A Heart of Time by Shari J. Ryan Page B

the nurse asks—the same nurse who remembers me. The same nurse who was able to communicate that Ellie wasn’t going to make it with only a look in her eyes. She doesn’t have that look now, but maybe she’s gotten more experienced at hiding her emotions.
    I shake my head and drop my face into my hands. “My name is Caroline,” the nurse says quietly as she takes the seat next to me. “You’re doing a wonderful job with Olive.”
    I lift my face from my hands and look at her with nothing but question. How in the world could anyone sit here and tell me I’m doing a wonderful job? My daughter is lying unconscious in a hospital bed. I’m thinking that’s qualification to have someone second guess my ability to care for a child, never mind doing anything less than an okay job. “I beg to differ,” I reply, sounding less cynical than I truly feel.
    “Oh, honey, her clothes match, her hair had two barrettes evenly placed on both sides of a straight part down the center of her head. Her socks match. Her teeth are clean. Her belly is full. These are only the few things I noticed within the minute she arrived here. I know it isn’t much, but I could immediately tell she is a cared-for child.” Caroline takes my left hand from my lap and points to my ring finger. “And you’re caring for her yourself, aren’t you?” She knows about Ellie, which means she’s questioning if I moved on.
    “Yes,” I respond, looking at my empty finger along with her. I struggled with the decision to take my ring off. I finally did last year and placed it in a box with Ellie’s ring.
    “Olive is going to be okay,” Caroline tells me.
    I remember asking Caroline if Ellie was going to be okay, and she wouldn’t answer me. But here she is, offering this information unprompted by me. “She is?” I need hope. Please give me an ounce of hope to hold on to .
    “Hunter!” a voice cries from the door. “Hunter.” Charlotte runs in and throws her arms around my neck as if we do this sort of thing —hug when in need of a hug.
    I’m still looking at Caroline, though, as well as the small smile unraveling across her lips. As the wrinkles on her cheeks smooth out, a happy gleam encompasses her face. She places her hand on my back and stands up. “I’ll give you two a moment, and I’ll check on Olive.”
    “Thank you,” I tell her, then turning to Charlotte with what I’m sure is a puzzled look, I ask, “How did you know I was here?”
    “When you left my house so quickly after you got that phone call, without even saying goodbye, I suspected it might have been the school calling about Olive, so I called them. I was with you at the school but… Anyway, I heard what happened and I followed you here because I thought you might need me. And I didn’t want you to be alone. I would have gotten here sooner but I was looking all over for you,” Charlotte says, breathlessly. It was her hands trying to embrace me at the school. It’s Charlotte who is always here for me lately. And yet, I get scared when she tells me I’m a desirable man. What the hell is wrong with me? “The administration desk wasn’t entirely sure where you might be and I called your phone a dozen times. As I was running through the halls, I thought security was going to escort me out, but instead, they helped me find you. How is she? Is she okay? Are you okay? Do you need something? I was so worried about her.” Charlotte sounds wild and out of control. The worry in her voice is pure and full of honest compassion for Olive—for me. It’s something I haven’t heard in a while since I’ve pushed everyone away—everyone including my own parents. I wouldn’t allow the presence of compassion in my life because it made everything worse. AJ is the only one who I haven’t burned, because he isn’t compassionate. He’s an asshole like me, just in a different way—a way I can tolerate most of the time.
    “Thank you for coming,” I tell her, honestly.