Page 114 of Danger

From the hallway comes the sound of Fisher’s sneakers scuffing the waxed floor. He pokes his head in, grinning. “Hey, Mrs. Hawthorne, can I come with? You said last time you’d tell me about the raccoon ya’ll got living near the mailbox.”

She laughs. “Only if you like apple pie.”

“Apple pie’s my favorite,” Fisher says, wiggling his eyebrows.

They go, leaving me with Winnie and the IV drip and the clock that keeps going whether or not anyone’s counting.

I slide my chair closer to the bed and brush a piece of her hair back from her forehead. I close my eyes and pretend she’s just napping. In a minute she’ll roll over and give me that look, the one that means she’s about to say something curious and funny at the same time.

“Come on, Win,” I tell her. “Just come back, and I promise I’ll take care of you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”

My eyes burn. I blame the overhead lights.

There’s a hush, then a shuffle, and then mama walks in. She never liked hospitals, but I know she’s here because she’s worried about me. About Winnie.

She stands in the doorway, arms crossed. “How you holdin’ up?”

I don’t bother sugarcoating it. “Holdin’.”

She looks around the room like it might try to bite her. “The nurses say you’re running the place now. Washing her hair. Giving her massages.”

I shrug. “I just want her to be comfortable.”

Mama moves to the edge of the bed, looks down at Winnie. “I always liked this one,” she says. Not to me, but to herself. “Knew her and Trouble weren’t going to stick, but I liked her.”

She turns, points a finger at me. “You, on the other hand, are a pain in the ass. But maybe you need someone gentle to smooth your edges.” She glances back at Winnie. “Someone with enough love for you and Fisher both.”

I tilt my head back and exhale through my nose.

She leans forward and says, “I will tell you this, though: I’ve never seen your boy pray over nothin’. But I’ve seen him pray over this girl right here.” She waits a moment, then adds, “Don’t waste it. If she comes back, don’t waste it. Don’t live in fear anymore. Love is real. And just because I didn’t find it doesn’t mean it’s not out there for my boys.”

I don’t know how to answer. So I just keep looking at Winnie, at the little twitch in her eyelid that I convince myself is the start of a miracle.

After a minute, Mama puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Your granddaddy would be proud of you,” she says, then stands. “I know I am.”

Then we both hear it, a cough from the hallway.

I know that sound—Rylee, slouched and sheepish, wearing sunglasses indoors like she’s in hiding. She lingers at the threshold, then steps in, clearing her throat.

Mama gives Rylee a look as she walks out that says she’s not a fan. Then she yells over her shoulder, “I don’t like the bad energy, I’ll be back later.”

I don’t stand. I don’t offer Rylee anything.

“I’m leaving. This town isn’t for me anymore.”

“Was it ever?”

She shrugs, but there’s a sadness in her that I don’t usually see. “Maybe not. I tried, you know. To figure out if I made the right decision. I really did miss you and wanted you to come with me. Delulu, I know.”

I don’t say anything.

She looks at Winnie, then at me. “Town’s saying she might not make it.”

“Town says a lot of things.”

Rylee chews on her lip. “I’m sorry,” she says. “For making her think something happened between us. Maybe I just needed to feel important. Maybe I was jealous of her… and I went about it the wrong way.”

I consider telling her it doesn’t matter, that the only thing that matters is Winnie waking up. But that’s more words than she deserves.