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  “Because I think I can help him.” He looked at Henry, then back to her. “And…well…I don’t have anything better to do.”

  This seemed an answer almost painful in its honesty, and she reacted with a laugh meant to ease the awkwardness. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s true. I don’t have any family in the area, and I haven’t had time to make any friends to call up for a barbecue or anything. And my apartment…God, my apartment’s so depressing it makes this place seem like an amusement park.”

  “Wow, that’s really bad.” She didn’t mean to laugh again.

  He laughed, too, but shook his head. “I’m serious.”

  “I thought you were going to move?”

  He shrugged. “Haven’t had time to look.”

  “The house next to mine is for sale. I can give you the Realtor’s number, if you want.” The offer slipped out before she could grab it back.

  He smiled. “That would be great. We’d be neighbors.”

  “You might hate the house.” She hated the eager way she sounded.

  “I might l-love it.”

  He stuttered it, and Tovah thought the word love had never sounded so appealing.

  “So…what were you doing to him, exactly?” Tovah looked again at Henry, whose snort-whistling breath hadn’t changed. She leaned to wipe a silver strand of drool. The meds did that.

  “Are you familiar with guided imagery?”

  Tovah shook her head. “Sounds…”

  “Freaky deaky?” He laughed softly. “Sort of. It uses the power of imagination to promote healing, reduce stress. That sort of thing. Studies have proven it works. I thought I’d try it with Henry.”

  “What were you saying to him?”

  “I was describing a path to him,” Dr. Goodfellow said. “If he could find it, I thought maybe I could guide him home.”

  Emotion slammed through her, tears burning. She busied herself with something in her bag to hide the fact his words had struck her so hard. He couldn’t have any idea of what he’d said, or what it meant. “I hope you’re right.”

  He cleared his throat. “He’s lucky to have you for a friend. I think I told you that before.”

  “Luck’s got nothing to do with it. Henry was good to me when I needed someone to be, that’s all.”

  Dr. Goodfellow waited for her to say more. He was good at that. Letting her talk. Listening. She’d discovered that. She liked it.

  “Tovah, would you like to have some lunch with me?”

  The offer surprised but pleased her, and she ducked her head to hide the heat rising in her cheeks. She fussed with Henry’s blankets. “Now?”

  “Sure. Now.”

  She gave Henry’s doctor a sideways look, half expecting to see him grinning. Or maybe staring like she was some sort of freak for not answering right away. She lifted her head at his expression. He looked…blank. Only for a second, so fast she couldn’t be sure she’d seen his eyes go far away and mouth part slightly, like he breathed different air. Only a second, then he passed his fingertips over his forehead and smiled tentatively.

  “If you don’t want to—”

  “No. I’d like to. Sure. Just let me put these things away and we can go.”

  Smiling, she bent to empty her bag of the books and sundries she’d brought to tempt Spider into waking. She put the chocolate bars beneath the clean pajamas where they might not be stolen, and the books on the pile on the nightstand.

  Dr. Goodfellow took her across the street to a small deli she’d often passed but never entered. The menu offered matzah ball soup and noodle kugel, and she ordered both as much for the novelty of finding such fare in a local restaurant than because she was hungry for them.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said.

  To her surprise, for Tovah wouldn’t have said she could find enough of interest about herself to occupy more than a few minutes of conversation, she spoke for half an hour without a break, longer than it took to eat her soup. It was good soup, too, rich and salty and full of floating bits of carrot. She spooned some, mindful all at once that he hadn’t been saying much.

  “Sorry, I’m sort of monopolizing the conversation.” She cut the second huge matzah ball in half with her spoon then in half again.

  Dr. Goodfellow, chin resting in his hand as he watched her, shook his head. “No. It’s nice to have someone who talks back in coherent sentences. Really.”

  She felt guilty laughing. “I try.”

  He smiled and reached for the small bowl of pickled vegetables on the table. He picked a carrot and bit the end. “Thanks for coming with me. I couldn’t stand another meal in the hospital cafe and Ava always brings in leftovers…they smell so good, but she’s stingy and won’t share.”

  “Hospital food sucks. I think it’s because they want to make sure nobody likes it there so much they want to stay.”

  “That’s a theory.” He wiped his fingers fastidiously on a paper napkin.

  She watched the fussy motion of his hands, then looked at his face. His brows had knit while he studied his fingers, perhaps for any stray gleam of vinegar. In concentration his face looked harder, unlike the open ease or occasional uncertainty he’d shown before. He looked darker. The shift was subtle, almost minute, but she looked automatically at the plastic-covered menu lying next to her, then again to make certain the letters hadn’t scrambled.

  “Do you want something else to eat?”

  He’d caught her checking her reality. Tovah shook her head, wondering what he’d think if she told him the truth of what she’d been doing. “No, just…looking. In case I want to come here again.”

  “Would you like to come here again?”

  He had a way of phrasing things…she couldn’t quite figure it out. It was like he meant to ask one question but another came out, instead. But when he smiled and leaned back against the bench, one long arm stretched out, she had a sudden image of herself nestled in that spot. That perfect spot, where she’d fit just right along his side.

  “Sure.” She looked into his eyes, which were very blue.

  It had been too long since she’d flirted in the waking world. She wasn’t sure she remembered how, or if she’d recognize it if someone did it to her. She wasn’t entirely sure Dr. Goodfellow’s offer had been more than friendly. But for the first time in a long time, Tovah thought she’d be willing to find out.

  “I should get back,” he said, and the moment ended like a door had slammed. He got up and waited while she did, too.

  “Thanks for asking me to lunch.” Tovah’s jeans had ridden up a bit, catching on the edge of her prosthesis, and she tugged the soft denim as she stood. In a way, her motion was as fussy as his had been with the napkin, and she looked to see if he’d been watching her the way she had him.

  He wasn’t. He was looking out, across the parking lot toward the large red stone building that was the Sisters of Mercy Hospital. A van drove by emblazoned with the logo of a local florist. At least, that was what Tovah thought it was, but she blinked, the van slowed to allow a customer from the deli to pass in front of it, and the logo had become an advertisement for a landscaping company.

  Close. But not quite the same. Yet she was certain she’d seen the distinctive caricature of the laughing daisy used by Button and Daisy florists.

  “I’ve got to get back,” he said in a low voice she almost missed, concentrating as she was on the van that had passed by, out of sight. “I’ll see you next Sunday, Tovah. Don’t forget to bring the Realtor’s card.”

  He pushed out of the deli’s front doors without looking back, one large hand cupping itself into half a wave as he went. She watched him, her heart pounding suddenly in her ears and throat. She’d burned her tongue on the soup and only now noticed. Her legs didn’t hold her, and she had to sit.

  She watched Martin Goodfellow cross the parking lot, then the street, his long legs moving without hesitation. She watched until he’d disappeared into the front do
ors of the hospital. Then she looked down at her hands, clenched together so tight her knuckles went white.

  The clock on the wall said three o’clock. A moment later, it said the same. The same a moment after that, though she blinked and looked away hard before checking again. The clock didn’t change, nor did the menu beneath the edge of her hand, nor did anything else.

  She was in the waking world. She was certain of it. Nothing was out of line, out of place, out of order. She was awake. She hadn’t seen the van logo change, she’d been mistaken, that’s all. That had to be the explanation.

  Unless she was crazy.

  This thought got her up and moving away from the table and the deli. Away from the hospital. Tovah got into her car, buckling herself tightly as she always did and driving carefully. Her hands gripped the wheel so hard her fingers hurt. By the time she pulled into her driveway, her entire body ached with tension.

  She wasn’t crazy.

  She hadn’t been crazy then, either. She knew that now. Her depression had been justified. A life-changing accident, the dissolution of her marriage, the loss of her life the way she’d known it, had been good reasons to sink into despair. It had been a weak choice, perhaps, not one she’d willingly make again, but at the time it had seemed the only one.

  The things she’d seen, the shifting world and things she could do in it, were not insanity, either. Deep in her head, she hadn’t been able to tell the difference between the waking and sleeping worlds for a time. She’d lost track.

  That was not what had happened in the deli, she was certain of it. So, if she wasn’t crazy, and she wasn’t asleep, what, exactly had happened?

  Chapter Eleven

  Cultivating a friendship isn’t like watering a garden. A friendship doesn’t drown with too much attention, and Tovah was glad for Kelly’s enthusiasm. Kevin had inherited most of their social circle, and though she still kept up a frequent online communication with several of her best friends from high school and college, it wasn’t quite the same as having a girlfriend on hand.

  Tonight they were having dinner at one of the new pubs on Second Street in Harrisburg. On a Wednesday night it shouldn’t have been crowded, but the street still teemed with people heading out for an evening’s entertainment. They didn’t have to wait for a table, but the pub was far from empty.

  “I’m getting shepherd’s pie. I walked an extra mile tonight. Think that’ll cover it?” Kelly grinned as the cute young waiter took their drink and appetizer orders.

  “Not a clue. What’s in shepherd’s pie?”

  “Ground lamb. Mashed potatoes. Fat and carbs.”

  Tovah chuckled. “Kelly, you really don’t have to worry.”

  Kelly fluttered her lashes. “Aww, you’re just saying that because you want to get into my pants.”

  That caught the attention of a pair of young men standing at the bar waiting for drinks. The taller one turned. His gaze caught Tovah’s. She returned it for the barest moment. When he turned to murmur to his buddy, she cut her gaze away, turning her attention back to Kelly.

  Kelly, however, had seen the direction of Tovah’s look and swiveled in her seat to look herself. “Nice,” she said, turning back around. “If you like the metrosexual type.”

  “Oh, please!” Tovah threw a straw paper. “Like Justin Ross, you mean?”

  “Justin Ross is a certified hot hunka burning love, Tovah.” Kelly held up a finger like she was lecturing. “He’s paid to look that way.”

  “And that guy over there?”

  Kelly gave the man at the bar another quick glance before grinning at Tovah. “If he’s not gay, he’s definitely high maintenance. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to date anyone who takes more time to do his hair than I do.”

  “I don’t know. I like a man who’s put together. There’s this guy—” Tovah stopped herself, but then forged on. It would have felt like she was keeping a secret, otherwise, when there was no secret to keep. “Martin Goodfellow. My friend Henry’s doctor. He looks like he takes the time to get ready.”

  “Uh huh.” Kelly looked interested. “And this Dr. Feelgood—”

  “Goodfellow.”

  “Whatever. You like him?”

  “He’s nice.” Tovah shrugged, feigning a casualness she didn’t quite feel, then gave in to a broad grin. “He’s coming to look at the house next door to me, maybe to buy it. I invited him over for coffee, after.”

  “He might be moving into the house next door?” Kelly hooted. “Niiiiice!”

  “Might.” Tovah held up a finger, a ridiculous attempt at reining in her friend’s exuberance. “If he likes the house.”

  “But he’s going to come over for coffee after he’s done looking? Mmm, mmm, mmm.”

  “Kelly! God, he’s just looking at the house next door. I offered coffee, it’s not like I was asking him to strip down and play naked Twister.”

  “That’s for the second date.” Kelly had a wicked, free laugh that turned heads.

  It was also infectious, and Tovah giggled too. “It’s not a date. It’s nothing like a date.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s not an ‘uh-huh’ of agreement, that’s a placating ‘uh-huh.’”

  “My mom wanted me to marry a doctor.” Kelly sighed. “A nice, hot doctor. You know, like Justin Ross.”

  “He’s not a doctor!” Tovah laughed again, just as the waiter brought their appetizer plate and drinks. Their huge drinks. The price made sense now. There must have been enough alcohol in each drink to satisfy four thirsty women.

  “He plays one on TV. Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “I don’t think so.” Tovah eyed the margarita-filled fishbowl in front of her. “I’ll never finish that.”

  Kelly sipped her own drink. “Sure you will. Next thing you know you’ll be down at the Pharmacy dancing on the bar.”

  Tovah hadn’t been to the Pharmacy in years. “Do they even have music on a Wednesday night?”

  “Honey, where there are horny singles, there is music and bar-dancing.” Kelly pushed the drink a bit closer to Tovah. “So g’head.”

  Tovah sipped, but just a little. “Just what I need. To be more unsteady on my feet.”

  “Don’t worry. The bar has a pole you can hang on to.” Kelly chortled at her own wit.

  Tovah rolled her eyes. “I won’t be dancing.”

  The statement might have made her melancholy except that around Kelly she never felt gloomy.

  “No? You don’t dance? What’sa matter, two left feet?” Kelly snickered.

  Tovah snorted at the bad joke. “Something like that.”

  Kelly eyed her. “You could dance, Tovah. I’ve seen you kick a treadmill’s ass.”

  “Walking on a treadmill isn’t the same as doing the Macarena.”

  “Oh, good lord,” said Kelly. “Even people with two good legs shouldn’t do the Macarena.”

  Tovah gestured at the drink. “You know, sometimes…sometimes stuff like that makes me madder than anything.”

  “Not being able to dance?”

  “Not being able to drink because I’m afraid of losing my balance.” Tovah frowned at the frosty golden drink.

  “I’d be mad, too.” Kelly pulled the plate of fried cheese closer and nibbled one.

  She’d never asked Tovah about the accident, or what it was like to be an amputee, which somehow made it easier to say, “Actually…the worst thing is not being able to wear pretty shoes.”

  Kelly stabbed the air with her finger. “Hell, yes!”

  “I mean, the pain was bad,” Tovah continued, not sure why she had to share this but feeling compelled to. “The recovery took a long time. And there’s the time it takes me to take care of it and not being able to take something simple like walking for granted. But not being able to wear pretty shoes is really…the worst. I can buy a nice dress or find a cute pair of pants, but without the shoes I never feel…”

  “Pretty?” Kelly asked softly.

  Tovah
looked up. “Yes.”

  Kelly pushed the breadbasket toward her. “Would it help to tell you I think you’re gorgeous?”

  “Would that make this a date?” Tovah smiled, taking some bread.

  Kelly snorted. “Tovah, babe, I know you know nothing I say could really make that better.”

  “I know.”

  “I know you know.” More laughter, and Tovah relaxed into her chair.

  Kelly’s normal exuberance dimmed for a moment, becoming sincerity. “Is that why you’re not dating?”

  Tovah sighed and crumpled a breadstick crumb by crumb onto her plate. “I guess so.”

  “But you like Dr. Feelgood. What’s-his-name.”

  “Dr. Goodfellow. Martin. Yes. I mean, he’s cute but…”

  Kelly was too perceptive to accept dissembling. “But what?”

  “I don’t really know him, that’s all.”

  “Can’t you get to know him?” Kelly wasn’t kidding around, now.

  Tovah smiled. “Maybe.”

  Kelly tossed up her hands. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll back off. Enough about you, let’s get back to me. Guess who I dreamed about last night?”

  “Let me guess. Justin Ross?” It wasn’t much of a stretch.

  “Bingo. It was really weird, though. I was in a horde of crazy women waving dildos, and we were chasing him.”

  Tovah looked up. “Again?”

  Kelly gave her an odd look. “What do you mean, again? Usually I just dream we’re getting down to the wild, passionate sex.”

  Oops. “No, I meant—never mind.”

  “Yeah. It was definitely strange. I mean, the sex-toy part I could maybe figure out, since I went to that toy party a few weeks ago, but the whole crowd thing was sorta creepy. I should look up what it means on the Internet.”

  Tovah raised an eyebrow. “What, chasing someone with artificial genitalia? Do you think that really means anything?”

  Kelly laughed, especially as Tovah’s comments turned the head of a bronzed and muscled bar-crawler passing their table. “I don’t know! What do you think?”