Ben leaned against the wall.
“Awake?”
“She asked for you.”
We found Rosie after the scan.
She looked exhausted, swollen, and impossibly beautiful.
Ben bent over her, crying openly.
She touched his face.
“You look bad,” she whispered.
He laughed through tears.
“You look perfect.”
“No. My hair looks like a broom.”
“It’s the most beautiful broom I’ve ever seen.”
She smiled.
Then she saw me.
“Claire.”
I went to her.
For a moment, I could not speak.
I rested my forehead against hers.
“You scared me.”
“I scared me too.”
“You left a letter saying Dad killed Mom.”
“I was wrong about some parts.”
“You were right about enough.”
Her smile faded.
“Did you find her?”
“Yes.”
Rosie closed her eyes as relief crossed her face.
“Good.”
“You knew she was at the cottage?”
“I guessed.”
“You could have told us directly.”
“I did. I said blue.”
“You had just survived cardiac arrest.”
“I was tired.”
I laughed, then cried, then held her carefully.
