Diva Wraps It Up, The by Krista Davis Read Free Book Online Page A

corduroy skirt, boots, and a dark green jacket with a red and beige plaid muffler.
    I drove to the hospital, planning to stop to buy pine roping and wreaths on the way back.
    The woman at the front desk told us Horace’s room number without hesitation. The silence in the intensive care ward emphasized the dire condition of the patients housed there.
    A nurse was exiting the room when we arrived. “Are you here to see Horace?” There was no mistaking the hope in her expression. “I’m so glad.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Doesn’t he have any family?”
    “He has a wife,” blurted Nina.
    The nurse stared at her. “Does she know he’s here?”
    Nina and I exchanged a glance.
    “She hasn’t been to see him?” I asked.
    “No,” whispered the nurse. “Not a soul has come to visit.”
    She ushered us to the door of his room, chattering the whole way. “He’s not responding at the moment. We don’t know if he can hear us or not, but it’s important that you talk to him. Okay?”
    She watched as we turned our attention to Horace. He lay still and pale with his eyes closed, a mere ghost of himself.
    Nina set her purse in a chair, and in such a cheerful voice that it almost sounded like she had burst into song, she said, “Hello, Horace! How are you feeling? You look wonderful. I hear you did splendidly in surgery yesterday and that you’re healing well.”
    I threw Nina a questioning glance. Why hadn’t she told me? “Where did you hear that?” I whispered.
    Clearly annoyed, she grabbed a pad of paper from her purse and scribbled,
You’re supposed to say encouraging things to a patient!
    “Hi, Horace. It’s Sophie.”
    Nina rotated her hand in front of her face. Evidently I was supposed to say more.
    Instead I reached for his hand and clasped it in mine. “We’re so worried about you.” His cold hand lay in mine, motionless as a dead fish.
    Nina babbled brightly, telling him what a glorious day it was and that his Christmas party had been fabulous. Throughout her cheerful rambling, Horace showed no recognition that we were in the room. I feared for him.
    When Nina ran out of steam, I sat in the chair and spoke with him softly, holding his hand and telling him to be strong and that we were all pulling for him.
    I couldn’t help noticing that the nurse hovered protectively just outside the door.
    And then Nina leaned over him and, right in his face, said, “Moondoggie, we’re looking for Brown-Eyed Girl. I’m sure she’d want to know that you need her now.”
    To my total amazement Horace’s fingers curled just enough to give my hand the slightest squeeze.
    “I saw that!” gasped Nina. “Horace, I know you’re in there. I know you can hear us. Does Brown-Eyed Girl live in Old Town?”
    The soft pressure pressed my fingers again. It was nothing more than an attempt to curl his fingers really. I gazed at Nina and said in a low voice, “You have to tell him what a squeeze means. One squeeze for yes, and two for no.”
    The nurse interrupted. “Did he really squeeze your hand?”
    We nodded.
    “Have you been having a good visit, Horace?” she asked. “I’m afraid it’s time for me to change your bandages.”
    She shooed us out in the nicest way, saying she hoped we would return because Horace needed interaction with his loved ones.
    As we walked down the hallway, Nina said, “He needs Brown-Eyed Girl.”
    “Isn’t it interesting that horrible Edith hasn’t been to the hospital?” I didn’t think I was particularly critical of people, but I couldn’t imagine anything harsher or more cold. “She must despise him,” I said. “Maybe Edith knows about Brown-Eyed Girl and that’s why she’s so unhappy.”
    “He squeezed your hand. I saw him.”
    “That doesn’t mean anything. Let’s be realistic. If Brown-Eyed Girl lived in Old Town, wouldn’t he have contacted her?”
    “Maybe not.” Nina scowled at me. “You know things are different when you’re married. Most