The Story of Lansing Lotte by L.B. Dunbar

papers. Then the blonde nurse approached Tristan to say Guinevere could be released, and she got off in half an hour. I left Tristan in the hall to finish working out his plans and entered Guinie’s room. For the first time in weeks she looked at me, tears slipped down her face as she shook her head at my approach. I swallowed hard before I spoke.
    “I’m taking you home. The nurse said you can go. Do you need my help?”
    “No,” she sobbed.  “No, thank you. Just give me a minute to dress.”
    I nodded and exited the room to wait for her. When she opened the door after a few moments, I noticed again how thin she was. She looked sunken in; her added sadness at the sudden loss only magnified the pain she wore within her face. She moved slowly, reaching for the wall to balance as she walked down the hall. 
    “Guinie,” I pleaded gently, as she walked ahead of me.
    “I got it,” she grumbled, as she gripped the safety rail on the wall.
    “Stop it,” I snapped as I reached for her. Slipping an arm around her back, I bent at the knees and picked her up, carrying her out of the hospital like Arturo had only months ago.
    I had completely forgotten about Layne Ascolat, again, for Guinevere DeGrance.
     
     
    When I drove to Arturo’s place, I texted Layne at stoplights to apologize.
     
    Me: I’m so sorry.  Something came up.  Explain later.
    Layne: Sure
    Me: I promise.  Later.   Tomorrow?
    Layne: Tomorrow would be perfect.
     
    There were those words again. A promise of tomorrow with Layne, but I needed to take care of Guinie that night.
    Arriving in the private garage, I guided Guinie out of my car. She didn’t speak and I didn’t encourage conversation. There wasn’t much to say at that point. What could I say? I didn’t know how Guinie felt, but sadness was written all over her.
    I helped her into the apartment where Talia immediately began fussing over Guinie as I waited in the living room. I stood at those same windows, staring out into the city lights, cursing Arturo King. I’d never been angry at him. I never questioned him, but if he was alive, and he had let her suffer to the point of losing a baby, I was definitely damning him. God forgive me, I hated him at that moment. For a split second, I swore he better be dead. How could Arturo desert her?
    Talia suggested I go home after a while, but I refused. I said I’d make myself at home in one of the guest rooms. It seemed that we had made Arturo’s home a revolving door of support, whether we needed to be here for Guinevere or for ourselves was undecided. The room was always ready for whoever stayed the night. Often times it was Kaye Sirs, as I wasn’t exactly comfortable spending the night without another person in the place. Deep down inside, I knew I didn’t trust myself to be alone with Guinie. I wouldn’t hurt her, but I wanted answers to her cold war against me. The unknown pregnancy could certainly have added to the guilt she harbored.
    Around midnight, I heard a soft cry as I stared blindly at the late night television program. I don’t even know what I was watching. I was deep in thought instead, thinking about missed opportunities, when I heard the sound a second time. I wandered down the hall and stood outside Guinie’s door, listening. A whimper stole the silence.
    “Guinie,” I said softly, leaning my head against the solid wood.
    The air was heavy with breaths held and after several minutes, I heard the strangled sound again. Pushing open the door, I found Guinie curled into herself, hugging a pillow between her arms and chest. She didn’t turn in my direction as I spoke her name again. When she didn’t respond, I simply crawled onto the bed saying her name one more time. I slipped in behind her, my arms slowly encircling her, smoothing my fingers down her bare skin then clasping my hands over hers. I expected her to flinch. I anticipated it, but she didn’t move other than to slowly relax into me. Her back nestled into my