past him to the table and collected his dishes.
“Whatever I said, I’m sorry, Angel.”
The mug fell from her hand, hitting the table with a crash and spilling tea, just like the wave of grief that splashed over her heart. Hearing Harry’s pet name for her come from another’s lips would never feel right. “Damn it all!” She tried to contain the emotions twisting her gut into knots, but the tears spilled down her cheeks anyway.
Erich was there with the dishtowel, wiping up the mess. “Bess, please, sit down. Take a moment.”
“Don’t call me, Angel. Just don’t. And I can do the dishes. I’m not fragile.” Her stiff posture reinforced the defensive wall Bess hid behind. She refused to take his pity or comfort, but her knees gave way. She lowered herself to the chair.
He squatted in front of her and cradled her hands. “I’m sorry, Bess. I didn’t mean to upset you. I reminded you of Harry. Didn’t I?”
Even if she wanted to, Bess couldn’t deny the truth. He squeezed her hands again. A sense of comfort wrapped around her like her favorite wool sweater. “It’s not your fault. Some days are easier than others. This one was hard, so many memories.”
“Believe me. I understand.” He refilled her cup and set it in front of her. Without saying a word, he drizzled a bit of honey into the mug. Another example of how observant he was. He’d paid attention to how she liked her tea. “Just sit her for a few minutes and compose yourself. Leave these dishes to me.”
Her lungs expanded and slowly deflated as she tried to find her center. The hot tea passed her lips and soothed her. She could hear the water splashing in the sink and feel Erich’s presence behind her as if they were tied by a pair of Harry’s shackles. Harry would never...This has to stop!
The ongoing comparison between her husband and this man was unhealthy. Almost as much as the way she asked Harry’s ghost advice on every decision she had to make. It was past time to bury the dead, let him have his peaceful, final rest. She needed to look at Erich — and everyone she came in contact with — on their merits, not how they ranked on the “what would Harry think” scale.
She shared a commonality with Erich, like Martin he knew firsthand what it was like to lose a lover and companion. Unlike her, both men seemed to move beyond the pain with ease. Maybe Erich could help her learn to live without Harry?
Chapter Six
Bess paused at the entry to the hospital ward. Of the ten beds in the room – five on each of the long walls – only half of them were filled. Even though Harry had spent his final days in a private room, under a physician’s constant care, the antiseptic smell always took her straight back to the past October. She set the tray of homemade brownies on the small table to the left of the door and crossed to Joseph who was changing the bandages of a burn victim that she’d come to know during his weeks of treatment.
She brushed her hand against his ankle as she moved to where he could see her. “How are you doing today, Edwin?”
Though Joseph was using a gentle touch to clean the wounds, she could see the extent of the pain on the patient’s face. His hands twisted the blankets as he grimaced. “Not good, Mrs. Houdini.”
Bess sat on the edge of the bed and pried Edwin’s fingers from the blanket. “Grip my hand, and look in my eyes,” she directed. When he did, she gave him a kind smile. “Now, tell me how that wife of yours is doing? She and I keep missing each other here.”
She was well aware that caring for the young couple’s three children kept Edwin’s wife’s visits short and not as frequent as they would like. Bess also knew that anything that would distract him from pain would be welcomed. It was one of the reasons that kept her coming back to the hospital week after week to visit with the patients. Anything she could do to help someone else kept her mind focused on everything she still had
“Whatever I said, I’m sorry, Angel.”
The mug fell from her hand, hitting the table with a crash and spilling tea, just like the wave of grief that splashed over her heart. Hearing Harry’s pet name for her come from another’s lips would never feel right. “Damn it all!” She tried to contain the emotions twisting her gut into knots, but the tears spilled down her cheeks anyway.
Erich was there with the dishtowel, wiping up the mess. “Bess, please, sit down. Take a moment.”
“Don’t call me, Angel. Just don’t. And I can do the dishes. I’m not fragile.” Her stiff posture reinforced the defensive wall Bess hid behind. She refused to take his pity or comfort, but her knees gave way. She lowered herself to the chair.
He squatted in front of her and cradled her hands. “I’m sorry, Bess. I didn’t mean to upset you. I reminded you of Harry. Didn’t I?”
Even if she wanted to, Bess couldn’t deny the truth. He squeezed her hands again. A sense of comfort wrapped around her like her favorite wool sweater. “It’s not your fault. Some days are easier than others. This one was hard, so many memories.”
“Believe me. I understand.” He refilled her cup and set it in front of her. Without saying a word, he drizzled a bit of honey into the mug. Another example of how observant he was. He’d paid attention to how she liked her tea. “Just sit her for a few minutes and compose yourself. Leave these dishes to me.”
Her lungs expanded and slowly deflated as she tried to find her center. The hot tea passed her lips and soothed her. She could hear the water splashing in the sink and feel Erich’s presence behind her as if they were tied by a pair of Harry’s shackles. Harry would never...This has to stop!
The ongoing comparison between her husband and this man was unhealthy. Almost as much as the way she asked Harry’s ghost advice on every decision she had to make. It was past time to bury the dead, let him have his peaceful, final rest. She needed to look at Erich — and everyone she came in contact with — on their merits, not how they ranked on the “what would Harry think” scale.
She shared a commonality with Erich, like Martin he knew firsthand what it was like to lose a lover and companion. Unlike her, both men seemed to move beyond the pain with ease. Maybe Erich could help her learn to live without Harry?
Chapter Six
Bess paused at the entry to the hospital ward. Of the ten beds in the room – five on each of the long walls – only half of them were filled. Even though Harry had spent his final days in a private room, under a physician’s constant care, the antiseptic smell always took her straight back to the past October. She set the tray of homemade brownies on the small table to the left of the door and crossed to Joseph who was changing the bandages of a burn victim that she’d come to know during his weeks of treatment.
She brushed her hand against his ankle as she moved to where he could see her. “How are you doing today, Edwin?”
Though Joseph was using a gentle touch to clean the wounds, she could see the extent of the pain on the patient’s face. His hands twisted the blankets as he grimaced. “Not good, Mrs. Houdini.”
Bess sat on the edge of the bed and pried Edwin’s fingers from the blanket. “Grip my hand, and look in my eyes,” she directed. When he did, she gave him a kind smile. “Now, tell me how that wife of yours is doing? She and I keep missing each other here.”
She was well aware that caring for the young couple’s three children kept Edwin’s wife’s visits short and not as frequent as they would like. Bess also knew that anything that would distract him from pain would be welcomed. It was one of the reasons that kept her coming back to the hospital week after week to visit with the patients. Anything she could do to help someone else kept her mind focused on everything she still had
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