One to Take (One to Hold 8)

Scanning the room, I try to find a notepad or anything I can use to write my question. Seeing nothing, I drop my head back on the pillow and sigh. Frustration aches in my chest, and more tears slide down my cheeks.

The nurse takes my pulse, warm fingers clamped on each side of the bone. I lie back and wait. She listens to my heartbeat, and with the scope on my skin, our eyes meet. Hers frown.

“Does something hurt?”

The wounds in my arm and hip are muted, and my head is only a dull ache. Clearly I’ve been given some sort of painkilling drugs. I just want to know how long I’ve been here. I want to know where Stuart is, how long he’s been away, and when I can go home.

Sylvia returns to my side with a cup, holding the straw to let me sip. Setting it aside, she covers my hand with hers. Worry lines her face.

“How… long?” I whisper.

Her brow lines, and she glances at the nurse. “Umm… Good news. You only have to stay another day or two.”

Shaking my head, I try again. “What day… is it?”

“Wednesday,” Sylvia says.

Nodding, I close my eyes. Four days. I’ve been here four days. Amy was supposed to go home on Sunday. Opening my eyes again, I scan the room. No sign of her anywhere. The last I remember she was screaming. Jessie was screaming. My eyes squeeze shut against that memory.

It feels like she was here. I seem to remember her voice in the room. “Amy?”

“She went to the house to shower and change, but she’ll be back. She rescheduled her flight so she could stay until you came home.”

That only leaves one missing person, and my heart breaks at having to ask. “Stuart?”

Her eyes drop, and the ache in my chest twists harder. More tears fall onto my cheeks as I accept the worst. He’s not here. He’s gone. Ignoring the pull of the tubes, I roll onto my side and tuck my chin into my chest. My arms are bent, and I do my best to cover my face as I cry.

I’d forgotten the nurse until she breaks the silence. “Let me move this stand.” She does something and the pressure eases on my IV. “I’ll leave you two alone. Let me know if she needs anything.”

A few moments pass, and I hear the clicking of my door close. The side of my bed indents, and the warmth of a body is behind me on the bed. Sylvia’s arm goes above my head, and she strokes the hair away from my cheek. I only lower my chin more, trying to hide my face in the thin blanket.

“Bill went to find him,” she says softly, continuing to stroke my hair. Nothing is comforting to me. “He hates when I say this, but Stuart is so much like his father.”

I don’t even know what to do with that, so I don’t answer. “When we lost Sophie, he was gone for weeks,” she sighs. “I guess he thought by staying away he was giving me room to grieve? I never knew why he did what he did.”

The feeling is very mutual, I think ruefully. Only I do understand Stuart. He goes away because he has to, and the worst thing I could do is go after him. I learned it from our first days together, the days when he would tell me over and over he was leaving, not to set my sites on him. Now it’s so much worse than before. Pain, frustration, heartbreak, loss—all of it twists into a rock in the center of my chest. I have to wait until he comes to me, if he ever does.

“He loves you.” She rubs my arm. “If he didn’t he’d never have tried to shoot that poor horse.”

I jolt at her words. Lifting my chin, I look over my shoulder at her. “No,” I whisper, straining my voice. “She didn’t mean to hurt me. She was afraid.” The pain is too much, and tears are again in my eyes. “It wasn’t her fault…”

“Shh,” Sylvia whispers. “I know. Bill will find him. It’s going to be okay.”

Slumping back onto the bed, I close my eyes against a new flood of tears. He tried to kill my horse. He probably wishes he could kill me for going into that pen, being irresponsible. Well, trust me. I paid for that mistake.

I can still see Jessie’s black eyes wild with fear. I can still hear Amy screaming. I can still feel the shuddering panic as I realize I won’t be able to open the door with my injured arm.

I can still see my little girl dancing away from me across the grass. I see her lovely wings extending as she takes flight, and my heart is left behind in my chest, hollow and dead. If only she’d taken me with her.

When I open my eyes again, Amy is back. She’s standing with her mother talking to the nurse who’d taken my pulse and helped me earlier. The stinging tube is gone from my arm. All the tubes are gone, and a plastic tray of food is on a table beside my bed. My stomach rumbles with hunger. Pushing against the mattress, I sit up, and they all turn to face me.

“Look at you!” the still-happy nurse says with a smile. I can’t return it. “The doctor said you’d be ready today, but I was

n’t sure.”

“Ready for what?” My voice is better, stronger.

“Do you feel like eating your lunch?” she asks.