Miles pulled out onto the highway. "So," he cleared his throat. "Do you feel up to chatting a little bit? I'm used to talking to Gramps while I drive, and it would help me stay alert if you don't mind."
"Sure," Jules said. "I don't mind at all." She slipped her converse off and pulled her feet up into her seat and hugged her knees against herself.
Miles smiled, his eyes warming into soft creases at each corner. "What are some of your hobbies?"
"I like to paint, draw, read, and listen to music. And take long walks. What about you?"
"Wait, you paint?"

Jules drove back to her house after the fellowship meal had ended. She packed fairly quickly, but felt listless and too tired to make the drive just yet. The half-empty container of jellybeans was calling to her from the kitchen pantry. She decided to fill a smaller container with them and put it in her bag.

Greta stopped popping jellybeans into her mouth and sat up straight. She chewed her mouthful of candy the rest of the way and swallowed before looking her friend square in the eye. "Jules... what do you mean by 'complete'?"
Jules sighed quietly and reached for another handful of popcorn before replying. "Well, I mean exactly that: complete. I have a full life, Greta; especially now. I don't feel like my days are lacking just because I'm not in a relationship. I mean, I have occasional days where I feel a little lonely. Don't we all? But for the most part I'm content. Complete."

Dear son,

You are only a year old, but I know who you are. You are kind, brave, sweet, caring, strong, and fun. Throughout your life, you may grow tired and unsure of what to do. In those times,believe in who you are.

You may say something mean to someone. You may break a heart, or a promise. You might abuse a person. In those moments, you are not being yourself. Remember that you are kind. Go to that person, apologize for forgetting yourself, and do what you can to make it right.

"Jules?"
"Mm?" She licked her dry, cracked lips and yawned, kicking the blanket off of her lap while she swung her feet around to touch the floor. She rubbed her eyes. "Wait, where am I?"
Greta smiled. "You're still in the waiting room."

Jules rushed into the kitchen and gasped for breath. "Kevin, he's not waking up! He's breathing, and he has a pulse, but he's not waking up. Should I call 911?"
"Yes! Yes. Or would it be faster for us to take him to the hospital ourselves?"

Jules sat on the edge of the counter, a dazed look on her face. She brought her hand up to her heart, trying to still its wild beating. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye.
Kevin reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay, Jules?" His voice held genuine concern.
"I don't know. Yes... no. I'll be okay. I just need to wrap my brain around this. What is she doing now? Is she clean? Do you know?"
"No, I mean, last I heard she was a few months clean. But Jules, that was twelve years ago."
"Do you have contact information for her?"

Jules tossed and turned for a while before flinging her covers off. She swung her feet down into the soft carpet and sighed, rubbing her forehead. After flicking on her bedside lamp, she reached for the leather-backed book. She began to thumb through its pages before setting it down again. Jules wrapped her flannel robe around her and pattered quietly down the stairs, pausing to sit on the landing. She huddled there in the dark, burying her chin in her knees with her arms wrapped around her legs. A gentle hand touched her shoulder and she almost jumped out of her skin.

Jules and Duncan pulled into the hospital parking garage right at 1:00 in the afternoon. The drive there had been pleasant. It was late March in Texas, and the wild daisies and verbena were already popping up along the freeway. They were speckled with Indian paintbrushes and glimpses of waxy buttercups. Bluebonnets would be making their virgin appearance soon.
Jules slung her purse over her shoulder. She chatted cheerfully with Duncan while they walked towards Margaret's rooms. "Hey Grandad, could we drive to Burnet next month for the Bluebonnet Festival? Please?"

Minutes had turned to hours, and Martin was still stretched out on his cot in the corner of the little hospital room. Jules took a peek at him. He was sound asleep, his black hair making his face look even more pale than it already was. She noted the dark circles forming around his eyelids with a bit of concern. He had never been able to handle stress very well, and this was the worst she had seen him. If he wasn't careful to rest he'd need a caretaker, too. She heard a sigh from behind her, and turned her attention back towards the hospital bed. She spoke softly. "Margaret?"