His lacerated spirit was pathetically eager to embrace any crumb. “She smiled sometimes? Are you sure?”
Vicky’s brown eyes sparkled. “Yes, Michael. I can safely say that she smiled, a happy, satisfied smile, when she thought no one was looking.”
Michael nodded, absurdly pleased. “Thanks for that, Vicky.” He bent and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “It was good to meet you.”
Vicky laughed. “I’m glad to have met you, too, Michael.”
He didn’t know why, maybe just out of habit, but he handed his business card to her as he said good-bye. Vicky glanced at the card before sliding it into her coat pocket. They parted company, she to turn toward the hospital entrance as he walked away toward his own vehicle. His breath frosted white on the air. He hadn’t gotten far when he heard her call out his name. Michael stopped, looked back.
Vicky yelled, “Give her time, Michael. It will be okay. Just give her a little time.”
Michael nodded and forced a smile. There was a tightness in his chest. He lifted his hand that he had heard. Then he trudged away to his car.
Afterward, Cathy never remembered leaving the hospital or driving across town. When she stopped the Lexus, she was staring through the windshield at the front of Michael’s house. Her mind was short-circuited. Then her thoughts settled. She drew a jagged breath, pulled her keys out of the ignition, and got out of the vehicle. She walked up to the front door and inserted her key.
Sometime later, she heard the front door open, then close. Cathy felt her whole body tense. Her heartbeat kicked up. She heard his steps on the granite tiles, coming closer. She turned to face the doorway.
“Winter?” Michael stepped into the living area then hesitated. It was already dusk, and she had turned on only some of the lamps, leaving the corners of the room in deep shadow. “What are you doing here?”
“I have been waiting.”
There was tension in the low-voiced words. She stood with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her stance, and the expression on her face, was startlingly reminiscent of the first time he had brought her to his house. The night that he had made sure of the bargain between them. He felt nothing of the same emotions that had animated him then. Michael did not advance on her as he had that night. Instead, he carefully maintained his distance. He kept the timbre of his voice neutral. “I’m here now.”
“I wanted to explain. I shouldn’t have said that, in the parking lot, like that.” Her throat visibly worked as she swallowed. “You were a part of my life. An important part. When—when Chloe got GVHD—when I thought she really was going to die—I wanted to c–call you. I started to c–call—” She suddenly threw her hands up to cover her face and burst into tears. “Oh God! I was so scared, so scared!”
He took two long strides and wrapped his arms around her. With one hand he cradled her head against his shoulder. The other hand moved slowly, soothingly, up and down her spine. “Hey! Hey, everything’s all right.” He didn’t know what GVHD was. It didn’t matter. Her reaction was enough to tell him all he needed to know.
Michael picked her up and carried her over to the sofa, settling her in his lap. He murmured to her, holding her gently while she wept a storm of tears. Her whole body shook. Her hands tightly clutched his coat sleeves. He recognized on some instinctive level that she was releasing a pent-up maelstrom of grief and fear.