Dearest - George Harrison Fan Fiction - Beatles Fan Fiction

Chapter One, Part Two - You Can Make It Anywhere.

Florence opened the refrigerator door. She placed a pan of tuna casserole inside. On top of the foil was a note in her impeccable handwriting with instructions on reheating the meal. Hearing the ringing of the phone, she walked out of the kitchen and into the living room to answer the call. "Grant residence."

George smiled. "Hello, Florence. How're you?"

"Calling at a decent hour for once." She dryly pointed out.

George laughed. Florence was a quick-witted, no-nonsense woman. She reminded George of his mum.

"I'm well. How are you?"

"Feeling a bit under the weather, to be honest."

Ever the nurse, Florence questioned. "Are you warm? Upset stomach?"

"Yes, and my throat feels sore." He drained the last sips from his 7Up bottle.

"Are you able to keep down food?" She wanted to pinpoint the issue to offer helpful solutions.

"I felt queasy on the plane ride over, but I've kept down what I've eaten. Drinking pop helps to settle my stomach."

"It could be nerves. That might explain the issues with your stomach, but your other symptoms lead me to believe it's more than that. You should see a doctor."

"I don't think it's anything serious." George needed to believe he wasn't getting ill. But, he was feeling progressively worse.

She checked her wristwatch. "If I had more time, I'd give you a good talking to about receiving care. I need to leave for my evening shift at Bellevue. Annette isn't here."

"Will you tell her I phoned?"

"I'll leave a note." Hearing the sound of the key in the lock, she turned her attention to the apartment door.

Annette stepped inside, teary-eyed and visibly shaken. She spoke weakly. "Dad is still at the office."

"Is that Annette? Could you put her on?"

Florence covered the mouthpiece with her palm and lowered the phone from her ear. "Did you have one of your nervous episodes?"

"I'm fine," Annette smiled tight-lipped. She placed her portable typewriter case onto the coffee table.

"Hello?" George pressed the receiver closer to his ear.

She slipped the strap of her purse off her shoulder and dropped it onto the sofa. "Who is that on the phone?" Annette took off her coat and tossed it on top of her purse.

"It's George. I'll tell him you'll call him back."

She motioned for her mother to give her the phone.

Florence handed it over reluctantly. "Let's talk tomorrow morning when I come home?" She tenderly rubbed her arm.

Annette pressed the phone against her side. "It's nothing, really."

She pressed a quick kiss to the side of her daughter's face and gently patted her back. "There's a casserole in the refrigerator for dinner."

Annette watched her mother grab her coat and purse on the way out of their apartment before she placed the phone against her ear. "Hello, George?" She spoke trembly.

His thick eyebrows lowered into a concerned expression. "What's wrong, love?"

Unable to sit or stand still, she picked up the bulky rotary phone and paced the living room.

Nette?" George frowned, he knew Annette only sounded this way when she was upset. "Did something happen? Is that why you didn't come to see me?"

"I just couldn't."