“I did my time, and then you made sure I’d have to do a little more,” I remind him.
He lets out a chuckle, but there’s no warmth or laughter in it. “Oh, I wanted you to do more than that. I wanted you to pay.” He holds his fist in front of him and squeezes tightly, and I can see his knuckles go white from the pressure.
“I loved her,” I say to both Imogene and Derrick. “I really did.” I look at Abigail’s face, wanting to be sure I haven’t hurt her with my declaration. But she looks fine. She looks like my verbal diarrhea isn’t bothering her in the slightest. “I’m ready to go back to my room,” I tell her, my knees a little wobbly from standing for so long.
Abigail nods and puts an arm around me to support me while she leads me back to the room.
“Can you accept our apology? Please?” Imogene calls out.
I say nothing, and I let Abigail lead me back to my room. I sit down on the edge of the bed, the trauma of the past few days finally catching up with me. But it’s only a second before Abigail charges out of the room.
I can hear her, but I can’t see her.
“You don’t get to do that!” she cries. I can see her in my mind’s eye with her finger pointed in their faces. “You don’t get to ask for his forgiveness and then sit blindly by while he gives it. Your needs don’t matter right now. He’s been fighting for his life, all because he saved yours, so give him some time to get better before you force his hand, will you please? Thank you.”
“But—” Imogene begins. I wince when I hear it, because I know what a shit-storm it will produce.
“No buts!” Abigail cries. “No buts! Now go away so he can get some rest.”
Suddenly, Imogene lets out a laugh. “Melanie would have loved you.”
“Thank you,” Abigail replies. “I guess.”
“No, she really would. She would have adored the way you take up for him. She would have loved it. And I’m sure she would have loved you, all because he does.”
“Thank you,” Abigail says again. “Are we done here?”
I imagine her standing there staring at them with her hands on her hips.
“Yes, we’re done,” Imogene says.
Abigail walks back into my room, and I can hear Imogene in the hallway telling Derrick, “She’s really quite something, isn’t she?”
“She rather is,” Derrick replies. “Even reminds me a little of Melanie, truth be told.”
“You okay?” I ask her as I lift my feet back onto the bed, and Abigail quickly arranges the covers around me.
“Fine,” she snaps.
I stare at her. “Are you mad at me?”
“No.” She picks up my slippers and puts them in the cabinet.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.” She balls her hands into fists and props them on her hips. “They just make me so mad. They can’t even apologize without it being all about them, or even say a simple thank you, for that matter.”
She jerks a pillow from behind my head and plumps it. I watch as she beats the pillow, glad it’s not me she’s mad at.
“I’m ready to go home. I miss my cabin. I miss my bed. I miss Mitchell.”
She snorts. “Gran has been spoiling him rotten. He’s going to stink like spoiled seven-year-old by the time you get back.” She shoots me a playful grin. “They’ve been playing UNO, Connect4, and Sorry, all week. Gran has loved every second.”
I grin. “He told me when he called this morning.”
Her brow furrows. “Where was I this morning?”
“HR, maybe?”
She grins. “Because I am about to be a woman with a job!” She lifts her arm in the air and flexes her muscles. “Hear me roar,” she calls out in a whisper-yell.
Yesterday, she’d gone down to the HR department and given them her resume. With a glowing reference from the last hospital she worked at—yes, the one with Sandra—she’d immediately gotten the job. She will be working in maternity, doing three long shifts a week.
She gives me a self-conscious look. “I hope they didn’t see that little display. They would fire me before I can even get started. Oh! And more good news. Your son has started calling me Abby,” she says. She gives me a little sideways grin when she says it. “And I think it’s kind of cute.”
I pull my chin back and stare at her. “You must really love him.”