"I was supposed to stay on the line," said Kyara.
"Not worth it," snapped Marsh from the stove, a careful little flame now going within. "It'll take them half an hour to get here. I'm taking her in my car."
"Half an hour?" asked Kyara, stunned.
"At least. You may have noticed we don't have a hospital in town," snapped Marsh sarcastically as he knelt over Jan, rubbing her arms through the blankets.
"Fine," said Kyara. "What can I do to help?"
Marsh looked at her doubtfully, but replied.
"Come keep her warm. I'm going to warm up the squad car before we put her in it."
Kyara went to her neighbor, trying to imitate what she'd seen the sheriff do. After a moment he nodded, then stepped out. Kyara studied her friend as she warmed her, looking for signs of improvement.
Before long, Marsh returned, gathering up the tiny bird of a woman into his arms. She looked small and withered against his bulk. Kyara helped open doors to get her friend loaded into the back seat. Marsh got in the moment his passenger was settled, slamming his door shut. He pulled away without a word, leaving Kyara standing in the freezing driveway.
Jason. Jason will want to know.
Kyara rushed back to her restaurant. She ran to the kitchen, reaching for the little slip of paper still tacked up next to the phone. She dialed with fingers still numb from the cold.
It clicked through to voicemail
"You've reached Jason 'Jay' Hardison of the Valley News. Please leave a message stating who is calling, the time and date, and your reason for calling. Thank you."
He changed his voicemail, Kyara thought, he mind locking on to any extra thought.
"Jason, it's Kyara," she babbled quickly. "I just found your grandma. She was really cold. Officer Marsh took her to the hospital. She's alive, but I don't ... I'm not sure how bad it is. I'm going to follow them."
Kyara hung up the phone, running around looking for her keys and coat. She took a moment to scrawl a hasty "Closed due to emergency" note and pit it to the door. Then she was in her car and following.
Kyara sat in the waiting room, wishing she'd brought a book. Even her phone was dead, exhausted after straining to find some hint of a cell phone signal. It had been hours without word.
I hate hospitals. All the waiting. All the not knowing. Kyara choked b
ack memories of the last time she'd been in a waiting room. It had been different then. She'd already known her father was gone.
Jason came through the door to the waiting room, looking tired and frantic.
"Where is she? Is she OK?" he asked the moment he saw her.
"I don't know. They won't tell me anything because I'm not family," replied Kyara, aching at the familiar look of hurt and loss on his face.
"Well, I am," he said, his voice resolute. "Come with me." He marched to the desk, Kyara trailing behind.
"I'm here to see Mrs. Janice Waite," he announced to the receptionist. "I'm her grandson."
The woman behind the desk nodded. "I'll have someone come get you."
Jason nodded as though the sheer force of his head movement could make that happen sooner. Kyara walked with him back to the seats. He sat, but was jittery, his leg bouncing with constant motion.
Kyara rested her hand on his knee, and he turned to look at her.
"Thank you for being here," he said, his voice small and strained. "I thought you went to the other hospital. I drove forty-five minutes in the wrong direction. I don't know what I would have done if no one had been here at all."
Kyara stroked his leg gently, not sure what to say.
She was saved by a nurse, a stout, middle aged woman with a weathered, sour expression.