“You’re doing a great job. You fit right in like you’ve been a regular member of the staff,” said Louisa, one of the Duncans’ housekeepers. When I’d checked on LC an hour ago, Louisa had helped me change his bedding. A conversation we started in the laundry room had carried on into the kitchen, where I sat watching her sweep and mop the kitchen floor while we chatted.
“Thank you so much,” I said politely, trying not to sound insulted. I wasn’t there to be a regular member of the staff; I was there because I was a member of the family, or at least I would be soon, now that Xavier’s body had washed up on Jones Beach two days ago. With him being pronounced dead, I was free to marry Junior and officially become a Duncan.
“Miss Sonya, Miss Sonya!” I heard a little voice calling before I saw the miniature body it belonged to. “Miss Sonya.” Mariah came bursting into the kitchen.
“What is it, Mariah?” I said. “And slow down. The floor is damp, and you might fall and get hurt.”
“I need a glass of water.”
“Water,” I said, standing. “You’re making all that ruckus over water?” That must have been one parched child. Probably worked up a thirst running through the house like that. When I was little, I only got excited to beg for soda or juice.
“Not for me,” Mariah said. “It’s for Pop-Pop. He wants some water.”
I halted halfway to the refrigerator, turning to look at her. “Mariah, were you in your grandfather’s room?” I said, gently scolding her. That little girl loved her grandfather so much that she wanted to be in there with him all the time.
“Yes,” she replied sheepishly.
“Mariah, remember, you’re not supposed to bother your grandfather. He needs his rest.” London didn’t want Mariah seeing her grandfather that way. It would cause her to ask more questions than her young, inquiring mind was already asking.
“But he wants some water.”
I held the little girl’s hands as I thought about how to approach this. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. She was just a child who dearly loved her grandfather. Children make up imaginary friends all the time, so I didn’t find it strange that she was playing a little game involving her grandfather. After all, he spoiled the girl rotten. Of course she would want to pretend he was awake and telling her how special she was. Just like old times. She was taking it a bit far with the whole water thing, though.
“Mariah, your grandfather can’t drink water from a glass. There are tubes called IVs that are giving him water.”
“They must not be working, because I was just talking to him. He said he wanted water.”
Looking down at the little girl, I realized that she seemed quite sincere. A feeling went through my body. I looked back at Louisa. She shot me a look, along with a shrug of her shoulders, that suggested maybe I should go check things out. Was it possible the little girl wasn’t playing a game of make believe at all?
“You wait right here, Mariah. Let me go check on your Pop-Pop.” I let go of her hands and exited the kitchen.
The closer I got to LC’s room, the more anxious I felt. By the time I reached his door, I was doing a light jog.
The door was cracked open, probably left that way by Mariah when she came looking for water. I slowly pushed the door open and walked over to LC’s bed.
“Water.” His voice was weak and hoarse. He looked at me, his eyes pleading.
At first, I stood there in complete shock. I had to blink a few times to make sure I hadn’t allowed my imagination to get the best of me. “Mr. Duncan,” I mumbled.
“Water,” he repeated.
“Dr. Whitmore . . .” I said it in a normal tone at first, but then I found myself running out the door and yelling for the doctor the same way Mariah had been yelling for me. “Dr. Whitmore! Dr. Whitmore!”
I saw him rushing down the hall. “What is it, Sonya?”
“It’s Mr. Duncan. He’s conscious.”
“What?”
“He’s talking.” I moved out of the way as the doctor hurried into LC’s room.
He walked over to the bed to see for himself. “Mr. Duncan, can you hear me?” He took LC’s wrist to check his pulse.
LC nodded and blinked, struggling to keep his eyes open.