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.He tried to smile back, but his lips were too dry and cracked.“Do you want a drink?”He nodded, and then she was slipping a bent straw between his dry lips.He sucked the moisture in and winced at even so slight a movement.“Just sleep, Rick.You need your rest.”“No.I slept enough.” He forced his eyes open.Forced himself to concentrate on her face.So pretty.“What happened?”“You hit a deer on the highway.” Becky fussed with the sheets across his chest, smoothing them down.In spite of his pain, the motions comforted him.“My Jeep?”“Sorry, Rick.It’s totaled.”He didn’t care.He chanced a movement and lifted his right hand and grasped Becky’s.“Thanks for being here.”She squeezed ever so gently and covered his hand with her other one.“How long—” He stopped as a fresh wave of pain washed over him.Becky misinterpreted his grimace and lowered his hand to his side.But he shook his head and tightened his grip on her hand.“Don’t let go.Please.”“You’ve been in the hospital for two days now.”Shock pushed him up into awareness and pain followed, biting and sharp.“That long?” Vague snatches of memory drifted through his mind.He remembered forcing his eyes open for seconds at a time.Seeing Becky standing beside him.Sitting.Sleeping in the chair.Her head on the bed beside him.Always there.He moved his head again, surprised to see various bouquets of flowers lining the windowsill of his room.“Where did those come from?”“The staff of the magazine, people from church.My family.Katherine Dubowsky.Our minister.They all came to visit you.”He frowned, then remembered other voices.People coming and going.One voice praying.The minister.“Why would they do that?”“Because that’s what people do around here.” Becky walked over to a large fruit basket.“And these came from your grandfather.He was here this morning, but he said you were still out of it.”Rick just stared at the huge arrangement, wrapped up in cellophane, topped with a red bow.“I can open it for you,” Becky said.Rick shook his head, trying to understand.“Were you here when he came?”Becky fussed with the bow, her agitated movements making the cellophane rustle.“He stopped by the house this morning.He asked me to call him when you were lucid.But I wanted to tell you first.”Rick remembered another hospital at another time in his life.He was fifteen and getting his appendix out after a vicious attack at the boarding school.His only visitors were two friends who had skipped school to come and see him.His grandfather had been conspicuously absent.As he took in the flowers, the cards, melancholy unfurled through his pain.“I’m surprised he bothered to take time out of his busy schedule to come.”“You’re his grandson, Rick.”“That only seems to have occurred to him in the past few years.” Rick couldn’t keep the bitter note out of his voice.A reflection of the relationship, or lack of it, that he had with Colson Ethier.“He seemed sad.”He caught the fleeting glimpse of sorrow in Becky’s features, but then she was smiling at him.“So how does that happen?” he asked, nodding his chin at the flowers, changing the subject.“I’ve made enemies at the paper, enemies in the community.”“Not enemies, Rick.Just people who didn’t agree with you.At first.”“And at second?”“You’ve been right, as well.”“That must hurt to admit.”“You don’t know how much.” Becky’s smile slipped past her serious expression and he felt again the pernicious tug of attraction.The edges of his mind grew fuzzy again.He fought it.Becky was here and he wanted to talk to her.To make up for something he knew was wrong between them.“You’ve been here before.I remember.”“Yes, I have.” Then to his surprise she gently feathered her fingers over his forehead, brushing his hair back.He sighed at her touch, his memory of the events before the accident scribbling past the sensations he felt.“We had a fight, didn’t we?”She only nodded, biting her lip.A tear traced a slight silvery track down her cheek.“I’m sorry, Rick.I’m so sorry,” she whispered.He swallowed and closed his eyes again, his thoughts blurring.He fought it.“I shouldn’t have…” He couldn’t remember what he shouldn’t have.Only that a sense of wrongdoing on his part poked through the vague memories of that night.“I want to make things right.”“It doesn’t matter, Rick.Don’t worry about it.”Disquiet gnawed at him, and he tried to lift his head.“Please tell me.”Becky laid her hand on his head.“I will.Later.”He glanced around, still feeling uneasy.Vulnerable.Two days ago he’d been walking around in charge.Now he lay immobile in a hospital bed, pain trumping thought.Then he saw the Bible lying on his bedside and he thought of the voices he’d heard.“Can you read to me, Becky.Please? From the Bible?” He wanted to hear her voice reading the same verses he remembered his mother reading to him.“From Psalm 23.”He heard the faint rustling of pages.Becky cleared her throat and he glanced sidelong at her image, blurred by the swelling in his eye.The muted light softened her features, lit her hair with a warm glow.“‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…’” she read quietly, her voice soothing, evoking images of care and love.And as she read, a gentle peace stole over him.He reached out to her and without looking up, she took his hand.When the Psalm was done, she set the Bible aside.Then to his surprise, she got up and brushed her lips across his forehead.“I have to go now, but I’ll be back tomorrow.”“Don’t cancel anything for me, Becky.”She smiled down at him.“I’ve canceled everything for you.” And without another word, she turned and left.“I checked with the nurse.” Gladys Hemple set a plate of assorted squares on Rick’s bedside table [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]