Thirteen West by Jane Toombs Read Free Book Online Page B

girl, disapproving but helping her despite that, with food and new clothes for Frank, plus bringing her own suitcase from their house. Luckily Kevin was a doctor and, though he'd protested, he'd come through with the necessary prescriptions to get Frank through the worst of the withdrawal symptoms.
    Frank had finally stopped the constant shivering, but the trauma of withdrawal had left him too exhausted to get out of bed, forcing her back into the less salubrious aspects of nursing. She shoved the question of why she was doing this into a locked compartment in the recesses of her mind.
    "Because I have to," had been her only answer to Linda and Kevin. She wasn't ready to probe into why.
    With constant encouragement, Frank downed the soup and she withdrew her hand from under his head. Her first move after getting him into this motel room had been to strip him, force him under the shower and wash him as best she could, getting herself soaked in the process. A good thing she'd had the presence of mind to do that right away, because he'd grown progressively less cooperative as well as weaker.
    With him helpless and in bed, she no longer saw him as the big man he'd once been. In fact, he'd lost so much weight he was about as skinny as a man of his height and breadth could be. Her mind had gradually relegated him to the status of patient. Someone who needed to be nursed.
    Because of the original shower and the daily bed baths she gave him, at least he didn't stink any more, though the room did smell stale. She'd been fortunate that the motel was old enough to have kitchenettes and that a room with one had been available. Preparing the food Linda brought her was no problem.
    "Tell me," Frank said, surprising her. He rarely volunteered words.
    "Tell you what?"
    "More."
    "More about what?"
    "Calafia."
    She stared at him, momentarily speechless, finally saying, "So you've been listening to me."
    "Listening. Tell me. More."
    When he'd been seized with the worst throes of withdrawal, she'd discovered that, though the TV agitated him, the sound of her voice seemed to quiet him. When she ran out of poems she'd memorized, she found herself wandering back in her mind to the past they'd shared. Was finding Frank a sign she needed to dredge up that long-buried time and examine it for her own peace of mind? She decided to give it a try and began talking about what had happened during those fateful eight weeks, reliving them for herself while hoping the sound of her voice would soothe him.
    Some things she talked about were her own personal experiences, others were what she'd heard during that period. Though she'd had no clue he'd been processing what she said, she realized now he had been. She didn't have a clue how much he'd taken in or how he felt about it. Since she'd started, though, she intended to finish. And, evidently, he wanted her to go on.
    Propping herself as comfortably as she could on the second bed, Sarah said, "I'll tell you about Calafia if you'll promise to drink more soup after I finish."
    "Promise. I remember—"
    She waited, but he didn't go on. "What do you remember?" she prodded.
    "Splinters. Sharp, like broken glass."
    Deciding this lucidity might mean he hadn't completely fried his brain, she smiled for the first time since she'd seen him at Horton Plaza . Apparently the fragments of memory he did recall hurt. Like broken glass. She wasn't surprised.
    Hers hurt, too, and her memory was far clearer than his could possibly be.
     
     
     
    Chapter Seven
     
    The patient conference was held in the visitor's lounge shared by both Twelve and Thirteen West, situated in an anteroom outside both wards. The plastic seats had been augmented with straight-backed chairs from the dining room and grouped into an almost circle. Sally clutched her papers, eyeing the others.
    Alma grinned at her. "You'll do fine," she said in a low tone. "You're such a worry-wart. Think of the Duchess instead of yourself. Think of presenting her as you