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the bed, she placed her bag on the floor, pulled up the chair and sat down, never once taking her eyes off the prone form covered with the thin hospital sheet.
    She reached out and curled her fingers gently over the open hand resting on the bed.
    “Hi, it’s Lexi,” she whispered as hot tears clouded her eyes.
    She’d imagined her tears would’ve dried up by now, but apparently not. Tears choked her every time she came to the hospital. Some would call it just penance for her sins. But Lexi didn’t mind the tears; she welcomed them in fact. At least it showed she was still alive, somewhere deep inside the hollow, numb automaton she had become.
    As usual, there was no movement from the bed. The only sounds in the room - the beeping of the heart monitor and the rise and fall of the ventilator - gave what little reassurance it could, that somewhere within the still, pale body on the bed, a spark of life remained.
    She sat in silence. She’d given up praying a long time ago. After months of feverishly reciting every prayer she’d ever learned and making up reams of her own, all to no avail, she’d reached the conclusion that prayers were useless. All she could do was be here, infuse what little dregs of hope she had through her touch, her presence.
    After what seemed like only a few minutes, she heard voices outside the door. She squinted at her watch and, with a jolt, realized two hours had passed.
    Oh God, she couldn’t have been here that long! Tension gripped her already stiff shoulders, and she turned toward the door, dread rising as it opened.
    At the sight of the figure framed in the doorway, Lexi froze.
    Bloody hell.
    She’d really hoped to avoid this particular confrontation.
    Before she could adjust to the situation or even think up a greeting, the woman approached and snapped, “What the hell are you doing here?”
    Lexi folded her hands in her lap. “Same thing you are, I think.”
    “But it’s Thursday. We agreed on the days we would visit. Thursdays are my days. So what the fuck are you doing here?” Her so-familiar eyes flashed green fire as she quickly pulled a swathe of shoulder length dark hair to cover the left side of her face.
    Lexi’s heart twisted at the gesture. “Look, Cara, I don’t want any trouble. I’m sorry I encroached on your time. I hadn’t intended on staying this long. I only came because I have to go out of town—”
    The part of Cara’s face she could see contorted in a withering sneer. “Fleeing back to jolly ole England, are you? Leaving us to pick up the pieces you broke our lives into.”
    “No! I’m not going back to London. I have to go to Vegas for a few days.”
    The sneer intensified. “It’s good for some, isn’t it? Today Las Vegas, tomorrow New York, the next Aspen.” Cara towered over her and Lexi felt hate wash over her in sickening waves.
    “I have to go because it’s my job. I’ll only be gone for a few days. Next week we can resume our normal routine, and you won’t have to see me. I was leaving anyway, so I need not disturb your visit.” She gave the hand on the bed one last squeeze and rose.
    As she passed her, Cara grabbed her arm in a tight, painful hold, forcing Lexi to stop. “How can you remain so calm? I know you English have that stiff upper lip thing going on, but this is sick. Don’t you feel even an ounce of remorse for what you did?”
    Dry, shocked laughter escaped Lexi. “How can you say that? Would I be here if I didn’t? I tried to talk to you after—after what happened, but you refused to talk to me. If you would just talk to me, Cara—”
    Her arm was forcefully thrust away. “I have nothing to say to you. Not after what you did. I told you, I never want to see you again. You make me sick! In the future, if you’re going to change the visiting arrangements, inform the nursing staff so they can tell me. Now, get the fuck outta here!” She turned her back on Lexi and walked to the bed.
    Lexi picked up her bag, raw pain