Chapter Fifty-five
“Look! Her eyelids are fluttering. Nurse, I think she’s waking up.”
“I’ll get the doctor.”
“Claire, can you hear me?”
I saw Ted’s blurry form through my eyelashes. He squeezed my hand. It took a few more seconds and a few hard blinks to focus in on him. Tear tracks ran down his cheeks. He looked like hell.
“Why are you crying?” I mumbled weakly.
“Oh, Claire, I’ve been so worried.”
Slowly, I became aware of my surroundings: the metal railings of the bed frame, stiff white sheets, a thin pastel yellow blanket, oversized loops holding up a long, dull pink curtain surrounding the bed and separating it from the rest of the room. The bandages on my head felt like a winter hat and my left wrist was set in a fiberglass cast. I lifted my arm, but the cast felt heavy. I let
