hospital, weren't functioning properly.
The only orderly out in the hall was Smith. He was advancing toward her, pushing a wheelchair.
**You're supposed to take me outside," DufPy commanded as he reached her doorway. She was annoyed with him for not getting back to her with the information she wanted. She still didn't know for certain that he was right about how the sign on the elevator had been switched.
Smith laughed. "No kidding? And here I was planning on pushing this empty chair up and down the halls all day, because it's so much fun. Now you've gone and spoiled my plans."
'Why didn't you come and tell me who switched that sign?" Duffy hissed, climbing into the chair. "I've been waiting for hours!"
"Because I didn't find out anything," he answered amiably, coming around behind her to begin pushing her down the hall. "No one could remember moving the sign. Or maybe they were afraid to say, considering what almost happened. Probably thought they'd be in hot water if they admitted moving it. Sorry."
Duffy sulked in disappointment. She had hoped to prove that Dylan hadn't made a mistake. She didn't like thinking that he'd put the sign on the
wrong elevator. "Maybe you didn't ask the right questions," she accused.
But before he could answer, she realized that they were headed toward the elevator.
Her body began trembling violently, rocking the wheelchair.
**Whoa!" Smith said, leaning down to look into her face. "You okay?"
"No," Duffy whispered. "No. I can't go in there. I can't ride in that elevator. Take me back to my
room."
"Look," he said patiently, **you want to go outside, right? You have to go downstairs to do that, right? The only way I can get you downstairs is on the elevator. C'mon, relax! I'll park your chair back against the wall and make absolutely sure the cage is there before I push you over to the door, okay?"
Duffy couldn't control her shaking or the trembling of her lower lip or the nausea that rose in her stomach. The thought of those big metal double doors opening again terrified her.
But she wanted so much to go outside, to get out of this building, out of her room.
"Don't move it one inch away from the wall until you're sure that cage is there," she ordered from between teeth chattering with anxiety. "Promise?"
**I promise. Try to relax, okay? You shouldn't be getting upset like this. Could send your temperature up again and you'll never get out of here."
When he parked her chair against the wall, several feet from the elevator doors, she closed her eyes. When she opened them the cage was there,
just as it should be. Smith wheeled her in, and kept one hand on her shoulder the whole way down. That helped.
"I can't stay out here with you," Smith said as he wheeled her around a comer of the building. "I've got things to do. But I'll be back in half an hour or so. I'm supposed to remind you not to move from that chair. Doctor's orders. So, no jogging, okay?"
Her bad mood broken by the bright sunshine and blue, cloudless sky and the faint April breeze, Duffy nodded. "I won't move, I promise. Park me anywhere here." Then, feeling guilty for her earlier rudeness, she added gratefully, "And thanks. The fresh air feels great."
"It'll probably do more good than those capsules you're taking," Smith agreed. Then he set the brake on her wheelchair and, whistling, left her alone.
Duffy relaxed in the old wooden wheelchair. She was seated at the top of the steep slope carpeted in bright-green new grass. Other patients sat in similar chairs, reading or talking to one another. Far below her, where the slope ended, she could see silvery-blue water glistening in the sunshine. The lake — the only pretty part of the hospital grounds. Several children were sailing boats in the water and a pair of workmen in jeans and white T-shirts were planting new shrubbery around the lake's shoreline.
It felt wonderful to be part of the real world again. I almost feel human, Duffy thought, a half smile on her
The only orderly out in the hall was Smith. He was advancing toward her, pushing a wheelchair.
**You're supposed to take me outside," DufPy commanded as he reached her doorway. She was annoyed with him for not getting back to her with the information she wanted. She still didn't know for certain that he was right about how the sign on the elevator had been switched.
Smith laughed. "No kidding? And here I was planning on pushing this empty chair up and down the halls all day, because it's so much fun. Now you've gone and spoiled my plans."
'Why didn't you come and tell me who switched that sign?" Duffy hissed, climbing into the chair. "I've been waiting for hours!"
"Because I didn't find out anything," he answered amiably, coming around behind her to begin pushing her down the hall. "No one could remember moving the sign. Or maybe they were afraid to say, considering what almost happened. Probably thought they'd be in hot water if they admitted moving it. Sorry."
Duffy sulked in disappointment. She had hoped to prove that Dylan hadn't made a mistake. She didn't like thinking that he'd put the sign on the
wrong elevator. "Maybe you didn't ask the right questions," she accused.
But before he could answer, she realized that they were headed toward the elevator.
Her body began trembling violently, rocking the wheelchair.
**Whoa!" Smith said, leaning down to look into her face. "You okay?"
"No," Duffy whispered. "No. I can't go in there. I can't ride in that elevator. Take me back to my
room."
"Look," he said patiently, **you want to go outside, right? You have to go downstairs to do that, right? The only way I can get you downstairs is on the elevator. C'mon, relax! I'll park your chair back against the wall and make absolutely sure the cage is there before I push you over to the door, okay?"
Duffy couldn't control her shaking or the trembling of her lower lip or the nausea that rose in her stomach. The thought of those big metal double doors opening again terrified her.
But she wanted so much to go outside, to get out of this building, out of her room.
"Don't move it one inch away from the wall until you're sure that cage is there," she ordered from between teeth chattering with anxiety. "Promise?"
**I promise. Try to relax, okay? You shouldn't be getting upset like this. Could send your temperature up again and you'll never get out of here."
When he parked her chair against the wall, several feet from the elevator doors, she closed her eyes. When she opened them the cage was there,
just as it should be. Smith wheeled her in, and kept one hand on her shoulder the whole way down. That helped.
"I can't stay out here with you," Smith said as he wheeled her around a comer of the building. "I've got things to do. But I'll be back in half an hour or so. I'm supposed to remind you not to move from that chair. Doctor's orders. So, no jogging, okay?"
Her bad mood broken by the bright sunshine and blue, cloudless sky and the faint April breeze, Duffy nodded. "I won't move, I promise. Park me anywhere here." Then, feeling guilty for her earlier rudeness, she added gratefully, "And thanks. The fresh air feels great."
"It'll probably do more good than those capsules you're taking," Smith agreed. Then he set the brake on her wheelchair and, whistling, left her alone.
Duffy relaxed in the old wooden wheelchair. She was seated at the top of the steep slope carpeted in bright-green new grass. Other patients sat in similar chairs, reading or talking to one another. Far below her, where the slope ended, she could see silvery-blue water glistening in the sunshine. The lake — the only pretty part of the hospital grounds. Several children were sailing boats in the water and a pair of workmen in jeans and white T-shirts were planting new shrubbery around the lake's shoreline.
It felt wonderful to be part of the real world again. I almost feel human, Duffy thought, a half smile on her
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