Gabby distracted me from watching the happy family. “Could we ride together tomorrow?” she asked.
Luke walked over with a heaping plate. My stomach cheered for both of them, plate and man.
“Sure,” I said to Gabby. “But I’m not much fun. I tend to fall asleep all the time.”
“Maybe conversation will help,” she offered.
I shrugged and bit into a forkful of stuffing heaven. But as I tasted it, I thought of home and had a hard time swallowing. I really wanted to call my mom. She had to be beyond crazy with worry by now. But I was too afraid I’d find out they had her, too afraid of what I’d do to try to help her. I knew I should wait until we exposed the Urbat to give her a call. My eyes fell on Nana who was speaking to Charlene. Charlene’s color was coming back. She and Thomas sat on the edge of the bed eating together.
“Nana?”
She turned her head to look at me.
“Would you call my mom and let her know I’m okay?” My throat felt tight.
The room grew quiet.
“I ran away to try to save her. I don’t know if it worked. I can’t know if it worked,” I stopped to swallow hard. “At least not until we take away their advantage. But thinking of her alone,” I looked down at my Thanksgiving meal. “I just want her to know that I’m okay if she’s still there.”
Nana moved to me and squeezed my shoulder gently. “Of course, Bethi.”
Jim brought over a piece of paper and pencil. I wrote the number down, hesitated, and then wrote another before I handed it to Nana. “The first one is my mom’s. The second one is a friend, Dani, in case my mom doesn’t answer. Find out what you can. But don’t tell me. Whether you reach her or not, don’t tell me.”
She nodded slowly, sad understanding filling her eyes. I couldn’t know. I had to stay strong. I didn’t think I had much left in me.
“I’m not hungry anymore,” I said quietly, pushing my plate back.
“Bethi, you need to eat,” Luke insisted.
“I just want to go to my room.” I stood, and he followed.
He didn’t put up too much of a fight about sharing a bed when we got to the room. He even pulled back the covers and took off his shirt.
I ducked into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. By then, I was ready to sleep. He watched me cross the room, and held out an arm to welcome me.
“How are the stitches?” he asked.
“Fine,” I murmured closing my eyes.
I woke with a stretch followed by a wince when the stitches reminded me I couldn’t stretch too far. Luke’s warm hand covered my stomach through my shirt; and I sighed, not opening my eyes. I’d experienced one of the best nights. I’d slept through without interruption for—I lifted my head from his chest to look at the alarm clock—fourteen hours.
“You must be starving,” I said, lying back down.
“Your arm was looking good about six hours ago.”
“I bet.” I wasn’t ready to get up yet. I sighed and closed my eyes again.
His stomach growled. I laughed and managed to sit up. “You win. We’ll go feed you.”
“You, too,” he said sitting up with too much energy. “All you ate yesterday was a sandwich.”
“Not true. I had a plate of pie, too.”
I picked out clothes while he used the bathroom. He came out showered, fresh, and ready to eat. I shook my head and indulged in a quick shower, careful not to let the scabs around the stitches get too wet. It felt good to be so clean. When I wiped the steam from the mirror, I cringed. I hadn’t been paying attention to myself. The circles under my eyes were dark again. I used the hotel hair drier and brushed my hair until it was dry and then dressed.
Luke sat on a made bed waiting for me when I opened the door.
“Feed me,” I begged.
