Like a Charm (6 page)

I raised an eyebrow. “How could you know what kind of girl I am?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry.”

I laughed. “Unfortunately, I don't think I caught mono from kissing. I've been working kind of hard the last few years and it all sort of caught up with me at once.” I sighed. “But I'm much better. Actually, I'm heading home on Saturday.”

He frowned. “Why so soon?”

Something in his eyes made me want to tell him everything. He cared what happened to me. I didn't know why, but he did. “It's work. Something's come up and I have to be in town to take care of it.”

“That's too bad. I was kind of hoping you'd be around awhile.”

I don't know what made me do it, but I reached out and put my hand on his. It was warm and strong. I just wanted to touch him. “I'll be back.” The words came out in a whisper and sounded much sexier than I intended.

He cocked his head. “Good.” He squeezed my fingers and lifted them to his mouth.

Every nerve in my body went on high alert. The warmth from his lips spread from my fingers all the way to my belly. I couldn't keep from smiling. I looked down at the table and took a deep breath. “I…things are kind of…well, complicated.”

He stood and put some money on the table to pay for our meal. “Are you married?”

“No,” I said as he reached out a hand and pulled me up beside him.

“Then there are no complications we can't handle,” he whispered in my ear. Then he kissed my cheek.

“I'll see you tomorrow.” He squeezed my hand one last time and walked away.

I couldn't move for a minute.

“I think that boy has a thing for you, girly.” Ms. Johnnie was to my left and I hadn't even noticed.

God, I hope so.
I most definitely had a
thing
for Caleb.

I
'm not sure what woke me at three a.m. I'd had a series of strange dreams. Funny, since I can't remember having a dream since I left Sweet for college.

It's unusual, but true. When I moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts, for school, I stopped dreaming. I was barely seventeen at the time. I think the pressure of trying to fit in and the hours of study kept me from any frivolous thinking. Or perhaps it was that I spent most of my waking hours in the Langdell Reading Room of the Harvard Law School Library, and by the time I made it back to my dorm all I could do was pass out from exhaustion.

For me dreaming was a luxury, and my first one back in Sweet had Caleb, dressed in a letterman's jacket and jeans, asking me to go steady. I wore a pink poodle skirt that was very itchy on the inside. He kept asking, and giving me this strange look, but I couldn't get my mouth to work. All I could think about was scratching.

The next dream was weirder. During a job interview I suddenly realized I didn't have on any clothes. I kept trying to hide my boobs and other parts with a carefully placed Marc Jacobs tote.

Then the dream shifted to the truly bizarre. I looked down to find myself on the stepladder at the library. I tried to shelve books, but I couldn't remember the alphabet. A fog had entered my brain and I could barely remember my name.

There were men and women standing all around me, whispering, but I didn't understand what they were saying. Then I saw Mrs. Canard in the biography and nonfiction section. “It will be okay, dear, you'll learn it all soon enough. I'll be here for you when I can.”

Then I woke, sitting straight up in bed and gasping for air.

Sweat dripped down my face and I was twisted in the sheets.

My cell rang in my bag across the room, and I jumped out of bed to grab it, stumbling on the sheets as I went.

“Hello?” I said as I tried to catch my breath.

“Kira, it's Sam.” He sounded sad.

I looked at the clock. It was exactly three a.m., and nothing good ever happened this time of morning. “What's wrong?”

“It's Mrs. Canard; she's had a stroke.”

Making my way back across the room, I sat on the bed. My brain wasn't fully functioning quite yet. “How bad is it?”

He cleared his throat. “I don't think she has long. It hit the brain stem. She has a DNR, so there's not a lot we can do.”

“DNR?” I knew what the letters meant, but I couldn't believe it.

“Do not resuscitate. We're having trouble finding her family. I know how close you two are and I thought maybe you'd want to come down to the hospital.”

“Of course. I'll be right there. And, um, she said something about the family being in Vancouver.”

A sinking sadness overwhelmed me and the tears fell the minute I clicked the off button. I wouldn't let myself lose it. Mrs. Canard needed me. My hands shook as I threw on clothes and shoes. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, grabbed the keys, and took off.

Though it was only a ten-minute drive, it seemed to take forever. I pushed away tears the entire trip. She had believed in me and loved me at a time when I didn't think anyone else did. My heart ached.
She's going to be okay. You just saw her. She's going to be okay.

Outside the emergency room I dug around for some tissues in the console of the car. Finding one, I cleaned my face, got out, and then headed inside.

No one sat behind the admitting desk, and the waiting room was empty. “Is anyone here? Hello?”

“Just a minute, please, I'll be right there,” I heard a woman say.

I didn't have any patience. I wanted to get to Mrs. Canard as soon as possible. I pushed on the door separating the waiting room from the treatment area, but it was locked.

“Augh,” I huffed.

“I'm sorry, I was with a patient. Can I help you?” a soft female voice said from behind the desk.

I moved so I could see her. She seemed familiar and then it dawned on me. “Margie?”

She smiled. “Kira?”

Reaching across the desk, she hugged me, and I squeezed her in return. Margie had been my one real friend in high school. The other kids weren't exactly mean to me; it was more like they ignored me. She always had my back and made me feel like I belonged. I tried to do the same for her, though I was painfully shy and could never come up with the sardonic remarks she managed.

“Are you okay?” She looked me up and down.

“What? Oh, yes. I'm here to see Mrs. Canard. Sam called.”

She pushed a button behind the desk. “You're the friend.” She smiled again. “I guess I was expecting someone a little older. Sam said someone was on the way. Come on back. We're getting ready to move her upstairs.”

We stopped outside a blue curtain. “Is she awake?” I whispered.

“No. She's slipped into a coma. I don't think there's much hope for her coming out of it.” Margie opened the curtain. Laying a hand on my shoulder, she whispered, “I'm sorry.”

Fluffy pillows framed Mrs. Canard, and her short gray hair looked like a halo around her head. While she'd always been pale, now the blue veins were visible in her hands and on her face. She seemed even more fragile than she had this afternoon.

“I was with her earlier today. I don't understand. She seemed fine.”

Margie checked the machine that was keeping a watch on Mrs. Canard's stats. “That's the horrible thing about strokes; one minute the person seems perfectly fine, the next they can't speak and they're paralyzed. It's terrible.”

Two orderlies arrived with a bed and moved the older woman onto it so gently I barely saw her jostled. Sweet is a small town, but the hospital is state of the art. It isn't very large but there are four floors. I rode in the elevator as we made our way to room 411.

Sam was there and helped get her settled. “I'm sorry, Kira. I know how much you love her.” I'd told him about her when we were in college and how she was the one who encouraged me to go after my dreams.

“Is there nothing you can do to make her better?” It was more of a plea than anything.

“We can try to make her as comfortable as possible, but there's just been too much damage to the brain stem.” He hugged me.

“It isn't fair. There isn't a kinder woman on the planet.” I choked up, trying hard not to sob.

“I know. So let's make her last few hours as peaceful as possible. We can play her favorite music, and it's important for you to talk with her. Do you know what she loved most?”

That was an easy one. “Books.” I pulled away from him. “I have a paperback she gave me earlier in my purse.”

“That would be great, and I'll go downstairs to see if I can find a CD player or radio. Music is always good.” He paused at the door.

I stared at Mrs. Canard. She already seemed so peaceful, her mouth curved in a gentle smile, her skin smooth of tension. “She loved music too. Whatever you find will be fine.”

He smiled. “You keep talking to her. We still haven't found her family, but we're working on it.”

Sam left and I moved a chair closer to the bed. I took her hand in mine. It was a little cool, and I rubbed her fingers. “I want you to know how much you are loved, not just by me, but by this whole town.” I sniffled. “You taught half of Sweet how to read and encouraged the rest of them to love books as much as you do. When I was a kid I wanted to be you. I thought librarians were the coolest people in the world.

“Well, until I saw that episode of
The Practice
and decided I wanted to be a lawyer.” I laughed softly. “I remember the look on your face when I told you I wanted to study law. You were so surprised, and then you went and found some college textbooks on corporate law for me. What they were doing in the library, I have no idea. I thought they were boring at first, but you told me everything must be looked at in context. You were right. Years later, when I could compare those cases to others, I was absolutely fascinated.”

I sighed. “You did that for everyone you met. Helped them along with their dreams.” I scooted my chair closer.

“Okay, enough with the mushy stuff. You know how much I love you.” I cleared my throat. “I happen to have a copy of
Emma
in my bag. I know what an Austen fan you are.” I read to her about Emma Woodhouse and her misguided schemes until my voice was a hoarse whisper. When I could read no more, I rested my head on my arm and dozed for a few minutes at a time.

Around five in the morning, a hand rubbed the middle of my back. Thinking Sam or Margie had come in to check on her, I turned with sleepy eyes to see Mrs. Canard standing beside me.

I closed my eyes and opened them again. She was still there. Then I looked down at the bed, where she lay looking even paler than before.

I'm dreaming.

“Kira, I'm sorry. I don't want to frighten you but it's time for me to go.” She patted my shoulder.

I shook my head, not really understanding.

She smiled. “I must pass to the other side. I've foisted a huge responsibility onto your shoulders and I want you to know that no matter what you choose to do, I will always love you. You can walk away from it all, and I will never think less of you. But know you are special and your talent can help so many. It will be difficult at first, but you'll come to love it as much as I did. If you give it a chance.” Mrs. Canard turned her head as if listening for something.

“I'm confused. What responsibility? If you need me to take care of the arrangements I will. Money is not a problem.”

“Oh, no. All of that was taken care of months ago. I really must go, dear, but I'll be back to help you along when I can. These things take time. Remember, you are special. No matter what, never forget it.”

She faded and an alarm started beeping. Sam and the nurses rushed in and stood beside the bed.

We all watched as her struggling breaths slowed and then stopped.

“We've lost her,” Margie whispered as she checked the machine.

Sam looked at me, and then at the clock on the wall. “Time of death, five after five.”