Hit by Lorie Ann Grover

Author:Lorie Ann Grover
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: ebook
ISBN: 9780310729495
Publisher: Blink
Published: 2014-10-06T21:00:00+00:00

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my Dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my Dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:

I will luve thee still, my Dear,

While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve!

And fare thee weel a while!

And I will come again, my Luve,

Tho’ it were ten thousand mile!

After he read it, Cydni and I fought for days over whether it was a secret message. I drove her crazy bringing it up. At the time, I totally believed Haddings was declaring his love to me. Cydni said the “Never” poem proved the Burns poem was a fluke; he wasn’t ever really into me. So, why would he send red roses now?

No one would describe me as “fair” after this accident. A lump sits in my throat.

The rich scent lingers. Hold on a second. Is he saying he didn’t mean his stupid poem after all? Did he hear I was hit and come to his senses or something?

“My luve?” I whisper. “Could he care?”

“What, dear?” asks Mom.

“Nothing.” Crushing grief swoops onto my chest and stabs the chirp of hope before it can hatch. It’s too late, with my bashed face and cracked head, and who knows about my brains, remembering stuff that didn’t ever happen, not remembering other things I should. Maybe something with Haddings was actually possible before, but now it’s too late. I measure my breath to get it under control, but it’s so, so hard when I’m crying.

Mom dabs my eyes. “You okay?”

I shake my head and look away. It’s too late for me and him.

“Can I get you something, sweetie?”

“Nothing,” I whisper.

When Dad saunters into the room with a teddy bear under his arm, Mom instantly criticizes him. “I thought you were looking for a Popsicle.”

“There was no one at the desk, so I jotted downstairs and found this little shop still open. No Popsicle, but they had this for you, Sarah.”

I reach out and take the stuffed animal from him. “Thanks, Dad.” My tiny smile pushes against my bruises and stitches. I hold the bear tightly to my chest. “I’m not hungry yet anyway.”

“A Popsicle would have been more helpful,” Mom says. “I should have asked Dottie myself when she brought the roses.”

Dad looks to her. “Roses?”

“I’m guessing my office or yours.” Mom straightens her shirt. “Dottie is keeping them in the staff room until Sarah gets a regular room.”

“That’s nice, but we don’t know who sent them?” Dad asks.

“There wasn’t a card,” I say, “but your gift is best, Daddy.” I know exactly what it means: he loves me.

He grins. Hugely.

Mom fusses with the blinds.

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