took a shuffling step.
The whole room took a collective breath of surprise.
He balanced again, and took another step. He let go of the railing, steadied himself, and took another step. And another.
His hips ached from the unaccustomed weight, his knees creaked, the legs that stuck out from beneath the flowered hospital gown were emaciated and stringy with sinew. Yet with each step, he could feel his strength returning.
Yes. This was what he had bargained for. This was what he’d been promised.
He got to the door, took two steps outside, then returned to step across the threshold. Staring at Dr. Campbell in cold triumph, he said, “So as you can see, I can leave whenever I want. But first— I want a god-damn meal !”
Dr. Campbell turned to Nurse McStupid. “Start him on clear liquids, and as soon as he holds them down and passes fluids—”
“I know the routine,” she said.
Turning back to Gary, the doctor said, “Mr. White, I don’t know how it is possible for you to wake from such a debilitating coma and be alert and strong enough to move, much less walk, but I can assure you we’ll do everything we can to get you out of here in a hurry. In the meantime, you should be thanking God for bringing you back from the brink of death.”
“Thank God? I assure you, God had nothing to do with it.” Gary grinned savagely as he made his way back to the bed. “Rather—I’ll pay the devil his due.”
Chapter 8
M cKenna gave a pained sigh. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Dr. Hall. I’m afraid our little group is growing impatient with each other ’s foibles.”
Aaron watched Rosamund, interested to see how Miss Prissy Librarian would react to Charisma and her domestic drama.
Rosamund blinked, pushed her glasses up on her nose, and said, “The other women tell me it’s my job to replace the toilet paper in the women’s bathroom at the library because I don’t make coffee. But I don’t drink coffee, so I don’t think that makes sense, do you?”
“Sounds like they’re taking advantage of you to me,” Aaron said bluntly.
“But they’re so forceful.”
“And you don’t care enough about real life to object.”
She thought about that as if it were a new concept to her. “I do care about real life. It’s just not as interesting as what’s in my books.”
He laughed shortly. “That’s about to change. McKenna, is everybody in the library?”
“Miss Charisma, Miss Isabelle, and Mr. Samuel are in the library,” McKenna answered with obvious intention to continue.
But Aaron didn’t have time to let McKenna carry on in the way he liked to. He had about an hour to make Rosamund forget Lance Mathews, and he needed to get cracking. Taking Rosamund’s hand, he walked away. “Great. If you’ll notify Irving that Dr. Hall is here to look at his private library”—he looked meaningfully at McKenna—“I’ll take her to meet . . . our little group.”
McKenna always read between the lines, and he could hurry when needed, without ever breaking a sweat. He did so now, starting up the stairs. “I’ll notify Mr. Shea immediately, sir.”
Rosamund dragged along behind Aaron. “I’m not dressed for company.”
At least she knew that.
“Who am I meeting?” she asked.
“Friends of mine. You’ll like them.” Aaron hoped, because if everything worked out as he had planned, they would be her constant companions.
As they reached the door, Sam came striding out, carrying the toilet paper tube and grumbling, “It’s not like I’m the only one around here who has annoying habits.” Seeing them, he stopped. “Hey, Aaron, I thought you went after an old guy who reads prophecies.”
“I got his daughter instead.”
“Good work. I’ll take a beautiful young lady rather than an old duffer any day.” He offered his hand to Rosamund. “Samuel Faa. I’m an attorney and apparently the most annoying man in the world.”
“I’m Rosamund Hall. I’m a
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