Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)(44)

“Miss Pasha, time to wake up, dear.”

She startled at the voice, then stayed very still on the bed, the room dim but for a small green light on something electronic in the distance. A machine hummed somewhere, a soft, lulling sound.

“I know it’s early and you’re probably foggy from the sedatives.”

The nurse’s voice pulled Pasha out of her reverie, but Wanda was so sweet and soft-spoken that she didn’t mind. Her strong hand landed on Pasha’s shoulder, comforting and sure.

“We need to do a bone scan now, love.”

“Mmm.” Pasha drifted away. What time was it? Morning? Evening? She had no idea anymore. It was all sleep and dreams. Dreams about Matthew.

And Evan. That sweet little boy who made her want to live again.

“The drugs make you groggy, don’t they?”

“Not really. I’m just…” What was this feeling? So unusual and unfamiliar. She was… “Happy.”

That was it. She was happy. How strange was that? She still didn’t open her eyes, for fear that the happiness would float away like a soap bubble.

“Drugs can do that, too,” Wanda said with a chuckle, making Pasha picture the nurse’s beautiful chocolate-colored face breaking into a glorious smile. She had lovely teeth and such a warm, natural smile. It made Pasha feel good. Everything made Pasha feel good.

“Very happy.” That had to be Evan’s influence. There was no other explanation.

“Well, that’s nice, Miss Pasha. Not too many people in this situation are happy.”

“Not too many get what I got.” A second chance…with Evan.

“The T-cell gene therapy? You can say that again. There are hundreds of patients trying to see Dr. Bradbury and Dr. Mahesh. Getting on the list for this procedure is like being handed a miracle.”

No, Evan was like being handed a miracle. An eight-year-old miracle and another opportunity to love a little boy.

She barely opened her eyes as she was taken down the hall to another room and put on a new table. Still that didn’t change how happy she felt.

“Don’t move, Pasha,” the nurse said, ever so slightly tightening her grip. “I need to have you right in the perfect place before I start the scan.”

Pasha tried to keep every muscle in her body completely motionless, but one of them refused to cooperate. “Is it okay if I smile, Wanda?”

Another soft chuckle. “I can’t say anyone’s ever asked me that going in for a scan. I think it’s fine if you smile.”

So she did.

“You know, Miss Pasha, you are such an inspiration to me.”

“I am?”

“Absolutely. A positive attitude is the most powerful thing you can bring to this party.” The nurse situated Pasha on the bed and patted her arm. “Is it all the gypsy hoo-hah stuff you were telling me about before? When you looked at the ice in your water and said those two cubes meant two people who were supposed to be together had found each other?”

Pasha nodded. “That’s right, Wanda. You have a good memory.”

“Not like I’d forget something like that. So that’s why you’re smiling? Here—I’m going to lift your head ever so slightly, dear.”

As Wanda’s strong hands slid under Pasha’s neck, a warm, trusting feeling rolled over her. She liked Wanda. She liked everyone right now; she really hadn’t been this happy in years.

And not because she was finally going to die and free her darling Zoe. But because—

“You’ll be having a full blood transfusion in the next few days and I hope you’ll be smiling through that, too.”

“Oh, you never know. I might be smiling.” Heck, she might be laughing by then. Laughing and loving and so happy to be alive. “I’m not afraid of anything anymore.”

The nurse tilted her head, and said, “Let me guess. You love Jesus?”

“Well…” She’d never been particularly religious, so no. Of course, she could lie. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time in her life. “He’s okay.”

“Because the people who are thinking about God are usually the ones who are calm during this part of the whole thing.”

“It’s not Jesus who’s making me happy,” Pasha replied.

“Family?”

“Not exactly. I mean my family, most of it, is gone.”

Wanda nodded knowingly. “So, you think the worst that could happen is Dr. Bradbury fails and you get to see someone you love again, don’t you, dear? Who’s up there? Your husband?”

She looked right into Wanda’s trusting eyes, the trance still carrying her on a cloud, the blood in her veins not boiling in fear for the first time in so, so long. Instead, she felt at peace and certain of everything. So calm and detached and, yet, so happy.

“My son,” she rasped. “My son, Matthew Hobarth, is up there.”

Wanda closed her eyes and sighed. “Oh, my dear. Your son. The hardest thing in the world to lose a child, I say. God knows, I’ve seen some mighty miserable parents in here.”

“It hurts,” she agreed.

“I’m going to slide your shoulder a little to the left now. How old was your son when you lost him, Miss Pasha?”

“Seven and a half.”

Wanda gasped softly. “Oh, Lord. So young. I’m very, very sorry to hear that.” She patted Pasha’s shoulder gently. “Was it cancer?”

Pasha took a slow, deep breath, not answering.

“I hope you have lovely memories of him,” Wanda said quietly.

“I do. I think of him laughing, climbing a tree on our last day together, getting a chocolate-milk mustache as a reward, cheering a card game win, finishing a puzzle. No, no that’s not Matthew.” She felt her brows draw into a frown, but, honestly, that effort was more than she had in her right now. “That was Evan,” she finished.

“Evan? You mean Dr. Bradbury’s little boy? He’s something, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yes. He’s wonderful. He reminds me of Matthew.”

“That’s nice. Evan’s smart like his daddy and…” Wanda laughed softly. “Not really anything like his mother. Which is a good thing.”

Pasha might be in a little bit of a fog, but not so much that she couldn’t recognize an opportunity when it was presented to her. “So why did he marry her?”

Wanda looked surprised by the question. “I surely don’t know Dr. Bradbury’s business,” she said. “But his former wife’s father is a bigwig in the medical community. Now you didn’t hear that from me, Miss Pasha.”

Pasha smiled. “And you didn’t hear about my son from me,” she whispered. “I have secrets, you know.”

“I bet you do,” she replied with a soft laugh. “Now, I need you to hold very still, sweetheart, because this long metal arm is going to pass over your whole body and scan your bones. If you move, we have to do it all again.”

“Okay.”

“Anything you want to get out before we start?” Wanda asked. “You know, another smile, a quick prayer, more secrets?”

“One more secret,” she said, even groggier than when she’d first awakened. “One more,” she mumbled.

“Go right ahead. Your secret is safe with me, darling.”

The trance was starting again, the lulled-to-sleep feeling where there was no pain, no worry, no trouble, no secrets. No secrets. “My name’s not really Pasha,” she whispered.

“Oh?” Wanda had a little smile in her voice, as if she liked this secret. “What is it?”

“Patricia.”

That strong hand patted her again. “Pasha suits you much better. It’s a great nickname.”

“Not a nickname,” she said. Then something sort of broke off in her head, like a branch snapping from a dead tree, needing to be pruned. “And my little boy didn’t die of cancer.”

On her shoulder, Wanda’s hand stilled. “Oh, really.” She sounded like she might be searching for the right thing to say. But what can anyone say? “What happened to him?”

“He was killed.” She wanted that dried old branch gone, forever.

“That’s a—”

“Murdered.”

Wanda’s hand lifted as she let out a slight gasp. “Oh my God, Pasha. That’s awful. I’m so sorry for you.”

“It was awful.” But she had Evan now, and he was every bit as dear and precious as her son.

“Don’t think about that,” Wanda said. “Think about that little boy climbing trees and drinking chocolate milk. And hold still for me, dear. Here comes the arm.”

Pasha drifted off, vaguely aware of that humming again, in her head and in her heart.