30 Nights Read Free

room to fish through her bag. She pulled out a small bundle of envelopes, a name neatly printed on the front of each one. Within moments she set the one with my name neatly penned on the front on my lap.
    Little Glenna.
    My chest squeezed and I found it hard to breathe. I couldn’t do that, not yet. She was still here, after all, just resting on a bed in the other room. I swallowed down the rising ball of hurt and smiled. “I’m going to read this later.”
    “Of course.” Nanna suddenly looked horrified. “Maybe I shouldn’t have given this to you yet. I should have waited . . . until . . .”
    I set the letter on the seat beside me and hugged her hard. “It’s fine. I love you.”
    “I love you, too.”
    Mom came back then, coffee in hand and her face streaked with dried tears. “There was a hell of a line at Tim Hortons. Sorry for the delay.”
    Dad came back shortly after that, his face tight and his gaze assessing how Nanna was doing. “Mom, Tony is picking up Brian and they’re heading over to the house. Steven will come by here a bit later.”
    Nanna patted my hand. “Why don’t you go for a walk, dear? Stretch your legs a bit.”
    “I got you a large double-double.” Mom handed me a coffee as I got up. “I forgot how big these were. Dump it if you can’t drink it all.”
    “Thanks.”
    Mom hugged me, holding me longer than she normally would. “I saw there was a nice little sitting area down the hall if you’re looking for a quiet spot. We’re not going anywhere, so come back in when you’re ready.”
    “I will.”
    I left them and headed toward the direction Mom had indicated. My thoughts bounced around, remembering my times with Great Glenna. Her home had been a large old farmhouse in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. When I was a kid, we’d go to visit her sometimes, taking Nanna with us. I didn’t remember much of the place, but even as a kid I knew that the house was more than a little run-down.
    Some summers she’d board a plane and would make the trip herself to stay with Nanna for a month, usually July. I loved the lilt of her voice, the way her eyes would sparkle, telling you she was up to something. I loved her East Coast accent and the way she’d say certain words that made them sound oh-so-very Canadian.
    “Dammit.” It became hard to take a breath without my body shaking. I needed to sit down, to have some time to pull my shit together before I could even think of going back to my family.
    The signs for the sitting area directed me down the hall. The coffee was starting to heat my hand through the cardboard cup. Mom never remembered to ask them to double-cup it. When I finally got to the room, there was a couple inside talking to someone who looked to be hospital staff. Best if I stay out here then. A quick look around and I discovered a chair against a wall a few feet away. That would be as good a place as any.
    The hallway was quiet except for the hum of voices in the other room and the rattle of air coming through a vent. I sat on the over-padded fake leather chair and waited for the air to hiss from the cushion as my weight settled before I looked at the envelope.
    Little Glenna.
    It was dainty, small, so unlike the woman who penned it. I laid it on my lap, not ready to open it yet. Instead I drank my coffee, letting the caffeine, sugar, and cream do their best to boost my spirits and charge my body. It was artificial, but would hopefully help get me through the next few hours.
    Great Glenna’s letter waited.
    I finished my coffee and set the cup on the floor.
    I took a breath, then another before I finally picked it up to examine it once more. It was thin, probably only containing a single sheet of paper. Nanna had said this was a good-bye from the woman who was currently connected to life-support machines on the opposite end of the floor. She was still living, still holding on.
    She was speaking to me even though she couldn’t.
    I closed my eyes and made up my mind that I