Working title is Love Spells Risk. Enjoy ... I hope.
“Anyone die today?”
No hello, no how ya doin’, how-was-the-drive up from Philly. Great, Maggie thought. It’s going to be that kind of weekend. Again.
“Damned if I know,” she replied, dropping her stuffed duffel bag inside the door.
Kissing her uncle on the cheek, Maggie softened. “I left at 8, so I didn’t get a chance to read the obits this morning. But the paper’s in the car. With a butter cake from Geiger’s.”
“I’ll get it,” he offered.
“No, no, no …stay,” she said, raising her hand as if commanding a puppy. “You need to save your energy.”
“At least let me put on another pot of coffee. I can still make a mean cup of coffee, you know.”
Watching him turn toward the kitchen, her smile morphed into a furrowed brow as she scrutinized his steps. Had his gait slowed since her last visit, or was she just imagining things? How many weeks had it been, anyway? Maggie did the mental math, ticking off the months on her fingers. April was her 26th birthday, May was that weekend at the shore – she didn’t want to think about that right now - and now June. Eight weeks.
It seemed longer than that since she’d been here, but it wasn’t. Maybe it was because when you’re in the world of the dying, eight weeks can seem like a lifetime.
copyright November 2009 MelissaF