CHAPTER 4
“The Waltz is all about protection.
It’s a dance that says I have you in my arms
my dear. Everything is right in the world.”
—Fred, Call the Midwife
Monday
She had until Wednesday. Roughly forty-eight hours until she was put in some home or room by a social worker, and then she’d be on her own again.
No, she’d be at Hunter’s mercy.
And that would be exactly what it was, too—her at her crazy ex-boyfriend’s mercy. Not that he actually possessed any.
Hating to even think of the man she’d attached herself to out of desperation and had remained with out of fear, Gwen shivered. Hunter was one scary dude, that was for sure.
Since she’d been stuck in this bed, she’d had a lot of time to think about her relationship with him—such that it was. A little over a year ago, she’d been living at home, hating every minute of it, and hoping and praying for a way out. Things hadn’t been good there. They hadn’t been good for a long time.
Gwen didn’t know who her father was. Her only home had been a fifth-floor apartment with a mother who didn’t have much to give anyone, and even less for her own daughter. Gwen had been in high school and flunking out. School meant breakfast and lunch, but also a whole lot of getting yelled at.
She skipped a lot and did anything to get through each day. Which was how she’d ended up hanging out with Valerie, who also skipped a lot and had a boyfriend named Rick. Rick was rich. Gwen had soon discovered that Rick’s friend Hunter was rich too—since he did good business selling drugs in the neighborhood.
Gwen hadn’t been into that, but she had been into his compliments, his gifts, and the fact that if she was with him and his friends, she didn’t have to go home or to school.
A couple months after meeting Hunter, she’d dropped out and was living with him, Rick, and Valerie.
But then everything had gone to hell, which was saying a lot, because things hadn’t been very good to begin with. Valerie’s parents had pulled her out of the house and taken her across the state to live with her grandparents. Rick had gotten violent and Hunter had gotten lazy and sneaky.
Next thing she’d known, Gwen had been living with Hunter and a couple of guys who were even bigger losers than Hunter himself. She was pregnant, and he didn’t care. No, instead, he was trying to sell heroine in Bridgeport, but had gotten so hooked on the crap that their place had essentially become a flophouse.
Then their neighbors had called the cops, and she’d ended up here. For the first time in months and months, she was clean, had three meals a day, and was actually thinking about more than how to get through the next two hours.
“Knock, knock!” an older, somewhat comfortable-looking woman named Dee called out before she rolled in a cart.
Lunch! “Hi, Dee. How are you?”
The woman smiled just as brightly as she always did. “I’m good, dear. Better now that you’ve got some color in your cheeks.” After parking her cart on the side of the bed, she lifted up the covered plates. “Let’s see what you’ve got here. Salad, chicken noodle soup, two wheat rolls, and a slice of apple pie.”
Gwen’s mouth was watering. “It all looks so good.”
Dee grinned. “You’re the first patient today who hasn’t made a face about this lunch. You sure aren’t a complainer, are you?”
“Not about hospital food. It’s more than I’ve gotten to eat in a long time.” Like, years.
Dee’s smile faded. “You’ve had a time of it, haven’t you?”
“Kind of.” Wariness engulfed her. She shouldn’t have said anything. She shut her mouth, reluctant to say more. She’d learned quickly that no one felt sorry for a girl who’d done the things that she’d done.
“You know, I don’t just deliver meals around here. I help out with other patient services. Say, do you have any family that you’ve been trying to get a hold of? I can help you make some calls, if you’d like.”
“Not really.”
“What? Are you on your own?”
“Yes. I mean, I have a mom and a brother, but I don’t think they’re missing me much.”
“You sure about that?”
“Very sure. My mom . . . well, she has her own demons. And my brother is fourteen months older. He took off a while back. I wouldn’t know where he was even if I wanted to try.”
“That’s too bad,” Dee said softly.
“Other people have had it worse.” Feeling increasingly uneasy, Gwen wished Dee would just move on. There wasn’t a lot she could share about her life and even less that she felt good about or wanted to try to explain.
“I suppose that’s a fact. Well, don’t fret now. Tomorrow you’ll get to meet Melanie. She’s the social worker. She’s real nice. I’m sure she’ll have some ideas about where you can go after here.”
“Hope so.”
Dee stared at her a moment longer. Obviously, she was waiting for Gwen to spill some more information about her life. But what could she say? Gwen turned her head, looking out the window like there was actually something to see.
“Well, eat up, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She kept her face averted until she heard the nurse leave. When she was alone again, she breathed a sigh of relief. It didn’t make sense, but she almost preferred being alone with Officer Lucky. At least the cop didn’t pretend to care about anything other than her baby. That was honest.
Shaking off her blues, she clicked on the television and flipped to some game show and started carefully pulling off the plastic covers of her soup and salad.
She’d just taken her second sip of the hot soup when a volunteer came in.
“Hey, mail call.”
“Huh?”
The volunteer—a young, pretty teenager and was probably volunteering at the hospital just so she could say she cared about other people on her college application—held out a letter. “You’ve got a letter.”
Just as Gwen held out her hand, she paused. “Wait. You are Gwen Camp, right? I was supposed to check that.”
“I’m Gwen. You got the right room.”
“Oh. Here you go, then.” She smiled before grimacing at the soup. “That’s your lunch, huh? Wow. I bet you can’t wait to get out of here.” She smiled again before flying out of the room.
Gwen shook her head at the volunteer before tearing open the envelope. Maybe Officer Lucky had found her mother?