catwalk instead of perusing charts. Beside Wendy, Eddie shifted uncomfortably, and Wendy felt a flash of irritation. Just that morning he'd been declaring his undying love and now he was shifting so the long tails of his overshirt covered his lap. Wendy snorted.
The doctor's eyes flicked over the room, pausing a moment to consider the neighboring side, and then she smiled apologetically. “Sorry to interrupt, but I'm here on my rounds.”
“No problem,” Wendy said, rising. It didn't seem as if the doctor had overheard them, but the last thing she wanted was another person thinking she was crazy. “I'm Wendy.” She glanced at the bed and the emaciated shape of the woman beneath the sheets. “This is my mom.”
“Oh, you're one of Mary's daughters?” The doctor crossed the room in three quick strides and offered her hand. When Wendy took it she pumped brusquely twice and dropped it. Her palm was hot to the touch. “I'm Emma Henley. I'll be assisting Dr. Shumacker on your mother's case during my residency.”
“Nice gig,” Eddie interjected. “Liking it so far?”
Emma looked coolly down her long nose at him. “Yes.”
“Don't mind Eddie,” Wendy said. “He's an old family friend, and my ride out here. Dad leaves me the car, but I don't like driving around the city and Eds is good company.”
“Yes,” Emma said, glancing at her clipboard and moving to the side of the bed. “I met your father yesterday. Very nice man. He's well-liked around here.”
The soul of the woman in the neighboring bed drifted closer and peered at the clipboard. “Where are my charts?” she asked, waving her arms wildly. “Where is my boyfriend? He was driving. Is he here? Can I see him? Why won't anyone talk to me, damnit. ?!”
One of her flailing hands passed through the clipboard. Wendy tensed; sometimes the living could feel the cold when the dead or dying were near. The doctor, concentrating on the papers in front of her, didn't seem to notice anything amiss.
“Well, that's Dad, you know,” Wendy said brightly. “He's always been, you know, super friendly.” She paused, struggling for a way to answer the soul's question without appearing morbid. “Looks like there's a new neighbor for my mom, huh?”
“Hmm?” Emma glanced up. “Oh, yes. Things were busy in here for a few days, guests coming and going.”
“Car accident?”
Emma raised one slim, perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I really can't say.”
“Right, right,” Wendy agreed. “Silly me. It's just, uh, I got a look at her and it doesn't look like…it just looks like an accident.” Beside her the soul sobbed softly, tangled blonde hair dangling into nothing as she wept, over and over: Please-please-please.
“Accidents happen,” Emma agreed and slipped to the left to examine a read-out on one of the beeping machines. “All too often, I'm afraid.”
“That's life,” Wendy said, giving up any attempt at subtlety. “Look, I know you can't tell me anything, and I know this is going to sound so very grotesque, but can you tell me if her boyfriend survived? Whatever accident it was, I mean?”
The doctor stiffened and for a moment Wendy was certain she'd gone too far with her questions; Dr. Henley was going to order her out of her mother's room or perhaps call security to escort her off the premises. Then the doctor sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“Wendy,” Emma said slowly, “why do you care? Do you know Lauren?” She winced. “The patient, I mean?”
At the sound of her name the soul wept harder, shivering from the effort.
“No,” Wendy replied carefully, “but if I'd been in a big accident like that, one that landed me in a coma, Eddie'd be here every free moment, like my dad is for my mom.”
“And how do you know that she doesn't have people in here every evening?” Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “School's only just let out for the day. Most working stiffs don't get off at three, you know.”
“The chairs
The doctor's eyes flicked over the room, pausing a moment to consider the neighboring side, and then she smiled apologetically. “Sorry to interrupt, but I'm here on my rounds.”
“No problem,” Wendy said, rising. It didn't seem as if the doctor had overheard them, but the last thing she wanted was another person thinking she was crazy. “I'm Wendy.” She glanced at the bed and the emaciated shape of the woman beneath the sheets. “This is my mom.”
“Oh, you're one of Mary's daughters?” The doctor crossed the room in three quick strides and offered her hand. When Wendy took it she pumped brusquely twice and dropped it. Her palm was hot to the touch. “I'm Emma Henley. I'll be assisting Dr. Shumacker on your mother's case during my residency.”
“Nice gig,” Eddie interjected. “Liking it so far?”
Emma looked coolly down her long nose at him. “Yes.”
“Don't mind Eddie,” Wendy said. “He's an old family friend, and my ride out here. Dad leaves me the car, but I don't like driving around the city and Eds is good company.”
“Yes,” Emma said, glancing at her clipboard and moving to the side of the bed. “I met your father yesterday. Very nice man. He's well-liked around here.”
The soul of the woman in the neighboring bed drifted closer and peered at the clipboard. “Where are my charts?” she asked, waving her arms wildly. “Where is my boyfriend? He was driving. Is he here? Can I see him? Why won't anyone talk to me, damnit. ?!”
One of her flailing hands passed through the clipboard. Wendy tensed; sometimes the living could feel the cold when the dead or dying were near. The doctor, concentrating on the papers in front of her, didn't seem to notice anything amiss.
“Well, that's Dad, you know,” Wendy said brightly. “He's always been, you know, super friendly.” She paused, struggling for a way to answer the soul's question without appearing morbid. “Looks like there's a new neighbor for my mom, huh?”
“Hmm?” Emma glanced up. “Oh, yes. Things were busy in here for a few days, guests coming and going.”
“Car accident?”
Emma raised one slim, perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I really can't say.”
“Right, right,” Wendy agreed. “Silly me. It's just, uh, I got a look at her and it doesn't look like…it just looks like an accident.” Beside her the soul sobbed softly, tangled blonde hair dangling into nothing as she wept, over and over: Please-please-please.
“Accidents happen,” Emma agreed and slipped to the left to examine a read-out on one of the beeping machines. “All too often, I'm afraid.”
“That's life,” Wendy said, giving up any attempt at subtlety. “Look, I know you can't tell me anything, and I know this is going to sound so very grotesque, but can you tell me if her boyfriend survived? Whatever accident it was, I mean?”
The doctor stiffened and for a moment Wendy was certain she'd gone too far with her questions; Dr. Henley was going to order her out of her mother's room or perhaps call security to escort her off the premises. Then the doctor sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“Wendy,” Emma said slowly, “why do you care? Do you know Lauren?” She winced. “The patient, I mean?”
At the sound of her name the soul wept harder, shivering from the effort.
“No,” Wendy replied carefully, “but if I'd been in a big accident like that, one that landed me in a coma, Eddie'd be here every free moment, like my dad is for my mom.”
“And how do you know that she doesn't have people in here every evening?” Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “School's only just let out for the day. Most working stiffs don't get off at three, you know.”
“The chairs
Similar Books
