Waiting for the Moon

She felt herself floating toward the light. It beckoned and drew her forward. Very slowly, she opened her eyes. The light hurt. She blinked hard and tried to see the world around her, but everything was gray and dismal and hazy. Blurry and out of focus. Nothing familiar.

"Ohmygod ... get doctorcarrick."

People swarmed around her, their voices a great cacophony of frightening sound. She shrank into the comforting familiarity of the bed, clutching the lacy hem of the quilt.

The blurry strangers moved closer, so close that she could hear the muffled pattern of their breathing. Heels clicked on the floor, a knee banged the bed frame. They stared down at her, making noises, their mouths opening and closing, their fingers pointing down at her. Meaningless noise. Gibberish. She closed her eyes and tried to find the darkness again, but this time it was deep, deep inside her. And the light felt so good on her skin.

"Isshe stillawake?"

"He'shere." There was a burst of sound, a shuffling movement of the small crowd.

She writhed fitfully, afraid and hurting. Everywhere, pain. Her throat was on fire, and her head pounded. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing they would be quiet, wishing they would leave her alone, wishing?

"Wellhellothere Selena. You'reback." 43

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A great, soothing sense of calm moved through her at the sound of that voice. The tension in her taut body eased, her fingers unfurled slowly, shaking from the effort it had taken to keep them clenched. God. The angel who'd saved her.

She opened her eyes slowly. This time she could almost focus. The people were staring at her with worried looks on their faces, but they were farther back now, giving her room to breathe. Strangers, she thought. Strangers . . .

God was in the center of them all. He moved toward her, his breathlessly handsome face cast in an easy, reassuring smile. Very gently, he sat beside her on the bed. She felt the mattress dip heavily beneath his weight, heard the planks beneath it groan quietly.

"You gaveus quite ascare."

She didn't understand the sounds he was making, but the tone of his voice, so soft and caring and familiar, made her shiver in response. She felt an overwhelming surge of emotion for this golden man, this god who'd talked her through the darkness and touched her with such kindness. That hot, stinging moisture came back to her eyes.

"Don'tcry Selena. Don'tcry." His finger brushed the wetness away.

The words were lovely, as lyrical as a melody. She wanted to lean forward, to press her hands against his chest and feel the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of his heart. Behind him, the strangers moved in closer.

God turned to them. "Do you mind?"

In the single heartbeat that he turned away from her, she felt colder, lonelier. The sense of fear returned, became a low pounding in her blood.

Don't leave me. The words blossomed in her mind, full-blown and understood. She tried desperately to say them, to plead with him to crawl beneath the bedclothes with her and never turn away again, but somewhere be-

tween her brain and her mouth, the words mangled, became a croaking mush of hoarse sound.

He turned back to her, smile

d, and became even more exquisite. "It'sokay. Youneedn't speak."

Speak. Something about the sounds, speak, seemed familiar. It was a word. The sudden perception stunned her. A word, she thought, trying to fit the pieces together and failing miserably. A word that had some meaning.

She frowned. It was important that she remember, but she couldn't.

He brushed the hair from her eyes, and it felt so good. She didn't want to think about words that meant nothing. She closed her eyes to savor his touch, and realized only after he'd withdrawn it that something was wrong. Her hair felt ... matted. For the first time, she wondered how she looked. Was she worthy of this god's attention? Did she look like a fallen angel herself, sheathed in the pale ivory of the bed linens, her hair splayed out along her arms?

She couldn't imagine what she looked like, couldn't draw a single image of herself, not eye color or skin color or anything. But it didn't matter. She saw herself reflected in God's blue, blue eyes and knew that she pleased him.

"You didit doctorcarrick. You saved her."

Saved. It was another word she almost understood. The meaning taunted her, teased her consciousness with strange, unconnected images?a bank building, a cookie jar, a cross with a half-naked man nailed to it. Saved. Saved.