All of Me, Leeanna Morgan [cheapest way to read ebooks .txt] 📗

“How are you working on the touching thing when you travel with your job all the time?”

Dylan frowned. “It’s all theoretical at the moment. I figured there’s got to be the perfect woman out there somewhere, or why else would I be in Bozeman.”

“For your job?”

“There’s more to it than that.”

Logan studied the map in the foyer. “Is that why you invited yourself to the wedding?”

“I didn’t invite myself. Kristine suggested it and I accepted. It wouldn’t hurt you to find someone special. If Tess isn’t interested, there’s bound to be others that are.”

“I’m not interested in anyone else.” Logan pointed to the red dot on the map that showed where they were. “We need to take the elevator up to the first floor. Mrs. Thompson’s room should be at the end of the corridor.” They walked toward the elevators and Logan pushed the button.

“Does Tess know you’re interested in her?”

“No, and she’s not going to find out from you.”

Dylan leaned the cake box against a handrail that ran around the wall. “You’ve got to tell her sometime. Does she know about what happened in Afghanistan?

“Some of it.”

The elevator doors opened and Dylan stepped inside. “Have you read the letter?”

Logan didn’t need to ask which letter he was talking about. The envelope Pastor Steven had given him was sitting on the coffee table in his living room. Every time he walked past the table he felt a cold dread work its way along his spine.

“I take it your moody silence means you haven’t opened the envelope?”

“It’s on my coffee table.”

“Dude, you need to read the letter.”

Logan glared at the green number above the elevator buttons. The doors opened and he stepped into the corridor. “It’s not that easy.”

“It never is. If I can flirt a little and work on my touchy-feely issues, you can open the envelope. If you want company when you open it, just call me.”

Logan knew that once he read the letter there was no going back. It might tell him what had happened after the explosion. But he didn’t know if he was ready to find out, or even if what was written would be the truth.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, to read that more children than he thought had survived. And he didn’t want to know who had died. The soldiers and the children at the school had become his friends. They’d trusted each other, laughed with each other and a year ago, most of them had died together.

Logan walked to the end of the corridor and stopped outside room thirty-five. A pale blue curtain had been pulled around the bed, shielding whoever was behind it from the rest of the ward. He hoped Mrs. Thompson was behind the curtain. If she wasn’t, they’d have to admit defeat and ask another nurse for directions.

Dylan stared at the open doorway. “There’s something you need to know.”

Logan didn’t like the panicked expression on Dylan’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom died of cancer.”

Dylan’s voice was so quiet that Logan had to lean forward to hear him. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I thought I’d be okay.”

“And you’re not?”

Dylan looked down the corridor. “It’s the smell. It was the same on mom’s ward. If I need to leave, I’ll meet you back at the truck.”

Logan looked at the box in Dylan’s arms. “Would it help if I took the cake to Mrs. Thompson? It won’t take long.”

Dylan looked at the room. “I can do this.”

Logan didn’t know which of them Dylan was trying to convince, but either way he had a determined scowl on his face. Logan stepped into what he hoped was Mrs. Thompson’s room and made sure Dylan was behind him.

Connie was sitting in an armchair by the window. She looked up from the magazine she was reading. “Hi. Tess said you’d be arriving soon with the cake.”

Dylan left the box on a table at the end of the bed.

Mrs. Thompson’s eyes were closed. She’d wrapped a bright orange scarf around her head and knotted it at the side. It added a layer of color to her pale, almost transparent skin.

“Mom’s been asleep for most of the day.”

“But I’m not now.” Mrs. Thompson slowly opened her eyes and smiled. “Who are these lovely men?”

“Mom, this is Logan Allen, the reporter I was telling you about.” Connie looked blankly at Dylan.

“I’m Dylan. Logan’s friend. I’m helping.”

Mrs. Thompson smiled. “If you got the cake to us in one piece I’d say you’re doing a great job. Are we able to open the box?” She looked at Dylan and tilted her head to the side. “Are you okay, honey?”

Dylan swallowed. “I’m fine, Mrs. Thompson.”

Logan knew he wasn’t fine, not by a long shot.

“Lift the lid a little. I just want a peek.”

Connie put down her magazine and walked across to the table. “I’ll open it, Mom.” She ran her fingers along the edge of the box and undid the flap. Her eyes widened when she looked at the cake. “It’s beautiful.”

She pushed a button to raise the angle of her mom’s bed, then moved the table closer. Logan caught a brief glance of white frosting, red roses and a bride and groom.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Mrs. Thompson said. “How did they make it so quickly?”

“Tess had already baked the cake and Annie decorated it.” Logan stepped forward to take a closer look in the box. He expected to see an ordinary wedding cake, but what Annie had created was really nice.

She’d swished the white frosting into peaks, like the waves on a beach, and added a ring of red roses around the edge. Red rose petals, made of the same fondant as the roses, were scattered over the white frosting. In the center of the cake, a mini groom was kneeling on one knee in front of the bride. He had a single rose in his hands, holding it toward her.

If Logan was being poetic, he would have said the groom was offering the bride his heart, his love and everything in between. But poetry seemed out of place in a palliative care unit.

Logan glanced at Connie. Her eyes shone with tears as she looked at her mom. This was a lot harder than he’d thought it would be. It was all very well knowing Connie had brought the wedding forward because her mom was dying. It was different being here, feeling the sense of loss they were both trying to hide.

Dylan stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at Connie and her mom. “It was nice meeting you both. I’ve got something to do. I’ll see you later.” Before anyone could reply, he left.

Mrs. Thompson looked worried. “Is he okay?”

Logan looked at where Dylan had been standing. He didn’t know much about Dylan’s life apart from his time in Afghanistan and the basic family stuff that slipped into a conversation. He knew he had a brother and three sisters. Apart from what he’d learned today, Dylan never talked about his past.

“He’ll be fine.”

Mrs. Thompson sighed. “Knowing someone’s going to die isn’t an easy thing to deal with.” She reached for Connie’s hand. “But we’ve all got to begin our next journey at some point. I’m just thankful I got to see my girls become such wonderful women. I’m very proud of them.”

The look that passed between Connie and her mom was enough to bring tears to Logan’s eyes.

Mrs. Thompson squeezed Connie’s hand, then looked at Logan. “Tell me what my girls have been doing this morning?”

He watched Mrs. Thompson smile. She’d pushed aside whatever grief she was feeling and focused on the here and now.

“We can tell you ourselves.” Denise pushed back the blue curtain and smiled at her mom. “Joanne’s dress isn’t finished yet, but Kristine and I couldn’t wait to show you what we look like.”

Mrs. Thompson waved them forward. “Come closer so I can see.”

Logan wasn’t much of an expert about bridesmaids’ dresses, but they looked good to him. With simple bodices and skirts that hugged their hips, Kristine and Denise’s red dresses were elegant and sophisticated.

“Don’t you look pretty,” Mrs. Thompson said. “And you’ve curled your hair, Kristine. It’s lovely.”

Kristine shot a quick glance at Connie and grinned. “Tess did our makeup for us. I feel like a new person.”

Logan took a closer look at their faces. The bright red dresses could have easily overpowered the women wearing them. Tess had balanced the dresses with soft, understated makeup that made their skin look as though it was glowing.

“Look what we brought with us…” Kristine pulled a big white bag out from behind the blue curtain.

Connie gasped. “It’s ready?”

Denise nodded. “The bridal store couldn’t finish it in time, so one of Emily’s friends picked it up and worked on it all afternoon. She sewed the last thread in place just before we left. Tess was worried you wouldn’t have time to get ready if we left it at the boutique.”

Connie looked around for somewhere to put the dress.

Logan pointed at the curtain rail above them. “If you’ve got a hanger I could leave it on the rail.”

Kristine reached for the top of the bag and smiled. “It’s