be arranged.â He touched her cheek with his forefinger. âI think youâd be a good person to have on her side. She may need it soon.â
âI know. I wonât disappoint you.â
âJust what do you know?â he asked curiously.
She shook her head. âI wonât disappoint you,â she repeated.
His hand dropped away from her face. âStop worrying about responsibility and concentrate on healing. Youâve had a bad couple days.â His lips twisted. âNo, youâve had a bad several years.â
âNot so bad. Not all the time.â Her eyes stung with tears. âElena made them good because we were together.â
âIâm sure you made them good for her, too,â he said gently. He turned away and pushed open the door. âFive minutes. You can even see me through this glass door. If you need me, come and get me.â
Her eyes were swimming with tears as she looked down at her computer.
Elena.
Donât cry. Tears never did any good. Elena had always told her that you just had to forget and go on.
But how was she going to forget Elena?
She wouldnât forget. She would lose her if she forgot all the years theyâdâ
âWould you like a tissue?â
She looked up to see an older boy in jeans and a white shirt who had dropped down on the bench next to her. She could barely see through the tears, but she was aware of dark hair, dark eyes. Her friend, Heather, would have said he was cute, and his hair was cut like one of the members in Heatherâs favorite rock band.
He handed her the tissue. âYou look like you could use it.â He took another tissue out of the same pack and dabbed at his own eyes. âMe, too. Life can be crap, canât it?â
âYeah.â She wiped her eyes. âThanks.â
He nodded. âWelcome.â He leaned his dark head back against the wall. âI hate this. My dad is in there paying the bill and for what? They couldnât get her well. My mom died anyway.â
âIâm sorry.â She took a deep, shaky breath. âIt seems to be a good hospital. Theyâre doing everything they can for Eve.â
âYour sister?â
âNo. Not my sister.â She wiped her eyes again. âMy sister died a long time ago. Do you have a sister?â
âYes, Nella. Sheâs in the chapel, praying for my motherâs soul.â His eyes filled again. âThatâs where I was when my dad called me and said he needed me. I didnât want to come. There didnât seem much I could do, and I felt helpless. I never liked to go to church, but my mother taught me that prayers help. I felt like maybe I was doing something in that chapel, that maybe she could hear me. Stupid, huh?â
She shook her head. âI donât think so. Elena always told me that when you couldnât trust anyone else that you should pray.â
âElena? You said Eve.â
âNo, my friend, Elena. She ⦠died.â
âSeems like everyone is dying,â he said thickly. âDid it help you to go to church, like it did me?â
âI havenât been able to do that yet.â
âYou ought to try it. It canât hurt.â
âMaybe later.â
âThatâs what I thought when my mom died. All the things I was going to do and say. Sometimes I wasnât even nice to her. Itâs bad to put off things.â He suddenly jumped to his feet. âCome on, letâs go to the chapel. Neither of us is doing any good sitting on this bench. Who knows how long itâs going to take for them to pay those bloodsuckers?â
âWhat?â Caraâs eyes widened in surprise. âI canât leave now.â
âSure you can.â He pulled her to her feet. âThe chapelâs only three floors up. You can call down to say where youâre going when we get there.â
âWhat about your father?â
âHe
Carl Woodring, James Shapiro