thumb caressed her palm in gentle, comforting circles.
She squeezed his hand, hoping to convey how much it meant that he was at her grandfather’s funeral. He’d confessed long ago to an aversion to funerals. She’d assured him she’d be OK and understood. Yet here he was for her to lean on, albeit tight-faced, making sure she managed through what she considered to be the hardest thing she’d ever gone through.
Much harder than when her mother had left for whatever had appealed more than her young daughter. Much harder than several years back when she’d been notified the father she’d never known had died in a motor vehicle accident.
Losing Gramps was like losing a part of herself because he’d loved her, raised her, encouraged and nurtured her to be the woman she’d become. She’d loved him with her whole heart.
Now he was gone.
Time crawled as the funeral services concluded and the guests relocated to the graveside for a final farewell.
Weariness swept over Liz, tugging at her already exhausted body, but she kept her chin high and her shoulders straight as she paid her last respects to the grandfather she’d loved.
More tears pricked her eyes when she tossed the first handful of dirt onto the lowered casket. She turned, grateful to find Adam’s broad shoulders waiting for her. She buried her face. His arms went around her, holding her close.
“Shh, sweetheart, he’s in a better place.”
She remained in his arms long enough to pull herself together, then wiped at her eyes. “I know.”
Gramps was in a better place. Had to be. Those last few weeks he hadn’t known who she was, had only registered that he couldn’t breathe. He’d literally been drowning in his own body fluids, and no amount of diuretics had eased his suffering.
She sniffled, then received the line-up of graveside mourners. Gramps hadn’t been social for years and had outlived most of his friends from younger days so most in attendance were her coworkers and friends. Adam’s hand pressed into her lower back, providing the comfort she needed to accept each well-meant condolence, each heartfelt hug.
Her friend Kelly hovered close, keeping a watchful eye and offering her support repeatedly. A girl couldn’t ask for a better friend, but at the moment Liz just wanted to curl into a lonely ball and cry at the loss of her grandfather.
By the time Adam assisted her into his luxurious two-seater, she practically dropped onto the plush seat. She couldn’t recall ever feeling so drained mentally, emotionally, or physically, not even after pulling a double shift.
Now she’d go home to a house filled with reminders of Gramps, filled with a hospital bed in her living room because there hadn’t been room for his bed and equipment in either of the two tiny bedrooms. Plus, she’d liked him being able to look out the windows at the small flower garden she kept well tended even if it meant getting up at the crack of dawn to do so.
Gramps had loved roses, said they reminded him of her grandmother. Even after he’d forgotten most everything, he’d lie in his bed and stare at the blooms outside the window for hours. Liz was pretty sure better times had filled his thoughts, times when his body and mind had been strong, and he’d been happy.
“You OK?” Adam asked before sliding his key into the ignition.
She took a deep breath. Time to start letting go, to cherish her memories of her grandfather rather than aching over her loss. She could do this. “Just really tired.”
Adam paused from reversing the car out of the parking place to look at her. Tension marred the handsome lines of his face. What did those all too intense eyes of his see?
“It’s been a long couple of days,” he finally said, easing the car out of the lot. “You’ve not slept enough to count.”
True. She’d barely closed her eyes since the moment she’d tried to resuscitate Gramps and failed. Had it only been early Sunday morning?
“There’ll be plenty of time for sleep now that Gramps is gone.” She tried not to sniffle at the words. At the reality her life had become a whole lot less complicated three days ago. And very empty. Panic seized her chest, and she fought another wave of tears. “What am I going to do without him?”
“You’ll get by.” Adam shot her an empathetic look. “One day at a time. With each day that passes the pain will be a little more bearable. Life will go on, Liz. I promise.”
One day at a time. In her head, she knew he was right, but her heart didn’t want right. Her heart wanted her grandfather.
“I miss him already.”
He nodded in understanding. “The house won’t be the same without him.”
“I wish you’d met him before he got so sick,” she mused.
Adam was everything her grandfather admired in a man. Everything she admired in a man, for that matter. He’d been so good to her during Gramps’s illness.
“He was such a joy.” Her voice broke. “The best gramps who ever lived.”
“Not that you’re biased.” His gaze softened, full of compassion, before returning to the road.
“Of course not,” she agreed, smiling at him through her tears and counting her blessings that she had Adam to see her through this horrible time.
Adam hated seeing Liz so devastated, but they’d known for months this day would come. Actually, Gramps had held on much longer than he, Liz, or any of numerous doctors had ever thought possible.
Then again, Gramps had had a fabulous nurse who’d loved her grandfather very much and had refused to let him go. This last time she hadn’t been able to pull off another medical miracle.
Personally, Adam thought Gramps had longed for the release death had offered his broken body and mind. He’d occasionally caught a pleading glimmer in the old man’s eyes, a glimmer that begged Adam to convince Liz to let him go, to give her a reason to move on beyond trying to mend the unfixable.
Her red-rimmed eyes tore at his heart, making him long for the ability to ease her sorrows. As a doctor he dealt with death routinely. In many ways he’d hardened himself to bereavement, but seeing Liz so upset, so unlike her usual unflappable self, got to him. First hand, from losing his parents, he knew only time would chip away at the horrendous pain in her heart, but if possible he’d move heaven and earth to put the light back into her eyes.
Ignoring the zig-zag of pain at his right temple, he pulled onto the highway, heading toward town. The cemetery where Gramps had been buried next to Liz’s grandmother was located about twenty miles outside the city limits. He wanted to get Liz home, feed her, and put her to bed. She looked ready to drop and the pain in his head refused to ease.
“The house is going to seem so quiet,” she mused from where she sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window at cornfields filled with a bumper crop thanks to all the rain they’d had so far this Mississippi summer.
“I’ll stay with you,” he immediately offered. He’d stayed the previous two nights. The first, he’d sat with her on the tiny loveseat that served as the only sitting area in her crowded living room. He’d held her while she’d talked about Gramps, while she’d cried, while she’d napped for a few short hours just before dawn. Last night, he’d stayed on the sofa while forcing her to bed. He wasn’t sure she’d slept any more than she had the previous night, but at least she’d made it to bed. Of course, when he’d awakened early this morning, she’d been curled next to him, eyeing Gramps’s hospital bed.
She nodded. “I’d like that. I don’t want to be by myself.”
No way would he leave her to face tonight alone.
Then again, if she went back to her place, all Gramps’s things were just as she’d left them, just as they’d been on the day the old man had died. Liz wouldn’t sleep. She’d sit in the living room, staring