Remember Me? (Book 1) COMPLETED

Grandfather

KATHERINE

My eyes blinked open to the fluorescent dimness of the room. It took me a moment to remember where I was, but those thoughts quickly disappeared as another knock sounded at the door. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, checking my phone. 4:30AM.

The nurse schedule was every three hours, and the next one wasn't until five. This was early.

I glanced at Erland's monitors, his heart rate steady with his slow, deep breathing. He had fallen asleep still sitting up in bed. I stood to grab the remote to help him, suddenly feeling a sharp pain in my neck. Darn it. I was right about that kink. Rubbing out the sore spot just under my ear, I moved to Erland's side.

The door opened as I fiddled with the remote. "Nurse, can you adjust Erland to lay down, please—"

My voice caught in my throat as I looked up to see my grandfather silhouetted in the doorframe. He stepped forward, seeming to suck the air out of the room with every foot forward. His gnarled frown looked scary now, the wrinkles of his angry brow made into canyons by the dim, yellow-white lights of the hospital room.

"What are you doing here?" I put my hand on the railing of the bed, as if claiming it.

He studied me. I still wore my pencil skirt and blouse from yesterday's Christmas play, but the outfit was decidedly wrinkled and no doubt, my makeup was smudged beyond repair.

"Well, my dear," he said slowly, ignoring my question, "you have seen better days."

I glared at him, forcing myself not to tremble. All at once, I found myself sending a silent prayer to God for help.

"What are you doing here?" I asked again, surprised to find my voice sounded steady.

He raised a white eyebrow. "I was informed that Erland was checked into the hospital last night."

"Who told you?"

He raised a hand as if dismissing my question, but the answer came anyway. "You know, Katherine, since Camille has been ill in her mind, I was granted temporary guardianship of Erland."

My jaw dropped. "You're not going to take him." I moved around now to stand between Erland and my grandfather. "I should have been told. He's staying with me. I'm not the one who shipped him off to Alabama by himself."

His face hardened, becoming a stone gargoyle. I almost expected him to breathe fire. "I have a right to be with my grandson."

I let out a mirthless laugh. "Yeah, right. Where did you pick up this sentimentality? On the flight over, I imagine."

"I will be taking him when he wakes—"

"No." I could feel a fire burning up from my belly. Something of a mix between rage and bitterness, and desperation. "You can't take him," I spat, blinking rapidly to hide the tears of frustration that burned in my eyes. "Not the way you've taken my life."

The words spilled out of my faster than I could filter them. "I know what you've done with my manuscript. I know that you are the one who sends the yearly anniversary emails from Victoria, just to rub it in my face. Worst of all, even if Nick and Tori are the worst friends on the face of the planet, who could I blame but you for arranging your little trick at the hotel? It's your fault that my life fell apart, but I won't let you do it anymore!"

He took in my words like a breeze blowing against a hurricane barrier. "You may fault me if you like. If anything, my dear, I have spent my days protecting the world from you."

"What?"

"You're a bastard." He spat the word as if it was a curse upon my life, one he himself could never cleanse me from. "Your mother has made many mistakes in her life. Unfortunately for all of us, you are one of them."

I tried to digest what he was telling me, but it fit too perfect with what my memories were feeding back into my mind. One day, when I was six, my father came home rip-roaring drunk, smashing Mom's phone, and calling her every dirty name in the book. "I can't do this anymore," she'd said. And she had wrapped her hand around my little arm, ready to pull me out of the house so we could be with a new dad.

Of course Dad treated me like I wasn't his daughter. I didn't belong to him.

"Erland is a true Malloy," Grandfather said, interrupting my raging thoughts. "He should be with me." He fixed his green eyes on me, the light catching them so they appeared to glow. "I made up my mind long ago, my dear, that if God wouldn't stop your presence from tainting society, then that burden would fall to me."

"You're sick," I spat, fury making me tremble. "You would ruin me because you think God made you judge over my life?" I barked out a laugh. "Let me tell you something about God," I said. "He saved me and he loves me, far more than anyone else I know. He doesn't care where I come from. My history gives you no right to mess with my future, and if you have an ounce of dignity, you need to leave—right now." With my last words, I pointed to the door.

Grandfather took a breath, then sighed. "If you wish for me to leave, I will. I only ask that you let me say goodbye to my grandson."

I eyed him carefully, then stepped aside to let him come to Erland's side. He was two steps away when his legs buckled beneath him and he flung his arms back, as if shoved by an invisible force. His skull made a cracking sound as it banged against the tile.

All at once, light flooded the room. A security guard entered, followed by Matthew and a nurse.

"Are you all right, sir?" The nurse flew to my grandfather's side.

Trembling, unspeaking, he raised an accusatory finger at me and mumbled something. The nurse leaned closer and he said it again. A confused expression flickered across her face. "He says she pushed him," she said to the security guard.

I raised my hands in defense. "I promise you that is not what happened—"

At the sound of my voice, my grandfather began to moan and make feeble movements to get away from me, as if I might kick him. A red welt was beginning to form on the side of his head, under his thin sheen of white hair.

The security guard asked me to step outside.

"But I haven't done anything—"

"Katherine," Matthew interjected, "let's go." He gave me a meaningful look, as if to keep my mouth shut. Then, his gaze shot to the corner of the room, where a camera was pointed directly at the hospital bed.

I nodded at the security officer, grabbed my purse from the chair, and stepped to Matthew's side. I glanced back at the room, only to catch Erland's wide-eyed gaze, his lips pursed, face red, before the door closed between us.