Match Made In Vegas: Lovin' Las Vegas, #6

Chapter One

Sitting in a chair beside an occupied hospital bed sucked. Especially when the person in the bed happens to be someone so special it's tearing you up inside.

At least, that's what Cindy Montgomery thought as she stared at the woman who meant more to her than anybody else in the world. Her grandmother was her rock, her safe place while growing up, when the rest of her family trundled along their merry way, following their dreams of fame and fortune. Cindy stayed behind, learning everything the feisty spitfire had to teach, and soaked up every word like a sponge.

Now, that sweet little lady lay flat on her back in a hospital bed, pale and frail. Cindy couldn't fight the tears filling her eyes. Gram had always been larger than life, full of energy and get-up-and-go. Constantly moving, never sitting still for more than a second. Seeing her like this emphasized the fragility of life—and the possibility of losing her.

Get that look off your face, girlie. I ain't ready to kick the bucket yet. The words were spoken softly, but in a rough and gravel-laced voice honed from countless years of smoking. Cindy barely remembered a day of her youth without Gram having a cigarette between her lips or in an ashtray by her side.

Gram! How are you feeling? She reached across and grasped her grandmother's hand between hers, the bones prominent beneath the paper thin layer of skin. When did she lose so much weight?

Don't you be fretting, girl. Doc wanted to do some tests, it ain't nothing serious.

Gram, it is serious when you pass out in the middle of the grocery store. They had to call an ambulance. Then the hospital contacted her, since she was listed with her grandmother's physician as next of kin.

They shouldn't have done that. I just needed to sit down for a spell, that's all. I'd have been fine once I caught my breath.  She struggled to sit up, and Cindy rushed to raise the head of the hospital bed, until her grandmother reclined like a royal princess.

You blacked out. That's a lot more than needing to catch your breath. She took in the ashen color of her gran's cheeks, the sunken hollows beneath her eyes. How long have you been sick?

Gram flopped her head back against the pillow. Don't you go worrying yourself about me. My age is finally catching up with my body. My brain tells me I can still do everything I used to, but this old carcass and my brain ain't seeing eye-to-eye all the time. Shoot, gal, you try being seventy-three. Now, stop your worrying. I ain't ready for a face-to-face with the grim reaper yet. Still got too much living to do.

Cindy smiled at her gran's words. She'd always had a colorful turn of phrase, even in the direst situations. She could always be counted on to put a smile on anybody's face.

Truthfully, Gram, how long have you been sick? You know I'd have come home in a heartbeat.

And that's why I didn't tell ya. You'd have dropped everything and hightailed it back here, when there wasn't any need. I'm not dying—I'm just aging.

You swear you're telling me the truth? Because I'll ask Dr. Smithson, and you know he'll answer my questions. Cindy fought down the edge of panic clawing its way into her head. She couldn't lose her, not now.

Girlie, he can't tell you a darn thing unless I give him permission.

Good afternoon, ladies. A tall, silver-haired man in a white coat with a stethoscope draped around his neck strolled into the room. Dr. Smithson had been Gram's doctor for well over a decade. A general practitioner who still made the occasional house call, he didn't look a day over fifty, though Cindy knew he was in his mid-sixties. The man had a mind like a steel trap and hadn't slowed down over the years, rarely taking time off. He'd known her since she was a youngster, and she made it a point to stop in and see him whenever she was in Las Vegas.

He strolled further into the room and Cindy stood. Comforting arms encircled her, and she leaned into his embrace. Cindy, sweetheart, it's good to see you.

Dr. Smithson, you're looking as dapper as ever.

He smiled and patted her on the shoulder, and she sat back down in the chair beside the hospital bed. And how are you feeling this morning, Hildie?

Feel a whole lot better if I was home in my own bed. How's anybody supposed to get a wink of sleep in this noisy place?

Cindy bit back a chuckle. At least Gram sat still long enough for Dr. Smithson to take her vitals, glaring at him, her mouth curved downward in mulish defiance.

They told you it was only a precaution, Hildie, until the test results came back. Dr. Smithson perched his hip against the mattress, laid down the electronic chart he'd been holding and crossed his arms across his chest. He turned to face Cindy.

Your grandmother is a stubborn woman. The emergency room almost had to sedate her when the paramedics brought her in, because she wanted to go home. He turned back to Hildie though he still spoke to Cindy. We had to threaten to strap her down to the bed before she'd agree to stay overnight.

I told you there wasn't anything wrong with me. I just forgot to eat breakfast before heading to the store, you old codger. Her gran folded her arms across her chest, and glared at Dr. Smithson. Cindy knew it for exactly what it was—posturing. Gram adored him and she suspected the good doctor had a bit of a crush on her grandmother too.

Do you have the test results, Dr. Smithson?

Hey, I'm the patient. You talk to me, Doc. Gram turned to Cindy and stuck out her tongue, and everybody laughed, the tension broken.

Everything seems to be fine, Hildie. Your cardiac enzymes were slightly elevated, so we'll keep an eye on that, but your EKG and echocardiogram were normal. You can go home—

Good. Gimme the papers to sign and I'm outta here. Hildie started to throw back the blanket, but Dr. Smithson grabbed her hand, smoothing the covers down over her legs.

Not so fast. You can go home if, he paused looking straight at Cindy, you have somebody who can stay with you for the next couple of days.  When Hildie started to interrupt, he added, No exception. Either somebody stays with you for the next forty-eight hours or you're stuck in the hospital.

I'll stay with her. Not that she'd have left anyway. She didn't want to go through another scare like this one ever again. The phone call from the emergency room probably shaved a good half dozen years off her life. While she tried to visit her gran as often as possible, there were long stretches of time when she was on the road with the band, and she didn't make it back nearly as much as she wanted.

When the hospital called, she'd dropped everything, in the middle of the gig, and headed straight to the airport. Working as an assistant and glorified go-fer, she knew the band would get along fine without her—at least for a while. She hadn't even gone home to pack, knowing she still had stuff at Gram's house. Instead, she'd spent the two hour plane ride praying she'd get back to Las Vegas and that her grandmother would be okay. Thankfully, God had granted both of her wishes.

Nonsense, girlie. You've got a job. You can't drop everything to stay with me.

Cindy smiled and leaned back in her chair. Leaving her job wasn't going to be nearly as onerous a task as her grandmother thought, since she'd planned on quitting at the end of this tour anyway. Staying with her grandmother provided the perfect excuse not to rejoin the road crew. Time and space were exactly what she needed. An ailing relative who needed her care—an option nobody could question. Who's going to say you can't quit when you've got to help an ailing elderly relative? Plus there was the added benefit of there not being a damned thing Chuck McAllister could do to stop her.

Doc, go ahead and get the papers ready for her discharge while I call a cab to take us home.

Aw, shoot! Hildie's voice caused Cindy to spin around.

What?

My car—it's still at the grocery store. They're gonna tow it.

Which store, Gram? I'll call and make arrangements to pick it up this afternoon.

Gram gave her the name of the store, which wasn't too far from where she lived. Cindy knew exactly where it was, and since they were located within walking distance from Gram's house, she'd have no problem retrieving it.

I'll send the nurse in to help you get ready to go home, Hildie. Cindy, come with me and I'll give you Hildie's prescriptions and discharge instructions. Dr. Smithson walked out and she waited long enough for the nurse to come in to help her grandmother before she joined him out in the hallway.

Okay, Doc, what's really going on? Is she going to be okay? Cindy balled her hands into fists, to keep them from shaking any worse than they already were, and waited for the other shoe to drop.  This had to be more than just blacking out in the store. For a seventy-three year old woman, her grandmother was in good health, but she'd looked so frail lying there in the hospital bed, her skin almost translucent against the stark whiteness of the pillowcase.

Hildie's got the constitution of an ox. She'll probably outlive us all. I'd say she probably skipped eating and her blood sugar plummeted. She was also a bit dehydrated, which means she's not getting enough fluids. You'll have to make sure she's getting plenty of water. Plus she's a tad anemic. She'll need a prescription for some iron. Make sure she takes it every day. And make an appointment to bring her into the office in two days for a followup visit. Call the paramedics immediately if she complains of any kind of lightheadedness or chest pain. As I said before, her cardiac enzymes were a bit high, but the testing didn't show any reason for concern—yet. We'll keep an eye on her. Your job is going to be making sure she takes things slow for a few days.

Easier said than done. Cindy smiled at Dr. Smithson and he chuckled. They both knew Hildie was a dynamo, and getting her to sit still for even a few minutes was going to be a trial.

Call me if you have any questions. Dr. Smithson pulled her into a hug and she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his strength, relaxing for just the tiniest moment. Fortunately, when she'd gotten the call, they'd been in Los Angeles, so it hadn't taken her long to catch a flight to Vegas.

Thanks.

You sticking around for a while?

She shrugged. Not sure yet, but I'll definitely be here for as long as Gram needs me.

He nodded and walked away, headed for the nurses' station. Cindy stepped back into her grandmother's room, where the nurse aide had finished getting her gran ready for discharge.

Took you long enough, girlie. Don't let that old quack fill your head with nonsense, I'm sturdy as a mule.

And stubborn as one too. I know you are, Gram. You about ready? The cab should be here any minute. Cindy gathered up the few meager belongings sitting atop the rolling hospital table and the aide handed her a stack of papers, remarking she'd be right back with the wheelchair.

Within minutes her grandmother was ensconced in the wheelchair and they headed for the lobby. When the elevator doors parted, the taxi was waiting, and between her and the nurse aide, they had Hildie bundled into the back seat and ready to head home.

The short drive to her grandmother's house was mostly silent. Her grandmother's fingers picked at invisible threads on the bottom of her shirt, and she'd start to say something, then clamp her lips shut. Cindy knew she'd get an earful when they got home, but she'd just as soon wait until they had some privacy before she let her grandmother rail at her for coming home.

She paid the taxi driver and watched her grandmother make her way slowly up the front pathway to the house. Situated in an older section of Las Vegas, the house had withstood time and the elements, but now it had a weathered and beaten down appearance. The paint was peeling along the wooden façade, and the once pristine white bricks had faded to a dismal yellowish-tan color that gave it an almost jaundiced appearance. The rose bushes out front were in desperate need of pruning and cutting back, and as her grandmother made her way up the three steps onto the front porch, Cindy noted the railing wobbled beneath her hand.

When had everything gotten so worn out and tired? After getting the call from the hospital, right after the L.A. show started, she'd turned everything over to Sarah and caught the next flight to Vegas. It had been after midnight when they landed. She'd stopped at Gram's, just long enough to change clothes, and hadn't gotten much of a good look at the state of disrepair. She remembered the house as vibrant and cheerful. Although it didn't look abandoned and deserted, there was an air of depression, an I-just-don't-care attitude. She should have come home a long time ago. Here was one more reminder she'd failed somebody—again.

Well, don't stand out there dawdling, get on in here. Gram's Oklahoma accent was stronger than ever, her voice wafting through the open doorway. She moved to Las Vegas with her husband nearly fifty years ago, in the early 1960s, for his work and they'd stayed on, even after the job dried up. She often called herself a fish out of water, the dirt poor country girl amongst all the glitz and glamour of Vegas, but she'd never once thought about leaving.

Cindy started forward, carrying her grandmother's meager belongings from the hospital. First thing, she'd get her settled and then pick up her car from the grocery store and get her prescriptions filled. Maybe when she got back, she'd pull out the old push lawnmower and take a stab at the front patch of grass. And put out the sprinkler, since it had a parched and withered look, like it hadn't seen much water recently.

She headed for the kitchen after setting down the stuff she'd been carrying, knowing exactly where Gram's first stop would be. She could hear the rattle of pots and pans already. Did Gram really think she needed to start cooking five minutes after getting out of the hospital?

Gimme that. She reached around and snatched the frying pan out of her hand. You march into that living room and sit down or I'm going to carry you in there myself. She made a shooing motion and Hildie scowled, and folded her arms across her sagging bosom.

Girlie, you ain't the boss of me.

Today I am. Doctor's orders, you need to rest. So go sit and put your feet up. I'll get you some water and a sandwich.

Hildie snorted before trying to grab the pan out of her hands. You don't need to be feeding me. I ain't helpless.

Cindy drew in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. She loved her grandmother dearly, but she was one stubborn old goat sometimes.

Gram, you've only been out of the hospital for half an hour tops. Let me do this, please.

Her grandmother's shoulders slumped and she released her grip on the frying pan. Fine. Treat me like an invalid.

Not an invalid. Just somebody precious to me. Cindy hugged her, once again feeling how small and frail her gran had become while she'd been gone, traveling around with the band instead of being here, where she was needed. Her grandmother had lost more weight than she could afford, which made her appear even smaller, like a brisk wind would blow her away. Looking down at her own ample girth, she rolled her eyes. Not a problem she herself was ever likely to have.

After getting Gram settled on the sofa, she got her a glass