up to pace. How did anyone sit in waiting rooms? How did they stand that creeping, crawling time of waiting to see, to touch someone they loved?
Bells dinged, feet slapped the floor outside the waiting room. Phones rang.
She didn’t want coffee, she didn’t want tea. She didn’t want anything but to see Noah.
His parents walked by. His mother kept her face turned away, leaning into her husband. His father, tall like Noah, lean like Noah, looked in at her as they passed.
She saw sorrow and fatigue in his eyes, but no bitterness, and no blame.
And that single glance brought on a rush of tears.
“I can take you to his room now.” Bekka stood in the opening to the hallway. “He’s in and out. And when he’s awake, there’s pain, so you can’t stay long.”
“I won’t. I just need to see him. I’ll leave after that, get out of the way.”
“It’s not you, Cate. It’s the situation. I’m going to wait out here.” She paused at the door, and her eyes—dull and weary—met Cate’s. “As long as Noah wants to see you, I’ll work out a kind of visitation schedule. I’m not going to put my mother through any more upheaval. I’ll let you know the best times for you to come see Noah. For short periods at first. Rest, a lot of rest and a lot of quiet are what he needs.”
“I won’t stay long.”
Bracing herself, Cate pushed the door open.
Nothing could have prepared her. Bruises violent as storm clouds covered his beautiful face. Swelling distorted its shape. His left eye bulged out, red and raw. More bruises, black, yellow, purple, surrounded his right.
He lay so still on the white sheets in a hospital gown of washed-out blue that showed more bruising on his arms, ugly scrapes clawing down his skin. For a moment she feared he wasn’t breathing, then she saw the movement of his chest, heard the beep of the monitor.
Everything inside her wanted to rush to him, simply cover his body with her own and pour her heart into him. Give him strength, ease all the pain.
But she walked slowly, softly in the dim room with its single window shaded against the light. She took his hand, lightly, gently.
“I wish I could be here when you wake up, I wish I could talk to you. But you need to rest. I’ll come every day, stay as long as they let me. Lily sends her love, and even when I can’t be here, you have to know you have mine.”
She bent down, kissed his hand, then left as she’d come in. Slowly and softly.
In the drugging summer heat, in the blast of summer sun, Cate walked the nearly thirty blocks home.
The early hour meant shops remained closed, most tourists had yet to venture out. It was a time, as she walked uptown, of dog walkers, nannies, joggers heading to the park, suits with early meetings. No one paid any more attention to her than she did to them.
She’d left him there, battered and broken, because he had a family who loved him. And one who now resented her. Even Bekka, she thought. What Bekka did, she’d done for Noah.
Cate couldn’t blame her. Couldn’t blame any of them.
How much, she wondered, would Noah blame her?
She walked from the heat to the cool of the lobby, to the elevator, down the hall, to the door. Inside.
“Catey. Oh, my poor baby. Come, come sit down. Did you walk? Let me—”
Shaking her head, shaking all over, Cate bolted to the powder room. The sickness she’d carried inside expelled, brutally, viciously, as Lily rushed in behind her, held her hair back with one hand, reached for a guest towel with the other.
“All right, sweets. It’s all right.”
She wet the cloth with cold water, laid it against Cate’s forehead, then the back of her neck.
“Here now, you need to lie down. Come on now.” She pulled Cate up, supported her as she wept, made soothing noises as she steered her to the bedroom and the bed. “I’m going to get you some water, some ginger ale.”
She hurried out, came back with two glasses. “Water first, that’s my girl.” She propped pillows up, settled Cate back against them. “Slow sips, that’s the way. When you’re steady enough, you’re going to take a nice cool shower, and I’ll get you some fresh clothes.”
First, Lily sat on the side of the bed, brushed Cate’s sweat-damp hair back from her face. “Can you tell me?”
“Two men. His face,