A/N: Character death. Tissue warning. I wrote this chapter the day after I found my mother dead in her recliner.
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I knocked on the door when I arrived at my parents' house. Usually, Grandma answered within a minute. Before unlocking the door and entering the house, I knew she was gone.
My heart ached when I entered the living room. "Oh, Grandma," I cried, attempting to maintain my composure as I dealt with the critical next steps. Grandma looked peacefully asleep in Dad's recliner chair. Her blue-tinted lips appeared twisted, as though she died with a smile on her face. Did she have a stroke? Or a heart attack?
I felt guilty for not staying the previous night. She should have had company during her death. There wasn't anything I could do to change things. Stressing over what I should have done wouldn't bring Grandma back.
Grandma's forearms were on the armrests. I know she passed away as she slept. Her face was relaxed, not frozen in fear or pain as often seen on loved ones who slowly died. I checked her pulse. Upon finding none, I leaned to see if her breath would tickle my face as I watched her chest for signs of movement. Nothing. No tickle. No rise and fall of her chest. No pulse. I kissed her forehead, feeling the coldness of her skin against my lips. Grandma was gone. I didn't bother with CPR since I knew she wouldn't want that. Does Grandma have an official DNR?
That had to wait. I needed to call 911 so the dispatcher could send an ambulance. However, it wasn't the emergency services I called first; that was Hal. He would contact my family. "Hello, Steph. Is it your grandma?" he asked.
"Yes. I visited an hour earlier than scheduled and found her dead in Dad's recliner," I replied.
"Okay. I'm coming over," Hal stated. I frowned as I dialled 911 from the landline.
"911 police, fire or ambulance?" the kind woman asked.
"Um…I'm not sure. I think my grandma died," I said, barely above a whisper.
"Can I have the address?" she asked. I gave her the address as though I was on autopilot.
"Okay, I've dispatched the ambulance, fire department and police. Can you tell me where you are?" I mentioned I was sitting in the living room with my grandmother. "What's your name?"
"Stephanie Plum," I replied.
"Did you check for a pulse?" she asked.
"Yes, and for signs of breathing. Her skin is cold. Not clammy, just cold. My grandma's lips are blue, and the left side of her lips drooped," I explained, tears running down my cheeks. I couldn't lose control. I had to remain strong to get through this event. The chair cushion appeared dry, so either Grandma never released her bladder, or she was wearing an adult diaper. I wasn't about to check.
"Okay. Someone should be arriving in five minutes. Do you need me to stay on the line until someone arrives?" she offered as the sirens echoed from the street.
"I can hear the ambulance on the way. I'll be okay. Thank you for assisting me today," I replied and disconnected the call. I surprised myself by remaining relatively calm, though inside, I was screaming, crying and begging for one more day with Grandma.
I called my friend, Ram, to hear a friendly voice. Maybe I should have called my best friend, Mary Lou, but I needed comfort from another person, someone unattached to the situation. His words grounded me. It was exactly what I needed at that time. I found the strength to do what I needed to do. "Thanks, Ram," I said before ending the call.
Eddie and Carl arrived from the TPD. Carl asked, "Where is she?"
"In the living room, on the recliner," I replied, stepping aside for them to examine the scene. The EMT and fire chief entered the house a few seconds later.
"Does she have a DNR?" the EMT tech asked.
Shaking my head, I replied, "I don't think so. She never said anything about it to me. I know she wouldn't want to be resuscitated." My parents never mentioned it either.
"Unless you have a copy of her DNR, we legally have to try everything," the technician sadly said. "What's her name?"
"Edna Mazur," I replied. He asked a few more questions, which I answered to the best of my ability.
"You don't want to see this." the technician said, gesturing to Eddie and Carl to remove me from the line of sight into the room.
"Let's go over here," Carl said, pulling me aside and positioning me so I couldn't see what the EMTs were doing to Grandma. "When was the last time you spoke to your grandma?" Carl asked, with his notebook open, to record my answers.
"Last night at around six or 6:30," I replied.
"Did she have any medical issues?" Carl asked. Grandma never said anything to me. However, Dad gave me the details before I came home to watch over her while they went away for a few days.
"She was in renal failure," I said as Hal and Ram entered the house. "Three of her heart valves were partially constricted, and the cardiologist heard regurgitation from her aortic valve before recently seeing the evidence on an echo."
Hal wrapped a protective arm around me, offering his condolences and comfort. I appreciated him being there for me. Eddie and Carl watched our body language. They smiled before returning to their interrogation.
"Tell me how you found her," Eddie said.
I repeated the details as I recalled them upon arriving at my parents' house. Carl nodded and asked questions as he recorded my answers. "What's your name?" Carl asked.
It seemed silly since he knew it already, but Carl was following protocol. I gave him my name, date of birth and address. The EMT interrupted us, "I called the coroner. He'll be here in around forty minutes."
I nodded before remembering proper etiquette. "Thank you," I said. Was there a correct etiquette in this case? It didn't matter. These people were here for Grandma. I retreated into myself, unwilling to release the anguish I felt inside.
When the coroner arrived, I had to repeat my statement for what felt like the sixth time. It felt like he was accusing me of killing my grandma. "I don't have her heart condition listed in her file," the corner claimed.
"Do you know which clinic she would have visited?" Ram asked. I shook my head.
"She went there a few weeks ago," I replied and tried to recall the doctor's name that Mom mentioned.
Hal grabbed a business card from his wallet. "I saw her at this clinic a few years ago. We have the same doctor," Hal explained. I wondered if he had heart issues. Hal squeezed my shoulder, silently telling me it was after I stunned him the first time.
"That explains everything. Dr. Kashiwa takes months to release his findings," the coroner said. "She died between fifteen and twenty minutes before you arrived."
"Okay," I whispered, thankful she wasn't alone too long. I thought it was longer because of her cold skin. Then I remembered her hands and arms always felt cold to the touch.
"Here's a copy of her death certificate," the coroner said as my parents arrived. Mom rushed to my side and pulled me into her arms. I felt her tears on my neck, which caused me to cry. Dad embraced us both after removing the document from my hand.
Mom and Dad released me and watched Hal pull me into his arms. Hal's comforting touch stopped my tears. It wasn't the proper time for introductions, but I had to do something. "Mom, Dad, this is Hal. We've been dating for the past month," I said.
"Treat her right," Dad warned. Hal gulped and nodded. He had to return to work. I promised to call him later. Dad, Mom and I had to sort the estate.
"Stephanie, Mother made you an executor of her will," Mom said.
"What? Why?"
"She knows you would honour her requests," Mom replied. Despite Grandma enjoying funeral visitations, she wanted to be cremated and buried with Grandpa. I had to respect her choice. Mom, on the other hand, doesn't believe in cremations. It wasn't accepted in our parish until recently. Catholicism does have restrictions on the ashes. They cannot be stored in one's home or scattered. We must contain the ashes in an urn or other approved container and get buried in a Catholic cemetery.
"Mom, Grandma wants to be cremated," I warned.
"I know. She doesn't want to be put on display for the Burg busybodies either," Mom added.
Her comment made me smile. Finding humour in the situation felt odd, but I know Grandma wouldn't want us to mourn her death forever. "Do you know why she wanted to be cremated?" I asked.
Mom and I moved out of the way of the coroner and the EMTs. "Where are we taking her?"
"Stiva's," I replied. "She wants to be cremated."
"I'll handle that. You need to sign the paperwork and ID the body in the morning," the coroner warned.
"Thank you," I replied, unable to think of another appropriate response.
"Why?" Mom asked, bringing my attention back to our conversation.
"She doesn't want to resemble a clown. Grandma said it was bad enough that Valerie married one," I replied. Mom and I laughed. It felt good to share that memory with Mom.
We went to Grandma's bedroom to clear her dresser and closets. There was no point hanging onto her clothes or costume jewelry. However, I thought Valerie's girls might like the jewelry to play with.
Mom and I spent an hour untangling the chains. We separated the gold jewelry from the rest. I wanted the locket but would let Valerie have it if she claimed it. "That's yours," Mom said, pointing to the locket on a thick gold chain. "Mother wanted you to have it for your daughter."
"I don't have children," I argued. Mom passed me a letter from Grandma's jewelry box. "What's this?"
"A letter your grandfather left for you," Mom said.
"Why am I just receiving it now?" I questioned.
"Mother said I should only deliver it upon her death," Mom replied. She carefully bagged the clothes going to the donation. "Go to your old room to read it." I nodded before leaving Mom to complete her task.
My hands shook as I opened the letter. The top letter was in Grandma's handwriting. I decided to open it before reading the other one.
Dearest baby granddaughter,
You're probably wondering why I never mentioned my health issues to you. I never wanted to be a burden, precisely your burden. While your grandfather was waiting for his double bypass surgery, you spent all your free time taking care of him while I tended to the other household responsibilities. It wasn't your cross to bear. His care was solely mine as his wife. You're more like your grandfather than I cared to admit. Harry would have been proud of the remarkable woman you have become. I am proud of you.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, dotting the letter with drops of moisture. I wiped them away with the back of my hand and continued reading the lovely letter from Grandma.
Regardless of the tragedies and traumas you experienced, you never stopped being the loving, resilient and kind woman I have always known and loved. Nothing broke your spirit. Your grandfather, my Harry, was the same. He lived by his own rules and never cared about what others thought or said. In that regard, you are like him. Harry never paid full price for anything, preferring to find discounts or using coupons to save his hard earned money. It's another thing you and Harry had in common.
Harry would give everything he had to help his brothers. I know you're paying part of Valerie's rent. She doesn't know you've added a few hundred dollars to Kloughn's account when they struggled to pay the bills. Albert likely knows but is unwilling to confess his ineptitude as a defence lawyer to Valerie. Does Kloughn know anything about contract or real estate law? I want him to succeed in supporting my great-grandchildren. Albert will heed your advice. Please get Albert on the right path to financial stability for your nephew and nieces' sake.
Everything I have and everything I own belongs to you. One day, you'll find a man to love. I know one man at Rangeman who loves you unconditionally. He accompanied us to a viewing last year. The way he looked at you betrayed his feelings. I wanted to tell you, but you were too caught up in the pissing match between the sexy bounty hunter, Ranger, and Joseph Morelli. Give Hal a chance. He will make you very happy.
Grandma wasn't wrong. Hal does make me happy. I could see our future and family. The thought of having children with Hal makes me feel warm and fuzzy, not like sheer panic as with Joe or Ranger. I had such a scare with Ranger, but not Joe. When I started my period, I was ecstatic. No bat-babies from this body. I turned the page to read the back.
The names Alexander Frank and Michelle Edna Nelson popped into my mind. Those are your children, Stephanie. You aren't going to follow convention and get married right away. However, it would be best to get married before having your babies so you can enjoy your honeymoon.
That was an odd thing to write. Was Grandma telling me I was going to have twins? Hal and I haven't had sex yet. Should I be worried? "No," I decided. Grandma was right. I wouldn't get married because I was pregnant. Marrying for love was the only option for me.
Stephanie, open your heart to Hal. He will love you like no other man. Remember that I love you and will smile down from heaven as you continue to make me proud.
Love always, Grandma Edna.
Grandma had a key taped to the page beside her signature. What does the key open? I was afraid to see what Grandpa's letter contained. The mystery of the key compelled me to read his last words to me. Grandpa was a man of few words, which he disproved when I opened his letter.
My dearest Stephanie,
You have shown me kindness, and I greatly appreciate it. Valerie was too afraid of spending time with me because I went against the conventional norms in the Burg. She was probably scared of the reprimands and punishments from your mother. You, however, embraced it, and it filled me with pride.
I don't know where I went wrong with Helen, but I believe moving to the Burg had everything to do with the dramatic change in her personality. Your Aunt Shiela never succumbed to its strict and antiquated rules.
Aunt Shiela was my cousin Shirley's mom. Despite Shirley's constant whining about everything, I loved spending time with them when I was younger. I introduced Shirley to Eddie Gazarra.
I left everything to you in my will, with your grandmother holding it in trust. She promised to sell the house and live off its proceeds with my pension. There should have been enough money to get her through her remaining years. Do you know why I did this? I was protecting your grandmother from the likes of those Morelli men. Whenever a woman's husband passed away, one of the Morellis would move in to marry the widow and bleed her accounts dry before moving on to the next victim.
The Morellis knew you inherited my estate. You would've allowed your grandmother to keep the money from selling the house. You are so much like me. It has always been family first. However, there was more to the estate than the house. I have a safe deposit box at Trenton First National Bank. Your grandmother has the key.
Stay away from Joseph Morelli. The boy is a liar, cheater and abuser like his father and other male relatives. You deserve better than what the Morelli boy can offer.
I felt ashamed for getting involved with Joe. Grandpa was right about him. Joe proved to be a chip off the old block. That apple indeed fell close to the tree. He fooled me into thinking he was different, a better man than his ancestors, but Joe and I know better. Maybe he can be a better man for someone else. I was too pigheaded to conform to his ways.
Protect your assets. Do whatever you can to prevent the Morellis from discovering your wealth. I do not doubt that Joseph Morelli will try to take your money somehow. Hire the best lawyer in the state to keep him from suing you for some nonsense of you doing wrong by him.
Stephanie, my baby granddaughter, I love you more than I can express. You have always been my shining star. Whenever you need me, look to the skies and search for the blinking star. That's me sending you love and encouragement to continue being the strong woman you are.
Love always, Grandpa Harry.
I held Grandpa's letter to my chest and cried. Mom walked past the room and closed the door, letting me grieve without others overhearing. It suddenly dawned on me that there was a lot of activity on the main floor. I wondered if the Burg bitches arrived to share their condolences. Some busybody neighbour likely called the Burg phone tree to spread the rumour of my grandmother's death. I bet Bella Morelli was dancing to celebrate outliving Grandma.
Heeding Grandpa's advice, I called Ranger. "Babe, are you okay?" he asked upon answering after the first ring.
"Not really, but I will be. Hal returned to work since he isn't entitled to bereavement leave," I replied.
"It can be arranged," Ranger promised.
"I'll let Hal decide if that's what he wants. I'm actually calling you to ask your opinion. My Mazur grandparents left me letters. I had just finished reading the one from Grandpa. He said, "Protect your assets. Do whatever you can to prevent the Morellis from discovering your wealth. I do not doubt that Joseph Morelli will try to take your money somehow. Hire the best lawyer in the state to keep him from suing you for some nonsense of you doing wrong by him." Should I be worried that Joe would sue me for you poaching during our "on" times?" I asked.
"We have more than enough proof that he cheated on you before I poached," Ranger replied. I smiled at his response. Of course, he would have proof.
"What proof?" I queried.
Chuckling, Ranger answered, "One hour after he left your apartment or you left his house, he had Terry Gilman or Joyce Barnhardt in his bed."