A Month of Summer Read Online Free PDF Page A

hesitated in the doorway. “I wasn’t sure if they told you that the administrator had a call from your daughter . . . uhhh . . . Rebecca, I think she said.”
    No! I cried, but only a faint gurgle, a senseless sound, came from my lips.
    Mary seemed to guess the meaning. There was no telling how much the staff knew about our family situation. “She should be here soon. I just didn’t want you to be . . .” She searched for a word, then finished with, “Surprised.”
    My hopes, which had kept me chugging uphill hour upon hour, sank, and the fire went out of me. I’d hoped for many things these past weeks, but Rebecca’s arrival wasn’t one of them. My problem was not so much a lack of faith that peace could be made with Rebecca one day. Over the years, and particularly since Edward’s illness, I’d sent letters to her, urging her to visit her father while there was still time—while a bit of that strong, silent man remained.
    My pleas went unheeded. Now, I wanted them to remain so, at least for the time being. I couldn’t let our lives fall to the mercy of this stranger, this angry young woman with Edward’s dark hair and hazel eyes, but her mother’s fine, aristocratic features and her mother’s view of past events. I couldn’t continue to lie here, unable to defend Edward and Teddy, unable to explain the truths of our family history.
    Mary appeared to recognize my desperation. She crossed the room and squeezed my hand. “The physical therapist should be here in a bit, Mrs. Parker. You’re the last one on her list today. You work real hard and do everything she tells you to do, so you can get better, all right?”
    Don’t cry, I thought. It’s useless to cry. But like everything else in my body, my tear ducts no longer listened to my wishes. My eyes welled up, and my vision swam behind a wall of water. Mary reached for a tissue. “Don’t worry. It’ll be all right.” Mary always spoke in such pleasant ways. She never rolled her eyes, or huffed, or grumbled under her breath. She never shared in the gossip and complaining that took place among staff members when they thought we couldn’t hear. She just came and went in her white sneakers, her long denim skirt swishing heavily around her ankles. She was an island of quiet goodness in a sea of frustration and uncertainty.
    After checking her watch, and then the window, she dried my cheeks, then slipped a hand under my legs, lifted my knees, and fluffed the pillows there. As she threw away the tissue, she noticed the romance novel a young volunteer with the book cart had left after reading to me the day before. Her brows drew together, then she frowned and reached for the half-empty soda the volunteer had left on the table. “Looks like this needs to be thrown out.” Picking up the bottle, she discreetly turned Pirate’s Promise facedown.
    “I’ll see you in the morning.” She angled her head so that she could look at me eye to eye, but her gaze wandered back to the book, taking in the miniaturized picture of the pirate and his lady in a wild embrace. Sometimes, when I gazed at that picture, I thought of Edward years ago. I was never as buxom as Marcella, the countess with the long red hair, but Edward was every bit as handsome as Gavin, the pirate captain. Gavin was a striking figure—the type to set a young woman’s heart aflutter. . . .
    Flushing, Mary turned away from the picture. “Better?” she asked.
    Yes , I said, and attempted to nod, but my head jerked sideways, and the sound came out as a distorted moan, “Eh-eeeh-ehhhsh.”
    Mary smiled at the pathetic attempt. “That was good. You’ve been practicing.”
    “Eh-eeeh-esh.”
    “Did you show your physical therapist?”
    I willed my head to one side, then let it fall back to center as the answer rushed out harshly, “Ohh-ohh-ooo-oh.”
    Mary sighed. “You should. She’d be so happy. It’s progress.”
    “Pffff,” I blew out, then turned my face away as the door clicked open