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about Angel. I didn’t mean to question her motives—or maybe I did—but I didn’t really know what was driving her. Maybe she was, as Norma speculated, just altruistic—a modern-day saint. I knew people like that, not many, but a few. My mother was like that. So was my former assistant Falene, who for no apparent reason had stood with me through all the chaos and crisis I had gone through. In spite of the horrors we read about in the papers, there are still people out there with selfless, giving hearts.
    But my mother was my mother and Falene knew me. Angel was a complete stranger. Something didn’t fit.
    Dr. McDonald didn’t come in to see me until after five. As she entered, she glanced at the pictures on my wall. “Looks like Key West has come to you.” She walked to the side of my bed. “Sorry I’m so late. I had a patient whose heart decided to take a holiday. I hear you’re walking again.”
    “More like shuffling, but I made it to the bathroom.”
    “Excellent. Your CT scans show no further damage, the rest of your vitals have been consistently stable, and you seem to be recovering without any complications, so I’d like to keep you here for another twenty-four hours, then you’re free to go.”
    “Fair enough.”
    “I’ve written out a prescription for an antibiotic and a week’s worth of oral morphine tablets to help with the pain. The dosage is 10 milligrams, and you’ll be taking them for comfort measures, so you can quit taking them whenever you feel up to it. We’re going to send you home in your bandages and have you check back with us next week to remove your stitches. I’ll leave your prescriptions here.” She set the papers on my bedside table. “So the word on the floor is you’re walking to Key West.”
    “That’s my plan.”
    “Hopefully you won’t have any more detours.” She smiled. “Good luck, Mr. Christoffersen.”

    Angel arrived about ten minutes after the doctor left. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying. “How’s your day been?” she asked.
    “Not bad,” I said. “How was yours?”
    “I’m okay,” she said. She sat down.
    “I walked on my own,” I said.
    “And I missed it?” She sounded disappointed, like a parent who had missed her toddler’s first steps.
    “It’s not a big deal,” I said. “The doctor was just here. She said I could leave tomorrow.”
    This clearly pleased her. “Good. Everything’s ready at home. Is there anything else you need?”
    “I need my prescriptions filled,” I said, pointing to the table.
    She stood and lifted the papers. “No problem.”
    “My wallet is in the small zipper outside of my backpack. There’s a credit card inside.”
    “Okay,” she said. “I’ll take care of them right now.”
    I noticed she left without taking my card.

CHAPTER

Seven
    There are people who come into our lives as welcome as a cool breeze in summer—and last about as long.
    Alan Christoffersen’s diary
    The next day Norma was fussing around in my room while we waited for Angel to arrive. Angel had planned to get off work a little early. She arrived at quarter of six and was out of breath. “Sorry I’m late,” she panted. “I was having BG problems.”
    “BG?” I said.
    “Blood glucose,” Norma said. “Are you diabetic?”
    “Type one. I was a little low this afternoon.”
    “You don’t live alone, do you?” Norma asked.
    “Yes.”
    Norma cocked her head. “That’s really dangerous. Now I’m especially glad that Alan will be staying with you.”
    “So am I,” Angel said. She held up a paper sack. “And I got your prescriptions filled.” She unzipped my pack and stuffed the medications inside.
    “I just need to get dressed,” I said.
    “We’ll give you some privacy,” Norma said.
    A couple minutes later Norma knocked, then opened my door. “Ready?” She entered pushing a wheelchair. Angel was behind her.
    “Would you like to take Key West with you?” Norma asked, taking down the