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“Like I said, my mother doesn’t make any noises, so—”

“Actually,” Martha cuts her off. “Your mother has been saying a name over the past couple of days. If you or anyone else in your family came by to visit her, you would know that.”

I smile because I love Martha. She is one hundred percent for the patients, and when we get family in here who are either mean or unsupportive to a patient’s recovery, she lets it be known.

“I have a life and things that I need to do on a daily basis. I can’t waste my time sitting in a room with a woman who did this to herself.”

“And with that,” Martha take a few steps towards the girl before wrapping her fingers around her arm, which causes the girl to huff. “You need to go and let your mother recover like I’m sure you want her to do.”

Loa tries to pull her arm from Martha’s grasp. “You can’t do that,” she argues. Then she looks at me. “Are you going to allow her to manhandle me?”

I shrug. “What do I know? I’m just the stupid cleaning lady.”

I witness Martha gently but firmly escort her out before closing the door, cutting the girl off from the room, and us. When Martha turns around, her brow is furrowed, and her mouth is puckered. “Why, baby girl, are you in a patient’s room?” She places her hands on her hips.

“I—”

“Don’t even think about lying to me.”

My shoulders slump. “I know.” Taking a deep breath, I meet Martha’s stare. “You remember me telling you about the boy from my hometown?”

Since I moved to Los Angeles, Martha is the only person whom I’ve opened up to about my life. Croy doesn’t even know what happened or the things I endured before I fled New Mexico. My cousin didn’t ask questions back in the day, and Croy has learned not to ask any either. Even to this day, my past is mine to keep. Martha has always been different. I don’t know if it’s because she’s so much older, has that motherly way about her or if her eyes reveal that she’ll support me no matter what. All I know is that opening up to her has never been a problem.

“Yeah, I remember.”

I point to Rose who’s still lying peacefully on the bed. “She has his name tattooed on her chest.”

“Baby girl, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It says Hawking, Martha. How many people do you know with that name?”

She shifts on her feet. “Why does this have you so riled up, Tessa? It’s been years, baby.”

“She was moaning his name, Martha.”

“Tessa.”

“She has the club’s initials on her wrist. The same lettering that the president’s wife had. I know it’s her, Martha.”

“Again, why does this have you so riled up?”

“Because I know her leaving destroyed the heart of a boy that I cared very much about.”

“And now you think he needs to know?”

Biting my lip I give her a tight nod.

“Are you willing to dance with the demons of your past to give this news to him? You’re asking for trouble, Tessa, and I’m not even talking about the policies in patient privacy that you’re going to be breaking. This trouble is going to be way more than that. More than you might be able to handle.”

“My gut is telling me to do something.”

“Let me tell you something that you may not know.” She brings her hand up, signaling for me to come to her. When I reach her, she takes my hands in hers. “A woman’s intuition is the only thing she can rely on in life, Tessa. If you’ve got something telling you that you need to do something about this situation, then do it. Your gut will never lead you on the wrong path. You need to listen to it. Always.”

She’s right. Now I need to find the courage to make that call and hear a voice I never planned on hearing again.

Tessa

Seven years ago I ran from New Mexico.