“Walter?” My voice came out as barely a scrape.
His eyes flew open.
For one long second, he just stared at me, like he didn’t trust what he was seeing. Like he’d imagined this so many times that he couldn’t tell anymore whether it was real.
Then he launched himself at me.
“Granny!“
He buried his face in my chest and sobbed so hard his whole body shook. I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. I didn’t need to. I wrapped my weak, heavy arm around him and held on as tightly as I could.
A
nurse hurried in, took one look at us, and smiled. “Well. He’s been waiting a long time for this.” She checked the monitor and shook her head softly. “That boy has barely left your side. We’ve practically had to pry him off you to change the sheets.”
I stroked Walter’s hair. It needed a wash. His shirt was wrinkled, like he’d slept in it more than once.
“Sweetheart,” I whispered, “have you been sleeping here?”
He nodded against me.
“Why aren’t you at home with Aunt Lisa?”
The moment I said my daughter’s name, his whole body went stiff.
Not a flinch. Something worse. He went still, the way a small animal goes still when it hears something moving in the grass.
He didn’t answer me. Instead, his eyes slid toward the door.
And his face changed.
He climbed closer, put his mouth right against my ear, and whispered so
quietly I almost didn’t catch it.
“Granny. Next time Aunt Lisa comes, pretend you’re still asleep.”
I pulled back to look at him. “What? Why?”
He grabbed my hand and squeezed it so hard it hurt. His eyes were wide and pleading and far too old for his face.
“Please. Just do it. Then you’ll understand why I wouldn’t leave you.” His voice wobbled. “You need to hear what she says when she thinks you can’t hear her.”
Before I could ask him a single thing more, footsteps stopped right outside my door.
