at his watch, “I'm about to turn into a pumpkin. Try not to get into too much trouble. I'm off for two days.” And then he patted her leg gently under the covers. “Take care, Gabriella.”
“Gabbie,” she corrected him. She had meant to do it earlier, but she kept forgetting. Gabriella sounded so formal after all they'd been through together. She was sorry to see him go, he was her only friend here. He waved as he left the room.
And when he came back two days later, she was the first patient he saw on his rounds, and he was impressed by her progress. She spoke almost in a normal voice, but it still hurt to laugh, and she didn't attempt it often. They had sat her up on the edge of her bed twice each day, and she could manage it now without fainting, which she had done the first time. And they were promising to get her out of bed by the end of the week, which seemed like an impossible goal to Gabbie. Mrs. Rosenstein and Mrs. Boslicki had come to see her by then, and all the others had sent cards and little gifts, and the two ladies had brought her roses.
Everyone was still upset about Steve, and there had been a big article in the paper about him, and the crimes he was accused of.
“Imagine, he was living with us!” Mrs. Rosenstein said with horror. And they were all upset about the possibility that he might have hurt the professor. It was hard to imagine.
Gabriella had heard nothing from Steve, and hoped she never would again. The thought that she had slept with him, lived with him, supported him, still turned her stomach. She would have to face him in court one day, and that would be difficult, and she was sure he would tell lies about her, but by then she would be stronger and better able to face him.
Ian Jones had called her from the bookstore and told her to take as long as she needed to to come back to work. She was going to keep her job, in spite of the money she had inherited. She loved working in the bookshop, and she still had plenty of time for her writing. And she had no plans to move out of Mrs. Boslicki's house. Now that Steve was gone, she felt safe there.
“So what have you been up to while I was gone?” Peter asked her after examining her. “Dinner? Dancing? The usual?”
“Very usual. Someone came to wash my hair, and they still won't let me go to the bathroom.” She laughed, her victories were still very small here, but she was happy to see him.
“We might be able to change that.” He made a note on the chart, and looked at her arm, and how the plastic surgeon's work was repairing. She was doing nicely. And then he asked her something he had wondered about when he saw her X rays. “Were you ever in a car accident, Gabbie? You look like you've had a few broken bones before. Your ribs look like they've been through the wars.” And he'd seen scars in her scalp when he was checking her head for swelling.
“More or less,” she answered vaguely, with an odd look in her eyes. He noticed her withdrawal immediately. She was a woman with a lot of secrets.
“That's an interesting answer. Well have to talk about it sometime.” But he had other patients to see.
He came back later that night with a ginger ale for her and a cup of coffee.
“I thought I'd check on you. I just had dinner. They keep a stomach pump in the cafeteria in case they poison anyone. We use it at least four times every evening.” He sat down in the chair and she laughed at him. She noticed that he looked tired tonight, and could see how hard he worked there.
He asked her about her writing, and where she went to school. He was from the Southwest, and in a way, she thought he had the look of a cowboy. He had a long, easy lope as he crossed the halls, and she'd noticed that he wore cowboy boots with his whites. He had noticed how blue her eyes were, and that as the swelling in her face went down, as he had suspected, she was very pretty. And very young. And very old at the same time. She was a woman of