Keeper of Crows (Keeper of Crows #1)(69)

Could life really go back to being normal?

I hoped so. My head tingled. I sipped from the plastic cup of water and thanked the doctor. Would my bed at home feel soft? The mattress under my legs was squeaky and lumpy and hella uncomfortable. I’d done well so far. I could do this.

Mom wouldn’t be there. I couldn’t remember Father when he wasn’t something important—CEO, Presidential candidate, Community Preparation Specialist. Would there be an awkwardness between us? Would I be welcomed home? I’d no doubt humiliated him. Telling the world he had to drop out of the race because his daughter was mentally ill must have crushed him. Father hated to lose, and I made him forfeit everything in a very public way.

“When can I go home?” I asked, faking a smile.

“You can leave here tomorrow.”

“Will I see you before then?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at discharge.” She smiled genuinely.



The next morning I dressed in a fresh pair of scrubs and sat on the mattress, calmly sipping water after the good doctor left me with a small wave of her hand. An orderly brought my morning doses of psychotropic meds and I swallowed them down quickly, opening my mouth wide so she could see I’d swallowed them. She nodded and told me she would be back as soon as she finished the morning round. Doctor Stein had just begun to fill out my discharge papers.

My mind was still a jumble, but she promised to help me through everything. The last of the dream I had while comatose was still fresh in my mind.

Gabriel telling me to be strong, that two thousand years in Purgatory would pass quickly, that my sentence would be over before I knew it, and that after I served those years, my soul would return to Earth, to my body, and I just had to live out my natural life. Then, he would be there. Keeper was waiting for me. Gabriel would watch over me, and I would soon be with the one I loved.

While the delusion was a nice one, I knew it wasn’t true. The medicine showed me that the tether I thought I felt between his heart and mine was all imagined. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t real. But I had felt it…

“Ready, Ms. Kennedy?” the orderly asked as she smiled brightly.

“I’ve never been more ready.” It wasn’t a lie, but I was afraid. Part of me still needed to be convinced that it was a dream. Part of me still felt him.

I flipped through mental images of the hospital records, reminding myself of the facts.

Facts that were documented.

Facts that were real.

He wasn’t real. Keeper wasn’t real.

“I’m very happy for you, dear,” the orderly said with a smile.

“Thank you,” I whispered, listening to the door lock behind me, wishing I’d taken my cup of water with me. My mouth became more barren with each step. The hallway was empty except for the janitor, who was using a large machine to polish the already shiny white tile. He nodded in my direction and I returned the gesture.

Doctor Stein was waiting for me near the front office. She glanced up from the papers she was signing and smiled. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah.”

“Your father is waiting. He’s sitting in the chairs on the back wall, just on the other side of that window.” She pointed the end of her pen toward the rows of chairs in the front entrance. I knew she was testing my reaction. I saw my father slouched forward, elbows on his knees, looking older than I’d ever seen him. I didn’t bother to tell her that man wasn’t the one who raised me or try to bring up Malchazze again. She’d promised the questions about the dream might linger for some time, and that we would work through them together three times each week.

However, I knew that if I started up now, she might tell the orderly to turn right around and take me back to my room. Think about water, I thought, my mouth feeling like cotton. Looking at my father almost made me throw a fit to get put back in. His eyes found mine and the same fear I felt was reflected in them.

My body was fine. My broken leg had healed and the cast was off. My muscles weren’t sore. The bruises had faded from my body. My hair was short again, spiked, and there was a raised scar on my scalp from the stitches and staples I’d had removed weeks ago. I wondered if my physical appearance scared him worse than my mental state.

I doubted it.

Doctor Stein led me out of the secured door and into the waiting area. Father stood, his smile wobbling as tears filled his eyes. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t Malchazze.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered as he hugged my neck. I patted his back awkwardly, watching Stein take us in, a concerned look furrowing her brow, deepening her wrinkle. He pulled back, grabbed my elbow, and said, “Let’s go home.”

Again, I gave a fake smile. We stepped through the double-doors and into the sun, where Father led me to his white Range Rover. The drive home was quiet. I reveled in the feeling of the warmth left by the sun on the tan leather seats and stared at the passing cars, houses, buildings, life. All around us was life. Everything was normal.

It teemed all around us.

“I stocked the refrigerator with all your favorites. I can make us something for lunch when we get home,” he offered. “And I dismissed the staff. I thought it might be less overwhelming if it was just you and me for a time.”

“Okay.” I was hungry and tired. No, tired was too small a word. I was exhausted to the bone, and not from physical exertion. Tonight… I would sleep in my bed tonight.