When she asks for a favor, I usually don’t ask questions.
She’d called me the night before at almost eleven o’clock. That alone was strange. Grandma goes to bed at nine-thirty. She has for as long as I can remember.
“Daniel, I need you to drive me somewhere in the morning.”
“Sure, Grandma. Where?”
“St. Andrew’s Medical Center. Over in Millbrook.”
I sat up in bed. My wife Sarah stirred beside me.
“The hospital? Grandma, are you okay? Are you sick?”
“I’m fine, sweetheart.”
“Then why do you need to go to the hospital?”
There was a long pause on the line. I could hear her breathing. I could hear the old clock on her kitchen wall ticking.
“I need to see someone,” she said finally. “Before eight o’clock. Can you pick me up at six-thirty?”
“Who do you need to see?”
“Six-thirty, Daniel. Please.”
