“I know,” he says.
“We have to do something. We can’t just let her die.”
“I’d give my life to save hers.” He puts his hands on my shoulders.
“I thought the very same thing.”
“Because you’re a good person. If you didn’t care about her, you wouldn’t feel this way. Believe me, I’ve tried everything I possibly could for her, but the virus is… too complex. It might take years before a cure is found, and obviously, she doesn’t even have weeks.”
“I hate the virus.”
“Me too.” He pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me like my father used to do. “Sweetheart, me too.”
I can hear his heart beating. It’s strong with a consistent rhythm. I know good hearts are hard to find, so for the first time in a long time, I feel comfortable around a man. Maybe it’s because he could easily be my father, or maybe it’s because he treats me like a human being. Either way, I almost trust him.
“What can I do?” I ask.
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“You should read to her. Not just any book, but a story where she can fly away and escape the world through her imagination.” He releases me from our embrace and steps back, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Come with me. I have a collection in my office… and don’t worry about the mess. I noticed some nurses sleeping on their shift earlier. I’ll send them to clean up and restock.” He laughs. “I hope you feel better now. I’d like to keep my office intact if you don’t mind.”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
He leads me into his office and then opens the closet door. The heaps of boxes and random items overwhelm me.
“How can you possibly find anything in this mess?” I ask.
“What mess?”
“Oh, dear heavens.”
“Ha. I’m joking. I collect the belongings people leave behind and throw them in here. When you close the door, the mess is gone, so I don’t see anything wrong with it. As long as I can’t see it, I’m fine.” He winks at me mischievously.
I nod my head and push past the shelves of bedclothes and sheets. Large boxes stacked on top of each other sit along the back wall. I pull down one box and cough as the dust particles float into my nose and mouth. My fingers slip off the edges, causing it to land on my right foot. Dang it. The top flops open, and I peer inside.
Jewelry, magazines, and old CDs rattle around as I sift through them. A baby rattle makes me pause. These were someone’s prized possessions at one time, but I let the thought go as quickly as it arises, knowing I’m going to use them for a good purpose.
The next box contains more of the same, and I let out a long sigh of exasperation. Alyssa’s probably wondering where I am, and I haven’t found anything to read her yet. Then I see the stack of books at the bottom. I delay my excitement until I lift them out. Their tattered bindings make them fragile, and their browned pages curl at the edges, but I found them!
One by one, I read the titles and settle upon The Last Silk Dress by Ann Rinaldi. It’s the only one that seems appropriate for a thirteen-year-old, and the cover even has an elegant young woman on it.
I put the rest of the belongings back in the boxes and stack them together. Then I skip-walk down the hall and back to her room with a huge smile on my face.
“What are you all happy about?” she asks.
“I got you something.” Proudly, I pull the book out from behind my back and place it on her lap. “It’s the only one I could find that was appropriate for your age.”
“What? Are you kidding me? I’m dying and you’re worried about corrupting me?”
I cock my head. “Do you want me to read it or not?”
She nods enthusiastically and then lays her head back on my flat, measly pillow. I sit in the chair and open the book to the first page. Ironically, it begins with a fourteen-year-old girl and her father at the beginning of the Civil War. I find myself and Alyssa drawn to her vivacious spirit and her close family connections. Will Susan side with the confederacy or with the abolitionists? I remember reading about the Civil War in school, but this book begins to bring it alive for me.
After thirty minutes, Alyssa falls asleep and I fold the page corner to keep our spot. This has been the best day in the Hole since I arrived. I tuck the book under her mattress and step into the hallway. Sutton slams into me while I walk, deep in thought.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” he says.
“It’s okay, neither was I.”
“Did she like the book?”
“Very much so. Thank you for everything.”
He tucks his pen into his coat pocket and straightens his glasses. “Good. I’m glad,” he says, his concentration fixed elsewhere.
“Okay, well, I have to meet Cole. It’s almost seven.”
Sutton glances at my face, nods, and rushes away without another word.
Of course Amber’s talking and drooling over Cole.