Part 4 (1/2)

I'm going home. Wherever that is these days.

Alan Christoffersen's diary

I woke the next morning just a little after sunrise, the first rays of dawn stealing through the blinds, striping the wall across from my bed with amber, horizontal bars. Nicole was sitting next to me. Her blond hair was slightly matted to one side and she was looking at me. ”Morning, handsome,” she said softly.

I rubbed a hand over my eyes. ”Good morning.”

”You slept well.”

”You've been here the whole night?”

”Every minute of it,” she said. ”But I wasn't awake the whole night. I fell asleep around one, so I got some rest.”

”You didn't need to do that,” I said.

”I know. I wanted to.”

”Thank you.” I looked around the room. ”Where's my father?”

”He went back to his hotel. He said he'd check out, then come over here to get you. He'll be here before nine.”

”Where's Falene?”

”I don't know. I haven't seen her since she left yesterday afternoon.” She brushed a long strand of hair back from her face. ”How are you feeling?”

”A little better than yesterday.”

”That's encouraging,” she said.

It wasn't, of course. The tumor wasn't going away until it was cut out of me.

Nicole reached over the bedrail and lifted the St. Christopher that lay on my chest. ”You're still wearing the medallion I gave you.”

”I never took it off.”

She smiled as she ran her thumb over the token. She looked into my eyes. ”Do you ever think about the time we spent together?”

”Of course.”

”What do you think about it?”

”That depends on if I'm thinking about Angel or Nicole.”

”Angel,” she said softly. ”I almost forgot about her.”

”That's a good thing,” I said.

She kissed me on the cheek. ”That is a good thing. You saved my life.”

”I don't-”