comes the opportunity for new beginnings.”
“Mom, what’s going on?” He willed her to say everything was all right—that he’d misheard her.
“It’s Aunt Birdie. There’s been an accident. She’s at the hospital.”
Aunt Birdie was technically his great-aunt, which meant she was getting on in age and a fall could be serious. Aunt Birdie was his mother’s aunt and the only living relative on her side of the family. Aunt Birdie had grown up in Brooklyn, just like him, but when she married, she moved to Bluestar Island just off the Massachusetts coastline. It was a lesser-known island than Nantucket or Martha’s Vineyard, but it still had its own charms and distinct folklore.
His great-aunt was more than just a fun aunt; she was more like a loving grandmother to him. He remembered as a child visiting Bluestar Island for Christmas and especially for the Fourth of July celebration. He’d even spent part of his summer vacations with Aunt Birdie. They were some of his favorite memories.
With great trepidation, he asked, “How bad is it?”
“I…I don’t know. Must have just happened. I missed the call. Someone left a generic voicemail saying she fell, but they gave no other details about the extent of her injuries. I tried calling but with all of the rules and regulations, I couldn’t get any details. I’m trying to get a flight home but everything is booked.”
The thought of his parents abandoning their once-in-a-lifetime trip, when they didn’t know the seriousness of the situation, didn’t sit well with him. “Mom, hold off on the reservations—”
“But I have to be there for her. Aunt Birdie doesn’t have anyone else.” Her voice was filled with worry.
“She has me.”