Read Online Sixteen and Dying by Lurlene McDaniel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lurlene McDaniel
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Perhaps it would be best to stay away from Morgan altogether. To completely shield him from harm’s way. After all, if he ever knew she was exposing him to HIV, what would he do?
Perhaps it had been a mistake to come to the Broken Arrow. She thought about JWC and for the hundredth time wondered what had possessed a person she didn’t know to give her so much money. Surely, JWC and the One Last Wish Foundation had made a mistake. In receiving the money before the onset of actual AIDS, Anne had squandered some of it foolishly and chosen a path that was leading to heartache.
And yet, she was glad she’d met Morgan, who had the power to make her heart skip a beat with a mere glance. If it hadn’t been for the Wish money, she would have never met him. And if she’d been perfectly healthy, their relationship still would have come to nothing more than a summer fling, she reminded herself. After all, what could he possibly find exciting about a inexperienced girl who knew nothing about love, who picked wildflowers and loved poetry?
It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Anne was avoiding him. “Chalk one up for Daddy,” Morgan told himself sourly as he pitched hay in the barn one afternoon. Why was he surprised? Snobby little rich girls were all alike.
He should have just gone ahead and had a good time with her physically when he’d had the opportunity. But, no … he’d backed off, kept his hands to himself, all because—
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone come into the barn. He looked over the edge of the loft and saw Anne wandering aimlessly around the quiet barn. She was hugging a book andlooking for a place to sit.
Why does she have to come in here?
He didn’t need the aggravation.
He watched her settle on a mound of hay and open her book. He wished he’d taken to books—maybe then the two of them would have more in common. He decided that he wasn’t going to hide from her, ignore her the way she’d been ignoring him. Morgan began to whistle, tossed a forkful of hay down from the loft, and saw it land near Anne’s feet.
A startled cry escaped from her, which gave Morgan some satisfaction. He shimmied down from the loft. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought I was alone in here.”
“Me too.” Anne started to rise, but when she planted her hand in the hay to give herself a boost, she yelped in pain.
“What’s wrong?” Morgan started toward her. She lifted her hand, and he saw a line of bright red blood across her palm. He felt a sickening sensation in his stomach. “There must be something sharp under the hay. Don’t move.” He knelt beside her.
Fearfully, she stared at her bleeding hand.
Morgan reached beneath her, lifted her, and placed her safely away from the hay and its invisible weapon. “Let me see how bad you’re cut.”
“It’s nothing,” Anne said, keeping her hand close to her body. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re bleeding. You may need stitches. Let me wipe it off and examine it.”
Her eyes widened, reminding him of a deer trapped in headlights. “No! Don’t touch it!”
“Why? I want to help. I’ve seen blood before.”
“Stay away! Please, don’t touch me.” She was shaking all over.
“At least let me wrap my handkerchief around it to try to stop the bleeding.” He fumbled in his jeans pocket.
“No!” She darted backward. “My father and I’ll take care of it.”
“But-”
“Please—you don’t understand. I-I can’t explain. Just don’t touch it.” Wild-eyed, panicked, she spun, and clutching her hand to her side, she bolted from the barn.
Dumbfounded, Morgan watched her run back toward her cabin.
Eleven
“L ET ME SEE your hand. Does it hurt?” Marti looked worried at the dinner table that night.
“It’s nothing,” Anne insisted. “The doctor in Platte City put a bandage on it and gave me a tetanus shot. Talk about something that hurt—” She rubbed her arm, hoping to distract Marti.
“Morgan
Perhaps it had been a mistake to come to the Broken Arrow. She thought about JWC and for the hundredth time wondered what had possessed a person she didn’t know to give her so much money. Surely, JWC and the One Last Wish Foundation had made a mistake. In receiving the money before the onset of actual AIDS, Anne had squandered some of it foolishly and chosen a path that was leading to heartache.
And yet, she was glad she’d met Morgan, who had the power to make her heart skip a beat with a mere glance. If it hadn’t been for the Wish money, she would have never met him. And if she’d been perfectly healthy, their relationship still would have come to nothing more than a summer fling, she reminded herself. After all, what could he possibly find exciting about a inexperienced girl who knew nothing about love, who picked wildflowers and loved poetry?
It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Anne was avoiding him. “Chalk one up for Daddy,” Morgan told himself sourly as he pitched hay in the barn one afternoon. Why was he surprised? Snobby little rich girls were all alike.
He should have just gone ahead and had a good time with her physically when he’d had the opportunity. But, no … he’d backed off, kept his hands to himself, all because—
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone come into the barn. He looked over the edge of the loft and saw Anne wandering aimlessly around the quiet barn. She was hugging a book andlooking for a place to sit.
Why does she have to come in here?
He didn’t need the aggravation.
He watched her settle on a mound of hay and open her book. He wished he’d taken to books—maybe then the two of them would have more in common. He decided that he wasn’t going to hide from her, ignore her the way she’d been ignoring him. Morgan began to whistle, tossed a forkful of hay down from the loft, and saw it land near Anne’s feet.
A startled cry escaped from her, which gave Morgan some satisfaction. He shimmied down from the loft. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought I was alone in here.”
“Me too.” Anne started to rise, but when she planted her hand in the hay to give herself a boost, she yelped in pain.
“What’s wrong?” Morgan started toward her. She lifted her hand, and he saw a line of bright red blood across her palm. He felt a sickening sensation in his stomach. “There must be something sharp under the hay. Don’t move.” He knelt beside her.
Fearfully, she stared at her bleeding hand.
Morgan reached beneath her, lifted her, and placed her safely away from the hay and its invisible weapon. “Let me see how bad you’re cut.”
“It’s nothing,” Anne said, keeping her hand close to her body. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re bleeding. You may need stitches. Let me wipe it off and examine it.”
Her eyes widened, reminding him of a deer trapped in headlights. “No! Don’t touch it!”
“Why? I want to help. I’ve seen blood before.”
“Stay away! Please, don’t touch me.” She was shaking all over.
“At least let me wrap my handkerchief around it to try to stop the bleeding.” He fumbled in his jeans pocket.
“No!” She darted backward. “My father and I’ll take care of it.”
“But-”
“Please—you don’t understand. I-I can’t explain. Just don’t touch it.” Wild-eyed, panicked, she spun, and clutching her hand to her side, she bolted from the barn.
Dumbfounded, Morgan watched her run back toward her cabin.
Eleven
“L ET ME SEE your hand. Does it hurt?” Marti looked worried at the dinner table that night.
“It’s nothing,” Anne insisted. “The doctor in Platte City put a bandage on it and gave me a tetanus shot. Talk about something that hurt—” She rubbed her arm, hoping to distract Marti.
“Morgan
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