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Back Nana Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Title page
  2. Prologue
  3. Part One
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. Part Two
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. Part Three
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. Get on the Mailing List!
  69. Also by Brandon Massey
  70. About Brandon Massey

Monica felt like screaming at her mother. Grace’s empty platitudes about willpower weren’t going to do a damned thing for her. Meanwhile, Grace looked unreasonably stunning: smooth skinned and vibrant, younger than ever. Monica didn’t know how it was possible for a woman her age to look so amazing, but she envied her.

That morning, when Troy had left the house for work, Monica had seen him pass by Grace in the kitchen. His gaze had lingered on her mother, while her mother had smiled, as if she shared some sort of secret with Troy. That look that passed between them had made Monica deeply uncomfortable, and an unspeakable thought had surfaced in her mind.

Could the two of them have . . . no, absolutely not, never.

“This condition I may have,” Monica said, indicating the laptop display. “I think it may be Werner syndrome. Do you know anything about this? Ever heard about anything similar in our family tree? Maybe one of my sisters, or their children?”

“I’ve never heard of such an affliction in our family,” Grace said.

“Can we call my sisters?” Monica asked. “I’d been meaning to ask you about that but there’s been so much going on. I’d love to talk to them, not only about this illness of mine, but about . . . well, everything. Do you have their phone numbers?”

“I’d have to find them in my phone book. Perhaps later, dear.” Grace clucked her tongue. “I’m so concerned about you. I wish I could fix this for you, but I am utterly mystified by your unfortunate condition.”

Monica’s shoulders slumped. She shifted back to her computer.

“I’ve got to keep looking,” she said.

“I admire your spirit,” Grace said. “Have some tea, child. It will help ease your mind.”

“If that’s the tea you normally give me, I’ll pass. It makes me feel fuzzy. I need to stay focused so I can research.” Monica rested her fingers on the keyboard and concentrated on the display.

“Then you leave me no alternative but to do this,” Grace said.

“Huh?” Puzzled, Monica glanced at her mother.

Grace’s tongue shot out of her mouth and stung Monica’s face.

42

Troy got the call while at work. Shock hammered him so hard that he registered only fragments of what his mother’s colleague told him.

Dr. Stephens, your mother . . . hit by a truck . . . critical condition . . . please come.

With barely any awareness of what he was doing, he was running out of the hospital and scrambling into his car; he roared across the streets, recklessly breaking traffic laws. He tried calling Monica, at home and on her cell, but she didn’t answer. He punched the steering wheel. What the hell was she doing?

Somehow, he arrived at Grady Memorial Hospital in downtown Atlanta without incident. He raced inside.