Camille glared at her, her eyes assessing Isleen’s truthfulness. “I don’t believe you. If you’d been with him, you wouldn’t be calmly talking to me. You’d be just as angry as I am.”
“Oh, I’m angry. Just not at you.”
Camille smiled a downright cruel smile. “He’s a machine, you know. Can fuck all night and still want more.”
Not from her experience. And not in Isleen’s dreams. In her dreams, he’d been tender and caring and passionate, but never mechanical. Never a machine. But then, her dreams weren’t real. And what she had thought was real turned out to be smoke. The sooner she got that fact imprinted into her mind, the sooner she could begin to move on from him. Again. How many times was she going to let herself get hurt by him when they’d never even had a real relationship?
Camille stepped back out of Isleen’s space. “You know he’s only being nice to you because he feels sorry for you.” Camille’s gaze landed squarely on Isleen’s hair, traveled to the swollen mound on her forehead, then moved down to take in the pale-blue sundress that Isleen had thought of as feminine and pretty when she picked it out.
The door behind her opened. Please, don’t let it be Xander. She didn’t have it in her to see him and Camille together again so soon.
“There you are,” Kent said. “I was hoping to have a chance to talk to you before we left.”
Relief unclenched muscles she hadn’t realized were tense. Isleen stepped to the side to face him.
“Roweena was just telling me about all the trails. Maybe, if you are feeling up to it, we can take Killer on a walk tomorrow morning.”
“I’m not going to talk about…” Her tone was filled with warning.
“You don’t have to. Tomorrow will be a social call, just Killer visiting his lady friend. And since I’m his chauffeur, you get me too.” Kent’s features were so much softer and friendlier than his sister’s.
Killer whined and pawed at the mesh dog carrier.
“How can I say no to that?” What else did she have to do between now and Kent’s next visit? Nothing.
“I’ll be by in the morning.” Kent headed down the steps toward his truck, and Camille trailed silently behind him. If he’d been alone, Isleen might’ve asked him to take her with him. She didn’t want to go back into the house and face Xander or Alex or Matt. The list of favorable people had dwindled to Row and Gran.
She could either stand out here all day feeling sorry for herself, not appreciating the awesome new life she had, or she could go in there and make the best of everything. Gran was alive. That was huge. More than she had ever dared to hope for.
Without giving herself another moment of pity-party time, Isleen walked back into the house. The massive space was wonderfully empty. She stopped outside Gran’s room and peeked inside. If Alex was in there, she’d come back later. Gran lay in her hospital bed, her face turned to the window. The nurse sat in the chair Alex had used yesterday, reading aloud. Her finger moving across the line of text with each word spoken.
Isleen knocked lightly on the door. The nurse stopped reading and looked up. The woman appeared nearly as old as Gran, but she had color and vitality that Gran lacked.
“How’s she doing today?” Isleen asked.
The nurse closed her book and moved out of the chair. “She’s more spunky today. Aren’t you, Mrs. Stone?”
At the name Mrs. Stone, Gran’s gaze shifted from the window to the nurse, then back to the window. Gran had always been Mrs. Walker to Isleen. Hearing her called Mrs. Stone was foreign but elicited a response, and that was an improvement.
“She’s asked for Alex a number of times. He had to take an important phone call and then said he would work from here.” She gestured toward the laptop sitting on the dresser.
“Would you mind if I sat with her for a while?” Isleen asked.
“Go ahead. I’ll take a quick bathroom break, then be just outside the door. You call if you need me.”
Isleen waited until the nurse left the room, then scooted the chair over—blocking Gran’s line of sight to the outside with her own body—and sat down. “Gran?” She smoothed a stray strand of hair off Gran’s forehead. “It’s me. Isleen. I’m here. I’m here with you.” Isleen watched the miracle of recognition light Gran’s eyes. Elation took wing inside Isleen’s chest. She clasped Gran’s hand between both of hers in a gesture that reminded her of how Kent had held on to her—an offer of sanctuary from the storm.
“Isleen.” Gran started to smile, but it faltered and fell off her lips before it could even be fully born.
“Yes, Gran. I’m here. You’re here.” Her voice hid behind emotions she wouldn’t let herself feel, so she whispered the words, “We survived.”