Hart's Hollow Farm (New Americana 4)

“Don’t worry, Sadie.” She brushed the little girl’s bangs back and tapped her chin. “Your nana’s tough. She’s going to pull through this just fine.”

The words were hard to say and even more difficult to emphasize with a hopeful smile.

Kristen turned away and focused on the double doors again. Please, please let her be okay.

“Ms. Kristen?”

Biting her lip, she faced Sadie again. “Hmm?”

“What if she’s not?” Sadie’s chin trembled. “What if she got too cold, like Uncle Mitch said?”

Kristen’s heels tapped to a nervous rhythm on the linoleum floor, her knees bouncing with each movement. “She was cold,” she said gently, “but Mitch got her here quickly, and I’m sure they’re taking good care of her. We just have to be patient, and we have to . . .” She swallowed hard. “We have to hope for the best and be strong for your uncle Mitch.”

Because he was worried—incredibly so. Kristen cringed, recalling the ashen pallor of his skin when he’d greeted them after they first arrived. His arms had trembled around her as he embraced her, and a pained look had appeared in his eyes as he struggled to smile down at Sadie and Dylan.

“I can do that,” Sadie said, leaning her head against Kristen’s shoulder.

Heart aching, Kristen hugged her close and managed a smile. “I know you can. You’re a strong young lady. Your uncle Mitch and I are proud of you.”

“Ms. Kristen?” Sadie’s head shifted against her as she glanced up. Her small mouth moved to speak; then she hesitated. Finally, she stretched up toward Kristen, cupped her hand around Kristen’s ear and whispered, “I love you.”

Her vision blurred, and blinking rapidly, Kristen kissed her forehead, then whispered back, “I love you, too, Sadie.”

It was a strange mix of pain and joy—saying “I love you” to a little girl who wasn’t Anna. Holding Sadie in her arms, as if she were her own daughter. Kristen had no idea if the pain would ever completely disappear, but for the moment, it had faded.

The double doors swept open, and the nurse reentered. “Mrs. Hart?” She scanned the room, and her eyes came to rest on Kristen’s face. “Mrs. Kristen Hart?”

“I . . .” Kristen rose slowly, a warm sensation unfurling in her veins. “I’m Kristen.”

The nurse smiled. “You can come back now. Mrs. Emmy’s anxious to see you.”

Kristen hesitated then smiled at Sadie as she said, “Wait here with Dylan, please. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Sadie nodded.

Pulling in a deep breath, Kristen followed the nurse down the long, winding corridor. They turned left, then right, then left again before coming to a stop in front of a patient’s room labeled thirty-nine. The nurse knocked, and after Mitch, his tone deep, issued an invitation, she opened the door and stepped back, motioning for Kristen to enter.

As hospital rooms went, this one was roomy. There were two lounge chairs positioned on the right side of the room, and a wide set of windows lined the opposite wall. Sunlight streamed through the open blinds and pooled on the white sheets covering the bed.

“Kristen.” A frail hand lifted, and heavily veined fingers splayed toward her, beckoning her closer.

Emmy lay beneath the sheet, her frame slight and gray hair curling at her temples. But her eyes were clear and focused on Kristen’s face with recognition.

Legs shaking, Kristen took one step forward, then another, heavy shivers racking her body until her composure cracked and heaving sobs escaped her.

Mitch moved away from his position beside the bed, and his arm wound around her waist before he led her to a chair next to Emmy. “She’s okay.” He spoke gently, his lips brushing her cheek. “She’s been asking for you for a while now.”

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After easing into the chair, Kristen reached out and slipped her hand into Emmy’s. Her sobs increased when Emmy’s soft palm smoothed over her hair in a gentle repetitive motion. A door clicked softly behind her as Mitch exited.

Minutes later, after she’d caught her breath and her crying had calmed, Kristen raised her head.

Emmy smiled, despite the tears shining in her eyes. “We’re a pitiful pair, aren’t we? Me with my weak, obstinate mind. And you with your hidden secret.” Her smile widened. “Guess that’s just how us Harts are.”

Kristen wiped her cheek with the back of her palm, then looked down and studied Emmy’s hand clutching hers. “How do you know about that?”

“I’ve seen and felt pain before,” she said. “It’s in your eyes. Noticed it the moment I first met you. Reminds me of when I lost my Joe.” Her tone softened. “What have you lost, Kristen?”