Authors: Kate Silver
‘
And
just
how
long
have
you
been
conscious,
Nate
Ryan?
’
she
asked
sotto
voce
.
He
gave
her
a
groggy
grin.
‘
Long
enough.
Don't
stop.
’
She
pursed
her
lips.
‘
Some
things
don't
change,
’
she
muttered.
He
ignored
this.
‘
How's
my
pulse,
Doc?
’
‘
Awful.
’
‘
No
wonder.
’
‘
I'd
say
you're
about
to
croak.
’
‘
You
wish.
Nice
to
meet
you
again,
Dixie
Delaney.
’
He
didn't
look
so
rosy
when
he
tried,
against
her
advice,
to
stand
up.
He
needed
to
hold
on
to
her,
but
even
so
he
would
have
staggered
off
by
himself
if
she
had
let
him.
‘
You
shouldn't
be
alone
for
the
next
twenty
four
hours
in
case
…’
‘
Okay,
I
do
understand.
’
Dixie
looked
up
at
him
sharply.
‘
I'm
in
the
business
too,
’
he
said,
grinning.
Dixie
was
digesting
this
when
Aunt's
voice
rang
out
imperiously.
‘
Dorothea
will
take
you
home.
After
all,
you've
got
her
to
thank
for
…’
‘
Before
you
go
we
must
bury
the
old
lady,
’
the
Reverend
cut
in
urgently,
back
to
his
funeral
voice,
laying
a
hand
on
Dixie's
arm.
A
hush
fell
as
they
all
shamefacedly
assembled
again
and
rearranged
their
faces
into
funeral
mask.
The
casket
was
lowered
successfully
this
time.
Suddenly
Nate
wobbled
and
would
have
fallen
had
Dixie
not
caught
him.
‘
I'd
better
get
him
back
to
wherever
he's
staying,
’
she
said,
and
the
others
nodded.
She
retrieved
the
apple
from
the
wreath,
threw
it
into
the
grave
and
followed
it
with
a
handful
of
earth
and
a
chunk
of
her
heart.
‘
Goodbye
Granny
and
happy
munching,
’
she
murmured
as
she
turned
away
from
the
grave.
Then
she
picked
up
Nate's
jacket
and
shoes
and
together
they
moved
toward
the
line
of
cars,
Dixie
supporting
him
with
a
hand
under
his
elbow.
‘
How
did
you
get
here?
’
she
asked.
‘
Rental.
’
‘
We
can
collect
it
later.
Need
anything
out
of
it?
’
‘
Yes,
thanks.
’
He
was
not
too
steady
and
leaned
heavily
on
her.
‘
Am
I
too
heavy
for
you?
’
he
asked.
‘
Of
course
you're
not,
’
she
replied
a
little
more
tartly
than
she
intended.
‘
Ah,
I
should
have
remembered,
’
he
said,
smiling.
‘
Dixie
Delaney
can
do
everything
anyone
else
can
do
and
don't
anyone
suggest
otherwise.
’
Dixie
laughed
shortly.
She
wished
that
was
true.
She
could
do
most
things,
but
not
all
she
wanted
to
do.
She
couldn't
be
a
ballerina
as
she'd
longed
for
as
a
child.
As
she
got
older
she'd
have
happily
settled
for
social
dancing.
She'd
tried
it
once,
only
once,
at
a
high
school
formal,
and
the
class
bitch
had
giggled
and
whispered,
‘
You've
got
such
beautiful
legs,
Dixie.
Pity
they're
not
both
the
same
length.
’
She
couldn't
go
jogging
either.
If
she
could,
she
might
not
have
lost
the
only
man
she'd
attempted
to
have
a
serious
relationship
with
to
a
girl
in
pink
trainers.
And
she
couldn't
keep
her
mother's
love.
The
tiny
less-than-perfect
scrap
had
been
a
disappointment
her
mother
hadn't
been
able
to
hack.
She
hadn't
even
named
her.
Dorothea
was
chosen
by
her
grandmother
.
Dixie
was
chosen
by
Dixie.
She
didn't
dwell
on
all
this;
she
merely
factored
it
in
and
got
on
with
her
life.
Now
her
beloved
Granny
was
gone.
Dixie
squared
her
shoulders.
She
was
still
needed
by
her
patients
and
particularly
by
the
handicapped
children
in
the
area.
Within
the
next
two
years
she
aimed
to
convert
her
grandmother
’
s
house
–
the
place
she
’
d
called
home
for
most
of
her
childhood
and
where
she
now
lived
alone
–
into
a
weekend
retreat.
There
she'd
give
these
less
fortunate
children
love
and
confidence
to
make
up
for
the
inevitable
rejections
-
by
kids
at
school,
by
boyfriends,
and
even
by
mothers,
she
thought
savagely.