mostly girls from school.
It doesn't matter. He'll call later. I don't have to think now.
As a matter of fact, it was impossible to think with so many visitors in the room. And that was good. It was incredible that Poppy could sit there and talk to them when part of her was farther away than Nep tune, but she did talk and that kept her brain turned off.
None of them had any idea that something serious was wrong with her. Not even Phil, who was at his brotherly best, very kind and considerate. They talked about ordinary things, about parties and Roll erblading and music and books. Things from Poppy's old life, which suddenly seemed to have been a hundred years ago.
Cliff talked, too, nicer than he had been since the days when he was courting Poppy's mother.
But finally the visitors left, and Poppy's mother stayed. She touched Poppy every so often with hands that shook slightly. If I didn't know, I'd know, Poppy thought. She isn't acting like Mom at all.
"I think I'll stay here tonight," her mother said. Not quite managing to sound offhand. "The nurse said I can sleep on the window seat; it's really a couch for parents. I'm just trying to decide whether I should run back to the house and get some things."
"Yes, go," Poppy said. There was nothing else she could say and still pretend that she didn't know. Be sides, her mom undoubtedly needed some time by herself, away from this.
Just as her mother left, a nurse in a flowered blouse and green scrub pants came in to take Poppy's temperature and blood pressure. And then Poppy was alone.
It was late. She could still hear a TV, but it was far away. The door was ajar, but the hallway outside was dim. A hush seemed to have fallen over the ward.
She felt very alone, and the pain was gnawing deep inside her. Beneath the smooth skin of her abdomen, the tumor was making itself known.
Worst of all, James hadn't called. How could he not call? Didn't he know she needed him?
She wasn't sure how long she could go on not thinking about It.
Maybe the best thing would be to try to sleep. Get unconscious. Then she couldn't think.
But as soon as she turned out the light and closed her eyes, phantoms swirled around her. Not images of pretty bald girls; skeletons. Coffins. And worst of all, an endless darkness.
If I die, I won't be here. Will I be anywhere? Or will I just Not Be at all?
It was the scariest thing she'd ever imagined, Not Being. And she was definitely thinking now, she couldn't help it. She'd lost control. A galloping fear consumed her, made her shiver under the rough sheet and thin blankets. I'm going to die, I'm going to
die, I'm going to
"Poppy"
Her eyes flew open. For a second she couldn't identify the black silhouette in the darkened room. She had a wild idea that it was Death itself coming to get her.
Then she said, "James?"
"I wasn't sure if you were asleep."
Poppy reached for the bedside button that turned on the light, but James said, "No, leave it off. I had to sneak past the nurses, and I don't want them to throw me out."
Poppy swallowed, her hands clenched on a fold of blanket. "I'm glad you came," she said. "I thought you weren't going to come." What she really wanted was to throw herself into his arms and sob and scream.
But she didn't. It wasn't just that she'd never done anything like that with him before; it was something about him that stopped her. Something she couldn't put her finger on, but that made her feel almost ... frightened.
The way he was standing? The fact that she couldn't see his face? All she knew was that James suddenly seemed like a stranger.
He turned around and very slowly closed the heavy door.
Darkness. Now the only light came in through the window. Poppy felt curiously isolated from the rest of the hospital, from the rest of the world.
And that should have been good, to be alone with James, protected from everything else. If only she weren't having this weird feeling of not recognizing him.
"You know the test results,"
It doesn't matter. He'll call later. I don't have to think now.
As a matter of fact, it was impossible to think with so many visitors in the room. And that was good. It was incredible that Poppy could sit there and talk to them when part of her was farther away than Nep tune, but she did talk and that kept her brain turned off.
None of them had any idea that something serious was wrong with her. Not even Phil, who was at his brotherly best, very kind and considerate. They talked about ordinary things, about parties and Roll erblading and music and books. Things from Poppy's old life, which suddenly seemed to have been a hundred years ago.
Cliff talked, too, nicer than he had been since the days when he was courting Poppy's mother.
But finally the visitors left, and Poppy's mother stayed. She touched Poppy every so often with hands that shook slightly. If I didn't know, I'd know, Poppy thought. She isn't acting like Mom at all.
"I think I'll stay here tonight," her mother said. Not quite managing to sound offhand. "The nurse said I can sleep on the window seat; it's really a couch for parents. I'm just trying to decide whether I should run back to the house and get some things."
"Yes, go," Poppy said. There was nothing else she could say and still pretend that she didn't know. Be sides, her mom undoubtedly needed some time by herself, away from this.
Just as her mother left, a nurse in a flowered blouse and green scrub pants came in to take Poppy's temperature and blood pressure. And then Poppy was alone.
It was late. She could still hear a TV, but it was far away. The door was ajar, but the hallway outside was dim. A hush seemed to have fallen over the ward.
She felt very alone, and the pain was gnawing deep inside her. Beneath the smooth skin of her abdomen, the tumor was making itself known.
Worst of all, James hadn't called. How could he not call? Didn't he know she needed him?
She wasn't sure how long she could go on not thinking about It.
Maybe the best thing would be to try to sleep. Get unconscious. Then she couldn't think.
But as soon as she turned out the light and closed her eyes, phantoms swirled around her. Not images of pretty bald girls; skeletons. Coffins. And worst of all, an endless darkness.
If I die, I won't be here. Will I be anywhere? Or will I just Not Be at all?
It was the scariest thing she'd ever imagined, Not Being. And she was definitely thinking now, she couldn't help it. She'd lost control. A galloping fear consumed her, made her shiver under the rough sheet and thin blankets. I'm going to die, I'm going to
die, I'm going to
"Poppy"
Her eyes flew open. For a second she couldn't identify the black silhouette in the darkened room. She had a wild idea that it was Death itself coming to get her.
Then she said, "James?"
"I wasn't sure if you were asleep."
Poppy reached for the bedside button that turned on the light, but James said, "No, leave it off. I had to sneak past the nurses, and I don't want them to throw me out."
Poppy swallowed, her hands clenched on a fold of blanket. "I'm glad you came," she said. "I thought you weren't going to come." What she really wanted was to throw herself into his arms and sob and scream.
But she didn't. It wasn't just that she'd never done anything like that with him before; it was something about him that stopped her. Something she couldn't put her finger on, but that made her feel almost ... frightened.
The way he was standing? The fact that she couldn't see his face? All she knew was that James suddenly seemed like a stranger.
He turned around and very slowly closed the heavy door.
Darkness. Now the only light came in through the window. Poppy felt curiously isolated from the rest of the hospital, from the rest of the world.
And that should have been good, to be alone with James, protected from everything else. If only she weren't having this weird feeling of not recognizing him.
"You know the test results,"
Similar Books
Collector's Item
Denise Golinowski
Tremaine's True Love
Grace Burrowes
BirthStone
Sydney Addae
Danny
Margo Anne Rhea
A Christmas Promise
Mary Balogh
The Banshee's Desire
Victoria Richards
Over The Limit
Lacey Silks
The Naughty List
L.A. Kelley
Moon Sworn (The Bound Series Book 1)
JF Holland
Don't Kiss Girls and Other Silly Stories
Pat Flynn