Evelyn did not reach for the plastic badges. She looked down at her computer screen, her lips pressed into a thin line, before her eyes darted toward the hallway.
“Is Ben Cole’s family coming in today?” she asked, her voice low and clipped.
“Just me and the chaplain,” I said, twisting my silver wedding band. “We are keeping it small.”
Evelyn adjusted her badge again, the plastic clip clicking against her pocket. “Dr. Paulson is still reviewing his charts, Clara. You might want to wait on any official decisions until the laboratory sends up the final bloodwork.”
“The chaplain is already on his way,” I said, my voice rising slightly. “Why would we wait?”
She reached slowly for the yellow visitor badges, her fingers stopping just before she handed them over. “Just be careful what you sign up there.”
She did not say another word, turning her back to me to organize a stack of patient files on the shelf behind her.
The heavy wooden door of Room 312 was slightly ajar, letting out the low hum of the heart monitor.
Ben lay in the high bed, his shoulders propped up by three stiff pillows. He was clutching a yellow legal pad and a folded white document against his chest, his knuckles white.
“My dearest,” Ben said, his voice a gravelly whisper. He reached his right hand out toward me, while his left hand immediately went to his temple, rubbing the skin in small, tight circles.
“I brought the ring,
Ben,” I said, sitting on the vinyl chair beside his bed. I set my purse on the overbed table, right next to a silver-plated water pitcher that was sweating in the dry heat.
He tapped the folded white paper against his knee. “We do not have much time, Clara, so we must make this official today.”
