Winter's Tide by Lisa Williams Kline

was going to die, but I was afraid to. As if he were reading my mind, he reached over and patted my leg.
    â€œI know you’re worried about Grammy and I am too. We have to assure ourselves that she is in good hands and is going to be all right.”
    I nodded.
    When we came to Grammy’s room, a new nurse was efficiently changing a bag of fluids in Grammy’s IV.“Looks like you’ve got visitors, hon,” she said, adjusting the IV and patting Grammy’s arm.
    Lying against the pillow, Grammy looked small and pale. “Hi, sweetie,” she said. Her voice sounded weak. I took her hand in one of mine and lay my other hand over it.
    â€œHow are you feeling today, Mom?” Daddy asked.
    â€œPretty out of it,” Grammy said.
    â€œWe’re feeding her intravenously until the inflammation around the pancreas goes down,” the nurse said. “And we’re giving her antibiotics. Her doctor should be in a little later this morning.” She made a few notations on the sheet on her clipboard, and then, with a warm smile at me, hurried out of the room.
    â€œHow is Jelly doing?” Grammy asked. She closed her eyes as Daddy and I pulled two blue chairs up next to her. “I’m so worried about him. He’s not used to me being gone overnight.”
    â€œHe was definitely wondering where you were last night,” Daddy said. ”
    â€œOh, my poor baby.”
    â€œBut guess what!” I said. “He tried to bite Diana!” Gosh, was I happy to announce that? Happy because Grammy had asked Diana to look after him?
    Grammy’s eyes went wide. “Oh no!”
    â€œTwice! He didn’t get her, though. They were only little nips.”
    Grammy put her hand over her mouth. “That bad little dog! Was she teasing him or anything?”
    â€œNo, I just think she scared him. I’m sure he’ll get used to her,” Daddy said.
    I wanted to ask Grammy why she had asked Diana to look after Jelly instead of asking me, but I could tell she was still in a lot of pain, and I didn’t want to upset her. Now wasn’t a good time to ask.
    â€œNorm, remember Patty, the dog we had when you were growing up?” Grammy asked. Her eyes were closed, but she had a faint smile.
    â€œBoy, did I love that dog,” Daddy said. “I remember writing a poem to Patty when I was about ten. Let’s see if I can remember it. ‘My dear dog, Patty. She is not a fatty …’’’ Daddy and I started laughing, and Grammy smiled at Daddy’s terrible rhyme.
    â€œBut she was. Remember how fat she was?” Daddy added.
    â€œThat was the year I had a crush on Allison Rockwell,” Daddy said. “On the playground I used to flirt with her by running past her really fast.”
    How funny to hear about my dad having an elementary school crush! I started thinking about how amazing it was that we were sitting here in Grammy’s hospital room while Grammy was so sick, but we were still laughing.
    Then Daddy and Grammy started coming up with more memories of Daddy’s childhood, like the time he sledded down the hill at the golf course and cut his chin and the time he flooded the basement when he was washing his first car.
    They kept telling stories until Grammy complained that laughing made her stomach hurt. About that time, a kind-faced woman with short, stylish gray hair in a white coat came in. A stethoscope was hanging around her neck.
    â€œHello, I’m Dr. Claiborne,” she said, shaking Daddy’s hand.
    â€œI’m Norm Verra, Mrs. Verra’s son, and this is my daughter, Stephanie,” Daddy said.
    â€œHi, Stephanie,” she said. “What grade are you in?”
    â€œNinth,” I said.
    â€œOh, your first year of high school.”
    â€œRight,” I said.
    â€œIt’s great that you’re here keeping your grandmother company. Mrs. Verra, how is the pain today? Are the pain meds