Then I got up out of my chair, and I knelt down on the floor in front of her, and I put my arms around her.
“You stupid, stubborn woman,” I said into her shoulder. “You sat at that table with me every night for three years. You came to every single game. You held Sarah’s hand at our wedding. You checked my oil. Every Sunday. For ten years.”
She was shaking against me.
“You think blood is what makes you my grandmother?” I said. “Grandma. Blood never had anything to do with it.”
She held on to me so tight I could barely breathe.
Behind us, I heard Dr. Hale blow his nose.
Then there was a knock on the door.
It was Kayla. Her face was pale.
“Dr. Hale,” she said. “Mr. Perkins is on his way up. But… the patient’s daughter just got here. She’s at the nurses’ station. She’s very upset about the transport being stopped.”
