Read Online When the Clouds Roll By by Myra Johnson - Free Book Online Page A

his eyes at the irony of his remark. Then, using his right elbow, he pushed himself higher in the bed. “Buy you a cup of java if you’ll help me with these confounded pillows.”
    Samuel made sure Gilbert had settled comfortably and then pulled over a chair. “How are you feeling? Is the headache abating at all?”
    The tension lines around Gilbert’s eyes and mouth answered for him. “I can’t even bribe the nurses into slipping me some extra doses of morphine. And now they tell me I have to have more surgery.”
    “Your leg?”
    “The surgeon says I’ll never be able to use a prosthesis unless they fix it better.” Gilbert’s jaw hardened. He looked away. “I told him he could save himself the trouble and me the pain.”
    The cold ring of hopelessness had crept into Gilbert’s tone again. Samuel braced his arms on his thighs. “You’ve got to stop talking like that, Gil. You have everything to live for—your family, Annemarie—”
    Gilbert slammed his clenched fist on the mattress. “Don’t you dare talk to me about Annemarie. Don’t you—” His chest heaved, each breath grating like a rasp on green wood. His face blanched with the effort to control his fury.
    Samuel straightened. No sense wasting the usual spiritual platitudes on Gilbert. He could do no more than let the outburst run its course. He looked past Gilbert to the next bed, where a nurse assisted a patient with exercises to restore flexibility to severely arthritic joints. Through it all, the veteran grinned and wisecracked with the nurse, though clearly the pain was excruciating.
    Catching Samuel’s eye, the patient nodded toward Gilbert and quirked his mouth in silent understanding. Returning the nod, Samuel planted his hands on his knees and started to rise. “I’ll come back later, Gil, when you’re—”
    “Don’t leave.” With a hiccupping moan, Gilbert brought himself under control. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what comes over me.”
    Easing back onto the chair, Samuel laced his fingers together. “I wish I knew how to help, but all I can give you are my prayers and my friendship. And my friendship won’t do you much good if you keep running me off.”
    “I said I’m sorry.” Gilbert slanted a glance toward the man in the next bed and chuckled softly. “You think he’d sell me a little of his optimism?”
    “You’ll have to find your own, I’m afraid.”
    “That’s what I figured.” Gilbert stretched a hand toward the nightstand. “In the drawer there—can you hand me the picture?”
    Samuel pulled open the drawer. Lying atop a fresh pair of pajamas and Gilbert’s shaving supplies was a sepia portrait of Annemarie. The oval frame appeared to be sterling silver, etched with tiny rosebuds and a trailing vine. Its weight surprised Samuel, and he feared if he didn’t grip it firmly it would slip through his fingers.
    The portrait must have been taken on a bright summer day. Annemarie sat beneath a spreading tree, a bouquet of daisies in her hand. Her soft, warm eyes seemed to smile at him, beckon him. He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry.
    Sensing Gilbert’s silent scrutiny, he tore his gaze away from the portrait. “This is new.” It was all he could think to say.
    “My mother brought it. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
    Samuel knew he wasn’t talking about his mother. “She is. Very.”
    Gilbert reached for the portrait, and Samuel winced inwardly at how reluctant he was to hand it over. Resting it on his lap, Gilbert traced the outline of Annemarie’s face with the side of his thumb. “You understand why I won’t let her visit me?”
    “Please, Gil, don’t give up like this.”
    “I told you, I won’t be a burden to her. She deserves better.” Gilbert inhaled a breath that seemed to go on forever. He let it out just as slowly. Samuel had to strain to hear his next words. “Take her, Sam. Take her with my blessing.”
    “What?” Samuel stood abruptly, certain he must not have