. In truth, she had been ready for quite a while. She missed Grandpa Jakob. Even though she wasn't aware of reality all the time, she'd never forgotten him. Soon she'd see him again. The thought of their reunion comforted me.

"Nanna, when you see Grandpa, make sure you tell him I love him, okay? That's your job. If you have to leave me, you have to take my love with you, all right? I'll stay a little while longer, Nanna, but I know you need me to say goodbye, to let you know I'll be all right without you, and I will. I promise. I'll keep your aloe vera plant alive, and your Christmas cactus that Grandpa Jake bought you. Your quilts will be put on my bed and, most of all, I'll remember everything you taught me, and I'll keep our books safe and re-read them, always thinking of you."

In saying the last part, I glanced at the bookshelves around the room all filled with the Regency romances we had both read many times, cover to cover. Of all the things she had forgotten, she'd never lost her love of reading. Her borderline obsession with the Regency era was hilarious. When I'd been little, we would often pretend to be at an important ball. Nanna would wear an old ball gown, and I would put on my best Sunday dress. We'd twirl, dance, and pretend to drink watered-down lemonade at Almack's. During those times of make-believe she'd taught me the waltz, quadrille, and all the other popular dances till I could do them with my eyes closed. We'd had tea parties and scones, and she'd taught me to make clotted cream. My stomach rumbled as I thought of it, reminding me I had again forgotten to eat.

Nanna had grown up in England. Though most of her adult life was spent in the States, her crisp accent hadn't faded. My parents would often tease me that I sounded more British than American because of how I'd mimic my beloved Nanna's speech. For all intents and purposes, Nanna had raised me after my parents had been killed in a plane crash. At the tender age of ten, I had no one else left.

Though I could never replace a parent, Nanna did her best to give me the best childhood possible. She and Grandpa Jake were my solid ground, and their love seasoned my life. Grandpa passed away my junior year of high school, leaving grandma and I the only ones left in our family. When Nanna died, I'd be truly alone. I placed my hands over hers again and laid my head down. The sweet smell of vanilla and the sterile smell of bleach both comforted me and broke me further. Each moment that passed was one less that she would be in this world, and time was running out. Warm tears trailed down my face and soaked the pink quilt as I silently mourned.

Feeling a gentle hand touch my shoulder, I jolted upright.

"Miss? I'm here to take care of Elinore. I need you to move so I can give her another dose of morphine. I'm so sorry to disturb you, but I don't want her in any pain, and I'm sure you don't either." The woman was so gentle in her words, tears stung new. I got up and moved away, giving Nanna one last kiss on her forehead. "I love you. I love you so much."

After administering the medication, the nurse turned to me with shining eyes brimming with tears. A moment later she walked over and gave me a gentle hug. "Don't worry; she's peaceful. She's not in any pain now, and I'm sure she knows you love her."

"Thank you," I managed as I wiped more tears away.

Picking up my purse, I gave Nanna one last glance before I walked to the door. As I turned the doorknob, I whispered one more time the words I wanted her to take with her to heaven. "I love you."