obviously seriously ill, wasn’t enough. It would be much better to convey the news with some concrete information from the doctors about her condition, Bram rationalized, which he would have along with the test results in a day or two. Sharing incomplete and possibly false information based on Bram’s own fears might extinguish the small light still burning in George WhiteBear’s ancient chest, and Bram wouldn’t take that chance.
On Monday he had to tend to his job. He talked to the family and made sure that there would always be at least one Colton at the hospital, around the clock. Most of them worked, too, but they coordinated their hours off, which should have eased some of Bram’s concern but didn’t. Monday was a bad day for him, yet he ran to the hospital every chance he got just to look in on Gran, to make sure she was still breathing. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, which he tried to ignore or at least minimize, and couldn’t.
It was while Bram was with Gloria on one of his quick stops that she opened her eyes and tried to speak. He jumped up from the chair he’d been anxiously perched on, and took her hand. “Gran,” he said gently, though his heart was in his throat and unshed tears stung his eyes.
She tried to speak again, failed, and he saw painful understanding in her eyes. “It’s okay, Gran.”
She made angry noises. It wasn’t okay, and Bram didn’t have to hear the words to know what she meant. And then she got out a word. “Home!”
Bram sucked in a breath. “I know. You want to go home. I’m working on it, Gran.”
Gloria’s eyes closed again and Bram held her limp little hand for a while longer, then returned to his chair. He swore on all that was holy that he would take her home to either live or die. She would do neither in this or any other hospital.
Finally, on Tuesday morning, the Colton family heard what they already knew in their hearts. Gran had suffered a serious stroke. They also heard details that made them weep. Gran was partially paralyzed, her speech was impaired and her short-term memory was possibly eradicated, or no longer in chronological order. Her vision was cloudy and she would suffer bouts of dizziness and confusion. Full recovery at her age should not be expected, but speech and mobility could be greatly improved with physical therapy.
Bram spoke for the group. “Can she be cared for at home?”
The doctor nodded. “Yes, and I highly recommend home care. Stroke patients respond much better when they are with loved ones. However, she should remain here for at least a week, as not all symptoms of stroke are immediately discernible. Also, you all should understand that she will require a full-time nurse for an indefinite period, which is not inexpensive. Medicare covers—”
“The cost will be taken care of,” Bram said curtly. He stood up and faced his family. “I want her brought to the ranch. Any objections?” A buzz of conversation swept through the group. “I know many of you want her, but I’m determined on this. You can drop in anytime to see her, and if you truly want to help, there’s housework, cooking, laundry and errands.” He turned back to the doctor. “So, I can take her home when?”
“In about a week.”
“Next Monday?”
“Probably. Shall I arrange for the nurse?”
“Yes, please do. Okay, Doctor, thanks. We’ll get out of your hair now.” Bram urged his relatives outside, where a few of them told him what they thought of his tactics.
“She’s my mother,” Uncle Thomas said indignantly.
“When she’s better you can take her,” Bram replied. “But I’m taking her first.”
The family began dispersing, going off to their cars, talking among themselves. Willow hung back and squeezed her brother’s hand.
“I’m glad she’ll be with you,” Willow said. “Everyone says they want her, but caring for an invalid is not easy. I know you’ll follow through.”
“That I will,” Bram said with that stern, determined look on his face that Willow knew very well. When Bram set his mind to something, it got done.
The rest of the week flew by because Bram was constantly busy, juggling caring for his horses and Nellie, getting the house cleaned and ready for Gran’s arrival, seeing to his job and squeezing in as many trips to the hospital as he could manage.
It was Friday before Bram realized that he hadn’t run into Jenna even once. As often as he’d been at the hospital that week, it was odd that he hadn’t stumbled across her at least one time. His nerves had settled down some and he began watching for her, thinking that he’d been so focused on Gran’s condition during those first awful days and nights that he might have walked right past Jenna and not seen her.
But even on the alert now he didn’t see her. Of course, she might have weekends off, he told himself.
Monday morning finally dawned, and Bram jumped out of bed, anxious for the day to begin. His beloved Gran was coming today, and he was thrilled to have her, ill or not.
When Jenna awoke to her alarm clock Monday morning, she stretched and yawned. She’d spent a marvelous week in Dallas with Loni, but her vacation was over and it was time she got back to her own reality. Smiling slightly, she got out of bed and headed for the shower.
Three hours later, on duty at the hospital, she heard two doctors checking a patient’s chart and discussing it at the nurse’s station. Obviously the patient was one of Dr. Hall’s. “Mrs. Colton will be taken by ambulance to Bram’s home. Now all I have to do is decide which nurse to send with her. There aren’t many nurses that can move in with a patient and give her their undivided attention. Most have family of their own, and—”
“Excuse me,” Jenna said. “Dr. Hall, may I speak to you for a moment?”
Bram went to work Monday morning but was back at the ranch again at noon. Nellie greeted him and followed wherever he went. The ambulance was scheduled to arrive around one, and Bram was nervous as a cat waiting for it. He walked through the house again to make sure everything was ready. Unquestionably, his home was cleaner than it had ever been, and the master bedroom, which Bram had assigned to Gran because of its private bathroom, had been scrubbed down with disinfectant.
Bram had taken the bed completely apart, scrubbed the frame and thoroughly vacuumed the springs and mattress before putting it all back together again. He had purchased a supply of white bed linens, including a soft white blanket and bedspread. It had been an expensive purchase, as he’d bought the best he could find in Black Arrow and had discovered that the “best” in sheets and pillowcases didn’t come cheap.
He peered into the bathroom, which contained new, freshly laundered white towels and washcloths. The fixtures gleamed from the scrubbing and polishing they had received.
The kitchen contained foods recommended by the hospital dietitian, who had given him lists of proper and improper foods for a stroke victim, along with a small book of recipes and hints on how to make a salt-free, fat-free, sugar-free meal appear tempting enough to actually eat.
Everything was as ready as he could make it, Bram finally decided, and went outside. With Nellie on his heels, he walked down to the wooden fence surrounding one of the pastures, put a booted foot on the bottom rail and leaned his forearms on the top. He had built this particular fence himself. It was good and sturdy and he knew it would last for many years. But it was about due for another coat of sealer,
