Nana winced and, if possible, Pops’s face went even paler.

“Okay, okay,” Jess said, guiding him away from the bed and to a chair. “Let’s have you sit down, and I’ll see what’s happening. Have they given her anything for pain?”

His fingers trembled as he pushed them through his thin, fluffy hair. “I think in the IV.”

“I’ll be right back,” Jess said, and leaned in so Nana could see her. “Nana Jo, I’ll be right back.”

Jess stopped the first nurse she saw in the hallway. “Excuse me, I was just in room 213. Can you tell me what’s happening with Joanne Davis?”

“You’re family?”

“I’m her granddaughter, yes.”

“We’ve given her some pain meds and are expecting her X-ray results any second.” The nurse pointed to a woman in blue scrubs striding down the hall toward them. “Dr. Reynolds is coming. She’ll talk you through it.”

Dr. Reynolds returned with Jess to the room, where Pops had moved his chair over to the bed and resumed holding Nana’s hand. Sweat beaded her brow, and it was clear that she was in pain but working valiantly to hide it.

Dr. Reynolds greeted Nana and Pops, and a new nurse took Nana’s vitals. Clipping the X-ray film to a lighted board, the physician explained that Nana had a subtrochanteric fracture, between the two bony protrusions of the femur.

“We’ll have to operate,” she explained. “We’ll put in a rod that goes down here.” Dr. Reynolds drew along the image with her fingertip. “And a screw that goes up into your hip. Yours won’t be that long because your fracture is pretty high. It’ll probably go to about here.” She traced a finger over the X-ray where the metal rod would end. “And then you’ll have another rod that will go up through the fracture into your hip. This is stronger than your actual bone, so you’ll be able to walk and get up and move around pretty quickly. But no more bowling for at least eight weeks.”

“How long will she be here?” Pops asked.

“Let’s say five days if everything goes as planned and you’re able to work on mobility quickly. Possibly sooner.” Dr. Reynolds shrugged. “Or longer if there are complications or we have other concerns.”

Jess’s stomach dropped. She imagined Pops sleeping in the stiff hospital chair every night until Nana was discharged and knew he would be miserable. But she tried to imagine him at home while Nana was here, and that seemed even less likely. If he and Jess could take turns being with Nana, she might be able to convince him to eat, to rest, to take care of himself. Jess glanced at her watch, mentally rearranging deadlines and schedules and pickups.

Panic bubbled up: Juno was out of school in less than an hour.

The doctor left, and Nana’s eyes were heavy from sedation.

“Pops,” Jess whispered. “I need to make some calls, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He nodded, numb, and she excused herself to the hall. Her safety net had a hole in it: Fizzy was in LA. Nana and Pops were obviously indisposed. She scrolled through her contacts, feeling very, very alone. Pausing on her mom’s name, Jess sifted through every possible outcome. Jamie would be on time, but smoking. She’d be late, and Juno would be alone and worried. Jamie would be on time, not smoking, but would fill Juno’s head with weird criticisms and jabs. She’d be on time, not smoking, wouldn’t fill Juno’s head with garbage, but would find the open bottle of wine in Jess’s fridge and figure why not.