Wicked Liaison - Meara Platt Page 0,199

she didn’t want to ask the nurse for anything. She wanted a little bit of quiet before her mother and father showed up. Lorelei would still be around too. She’d left her knitting bag on the floor next to the chair. Her cousin wouldn’t want to leave that behind.

The nurse nodded and left her alone. She had a few minutes at least until chaos descended…

Anya stared out the window, wishing she was outside. She was leaving the hospital finally. The doctor had kept her three days past the day she’d woken up. She was itching to escape. Sleep had evaded her, and when she did close her eyes, images of Arthur’s death plagued her. She had to find out if he was real, if Anastasia existed, and if they had really died so tragically. She hadn’t loved Arthur, but Anastasia might have. Anya might have fallen for him if she’d had time. She had cared for him. He was brave and had helped her through her own foolishness. If there ever was a man she could have loved, it would have been him. She owed it to them to uncover their story, and she knew exactly where to begin her search.

“Are you ready, dear?” Her mother asked. Eleanor Montgomery, the Countess of Parkdale’s dark blonde hair was cropped short and framed her face. She wore an elegant burgundy suit that hugged her slim frame.

“I’ve been ready for days,” she answered. “Where’s Father?”

“He went to get the car.” She smiled. “You know how he is. He can’t sit still.”

Anya didn’t blame her father. She didn’t want to be in the hospital either. She had to start her search. In order to do that, she had to talk to her boss. Lady Vivian might remember Anastasia, and after she talked to her, she would know where to go next.

“I hear someone is leaving us today.” Nurse Sara walked into the room. She had a cheery smile on her face that irritated Anya. The nurse had been nice and helpful, so Anya didn’t understand why she found Sara irritating. She was surly, and it had nothing to do with the nurse. “I have your discharge papers.” Sara held out a stack of papers. “After you sign them, you’re free to go. Well, you will need to ride in a wheelchair downstairs. Hospital policy, sorry.”

Anya wrinkled her nose. “Fine. Give me the papers.” She took the stack from Sara and flipped to the signature page, picked up a pen, then scribbled her name across the line. “There.”

“I’ll have someone come in with the wheelchair soon.” Sara grabbed the papers. “Do you have any questions before I leave?”

“No,” Anya shook her head. She didn’t want to delay that wheelchair’s arrival. Without it, she couldn’t escape, and she desperately needed to depart the bloody hospital.

“All right,” she said. “Then relax, and you’ll be out of here before you know it.”

Anya sank into the nearby chair. She reminded herself that this was an obstacle she could surpass. Nothing would stand in her way in search of the truth. It was a minor delay, nothing more.

“I know you’re frustrated,” her mother said. “It could be worse.”

“Could it?” She frowned. “I suppose so. I could be dead.”

“What a morbid thing to say,” her mother chastised her. “Why would you even suggest…” Her hand shook, and she brought it up to her chest. “Do you have any idea how scared we were? You were so hurt…”

“I’m fine,” Anya said dryly. She should have known better than to be that blunt with her mother. “Please accept my apologies. I didn’t mean to upset you.” That was the truth. She hadn’t taken her mother’s feelings into account at all. When Anya thought about her own death, she pictured a gun going off clearly in her mind. She had died and knew what it was like to take her last breath. That wasn’t something she was likely to ever forget.

“This has been difficult for you,” her mother said gently. “You have a good heart. In time, your stress will ease, and this will be a distant memory.”

Would it though? Somehow, she doubted she’d ever forget this experience. “It was an accident.” Her voice remained monotone as she spoke. Anya was going through the motions.

“I’m here to take Anya Montgomery downstairs?” A woman came in with a wheelchair. She had on a pink sweater and navy-blue pants. She was close to her mother’s age. Her auburn hair was pulled back behind her head in

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