Eye of the Storm (Hudson 3)

"So you can sit in that chair now and not rest,

and even wheel yourself up and down the hallway

until your arms ache, but you'll have a better time of it

if you lay down here a while, get some strength back,

have something warm to eat and then start to readjust. "That's my piece. Do what you want," she

added and started out. "I got to get your stuff." Her harsh, frank words brought tears to my

eyes. Doctor Synder had warned me that tears would

come far more often and easily now. She told me not

to pay as much attention to them as I ordinarily

would, but it was difficult to feel those hot drops

zigzagging down my cheeks and pretend it was

nothing. My heart ached more with every heavy beat.

I didn't feel broken as much as empty. Everything

warm and good inside me had been knocked out when

I fell off Rain and onto those rocks.

I sat there staring at the starched white sheets

and pillowcases of my bed. When Jake was driving

me home. I had been looking forward to the soft,

cushiony pillows with their scent of lilacs and the

wonderful down comforter that made me feel snug

and safe. Looking around the room that Aunt Victoria

had remade for me left me feeling she had brought the

hospital in here and I hadn't returned to Grandmother

Hudson's home and my home after all.

The small raft of optimism I had tied to the

dock in my harbor of hope seemed to fizzle and sink

in the cold, dark waves again. In fact. I could feel my

body slumping in the chair. my shoulders dipping. Mrs. Bogart was right. I thought. Why bother

pretending nothing terrible had happened? I wheeled

up to the bed. Reached out and pressed the button to