Part 15 (1/2)
”Go ahead, Cory,” a woman said, ”you won't hurt her.”
Her drugged brain processed the name. Cory. Cory...Chamberlain. Richard Chamberlain. Richard...Cory? He glittered. Bullet in his head.
Two warm hands cradled Helen's left hand. ”I'm here, Helen. Stacey's here. She wants you to come out and play.”
An odd beep sounded from an apparatus.
”Her heart is strong,” the woman said in rea.s.surance. ”Maybe it's her way of saying h.e.l.lo.”
”I saw the wreckage in the paper,” Stacey said. ”I think coverage was greater with Helen and Blair so well known to the public.”
Stacey. Friend.
”Names sell,” Cory said. ”Helen was right about that.”
A blanket was placed over Helen's hand. There was a draft on her eyes and lips. The jangling of a cart drew her attention. Beneath closed eyelids, she s.h.i.+fted her eyes toward the sound.
”Your friend is doing well,” a different female said. ”Helen's breathing is upgraded, but her physician wants to use the external air for a while.”
Nurse.
”Has she been awake?” Cory asked.
”Awake, yes. Full of conversation, no. She watched on and off while I sponge bathed her.”
”Did she say anything?” Cory asked.
”She was funny. I was changing a dressing on her stomach and she said 'Hurts.' I told her she went through quite an ordeal. Then she said 'Cramps.' I nearly wet my pants from laughing.”
Helen's good arm was moved and poked.
”She's blown an IV. I'll get someone from hematology up here.”
”Do you suppose she can hear us?” Cory asked.
Helen had been listening, in and out of sleep, but it required too much energy for her to stay awake. Her pain was intense, consciousness bearable only for so long, but she knew Cory was there.
h.e.l.lo, baby.
She wondered if the crash burned her body. It felt so. Her right side throbbed with pain. Her face was itchy. Curiously, her left side felt good, not restricted by gauze and plaster.
Plaster. What color? And what's that tube? It makes me want to pee. What's the word? I can't think. Catharsis? Cathode? Kathryn Howard? Katherine Parr?
Helen drifted.
”I have work to do,” the nurse said. ”If you need me, push the b.u.t.ton on the wall. I'll turn off the video monitor for now, and you can have some privacy.”
Monitor. Catheter. Of Aragon. And Helen slept again.
Quiet room. Hungry. Sunday? Monday?
”I've brought you some scrubs and bath essentials, if you want to stay the night,” a female said. ”These aren't chic, but they're fresh. Use Helen's shower if you like.”
”Thanks, Linda.”
Glitter. She smiled internally.
The scent of generic soap grew stronger and stung Helen's nose. The sound of a chair dragged across the floor, came close, and stopped at her bed. Two warm hands took hold of hers.
”I'll stay with you tonight,” Cory said.
Helen summoned enough strength to squeeze Cory's hand.
”Helen? Can you talk to me?”
Helen slowly opened her eyes and looked at her for the first time in-how long? It took all of her power, but she managed to pull Cory's hand to her lips. She kissed a finger, not knowing if it was her hand, or Cory's, her lips had touched.
”Sorry,” Helen whispered, tears in her eyes.
”For what?”
”Boston,” she managed to say.
”It's not your fault.”
”Burned?” She struggled to touch her bandaged face.
Cory shook her head. ”No. Your nose is broken.”
”Blair?” When Cory didn't answer, Helen knew.
”We'll talk about Blair when you're feeling better.”
”Luhfyoo.” Her bandages caught her tears. She closed her eyes, welcoming sleep.
Cory nodded. ”Luhfyoo, too.”
Chapter Eighteen.
Brisk daytime voices nudged Helen from a light sleep. Carts, trays, and dishes clanged and chattered in the hall. The smell of bacon wafted directly to her brain. As much as she wanted to have a meal, sleep remained her best pain reliever.
Footsteps came near her bed.