Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, not opening his eyes.
“You have to make the choice though. It’s up to you.” She thought of the kids she’d grown up with, the ones who would have given their right arm to be able to stop waking up sick. “Do you know how many people would give anything to have a choice between feeling well and feeling half-dead?”
“Don’t put a guilt trip on me.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to inspire you to recognize the gifts you’ve already been given. Accept them now before it’s too late. No guilt. Just…hope. Belief.” She patted his knee. “This is no way to live, Seymour. Waking up in a drunk tank every Monday morning. Constantly feeling sick and miserable. You can do better than this.”
“Can I?”
“Yes. Yes. Leagues better.”
He spared her a glance and then was silent for a moment as she waited for him to blow her off. Again. What she’d said was true. She continued to hold out hope. But ultimately, his life was up to him.
“Fine. Friday night,” he mumbled.
For a moment, his words didn’t register. “Really?” she breathed. “Really?” She grabbed his hand.
He made a groaning sound as though the jostling movement was enough to make him want to toss his cookies, and looking at him, it probably was. She let go.
“I’ll text Franklin and he’ll pick you up. Friday. Be ready. The meeting starts at six thirty.” Despite his stench, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
He smiled but didn’t open his eyes.
She found the sheriff back in his office. “Seymour is cleared to go.”
“You realize I don’t need your clearance to send him on his pitiful way.”
She sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “I know. But I appreciate you letting me have a few words with him before kicking him out. He’s agreed to go to an AA meeting this Friday.”
The sheriff stopped what he was writing and looked up at her. “Do you think he’ll follow through?”
“I hope so. But if not, it’s a step closer than I’ve gotten with him before.”
The sheriff gave a terse nod. “You put too much faith in people, Autumn.”
“No,” she said. “I like to think I have a good handle on human nature. But when life has given you a second chance, you can’t help wanting to help others reach for theirs too. It just feels like a”—she searched for the right word—“duty.”
“You’re going to be disappointed more often than not.”
“Maybe. But still.”
“But still.” His smile was filled with affection. She’d started working as the on-call nurse for the sheriff’s department a year before, but she’d known Ralph Monroe since she’d moved to town. He was a childhood friend of Bill’s, and he’d made it a point to keep an eye on her, make sure she was settling in well and that everyone knew that if they messed with her, they messed with the town sheriff and all its deputies. When she was a teenager, that had been both a blessing and a curse, but now she was only grateful for the way so many had stepped forward to make her feel welcome, both because they were kindhearted and because they loved Bill, who was a lifelong resident.
Ralph’s wife, Veronica, and daughter, Caitlin, had also become part mother/aunt and cousin. Caitlin was only a year older than Autumn, so she’d been a lifesaver on many occasions when Bill didn’t quite know how to mentor her. And Veronica had modeled what a wonderful mother could look like. Autumn hoped someday she’d become a mother herself, and if she did, she’d try her best to be just like Veronica.
She cleared her throat, looking away for a moment. “I might have found my mother,” she said softly for the second time that day. “I’m making the drive to New York City tomorrow morning.”
She’d told the sheriff about her suspicions regarding the hospital. She’d even told him about the boy in the woods and asked if there was anything he could do in an official capacity to look into the facility. He’d tried to help her as much as he could, but he didn’t get far. He was in a different city, and her records were sealed, as were those of the other patients who’d lived at Mercy Hospital. He could help her report a crime if she had even a shred of evidence, but she didn’t, and she knew as well as anyone else that they’d all say she had had hallucinations or dreams so vivid she still thought they were real.
Now she shifted her eyes, waiting for him to tell her she was crazy for continuing to search for answers, but when he didn’t say anything at all, she looked back.
The sheriff regarded her. “I don’t suppose I could talk you out of it.”
She shook her head.