A.W. Hartoin - Mercy Watts 04 - Drop Dead Red by A.W. Hartoin

the bed under dim lighting with her eyes closed. She was older than I’d imagined, about fourteen. A thin headband held back her straight brown hair and accentuated her heart-shaped face. Next to her stood Aaron with a bowl and a spoon. Abrielle gave a slight nod and Aaron gave her a little bite of Bananas Foster.
    On the other side of the bed sat Ameche with his arm around a woman who I assumed was Donatella. She looked up at our approach and my mouth formed an “O.” Donatella was stunning. She had pale flawless skin and masses of dark red curls that went down past her elbows. When she looked at me I saw no recognition or expectation in her eyes. They were dull and lifeless. No spark and she should’ve had a spark with that hair. I would never have expected her to be Ameche’s sister. It’s not that he or their parents were unattractive. They were a normal amount of attractive. Donatella was something else and I suddenly knew why Oz was so interested in her.  
    Ameche saw me a second after his sister and jumped to his feet. “Mercy.” He dashed past Abrielle’s bed and flung his arms around me.  
    I hugged him as little as possible. There’s a small truth about me. I don’t like people touching me, not even my people. It could be because I get touched plenty and it was rarely welcome.  
    “I’m here. Of course, I’m here,” I said.  
    Ameche gave me one more fierce hug and backed up. “Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”  
    “It’s okay.”  
    Donatella edged out of her seat like she was in severe physical pain and Ameche took her arm. “This is Mercy. She’s going to help.”  
    Donatella held out her hand, but looked like she had no real interest in whether I took it or not. I did because I couldn’t leave the pale limp thing hanging out there. Her hand was freezing. I mean seriously cold.  
    “Has anyone taken your temperature lately?”  
    She blinked. “Temperature?”  
    Abrielle opened her eyes to slits and watched us.  
    Dr. Lydia took Donatella’s hand and then her pulse. “Let’s go out to the family area, so you and Mercy can chat.”
    “But Abrielle…”  
    “I’m sure Joey and…”
    “Aaron,” I filled in.
    “Would be happy to stay.”  
    Ameche assured Donatella that he wouldn’t leave her side. That he’d pee in a pitcher, if he had to. That got the tiniest smile out of her and we went out into the hall.  
    “Clem, can you get some blankets out of the warmer?” asked Dr. Lydia.  
    “I’ll do it,” I said. Better for Clem to stay. She was an expert in parental support in a crisis. I dashed off to the staff room and grabbed three toasty blankets out of the warmer, and then went to the desk. The nurses were still there, gorging.  
    “Did he happen to bring any thermoses?” I asked.  
    They didn’t speak, only chewed and pointed to a trio of thermoses next to a pile of charts. The first one had a fruity coffee blend and the second had hot chocolate. I snagged it and headed for the family room. Dr. Lydia had Donatella curled up on an over-stuffed blue couch. I tucked the blankets in around her and poured her a cup of Aaron’s best French hot chocolate. I could tell it was French by the whiff of bittersweet chocolate when I poured it. I was getting better at Name That Chocolate.  
    “Drink this,” I said.  
    “I’m not hungry.”  
    “I know, but this will help.”  
    We all three waited until she agreed and took few sips. Drinking hot chocolate almost looked like it was too much for her. Clem had to help her bring the cup to her lips. The full light of the family room showed what shape Donatella was really in and I had to agree with Dr. Lydia’s opinion. This was not a woman who risked her children to kill her husband. She looked worse than terrible. I’d looked after my mom’s best friend Dixie after her husband, Gavin, was murdered and Donatella made Dixie look put together. Her glorious mass of red hair was matted and greasy. She