“Yeah,” he replied.
“Hi, uh, this is Judy from the visiting nurse’s program. Uh…”
She went silent and said no more.
Raid felt his gut instinctively get tight and he concentrated on driving.
When she didn’t speak, he asked, “Judy, you got something to say?”
A hesitation, then in a quiet voice, “I’m so sorry. We talked about it and thought it best to try to phone you first. I hate having to be the one to tell you, but when Fran went in to get Miss Mildred ready for the day, she found that Miss Mildred had passed away in her sleep last night.”
Raid moved the Jeep to the side of the road, put it in neutral and engaged the parking break.
“Repeat that,” he ordered.
“I’m really, really sorry, Raid. We didn’t want to call Hanna. We thought it would be better coming from you. But Miss Mildred passed last night.”
He closed his eyes, leaned forward and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.
“Are you okay?” she called in his ear.
He was not.
He lifted his head and lied, “Yeah.”
“Uh… there are things that—”
Raid cut her off, “You communicate with me, not Hanna. I’ll be there or my mother will be there. Yeah?”
“Right, okay.”
“Wait for our call. Someone will be in touch soon to deal with whatever we gotta deal with,” he went on.
“Okay, Raid.”
He pulled in a sharp breath through his nose and lied again, “Thank you for your call.”
“I’m so, so sorry.”
He was too.
Judy went on, “Please give our condolences to Hanna. ‘Bye Raid.”
He disconnected with no good-bye, went to his contacts and found the number to his sister’s café.
“Rachelle’s Café, Grand Goddess of Cuisine and All Things Gastronomical, Rachelle speaking. How can I help you?” his sister answered.
Normally this would make him laugh or at least smile.
He did neither.
“Rache, Hanna there yet?” he asked.
“And hello and how are you, too?” she answered.
“Rache. Is. Hanna. There. Yet?” he repeated.
She was silent then, with zero attitude, “Yeah.”
He put the car in gear, checked his mirrors then moved back onto the road, ordering, “Call Mom. Get her down there. After you do that, go to Hanna and find a way to get Clay from her. I’ll be there in ten.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I wanna tell my wife first. Call Mom and get my son.”
Another silence then, “Okay, Raid.”
“Thanks, Rache.”
He disconnected and did as promised, parking in the lot at the end of town, jogging across the street and down the block. He was there in ten.
Rachelle had done as asked, not that he questioned she would. She was sitting with Hanna at a table by the window, cuddling Clay close, bent over her nephew, cooing.
His eyes went to Hanna to see her eyes on him, smiling.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she called.
Christ, he f**king loved it when she called him sweetheart.
And he f**king hated what he had to do.
He didn’t move from the door and crooked a finger at her.
Her brows drew together, her smile got bigger and she looked at Rachelle. Muttering something he couldn’t hear that made Rache give her a smile she didn’t fully commit to, Hanna got up and moved to him.
The instant she was close enough, he reached out, grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door.
“What on earth? Have you gone loopy?” she asked his back as he dragged her down the street.
“Hush a minute, baby.”
“Whatever,” she murmured then finished, “Macho man, loopy.”
He wanted to smile at that, too.
He didn’t.
He looked both ways, led them across the street and to his Jeep. Once there, he turned her, pushed her into its side and closed in.
She blinked and looked around, got the wrong idea and her face changed as her eyes lifted to his.
“You know, we’re married now so I think it’s okay if you kiss me in public even if you’re in the mood to taste me,” she informed him. “Though I’ll also remind you that even when we weren’t married and just living in sin, you had no problem doing that, so this has got me a little confused.”
Raid lifted his hands to either side of her neck, bent deep and whispered, “Hold onto me.”
Her eyes moved over his face. She finally read it and he knew it when her body tensed. Without further hesitation, she lifted her hands and curled her fingers into his jacket.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her eyes now anxious, her voice holding a tremble.
“Honey…” he started then clipped, “fuck.”
She jerked his jacket out then in. “Raid—”
He slid his hands up to her jaw, got closer and laid it out fast, “Got a call from the visiting nurses. Fran went there this morning and found Miss Mildred passed away in the night.”
Pain seared through him as he watched that same pain blister over his wife’s expression leaving it stricken, pale and vulnerable.
And agonized.
Fuck yeah, he hated having to do this to her.
Hanna pushed through his hands and planted her face in his chest, her arms going tight around him.
Raid gathered her closer, bent his neck and whispered into the top her hair, “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so f**king sorry, baby.”
She didn’t say anything.
But she did hold on tight, even as she started trembling.
“Mom’s comin’ to the café. We’re gonna get Clay and go home. She or I’ll stay with you and the other will go deal with shit,” he shared.
Hanna said nothing.
“I’ll call your folks when we figure out who’s doin’ what,” he continued.
Hanna still said nothing.
“Baby, look at me,” he urged.
She didn’t move.
Raid lifted a hand to her jaw, trying to force it away so he could see her face, but she pressed deeper into him so he stopped.
“Hanna—”
“He won’t remember,” she told his chest.
“What, honey?”
“Clay. He’s named after a man he’ll never meet and he’ll grow up and won’t remember that she told him the lightning story.”
Raid closed his eyes, wrapped his arm around her again and held her tight.
With no room to move, his wife still managed to burrow deeper.