This novella is written in dual first person points of view. Each chapter will be labeled as to who is narrating.

So far, Jameson meets seventy something, Iris. She is a much needed supporter for his writing. He is there to help her through her worsening health. She has changed her will to make him the sole beneficiary. He has no idea. They had lunch yesterday and Jameson noticed how Iris is struggling more and more.

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The bedroom is pitch black. The buzzing of my cell phone drags me out of my deep sleep. I squint, trying to make out the phone number. It isn't one I recognize. It's a local number and isn't flagged as a scam call.

"Hello," I say, my voice barely audible.

"Have I reached Jameson Petry ?"

I pull myself up until I'm sitting against the headboard. "Yes."

"My name is LaShaundra West and I'm with Patterson County Hospital. I'm sorry to be calling so late, but we have a Mrs. Iris Taylor here. You were listed as her next of kin," she says.

I feel my stomach lurch. Suddenly, I'm wide awake. Iris is in the hospital. "What's happened? Can I speak with her?"

"Mr. Petry, she's in the emergency department right now. I was wondering if you could come down here and help with the paperwork. She's being admitted and she's having difficulty breathing. It would be a great help if you could come on down here."

"Uh, yes. I just need to take care of a couple of things. Will I be able to see her?"

"You'll be able to see her as soon as we get her situated. Thank you. Just come into the emergency department and tell them why you're here. They will be able to direct you from there.

I slump back, my head resting on the wooden slats of the head board. I should have seen this coming. Today, while I was there, I saw how weak she was. I should have just settled in for the evening. But, I was greedy, asking her endless questions, taking her energy until she had little. And this happened.

I shower quickly, before the sun has started that climb in the sky. Heston wags his tail but doesn't get up to greet me. He just wants to rest. I hook his leash on and lure him out with a treat.

This town is so different at this time of the morning. A numbness washes over me. Heston stops to look at me every few minutes. He feels my emotions through the leash.

**********************************

There is a policeman sitting in a metal folding chair when I get to the emergency room. He looks over at me with mild interest as I enter through the automatic doors. Only three other people are in there. One lone man, asleep, head propped against the wall and a couple, both mesmerized by their phones.

A young woman smiles as I walk up to the glass partition. "I'm here for Iris Taylor."

She smiles and nods. "Hi, I'm LaShaundra. We spoke on the phone earlier. Come on through that door there."

I hear a muted buzz then a click. She is courteous and professional. Asking the pertinent questions and waiting patiently as I stumble around for answers. As much as I know about Iris, I honestly know very little. Is she an organ donor? Who is her cardiologist?

"Sorry. I haven't known her for that long."

"She has you listed as next of kin." She peers at her computer screen to see if she misread it.

"I'm all she has. Her husband and son are deceased."

"That's fine. Just thought I'd called the wrong person. I just got word she's on the cardiac floor. Room three eighteen. Just take that elevator up and let the desk know you're here to see Mrs. Taylor."

*********************************

The elevator doors open to the third floor. The lights are dim and a nurse looks up. "Mr. Petry?"

"Yes. The lady downstairs said I could come up to see Mrs. Taylor."

"Follow this hall and three eighteen will be on your left."

I pass by several rooms with doors ajar. Low lights spill out into the hallway. Then I see it. Room three eighteen. As anxious as I was to get here, I pause before knocking lightly on the door. I listen for Iris's invitation to come in. The voice that bids entry is not her's.

I push the door open. A nurse is tending to the various machines. "I'm here for Iris."

"There's a chair right there. You can pull it closer to the bed, if you want."

The legs of the chair squeak loudly as I drag it close. Iris has a mask over her nose and mouth, an I.V drip attached to her hand. She's sleeping. Her face barely visible.

"How long before she wakes up?" I ask.

The woman pauses but shakes her head. "We're making sure she's comfortable. But you can talk to her. I'm a firm believer she can hear you and she knows you're here with her."

"Is this it?"

She walks around to fiddle with Iris's covers. "It seems so. I'm sorry."

"How do you do this? Day after day, watching people die?" I ask. I know it sounds harsh but I can't wrap my head around someone who chooses to do this kind of work. "How do you not try to help them. I can't imagine watching another human being die and not trying to stop it."

"Its hard to fathom why some people don't want any steps taken to save them. But we have to respect those wishes."

I search Iris's face. "It must be hard."

"Some days it's very hard. But, they aren't in any pain. Your friend here isn't suffering. Only you are suffering right now."

She finishes her tasks and squeezes my shoulder as she walks past to exit. "Talk to her. She knows you're here."

I sit silently, listening to the whirring of the assorted machines. "I'm here, Iris." I touch her hand, curving mine over hers. I feel the tiniest squeeze. "I'm not ready for this. Not yet. I want you to read more of my story. Without you, I wouldn't even be writing again. I'd be twisting on the line that Claire had me on."

I wipe a hot tear that rolls down my cheek. "I know you're tired. Two weeks ago, you were still fighting. I wish you were still fighting. But, I could see it in your eyes yesterday. You're ready."

I lean close, pressing my cheek to her forearm. "I'll keep writing. I promise you."

An alarm sounds and within seconds, the nurse returns. "Just a hiccup. It's fine." She writes something on the clipboard. "Her blood pressure has gone down. She must know you're here."

It's little comfort to know that, when the outcome is inevitable. But she knows. She isn't alone. "You just rest, Iris. I'm not going anywhere."