With Nate gone, Dorothy reaches over and squeezes Kaleb’s bicep, declaring, “Goodness, just look at those muscles.” With an amused look in her eye, she focuses on me. “You’re one lucky girl. My Frank, god rest his soul. I loved him to death—literally!” She chuckles at her morbid pun. “But he was fat as a hog and lazy to boot. Was a good kisser though. Really knew how to take his time.” She glances back at Kaleb. “You a good kisser, young man? Doesn’t matter how handsome you are if you don’t know how to kiss a girl good and proper.” When Kaleb just blinks at her, not exactly sure how to answer, she returns to me. “So is he? A good kisser?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I reply, shaking with laughter—a small part of me is experiencing sadistic pleasure over Kaleb being flustered. “He’s never kissed me.”
“What’s the matter with you?” she questions, focusing back on Kaleb. “You have a pretty girl here volunteering to babysit two old biddies with you, and you haven’t properly kissed her?”
“We’re friends,” he wheezes, looking like he’s just been run over by a verbal train. His polite mask can’t keep up with Dorothy’s rapid-fire pace.
“Friends?” she exclaims, her hazel eyes wide with surprise. “Have you ever heard something so silly, Ruth?” She doesn’t wait for a reply from the quiet woman on the other side of the room, instead continuing to grill Kaleb about our lack of a relationship. “Pretty girl like her is gonna get swept off her feet by some other boy at any moment, and then where will you be?”
“I, well, that would be…I mean, we would be…“ Kaleb trails off, rolling his shoulders like his shirt is now two sizes too small.
“And you.” She points at me with the hand that isn’t squeezing Kaleb’s arm. “Callie, was it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer, clasping my hands in front of me—not quite as excited to be on the receiving end of her penetrating questions.
She flaps her hand. “Psh, call me Dorothy. Life’s too short for all that.” Before I can correct my answer, she keeps right on talking. “What are you waiting for? This handsome boy with muscles for days volunteers to sit with us, listening to me yammering on. Nice boy like that is a keeper.” She then stage whispers, “Unless he’s a bad kisser, but you can usually train ‘em if you’re patient.” Back at full volume, she finishes, “It’s not the same as it was in my day. Girls can ask boys out now, you know.”
“I’ll…uh, keep that in mind,” I croak, just as dazed as Kaleb is. Now I understand why Dorothy needs the oxygen tank. If I talked that fast, I’d need extra oxygen too.
“You do that,” she insists with a nod, the handkerchief around her head slipping slightly with the motion, then mutters, “Teens these days. Making everything so complicated.” With the subject of Kaleb’s and my love life semi-closed, she asks us both, “So, did you come with something to do, or should I share the secrets of a happy marriage? Everyone says it’s communication, but I tell ya, what happens in the bedroom is what’s most important. If you know how to please each other—”
“I brought a book to read, “ Kaleb interrupts to my relief. Neither of us are ready to hear sex tips from an elderly stranger. He moves to pull the book out of his back pocket, dislodging Dorothy’s grip from his arm. Holding up the book, he announces, “I brought Jane Steele. It’s a reimagining of Jane Eyre, where this time Jane is now a serial killer.”
“That does sound interesting,” Dorothy hums, folding her hands in her lap. Giving me a wink, she adds, “And you have such a wonderful speaking voice. Very manly.”
“That’s…kind of you to say, Miss Dorothy,” Kaleb mutters awkwardly, quickly flipping to the first page of the story. He flashes the woman a tight smile, then begins to read.
After Dorothy’s barrage, I’m now various shades of red and my mind is spinning. I definitely need to sit down. I choose the chair next to Ruth, smiling up at the quiet woman.
“Charlotte, your hair has gotten so long,” she murmurs, her hand shaking as she reaches out to touch me.
Confused, I open my mouth to correct her, then close it again, realizing when she looks at me, she doesn’t see me at all. Emotions thicken in my throat, making it impossible to speak, so I simply nod. I don’t have the heart to tell her I’m not Charlotte when there’s so much pleasure in Ruth’s crystal blue eyes from once again spending time with whoever this woman is. Shifting my chair closer to her bedside, I lean forward so Ruth can run her fingers through my hair.
“Beautiful,” she whispers, a soft smile pulling at her withered cheeks. Her hair is a white halo around her head, cut short enough to stand on end.
With Kaleb’s deep voice filling the room—and Dorothy giving running commentary—Ruth and I talk quietly. Holding her hand, I gently run my thumb along her paper-thin skin. She asks about my family. I assure her they’re all doing fine. She talks of fond memories of our shared childhood, leading me to believe Charlotte was an old friend from her youth. I mostly smile and nod, murmuring assurances when appropriate, while my heart beats in slow, painful thumps. Ruth’s voice is weak and she often needs to pause in the middle of sentences, but the years seem to fall from her face as she smiles and lightly chuckles.
Sitting here, listening to her stories, a heavy weight sits in my stomach along with a sad knowing. It would take time to research the correct spell—or even just figuring out how exactly my quirky magic works—but it’s likely I could heal this woman. I could probably heal this whole hospital. Hundreds of people miraculously cured…and I’d have the Council on my doorstep. A miracle like that would be hard to hide from the populous at large.
There’s also the very ugly truth. Ineedsomeone to die so Felix can live.
By the time the evening meals arrive, I’m nearly to tears, hating that I could save everyone but I’m choosing not to. Blinking and sniffing, I offer up a watery goodbye, before quickly slipping from the room. I’m halfway down the hall by the time Kaleb catches up with me, before grabbing my arm and swinging me around to face him.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks, concern etched across his features with no mask in sight. It’s really him.
My face crumples and tears start to drip down my cheeks because I’ve missed him so much. When all I do is stand there blubbering, Kaleb wraps an arm around me, his familiar scent of sandalwood and well-worn paper filling my senses. Comforting is such an automatic gesture for him, and I try not to draw attention to it by keeping my arms limp at my sides—afraid that he’ll remember that he’s mad at me and stop.
“Let’s find somewhere more private to talk,” he murmurs, leading me down the hall and peeking through the glass windows that sit in every door. When he finds what he’s looking for, he hustles me inside what appears to be an unoccupied room.
Safe from onlookers, he wipes the tears from my eyes and asks again, “What’s wrong?”
“You wouldn’t believe it, but I actually hate crying,” I answer instead, my eyes settling on the middle of his chest, while I fight my desire to reach out to him. “Since the binding spell was removed, I can’t seem to stop crying about everything. I blame hormones.”
He doesn’t laugh, instead tucking a finger under my chin to encourage me to look up at him. “Callie, please tell me what’s wrong.”
Part of me wants to yell at him. Dig at him for seeming to care suddenly when he’s avoided me for over a week. I’ve also missed him so much that everything aches inside me now that he’s finally touching me again—even if it’s just a single finger under my chin. We’re so close I can feel the heat of his body through my sweater. I want to hug him. I want him to make me feel better. But I keep my hands fisted at my sides. There’s a hole inside me that reminds me no one is promised a savior. It’s not his job to make me feel better.
Shivering against the cold of my isolating thoughts, I answer his question with a question. “What would you do if you had the power to heal everyone in this hospital?”
