Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,214

her hands were shaking so hard that she couldn’t get the gem into the little plunger.

It was rage, she realized. Pure, unadulterated rage. She hadn’t felt this angry in so long.

Not since she’d pushed Fritz’s body off her own, grabbed her rifle, and started firing at the insurgents who’d attacked her unit. Who’d killed her friends.

Because that was what Pastor had done. He’d allowed people to be attacked and killed. She wanted to run over there. She wanted to break him. Hurt him. Kill him.

But she couldn’t, of course. So get it together, Liza.

Carefully placing the gem on the table, she flattened her palms on her thighs, the soft cotton of her scrubs absorbing some of the clamminess. She drew a breath, remembering the relaxation techniques she’d learned to battle the anxiety of waking from a nightmare.

“Liza?” Brooklyn’s voice had grown small and a little scared. “Are you all right?”

Her brain raced to think of something comforting to say, because the truth was not an option.

She lifted her head to smile at the little girl. “I’m okay. You ever have a nightmare, and then the next day you remember part of it and just, like, get a little scared again?”

Brooklyn nodded sagely. “Sometimes I dream that I die.”

Liza sucked in a harsh breath. “Oh, honey. What an awful dream to have.”

Brooklyn lifted a shoulder. “I know. I wake up and I’m afraid. The last nursing assistant wasn’t very nice. She’d tell me to go back to sleep, even when I was crying.”

Liza reached out, palm up. Brooklyn took her hand and squeezed. “I told my mom when she visited, and Mom told Nurse Williams to get another assistant. That’s you.”

“Well, I have nightmares, too. And they’re scary, so I get it.”

“Do you die?”

“No, but people I love get hurt, and that’s scary, right?”

“Real scary. You don’t have a mom to tell you that it’s okay, because you’re old.”

Liza thought about her last nightmare and how Tom had run to her, holding her while she cried. Then Brooklyn’s words sank in and her lips twitched. “I guess I am pretty old at that. But I learned some stuff that helps when I wake up scared. You want to know?”

Brooklyn sat up straighter. “Yes. Please.”

“First is breathing.” She demonstrated and within a minute, Brooklyn was mimicking the inhale-hold-exhale pattern. “Also, I cuddle my dog.”

“You have a dog?”

“I do. She’s big. Great Dane big.”

Brooklyn’s eyes widened. “She’d eat me.”

“Nah, she’s a softy. She might lick your face.”

The child giggled. “That’s dirty.”

“True, but it does help to hug her. You can’t have a dog here, but maybe a stuffed animal. Do you have one?”

“Not here. I had one at home, but I forgot it. Mom said she’d bring it to me, but she’s working right now.”

“Would you like me to ask Nurse Williams if I can get you one for now, until your mom brings yours?”

“Would you?”

“I would and I will. Now, the other thing you can do about bad dreams is to rewrite the ending. If I dream that my friends get hurt, then after I wake up, I close my eyes and picture them at a party instead, all healthy and happy. Just like the hurt never happened.”

“So I could picture myself not dying? And doing a dance?”

“Exactly.” Which wouldn’t change Brooklyn’s actual prognosis, but it might ease her fears along the way. “And then, the next day, you can wear this fashion statement.” She held up the hospital gown again. “It says you are bada—” She clamped her lips shut and Brooklyn laughed. Such a lovely sound.

The little girl leaned forward and whispered, “Badass?”

Liza chuckled. “I need to watch my language. Let’s get back to BeDazzling.”

“That was very nice advice,” a male voice said and Liza froze again. Pastor was two feet away, having been pushed to their table by his nurse. “May we join you?”

“Of course,” Brooklyn chirped before Liza could speak. “I’m Brooklyn. You must be new.”

She’s done this before, Liza realized with a start. She’s been here for so long that she’s accustomed to welcoming new patients.

“I am,” Pastor said, as the woman with the locket sat in a chair beside him. The nurse stepped back, watching with an eagle eye. “I just got here.” He made a face. “I fell down. Broke some stuff. Hard when you’re old like me. My name is Ben.”

Liza noted the sudden tension in his companion’s body.

He looked a little confused at the woman’s reaction, then smiled. “People call me Pastor.”

His companion