Page 60 of A Heart of Little Faith

“But you can?” Her words, her intimate knowledge of his innermost thoughts, in her delirium, strangled him. Everything around him slowed down, except for the distant ticking of a clock, the sound magnified in his distress. Somehow, she’d been able to see past all of his defenses and get to the truth. Would she remember this when her fever died down? Did he want her to?

“I already do. But if he knew, he’d yell at me, or worse, leave me.” She sighed and reached for Daniel. Gideon held her hand as his mind reeled. “You know, Daniel, since you died, no one is nice to me anymore and I’m lonely.”

“What do you mean?” Gideon asked, thrown off kilter once again. Who wasn’t nice to her? She couldn’t mean him or Samantha.

“Well, people are nice to me, but it’s because I’m a widow. They’re afraid not to be nice to me because they feel badly for me. But they’re not nice to me just because they want to be, or because they like me. Except for Gideon.”

“He’s nice to you?” He was dying to hear her answer.

“Well, no. Sometimes he’s rude and mean to me, especially when he thinks I’m getting too close to him. We used to always fight. Now we fight a little less.” Gideon cringed. His heart hurt for what he’d put her through. “But even when he’s mean to me, I still know somewhere, deep down, he likes me. And at least he’s not being nice to me because he feels he has to be. He’s the first person who’s taken away my loneliness since you.”

He leaned back, unable to see her through his tears, and unable to speak to her because of the lump in his throat. They were alike, the two of them. Both of them wanted to be seen for whom they were inside, but too afraid to let themselves be loved so they each pushed the other away in their own ways.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone like him,” he whispered when he could form words around the lump.

“Are you?” Hope filled her voice.

“Yes.” He dried his tears.

“I knew you’d understand. You’d like him, you know. I just hope I can be lucky twice.”

She closed her eyes again and he rubbed her cheek. Sirens wailed in the distance and they seemed to say “Lily, Lily, Lily.” Gideon vowed he’d try to give her what she deserved. Maybe she would be able to help him, too.

****

Two days later, Lily woke to the sound of an announcement over a loud speaker.Who is making so much noise, and what are they doing in my apartment?She opened her eyes, and blinked at the bright lights. Her breath came in short gasps and the pungent odor of antiseptic invaded her nostrils.This is not my apartment. She moved her head around on the pillow.Where am I? And what are all these tubes?

“Hi.” The deep voice calmed her as effectively as a hug. She turned toward it. Gideon sat next to her bed. At least, she thought it was him. It sounded like him, but he looked awful. He was haggard, he hadn’t shaved, and worry lines radiated around his eyes. His hair was a mess, like he’d run his hands through it continuously.

“What happened?” Her throat was dry and scratchy.

“You’ve been sick.”

“No, I meant to you,” she said. “You look awful.”

Gideon gave her a sardonic smile. “Gee, it’s nice to see you, too.”

Lily closed her eyes in embarrassment. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend you. You just seem so tired.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been here, worried about you. You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

Lily gasped. “Where’s Claire?”

Gideon stroked her face. “It’s okay, she’s with Samantha. Everything is fine.”

Lily sighed in relief and sank into her pillow. “What happened?”

“Apparently, you had a bad case of the flu, but you’re going to be fine. You’re at St. Vincent’s.” She attempted to stay awake, but it was too much of a struggle. Gideon continued to stroke her face, soothing all her fears. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” She drifted off, her cheek resting against his palm.

Later that afternoon, Lily woke and felt much better. The doctor examined her, removed the IV after she proved she could drink and left them alone.

“You should get some sleep, you know,” she murmured. He appeared worse than she felt. His skin was gray; his clothes were rumpled.

“It’s okay.”

“I thought you don’t like hospitals?”

“I don’t.”