Haven smiled slightly, his deep-set eyes glinting with some emotion. Then the room dimmed and she thought someone had flicked off the lights. She looked down the length of the room and gasped. Her mother stood looking up at the tree, her eyes gone soft with the multi-color light. Without even realizing she was moving, Raine walked toward her mother, holding Haven’s hand, afraid to blink. She knew that Haven had to be creating the vision, but for the moment she didn’t care. Her mother was standing less than twenty feet in front of her, looking so real Raine thought she could reach out and touch her.
Mama’s blond hair was piled on top of her head in one of the messy buns she used to do, and she was dressed in one of daddy’s flannel shirts she liked to wear around the house. There was a radiance to her face as she looked up at the house. Raine thought that was the memory she was seeing; one of her childhood memories before everything had changed. Even as she watched her mama looked up at the sky and the falling snowflakes, holding her palms out to catch them. Raine looked around, entranced as snowflakes began to fall around her. She held out her hand, the one Haven wasn’t holding, and let the snowflakes fall on her palm. Was she actually feeling the cold or was she merely imagining it as the flakes melted against her skin?
Mama looked at her and Raine swallowed, her throat threatening to close off completely. Her mother had been so beautiful, her skin weather-worn, smile lines around her mouth and cheeks. She and daddy had been in love like teenagers and though they’d been poor, they’d made the most of everything they could.
“I love you, mama,” she whispered. “And I miss you so bad.”
“I love you, baby girl,” her mother responded, before she gently faded away and the rec room returned.
Raine clapped a hand over her mouth to contain sobs and she was vaguely aware of strong hands on her shoulders guiding her into a chair. As tears rolled down her cheeks she looked up at Noah. “That was my mama.”
He nodded, kneeling down in front of her and she realized his eyes were swimming with tears too, though he wasn’t crying like she was. “I saw my grandmother, by the nativity.”
She looked around the room, suddenly aware that she wasn’t the only one distraught. Others were crying, mostly the female nurses but some of the male patients, as well. One man had passed out on the floor and Paul had moved to make sure he was okay. One man had his hand stretched out toward the nativity scene, saying Pépé over and over again. She thought it meant grandfather in French. Had all of these people seen something like she had? Turning, she looked at Haven.
The man appeared to have shrunk down in his wheelchair, the circles around his eyes even deeper. “Did you do this?” she whispered. “Did you give me that glimpse of my mother again?”
He didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes. Raine reached out, her eyes filling with even more tears as she realized what Haven had done for her. What he’d done for them all. “You are amazing,” she breathed. “Thank you. She looked beautiful.”
“It was your most clear memory of her,” Haven whispered. “You’d remembered it several times over the past couple of days so you were almost broadcasting it. I just gave it a little spark.”
Raine heaved a breath, looking around the room again. Those that had been affected by the visions were coming back to themselves and the man on the floor sat up, looking dazed.
Noah rested his hand on her knee. “Are you okay?”
Raine nodded, feeling…ephemeral. Lighter in her skin. “He gave us all a vision of our lost loved ones.”
Noah nodded, still rubbing her knee. “I like those visions a lot better than the ones trying to kill me.”
Haven seemed to have wilted in his chair. With a pat on his hand, she moved away from Noah and to the resident. “Are you okay?”
“I think I might have done too much.” He blinked up at her. “I feel like I’m going to crash, Nurse Raine.”
“Okay, I’ll get you back to your room.” She moved around behind him and turned the wheelchair to leave the room. She caught Paul’s gaze and he nodded, acknowledging what she was doing. Then she pushed Haven back down to his room, Noah trailing along behind. Within just a minute she was maneuvering Haven down his hallway and into his room. He barely had the energy to stand so Noah helped him to the bed. It spoke to how wrung-out he was that he didn’t protest being in the bed itself, rather than on the floor where he normally stayed.
“Can I give you a cover?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” he whispered.
She pulled the light blanket up over his shoulders, draping it over him carefully, then she rested her hand on his shoulder. “Tomorrow I’ll get you all the Coke you want, buddy. Thank you for what you did tonight.”
Raine wasn’t sure if he heard her or not. His breathing had already deepened. She watched him for a moment, looking for anything medically wrong, but he just seemed to be super tired.
Making sure the light was on in the bathroom, she left Haven’s room. Noah was leaning against the opposite wall. He gave her a long look, his golden eyes probing. “You okay?”
Raine nodded. “Just… thankful, I guess. She looked so real, standing there. Strong, before the sickness took her.”
Noah rocked his head. “My grandmother, as well. She was looking down into the nativity crib, checking to see if we’d stolen Jesus again.”
Raine
