hoarse. “Thank you. I’ll call Darcy.”
“Okay, I’m going to stop by and see her.”
“She’d like that,” he replied softly.
“Ember?”
Darcy continued walking down the hall in Allegro toward her friend. Lucien had called and it was the first time they had spoken since their fight. She had been tempted to not answer, but when he told her about their son, her feelings took a radical turn. Her tears were fresh and her heart continued to pound in her chest. Darcy knew she had overreacted to Lucien’s protectiveness, but she was unaccustomed to people taking care of her. She’d been looking out for herself for so long that having someone else doing so was going to be an adjustment, but one she was willing to make. They had a son, they were a family, and that trumped everything else.
It took effort to move her thoughts from her son to the reason for Ember’s visit. “Lucien mentioned that there were two nurses with me when I delivered. One is deceased, but the other was paid twenty grand to turn the other way.” Darcy took the papers and guessed accurately, “And her contact was the other nurse.”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
She was angry that someone had so royally fucked up her world but she couldn’t help the touch of humor and gratitude she felt before she said, “You guys really are good.” She was still eyeballing the paper when she had her ah-ha moment. “Sister Margaret. Why the hell didn’t I think of her? That woman knew everything that went on in St. Agnes.”
Darcy’s eyes turned to Ember and she asked, “Any idea where she is now?”
“Yeah, actually, I do know.”
The bellowing coming from down the hall was almost deafening. “Who is making that sound?” Ember asked the orderly who was leading them to Sister Margaret’s room.
A mischievous grin curved his mouth. “The woman you’ve come to see.”
If Darcy hadn’t been all twisted up inside with nerves, she would have laughed at Ember’s expression, particularly when the orderly added, “She’s actually pretty calm today.”
They walked into her room. Darcy had never truly appreciated how old Sister Margaret was until she saw her looking every one of her ninety-plus years. Darcy had occasionally stopped by to visit the woman, but less so in the past few years—and those years had not been kind to her. She looked frail, as if at any minute her withered bones were going to disintegrate into dust.
“I want hot chocolate, damn it. I’m a dying woman and I want my hot chocolate now!”
And then her eyes turned to the doorway and she speared Darcy and Ember with a look that actually had the hair on Darcy’s arms standing on end.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know if you remember me—” Darcy started to say, but was cut off by the angry nun.
“Darcy MacBride. I didn’t ask who you were. I said, what do you want?”
“Still as pleasant as always, I see,” Darcy replied with such sarcasm that Ember nearly snapped her neck turning to look at her friend.
“You haven’t lost that sass about you. Good. Sit. I rarely get visitors.”
“It’s really one of the mysteries of life, you not getting visitors—being as charming as you are.”
At first Darcy wasn’t sure what the sound was that came from the old woman’s throat. Thinking that she might be choking, Darcy nearly offered to give her the Heimlich. And then she realized that rusty sound was her laugh.
Sister Margaret turned her focus on Ember. “And you?”
“I’m Ember.”
“I know. Trace’s wife.”
A look of disbelief moved across Ember’s expression before she asked, “How do you know that?”
“I’ve my ways. So are you going to sit or am I going to have to look up at you?”
They sat and a minute later a nurse arrived with a chipped china teapot filled with hot chocolate. Sister Margaret’s hands were wrinkled, but steady as she lifted the pot and poured the thick, brown liquid into a cup. She looked almost dainty, holding the cup and saucer like a lady having afternoon tea, but then she opened her mouth.
“So again I ask, what the hell do you want?”
“You were the one who brought me to the hospital the day I fell?” Darcy asked and she apparently didn’t need to give any more detail because understanding flashed in the nun’s beady eyes.
“Yes. I was very sorry to hear about your baby.”
The sincerity was so unexpected that Ember stared at the older woman slack-jawed.
Sister Margaret didn’t miss a beat when she said, “You’ll want