“Well, it’s a miracle cure, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Not for Dad. Not this time, anyway.”
“I light a candle for him every night.” What licorice root and hyssop were to Laurel’s mom, candles were to Maddie. She was a devout Catholic who had a rack of candles in her front window and lit one for everything from a fellow parishioner dying of cancer to a neighborhood cat gone missing. Still, Laurel was grateful.
“Dad sent in a schedule for the rest of the week.”
Maddie laughed. “Sick in bed and still drawing up schedules — he must not be too close to death’s door.” She held out her hand. “Here, let’s have it.” Maddie studied the handwritten schedule. “He’s got us cutting business hours, I see.”
Laurel nodded. “There just aren’t enough employees to maintain regular hours.”
“That’s fine. I’ve been telling him for months it was silly to open at eight. Who wants to buy a book at eight o’clock in the morning?” She leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “Truth be told, I don’t even like to be out of bed at eight o’clock in the morning.”
They worked the next few hours together cheerfully enough, both avoiding the subject of Laurel’s father. But he was never far from Laurel’s mind. She left Maddie finishing up the end-of-day paperwork and taped a sign to the door apologizing for the unscheduled closing of the store that weekend.
Laurel walked home slowly, her whole body tired after two hours of stocking box after box of books. As she rounded the last corner, she saw a large vehicle parked in her driveway. It took a few seconds to register what she was seeing, but her feet began to run the second she recognized the white and red ambulance. She burst through her front door just as the paramedics were coming down the stairs with her father on a stretcher, her mom only a step behind.
“What’s wrong with him?” Laurel asked, her eyes pinned to her father.
Tears were tracing lines down her mom’s face. “He started throwing up blood. I had to call.”
The stairs finally cleared enough for Laurel to reach her mom. She wrapped her arms around her waist. “It’s fine, Mom. He’ll be glad you did.”
“He doesn’t trust doctors,” her mom said distractedly.
“That doesn’t matter. He needs this.”
Her mom nodded, but Laurel wasn’t sure she’d even heard her. “I have to go with him,” she said. “Only one person is allowed to ride in the ambulance. I think it’ll be better if I call you when he’s settled.”
“Yeah, go. I can take care of myself.”
She managed to get her mom’s purse hooked over her arm as she continued walking toward the ambulance, unaware of Laurel’s presence. She didn’t look back as the doors slammed shut.
Laurel watched the ambulance drive away and a sickening, squeezing sensation enveloped her stomach. Neither of her parents had ever been to the hospital in Laurel’s memory except to visit someone. Laurel hadn’t wanted to believe this was more than an acute virus that would eventually pass on its own. But that didn’t seem to be the case.
She walked back into the house and pushed the door shut with both hands. The sound of it clicking into place seemed to echo through the front hallway. The house felt enormous and empty without her parents. She’d been home alone many times in the five months since they’d moved in, but tonight felt different. Frightening. Her hands shook as she turned the key to the deadbolt. She slid down the door and sat on the floor for a long time as the last bits of light left over from the sunset faded, leaving Laurel in murky blackness.
With the arrival of darkness came an unspoken permission to think dark thoughts as well. Laurel pushed herself to her feet and hurried to the kitchen, where she turned on every light before settling down at the dining room table. She pulled out her English assignment and tried to work through it, but after reading the first sentence, the letters swam before her eyes — meaningless gibberish.
She laid her head down on her book. Her thoughts wandered from the bookstore to Tamani to David, then back to her parents at the hospital and around and around until her eyes slowly closed.
A loud ringing jerked her from confusing, senseless dreams. She focused on the sound and managed to press the Talk button on the phone and rasp out a sleepy, “Hello?”
“Hey, sweetie, it’s Mom.”
Laurel snapped all the way awake and squinted at her rumpled textbook. “What did they say?”
“They’re going to keep him overnight and give him antibiotics. We’ll have to wait and see what happens tomorrow.” She hesitated. “He’s not even in a room yet, and by the time he is, it will be late. Can you stay on your own tonight and come to see him tomorrow?”
Laurel wavered for a few seconds. She had the irrational feeling that if she went to the hospital, she could do something. But that was silly. Tomorrow would be soon enough. She forced a cheery tone into her voice. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’ll be fine.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Once again, Laurel was by herself in the empty house. Almost of their own accord, her fingers found David’s number. He said hello before she consciously realized she’d called him. “David?” she said, blinking. “Hi.” She looked over at the kitchen window where the moon was rising. She had no idea what time it was. “Can you come over?”
When the doorbell rang, Laurel ran to let David in. “I’m so sorry I called. I didn’t know how late it was,” she said.
“It’s okay,” David said, his hands firm on her shoulders. “It’s only ten, and my mom said I could be home whenever. Emergencies happen. What can I do?”
Laurel shrugged. “My mom’s gone and…I don’t want to be alone.”
David put his arms around her shoulders as she leaned into him. He held her in the foyer for several minutes while she curled against his chest, holding him for comfort. He felt so solid and warm against her and she tightened her arms till they started to ache. For a little while, it seemed like maybe everything would be okay.
Finally she pulled away. She felt awkward after letting David hold her for so long. But he just smiled and walked over to the couch and picked up her guitar. “Who plays?” he asked, strumming a random chord. “Your dad?”
“No. Um…I do. I’ve never taken lessons or anything. Mostly I’ve just kind of figured things out on my own.”
“How is it that I didn’t know this?”
Laurel shook her head. “I’m not that good, really.”
“How long have you been playing?”
“About three years.” She took the guitar from him and balanced it on her knee. “I found it in the attic. It used to be my mom’s. She showed me the basic fingerings and I just kind of play by ear now.”
“Will you play something for me?”
“Oh, no,” Laurel said, pulling her fingers away from the strings.
“Please? I bet it would make you feel better.”
“Why do you think that?”
He shrugged. “You’re holding it so naturally. Like you really love it.”
Laurel’s hands stroked the neck. “I do. It’s really old. I like old things. They have…history, and stories.”
“So play.” David leaned back, his hands behind his head.
Laurel hesitated, then strummed the guitar softly, making small adjustments. Slowly her hands transitioned from tuning chords to the soft melody of John Lennon’s “Imagine.” After the first verse, Laurel started singing the words slowly, softly. It seemed like an appropriate song tonight. As her fingers finished the final chord she sighed.
“Wow,” David said. “That was really beautiful.”
Laurel shrugged and laid the guitar back in its case.
“You didn’t tell me you sing, either.” He paused. “I’ve never heard anything like that before. It wasn’t like the way a pop star sings; it was just beautiful and calming.” He took her hand. “Feel better?”
She smiled. “I do. Thanks.”
David cleared his throat as he squeezed her hand. “So what now?”
Laurel looked around. There wasn’t much here for entertainment. “Want to watch a movie?”
