took a breath. “He told me his cholesterol levels were high. And I imagine the stress of working added to that.”
“Did they say how serious it was?”
“A heart attack is serious. Period,” Aunt Lori said in a tone that didn’t encourage any further discussion.
A heavy silence followed her remark. Cara wished she dared turn the radio on. She wished she and her aunt could share casual conversation. Anything to keep the picture of her uncle falling down the stairs out of her mind.
Anything to keep her from being so sensitive to Nicholas’s presence.
The beginnings of a headache pinched her temples and by the time Nicholas pulled up to her aunt and uncle’s home, Cara felt as if a vise gripped her forehead.
“Thanks for all your help,” Aunt Lori said, leaning past Cara to give Nicholas a worn smile. Then she stepped out of the truck and headed up the walk to the house.
Cara slid over and from a safer distance risked a glance at Nicholas.
He draped one arm over the steering wheel, his other across the back of the seat, bringing his fingertips inches from her shoulder.
“Thanks for the ride and for all the help,” Cara said. “I’m so glad you could bring Aunt Lori to the hospital.”
Nicholas didn’t say anything, his eyes holding hers. “Are you going to be okay?” His voice sounded cool, as if he were asking a mere acquaintance.
Cara shrugged and slipped her purse over her arm. “I don’t know.”
Quiet fell again and Cara didn’t have anything more to say. So she slipped out of the truck and trudged up the sidewalk. But before she got to the house, she couldn’t help a glance back over her shoulder.
Nicholas was watching her.
She took a chance and lifted her hand in a small wave, but he started his truck and drove away.
Cara closed her hand and pressed it to her chest, surprised at the jab of hurt.
Did you expect him to come running down the walk, pull you into his arms and beg you to give him another chance? Did you really think he was pining for you the whole time you were gone? He doesn’t care for you anymore.
The words mocked her, and she turned and entered the house.
Aunt Lori sat in her usual chair in the kitchen, her arms wrapped around her midsection.
“Do you want some tea?” Cara asked, walking to the stove.
Aunt Lori nodded.
While she waited for the water to boil, Cara joined her aunt, glancing around the papers piled up on the room table, the dishes scattered over the kitchen counter. She wished she had the energy to start cleaning.
Her aunt was not a housekeeper. She always joked that she preferred to paint walls than wash them and she could always afford to get someone to do it for her.
Though she missed her aunt and uncle, she didn’t miss the mess either in the house or her uncle’s vet clinic. Her mother wasn’t much different and at times Cara wondered if she really was a Morrison. Every time she came back to her aunt and uncle’s place, either from university or visiting, she spent the first few days tidying up.
However, in spite of the chaos, Uncle Alan and Aunt Lori’s home had been Cara’s most stable home since Audra Morrison dropped Cara off at their place. Audra had assumed Cara was old enough to be without her while she followed her conscience and went to work overseas.
Cara still remembered the grim voice of her uncle, trying to plead with his sister, Cara’s mother, to think of Cara.
Her mother’s reply still rang in her ears. Cara had been raised with more privileges than any of the children she left to help. She didn’t need her mother as much as these destitute young orphans in Nicaragua.
And then she left. Aunt Lori had come upstairs and had sat beside Cara, not saying anything, simply holding her close, letting Cara’s tears drench the front of her shirt.
When Cara turned fifteen, everything changed. Cara’s mother was killed flying into the Congo to help yet another group of lost and broken children.
And Cara was alone.
Uncle Alan and Aunt Lori were named her guardians. They paid for all her expenses, bought her a car. Put her through vet school and Uncle Alan offered her a job when she was done.
She started working for her uncle, met Nicholas and she thought her life had finally come to the place she’d been yearning for since she was a young girl.
A home of her own. A family of her own.
And now, her uncle lay in a hospital bed and Nicholas was more removed from her than ever.
“How are you doing?” Cara asked, reaching over and covering her aunt’s icy hands with hers.
“I’m tired. And I’m scared.” Lori looked up at Cara. “Will you pray with me?”
Cara was taken momentarily aback. How could her aunt talk about praying after what had just happened? What good would it do?
But she wasn’t about to take what little comfort her aunt might derive from praying, away from her.
“Sure. I’ll pray with you.” Cara folded her hands over her aunt’s and bowed her head.
Cara waited, then realized her aunt wanted her to do the praying.
Her heart fluttered in panic. What was she going to say? But her aunt squeezed her hands, signaling her need. So Cara cleared her throat and began.
“Dear Lord, Thank You for today…” She paused there, wondering what she could be thankful about when her uncle was so ill, but she carried on. “Thank You that we could worship with Your people in Your house…” She stopped, hearing the inauthentic words in her own ears.
She glanced up in time to see Aunt Lori looking over at her.
“Why did you stop, honey?”
Cara sighed. “I sound like Uncle Alan.”
“That’s not so bad.”
Cara gave her aunt a quick smile. “No, but…”
“It’s not from your heart.” Aunt Lori finished the sentence for her.
“I don’t know if I can pray from my heart.” Cara tightened her grip on her aunt’s hands.
“Why not?” Aunt Lori asked, her smile sad.
Cara sighed lightly, knowing she would have to be honest with her aunt. “I don’t think I’ve been able to pray since…”
“Audra died?” Aunt Lori stroked Cara’s hand with her thumbs.
“Mom’s death was the beginning.”
“And
