“Grams.” Fawn rushes over to the side of the bed. An older lady is sitting up. Her gray hair is cut short, but it’s her eyes that draw my attention. They are the same as my wife’s.
“I told them not to call you,” she says with a huff. I immediately see where my wife gets her feisty side from.
“What? Of course they called me. They were taking you to the hospital. What happened?” She grabs her hand. She sits there for a moment not looking like she wants to say. “Grams.” Fawn pushes for an answer.
“It was gas.” She finally gives. I hold back a laugh. Fawn smiles, realizing for herself that she’s okay. “Thanks for making me admit that in front of the handsome young man. Who is he, by the way?” She motions towards me.
“Roman” is all Fawn says, biting her bottom lip.
“Ms. Hawthorne. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I walk over, holding my hand out. She takes it, but I can tell she’s sizing me up.
“You work here or something?” She releases my hand.
“No. I’m Fawn’s husband.” I go ahead and rip the Band-Aid right off.
“I see I’m not the only one not wanting to tell things.” She notices the ring on her finger. “He’s rich.” A bark of laughter leaves me.
“It was sudden,” Fawn tells her. “I’m so happy you’re okay.” She leans in, kissing her on the cheek. “I was so worried.”
Her grandma keeps eyeing me as they fall into small talk. I get the feeling Rose doesn't much care for the nursing home. After about thirty minutes, the doctor comes in, notifying us that she’s going to be released.
“Can we take you home?” I offer.
“That would be great.” She gives me a smile for the first time. We end up ordering takeout and staying in Rose's little apartment until the sun goes down. She interrogated me for over an hour. I think I passed the test.
“Did you get the feeling that she doesn't much care for that place?” Fawn asks as we head back towards the house.
“A little bit.”
“She kept talking about how she wished our family was bigger. I think she’s lonely.” Fawn drops her gaze, looking defeated.
“Why don’t you let me make a few calls? See if there is a better option out there.” She stares at me for a long moment.
“Usually I’d say no to a handout, but when it comes to my grams, I’ll put my pride aside.”
“It’s not a handout, Fawn. I’ve been meaning to give you your credit cards and such.” She starts to talk, but I keep going. “We’re married, and I think part of that deal is you get to live very comfy. Spend the money. Think of this as a job.” As much as I hated to say the last part, I too will put my pride away for Fawn. I don’t want her worrying about money or her grandmother.
“Okay. Thank you for everything you’ve done already.”
“Anything for you.” I slip my hand into hers. This is the first time that she makes the effort first by tangling her fingers with mine instead of trying to push me away. It’s another step forward, and I won't stop until I’m home.
8
Fawn
“Yours is so pretty,” Ace says, looking over at my small canvas. One of the first things I got with my new credit card were a few things for Ace. I wanted to be able to fill our days with activities. At least until he starts kindergarten. I’d drawn roses. I’ve become a little obsessed with the rose garden here.
“Yours is cute.” I think he was trying to draw the kittens. They both checked out in good health. It looks as though we now have two boy kittens permanently.
“I’m going to give it to Ro. It’s Mickey and Minnie Mouse.”
“I see that.” I’ll have to give Roman a heads up about the picture. I drop my brush into the water.
“Are you going to give yours to him too?” He stares up at me with those big eyes. He looks so much like Roman. It makes me wonder what a little girl with his genes would look like.
“I suppose.”
“I’d love to have it,” Roman says, striding into the library where I have us set up at one of the giant tables. “I always know where to find you. If you’re not in the library, you’re in the rose garden.”
“Keeping track of me?”
“Always.” I still when he leans down and drops a kiss on the top of my head. “I’ll have them framed for my office.”
Roman is turning out so differently than I thought he would be. Sometimes he can be a little cold and short with the things he says, but ninety-nine percent of the time he’s sweet. At least that’s how it’s been for the last week. Every morning and night he still kisses me, but nothing more. It leaves my body on edge, wanting more.