Change of Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

what lurked beneath those aluminum tins, the odor was always the same: mashed potatoes and gravy—that prosaic, sturdy, comforting smell. Sharlie was surprised to discover that she was hungry, and started on her veal loaf. She wanted to finish before Brian Morgan arrived, embarrassed to be caught eating in front of him, a stranger, the business of chewing and swallowing seeming crass somehow, like going to the bathroom.
    But after three bites she was exhausted. She set down her fork and leaned back against the pillow, wishing someone would offer to feed her. When Brian Morgan arrives, she thought, I’ll ask him to cut up my meat and mush my sherbet for me. He’d shown his chivalrous bent. Maybe he’d enjoy playing Florence Nightingale in drag.
    She tried to relax and set about inhaling the fragrance from her dinner, hoping she’d soak in some of its nutritional value that way. When she opened her eyes, a young man stood in the doorway.

Chapter 5
    He was tall, with very thick curly brown hair. He wore a soggy trench coat, and from across the room Sharlie could smell the damp cold air he’d brought inside with him. His face was flushed from the sudden hospital heat, and he looked wonderfully healthy and strong.
    â€œI’m disturbing your dinner,” he said, hesitating in the doorway.
    â€œOh … no, I’m finished,” Sharlie said, smiling at him timidly and wishing he’d come closer so she could drink in the clean smell of him. “Why don’t you hang up your coat and let it dry out a little?” Good Lord, she thought, don’t I sound casual, just as if I’m visited every day by beautiful young men like you.
    Brian removed his coat and made a tent with it over the back of a chair. He propped his umbrella in the corner, pulled another chair next to the bed, and settled into it as if he fully intended to stay. He wore a three-piece tweed suit, warm and brown and coarse like his hair.
    â€œIt’s funny,” Sharlie said. “A lot of days go by without my knowing whether they were sunny or rainy.”
    Brian glanced at the window, and Sharlie thought, He doesn’t think it’s funny. It’s not funny. He thinks I’m whining.
    She began again, lamely. “I guess I just forget to look,” and she reddened, thinking about the article she could write for Cosmo : how to make an ass of yourself when meeting the attractive man who saved you life.
    Brian was looking at her with such intensity and curiosity that her blush deepened. She cursed her pale skin, that made a blush so obviously a blush. No way to pretend the crimson cheeks were all because of “this dreadful cough, hack, hack” or “isn’t it warm in here, I’d better remove my sweater.”
    â€œWhat exactly is wrong with you?” he asked.
    Sharlie started, but he was looking at her with such open interest that she found herself responding.
    â€œSomething I was born with—valvular heart disease.”
    â€œI thought they put plastic ones in now.”
    She nodded. “Teflon. But I’ve got three out of four that won’t cooperate. It gets a little sticky. Even for Teflon.”
    He smiled. “Well, then, what are they doing for you?”
    â€œPumping me full of digitalis and anticoagulants. And lots of Demerol,” she replied. He looked at her, waiting for more. She smiled. “It’s not so bad, really. I get waited on hand and foot, and every now and then they let me out for a walk … which is how I happened to pass out on your shoes the other day.”
    â€œYou mean you live here?”
    â€œNot all the time, no. My parents’ house is pretty well equipped, actually. We’ve got shelves full of magic potions for this symptom and science fiction machinery for that symptom. I guess we’re all medical technologists by now.”
    â€œWhen are you getting out?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t know. Last