A Measure of Blood by Kathleen George Read Free Book Online Page B

has been found. He’s safe.” She sighed, looking down.
    He switched the channel.
    His mother handed him a bag of food.
    IT WAS A LITTLE AFTER MIDNIGHT when Christie opened the door to a hospital conference room and let Colleen in.
    They’d been talking in the hallway about how to proceed.
    â€œUnfortunately, it hit the news,” he said. “The judge is going to jump all over us for not notifying Child Services from the start.”
    â€œHe could have run away from anywhere.”
    â€œYou know it. I know it. She might not. I thought to call the Pocusset Safe House for tonight, but I’m going to let Oopale Panikkar take him back. She’s in our corner with Child Services. I can put a patrol cop outside their door. The kid isn’t going anywhere tonight. Plus, he only came here to corroborate the reports that his mother is really dead. And pretty soon—”
    Colleen wiped angrily at tears that had sprung up. “Sorry. I can’t stand it.”
    â€œI know. Let’s go in.”
    The room was pretty much a square with a rectangular table and six chairs. It was meant for the sort of conference doctors had with families when there was bad news to be delivered. In one corner of the room was a coffee machine, its carafe crusted and dirty. On the other end of the room was a small, square box of a TV, vintage 1980.
    Oopale Panikkar was sitting with the boy.
    Matthew squirmed.
    â€œI understand you want to see your mother,” Christie said.
    Oopale looked worried.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œMatthew, you got yourself the whole way here, so I know how badly you must want to see her. I explained that to the doctors and they’re going to allow it.”
    Matthew nodded.
    â€œThe doctor is going to come back for us. I think he was on his way down the hall. I’d like to come with you. Okay?”
    Matt nodded again.
    Moments later the doctor came into the room. “Okay, we’re as ready as we can be.”
    What had they had to do? Tidy her up a bit, put her in one of their least messed-up rooms? “Show us the way,” Christie said.
    Christie walked with the boy down the hall. He wanted to put a hand on the boy’s head, but he resisted.
    A few moments later, the doctor halted in front of a room. He stooped down in front of Matt. “I want to be sure this is what you want. You’ll be able to see her at the funeral home tomorrow or the next day,” the doctor says.
    â€œWhere will that be?”
    â€œWhatever funeral home your family chooses. Where people go to pay their respects. But I’ll let you see her here if it’s what you want.”
    â€œI want to,” Matt says.
    MATT FOLLOWS THE DOCTOR IN. The room is like the ones on TV with machines everywhere and trays with implements on them.
    It’s his mother all right, lying there. Some kind of padding makes the sheet lift up over her chest where the wound was.
    â€œCan I go closer?” he asks the doctor.
    â€œYes,” the doctor says.
    It’s just him and the doctor and that detective he talked to earlier. They all move closer. His mother’s long hair is spread out as if she is sleeping. Her eyes are closed. She’s still. Very still. Matt touches her arm. It’s hard and cold and doesn’t move back. Like a bug. Like the squirrel he poked at in their yard. But then he sees her breathe. Yes, her chest is moving. His own breath catches. The longer he looks, then, the more she might not be dead. He keeps holding her arm and then, bravely, shakes it a little, trying to see the movement again.
    â€œMatt?” the detective says. He feels the detective’s hands, strong, one on each shoulder.
    â€œI think she moved.”
    â€œIt sometimes looks like that. It isn’t happening but our eyes trick us. Doctor, tell me, isn’t that right?”
    The doctor says, “It’s exactly right.”
    Matt wants to be sure nobody is lying to him.