The Calendar of New Beginnings Read Online Free PDF

pale, your cheeks look hollow, and your rigid posture is a sign you have pain somewhere in the body. And if that’s not enough, your heart rate increases from a simple activity like walking. So, let me ask again. How were you hurt?”
    She rested her chin on her chest mulishly. “Can’t we just sit here quietly? Andy, I just traveled for two days. I’m exhausted.”
    Her voice—usually so strong—quavered. Clearly, she was afraid to tell him. He thought back to how Moira had asked him if he was afraid to hear the truth. He was more than afraid now. He was terrified.  
    He took his friend’s hands in his and shook them so she’d look at him. Her green eyes finally did, and in them he saw a million agonies. He knew that look. He’d seen it in the mirror after Kim had died.
    “Lucy,” he said softly, looking into her eyes, “talk to me.”
    She was quiet for a long moment, and then she released a jagged exhale that sounded like it had been wrenched from her body. “Soldiers attacked the Congolese village I was visiting.” She gripped his hands so hard he could feel her bones. “They bombed it first—to kill as many people as they could—and then raided it on foot. One of the bombs exploded near me. It knocked me out.”
    It took him a moment to process her words. A bomb? An attack on a village? Dear God. “Oh, Lucy,” he said helplessly, feeling her hands tremble in his.
    “I can’t be sure if they thought I was dead or if they just left me alone because I’m a white journalist,” she continued in a monotone voice indicative of shock. He’d heard that same tone time and again in the emergency room at the hospital. “Sometimes there’s a strange code of conduct among soldiers. They don’t want to attract international media attention by unwittingly killing a journalist. It happens, of course, but usually it makes the news.”
    He forced himself to swallow as his mind conjured up a scene out of a movie. Explosions. Smoke. Gunfire. People lying dead on the ground.
    “How bad were your injuries?” He didn’t ask, Why didn’t you tell us? He knew.
    She finally met his gaze, and he saw the shine of tears in her eyes. Very un-Lucy-like.
    “Bad. They medevac’d me to a hospital in South Africa. As you can tell, I’m still recovering my strength, but I’m mostly well. Dammit! I didn’t want to worry you. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”
    “That would be like not noticing my son had grown horns. I’m trained to notice these things. And you haven’t fully recovered.”
    “I thought I could tough it out,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut for a brief moment. “Bluff my way through the homecoming. I couldn’t wait any longer. Classes start next week, and I wanted time to acclimate.”
    More questions were surfacing. “Have you been in South Africa this whole time?”
    “Yes.”
    From her monosyllabic response, he braced himself to extract the details from her. “Tell me about your injuries.”
    She blew out a breath. “It will only worry you more, and there’s nothing you can do anyway.”
    “I’m already sick to my stomach,” he said more harshly than he meant. “More information will make me feel better. It’s the doctor in me. Don’t make me beg you.”
    She flinched at his sincerity and let out a thready breath like she was gathering herself to face some grueling challenge. “I caught some shrapnel…in the back. The wounds still itch like crazy, but they’re healing pretty well.”
    So, she’d been stitched up. Good Lord. But he could feel the weight of the other shoe about to drop. “What else?”
    Her whole frame trembled. “They’re worried about my right eye. When I landed after the blast, I hit my right temple on the SUV we’d come in. I have something called traumatic optic neuropathy.”
    Oh, shit.
    “Andy,” she whispered, her sad, vulnerable eyes meeting his. “They’re not sure I’ll regain my full visual acuity or my color vision. I mean, my vision