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“Two years ago at the bake sale near my grandmother’s. William Duggart and Barney Townsend almost came to blows over the last one on sale. Tensions were high. William said he’d marry me if I cooked them for him for the rest of his life.”
“And how old is he?”
“Eighty-six. Which, now I think about it, wasn’t so different from the last man I dated.”
“Unless there’s something you need to tell me about how you spent your day, I’m the last man you dated.” He took a bite of cookie. “Okay, this is good. Seriously good. I can see why William was prepared to marry you. These are enough to make any man contemplate giving up his single status.”
Except him.
She pushed the thought away. “Anything to cheer up this horrible place. I don’t know how you work here every day.”
“Normally I’m on the other end of the stress. It’s different.”
Maybe. But did that make it easier? She wasn’t convinced. “I’ve only been in a hospital a few times in my life.”
He glanced at her. “I presume one of those times was when you injured your ankle. What happened those other times?”
“My father had a heart attack. The first one was about five years ago, and then he had another one the year after that. Fliss and I were at home when we got the call that first time. He refused to see Daniel because he blamed him for the fact that Mom eventually divorced him. He refused to see Fliss too.”
“But you went to see him.”
“Crazy, I know. I kept thinking maybe he’d have an epiphany and suddenly realize he loved me. He didn’t.” She paused, surprised at herself. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“It’s the ambience.” He gestured toward the stark corridor. “There’s something about a drafty hospital corridor that encourages confidences.”
“That must be it.” That, and the fact that he was so easy to talk to.
“Sounds like you spent most of your childhood trying to please him.”
“I did. I couldn’t quite ‘get’ that nothing I did was ever going to please him. I annoyed him. Irritated him. And he wasn’t afraid to show it. The
worst time was when I had to recite a poem at school. I’d rehearsed and rehearsed. Fliss and Daniel helped me. I did it over and over again with not a single stammer. I was so proud of myself. And excited. At school I was always—” She hesitated. “I was teased for my stammer.”
“You mean you were bullied.” His tone was flat.
“Yes. I didn’t have much confidence, so the fact that I could recite this poem—I saw it as an opportunity to show everyone I could do it without stammering. I imagined the applause. The smiles. My life changing overnight. No more accidentally bumping into me in the lunch line and knocking the contents of my tray everywhere. No more frogs in my locker.”
Two nurses appeared, talking as they walked.
Ethan waited until they’d passed and the sound of footsteps had receded.
“Frogs in your locker?”
“They didn’t worry me. I like animals. But I was worried about the frogs.”
“Teasing—bullying—can make dysfluency worse so I’m guessing none of that helped. Tell me about the poem. I’m guessing things didn’t go the way they were supposed to.”
“I walked onstage, all fired up and ready to impress—”
“And?”
“And my father was right there in the front row. Fliss and Daniel were next to him looking furious and my mother had obviously been crying. We were one big happy family.”
“I’m assuming he didn’t turn up to support you.”
“No. He never came to school events. He turned up that night because he was the biggest bully of them all.” She breathed out slowly. “What he did confirmed it, although it took me years to admit that to myself. Years to admit that he didn’t love me at all. It just didn’t seem right or natural.” She felt Ethan’s fingers close over hers.
“This is one story where I’m not sure I even want to hear the ending.”
