Lumaworld (Colorworld: Book 3) by Rachel E Kelly

Author:Rachel E Kelly [Kelly, Rachel E]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw
Publisher: Colorworld Books
Published: 2014-12-20T06:00:00+00:00

26

“This is not helping me,” I say, frowning at Gabriel.

He pushes the bed table holding my empty breakfast tray to the side and puts his hands on his hips. “Wendy, he’s my brother and he wants to support us. You’re lucky I managed to convince my parents that we needed their help getting our things moved over to Robert’s. That’s the only reason they’re giving us space today. I’ll call them later to give them the diagnosis.”

“Us space?” I shrill. “They were here all day with me yesterday. You left me for hours!” Gabriel was discharged yesterday, and he wasted no time in leaving me alone with his mother.

“I had to go to the library,” he says as if that satisfies everything. “Research. Someone has to work on keeping us alive.”

I huff at his low jab. “Your mom said fourteen prayers over me. I counted. She’d sit over there doing her knitting thing, and all of a sudden she’d drop her needles, close her eyes and say some prayer aloud in Spanish before crossing herself. She tried reading the Bible to me a few times. Then she even brought the chaplain in to talk to me!”

Gabriel smirks without looking at me, sitting down on the futon and picking up the journal of oncology he’s been reading—or rather, memorizing. “And did he save your immortal soul?” he says mockingly from behind the pages. And then he laughs. “Actually, you should have told him that was your job—fixing your life force and all…”

I glare at him even though he can’t see me. “He asked me if I knew Jesus. I told him I was pretty sure Jesus died thousands of years ago, so no, I haven’t met him, let alone know him.”

Gabriel throws the journal down on his knees and looks at me wide-eyed. “Did you really? What did my mother do?”

“No, Mija,” I say in my best Maris impression. “What Father Lizette means is, have you accepted him as your Savior?”

Gabriel’s jaw drops. “And?”

I snigger at his expression, sit back, and sip the juice I’ve been holding.

“Wendy, what did you say?” he demands breathlessly.

I shrug. “I can’t remember.” Then I look at him. “If you’d been here, you could have heard it in person.”

“Wendy! Please tell me you didn’t insult her religion. She takes that malarkey as serious as genocide!”

“Calm down,” I tell him. I take a sip, watching him over my straw, keeping my expression as cool as possible. “I know she takes it seriously. That’s why I told her that as soon as I get out of the hospital, you and I will gladly go with her to mass.” I shrug. “She was overjoyed. Even kissed me on both cheeks.” Then I look at him. “Don’t worry. I’d already checked out her life force.”

He stands up abruptly. “You did not promise that!”

“I did,” I say, weaving my fingers around the cup in my lap as if it’s a mug of coffee.

He stares at me, stock-still for about ten seconds. He’s on the edge of my emodar, coming to a conclusion about my motives.

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