She Wore Mourning P.D. Workman (best novel books to read .txt) 📖

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I did, but—I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You’re a really sweet guy, Zachary. I can’t understand how you could do something like this. You act like this great guy, all put together, a great catch, but inside, you’re like… a little boy… like that little, lost boy who tried to do something nice and accidentally burned the house down.”

There was a lump in Zachary’s throat. “I don’t tell that story to anyone. Especially not someone I’m just dating. I don’t think I told any of it to Bridget until we’d been married for a year. Even then… no more than I had to.”

He thought of the would-be killer lighting candles to start the fire. Was it someone who hadn’t known his horror for candles and fire? Who thought that Zachary having a few Christmas candles lit would be perfectly natural? Or was it someone who knew him, who knew his story and wanted not just to kill him, but to do it in the most terrifying way?

“I’m glad you told me. Because if you hadn’t, I don’t think I could even begin to understand how you could do something so stupid as to track me electronically.”

Zachary just waited.

“That doesn’t make it okay, Zachary. It just makes it a bit easier for me to understand why you’re so scared of losing the people you love.”

Zachary swallowed and nodded, trying to make a noise of agreement.

“You really should be in therapy.”

“I have been… but it doesn’t make these feelings go away.”

“But maybe if you understood them a bit better. Maybe if they gave you some strategies to manage your anxiety…”

“Maybe I need to find someone new. A new therapist. Maybe if I was seeing someone every couple of weeks…”

“Yeah. I think you should try.”

Zachary sighed. “I’m monopolizing this nurse’s phone. I should probably go.”

“Oh. You’re at the hospital.” She had thawed and now sounded a little concerned about him.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a way to get home?”

“No… but I don’t have a home to go to, so that doesn’t matter.”

She was silent at first, not immediately jumping in to offer him a ride. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t figured anything out. I guess I need to get back to my building, see if I can get in or if anything is salvageable. But then… I haven’t got a clue. Maybe a homeless shelter.”

“Why don’t you get a cab and a hotel room? You’ll maybe have to live out of a suitcase for a while, but…”

“I don’t have any money. No credit cards, no ID. It was all in my apartment. The only thing I’ve got is the clothes I’m wearing, and those are pretty ripe.”

She sighed. “I’ve got to work. I’ve already missed a couple of hours getting my car looked at. I hadn’t arranged for anyone to cover my shift. You’re going to have to figure things out on your own for now. Call me tonight when I’m off… let me know how you’re doing. What you managed to get set up. Okay?”

Zachary swallowed. “Okay.”

He had told himself that he didn’t expect her to drop everything to pick him up. But it turned out he had. He’d been lying to himself. He needed someone to help him; then he could figure out what to do about getting his identification reissued and finding a place to live. Someone’s couch to sleep on for a few nights. When he hung up after the discussion with Kenzie, he put his head in his hands, trying to sort out what to do next.

“What can I get you?” the nurse asked. “Coffee?”

He rubbed his palms into his eyes, trying to soothe the deep ache behind them. “That would be really good,” he admitted.

“You just stay there for a minute, I’ll get you one from the staff room.”

He did as she said. Not that he had the energy to do anything else. He gazed out the wall of windows behind the emergency room chairs. Snow was starting to fall in big, white flakes.

Christmas snow. Magical snow.

Just another reminder that he was again homeless. He didn’t even have a coat to keep him warm on the street. What had changed in the decades since he was ten years old, trying to do something to bring his parents and his family back together? He had ended up in hospital then too. More burns on his body than he had this time. A throat swollen and burned by the smoke and the burning air. It was the same thing all over again.

“Here you go,” the nurse said compassionately, setting a ceramic coffee cup down beside Zachary. She also set down a napkin with a chocolate glazed donut on it. “You’re in luck; there was a meeting this morning with leftover food.”

Zachary took a sip of the hot coffee and picked up the sticky confection. “You’re a lifesaver, Nurse Nancy,” he told her, looking at her name tag. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I gather,” she nodded to the phone, admitting to the fact that she had eavesdropped on his call. As if she could avoid it, sitting right there two feet away from him. “Sounds like you’re in pretty dire straits. You get something in your stomach, and then we’ll see what else we can do for you.”

Nurse Nancy and the coworkers she roped into helping Zachary had found a coat that fit him in the lost and found. “People leave them draped over the chairs and get into their cars without realizing they’ve left them behind,” Nancy said. “And when they try to figure it out, they probably don’t even think about the hospital. You should see the amount of stuff we get through here.”

Zachary nodded politely. It was strange to pull on someone else’s clothes, something that didn’t quite fit to his skin and that carried someone else’s scent. He was grateful for it. He couldn’t even go outside without