The Priest's Graveyard by Ted Dekker Read Free Book Online Page B

very taken with you, my dear. You’re in the best of hands.”
    The door opened and Lamont walked in. “How are we doing?”
    The doctor straightened his collar. “She’s doing well.” He lifted his coat off an armchair in the corner. “Page me if you
     have any more questions. Liquids only for now.”
    “And the drugs we spoke about?”
    The doctor nodded. “I’ll call the prescriptions in.”
    “Thank you.”
    I saw the doctor only once more, the next afternoon, when he came to check on me. To this day I’ve never found any record
     of any doctor in Southern California named Barry Horst. I’m certain that he was part of the whole cover-up that would forever
     alter my life, and Lamont’s.
    The rest of that first day passed with me drifting in and out of sleep. With each waking I felt stronger. Lamont was the perfect
     gentleman, nursing me as my own mother might have. I was in my twenties and he was in his thirties, he said, and I never thought
     of him as a father figure. My initial attraction to him was undoubtedly influenced by his tender care of me as I came back
     to life.
    I started taking the blue pills that would allow me to break my addiction to heroin completely, he said. Two a day, just like
     the doctor ordered. My mind was in such a fog from all the abuse it had taken, but patience could have been Lamont’s middle name.
    It wasn’t until the third day after my waking that I began to wonder if something was wrong with me. Why was I sleeping so
     much? How long would it take to get back on my feet?
    Not that I minded being treated like a queen. I was in heaven lying in that bed, safe from life’s cruel jokes. I still couldn’t
     believe I was there, being waited on hand and foot when I had no right to be alive at all.
    But I asked Lamont about the daze I seemed to be stuck in.
    “My dear…” He tilted his head down and offered me a gentle smile that I was already getting to know well. I couldn’t help
     but smile myself. “Who can say what the drugs did to your mind. You have to realize that your psyche suffered a very severe
     shock when it shut down. Comas are tricky things. They’re hardly understood by the medical community.”
    He rubbed my arm. “The doctor says it could take you a year to recover completely. Let’s just pray there is no permanent damage.”
    “Okay.” I think I giggled then. I was so delighted to be in his company.
    Ten minutes later I sank back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
    Mornings, afternoons, nights—they were all one to me, marked only by Lamont’s cheerful good morning s and how’s your evening s when he came in to check on me. We never talked more than a few minutes before he hushed me and let me rest.
    After several days, which felt more like one in my state, Lamont woke me and helped me to the bathroom as he always did. But
     when I came out he presented me with a chrome, wheeled walker as if it were a gift.
    “Hmm?” he said with a grin. “What do you say?”
    “What do I do with that?”
    “You’re ready to venture out. I’m dying to show you the place.”
    I looked at the contraption that would support me as I pushed it a step at a time. “Couldn’t you just help me?” I asked.
    “Of course!” He pushed the thing aside and rushed up to my side to take my waist. “Of course.”
    I put my arm over his shoulder and sort of hung on him as he led me out of the room. It was the first time since he’d rescued
     me that I felt the firmness of his arms. He stood a full foot taller than me, a really strong man who must have worked out
     daily. Two hundred pounds I would say. I’d lost weight, so I was probably only ninety-five. Next to him I was hardly a toothpick.
    He held me as if I were a delicate flower.
    The moment I stepped out of my pink-and-white bedroom I pulled up, staring.
    “You okay?”
    “Uh…yes,” I said. The house wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen. All the walls were glass framed by brushed aluminum, so I
     could see