Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
As Lyric’s stomach let out a growl of hunger, she backed up… even though she kind of wanted to disturb all that sleep just as a double-check. Except breathing was enough for proof of life, wasn’t it?
Unless the female had slipped into a coma—
“Well, there you are,” came a weak voice.
Lyric jumped to attention. “Granmahmen, are you up?”
As she approached the bed, that old familiar smile appeared for a moment, and those eyes, those beautiful gray eyes, held an echo of the sparkle they’d always regarded the world with.
“Look at you,” the elder Lyric said. “What a warm coat.”
Holding the thing open, Lyric did a slow spin. “Do you think it goes with my dress?”
“Like peas and carrots. Wherever did you get it?”
Lyric leaned down and kissed her granmahmen on the cheek. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Well, then, you must tell me right the now.”
That skeletally thin hand patted the quilt, and it was hard not to recall the week before when the elder Lyric could sit up with just a little help. Now she couldn’t do that.
“And where are your shoes, dearest one?”
Settling on the edge of the mattress, she had to smile. “They’re by Grandfather’s desk in his study. I came in the door off the side porch and left them there because I didn’t want to track salt in.”
“You know—” An unproductive cough cut off the words, and there was a moment of recovery afterward. “You know… I must get up and run a mop over the floors. Your grandfather hates mopping.”
“Oh, I’m happy to do it—”
“Not to worry.” There was another pause as those tired eyes shifted to the open door. “I shall take care of it… perhaps after I rest a little more. Your grandfather is so tired, you know.”
That hand swung toward the bedside table and reangled the monitor screen. Her granmahmen smiled again as she stared at the two males on opposite couches, sleeping in identical reclines, their hands linked over the centers of their chests, their chins up as they snored.
“They’re both so tired,” her granmahmen said.
And then the coughing started again.
As Lyric dove for the oxygen mask hanging from the headboard, the elder Lyric batted the hissing plastic cup away. “Enough… with… that…”
Given the refusal, all she could do was sit and wait until things quieted down again—while she wondered if she needed to go wake up her other father. But the male was indeed out like a light, and she hated that she’d added to his worry tonight. On her first break during the subscriber event, she’d been sure to FaceTime him, along with her mahmen and Xcor, from the bathroom to offer reassurance she was okay.
Talk about proof of life—
“Now, tell me about the coat,” the elder Lyric said weakly.
She kept the face mask in her palm, feeling the stream of air against her wrist. “Well, I was doing an event at this club and…”
When Lyric got to the end of the story—and she cut things off before the part about her bringing the hard hat over to the job site—her granmahmen seemed to be breathing much better.
“So about this man…” the female whispered. “He must have been quite strong to hold up an entire billboard.”
As Lyric’s cheeks turned red, she cleared her throat. “Ah, yes, he was very strong. For a human.”
“They’re not that different from us, actually—and that blush on your cheeks tells me you noticed this, too.”
“He’s a total stranger.”
“And yet you have his jacket.”
Lyric ran her hand over the sleeve, feeling the rough weave of the outer layer. “Just a stranger.”
“Everyone starts out that way.”
“I’m never going to see him again.”
Well, she supposed that wasn’t exactly true. She’d see him from afar, maybe. When she went back to Bathe. If she went back there.
Partying suddenly didn’t seem any more interesting than posting and promoting herself on Zideo.
“May I offer a piece of advice… as an old female who has seen a lot?”
Covering a yawn, she nodded. “Of course, Granmahmen.”
When that frail hand patted the bed on the empty side, Lyric had to smile. Getting up, she went around the footboard and stretched out on top of the quilt, curling onto her side and taking that thin palm into her own.
“Tell me,” she prompted. “I feel as if my life is going nowhere, so I’m very open to any wisdom from you.”
“Our time here is so very short.” All the elder Lyric could do was turn her head, and she did that, their eyes meeting. “You need to find that man and follow that blush into his arms—”
“Granmahmen!” she exclaimed with a giggle.
“I haven’t always been old, you realize.” The elder Lyric smiled in a knowing way. “And your grandfather wasn’t always an accountant.”
“I… I don’t know what to say to that.” She smiled back. At least until she thought again of her meeting—Devlin, was it?—at the site. “And anyway, it was just a path-crossing thing.”