Branded Read Free Page B

start. The nurse had a way with her. I never got reports of her giving them a hard time at mealtime. Maybe that was the problem. It wasn’t time for a snack.
    I took a deep breath to calm my frustration. But I had the potion poured and I didn’t know how much longer I could cajole her into drinking it before a nurse or orderly came by and noticed.
    They might wonder why I was being so insistent on giving her a drink. They might even notice that what was in the cup was black. Not water. Definitely not pink lemonade.
    I leaned close and kissed her cheek. Then I whispered in her ear, “Please, Ma. This could make you feel better.” Then I hit below the belt. “Dad would want you to drink this.”
    She blinked a few times as if waking from a sleep. Her eyes watered. A tear ran down one cheek.
    The far away glaze in her eyes left, but she didn’t look at me. She turned her focus to the cup I still held by her mouth. Another wisp of a smile touched her lips. Then she tipped her head forward and put her lips to the cup. She rested her hands on my hand that held the cup and together we tilted it back so she could drink. I had no idea how the potion tasted, but she swallowed it all down without any sign of distaste.
    When she finished, I took the paper cup away and rested back in my chair to watch for any signs of the potion working. At first, nothing happened. Mom returned to staring out the window. The vague smile remained on her face. Some of the tears remained in her eyes, making them shine in the sunlight.
    The low murmur of the announcer of the golf game on TV filled the silence. The only other sound was the flick of playing cards as the ladies at the table by the window set down their hands in turn. I couldn’t tell what game they were playing, but from a casual glance it almost looked like Texas hold ‘em.
    A small cough drew my attention back to Mom.
    A thin, glistening line of saliva ran from one corner of her mouth. Her smile had dropped away. Her face took on a pinched look as if something bitter rolled across her tongue.
    I leaned forward. “Mom?”
    She coughed again. A white saliva foam flicked off her lips.
    Oh, gods, no.
    My stomach clenched. A wet chill slid down my back like cold sewage.
    Mom coughed once more. Then again. Until she couldn’t stop. The saliva dripped from her mouth turned a light shade of pink. I grabbed her hand in one of mine and rested my other hand on her back, patting gently, hoping this would pass, please it had to pass. I kept thinking about what Sly had said, how the potion could kill her if it didn’t work, and the realization that I may have killed my own mother nearly dropped me to my knees.
    It didn’t matter that I had meant to save her.
    It would still be my fault if she died.
    Her coughing grew more violent. She jerked in her wheelchair, her thin frame bucking back and forth between the arm rests. The brakes were on the wheels, but the chair scooted a little with each of her thrashes.
    “Mom, you have to…” To what? Not die? Like she had any say in the matter. I glanced over my shoulder hoping to find one of the orderlies or nurses happen to have shown up since I had come into the activities room. No one else besides the men watching golf and the women playing cards were in sight.
    “Help,” I shouted, my voice sounding feeble to my own ears. “Please, nurse. Help me.”
    Mom’s thrashing turned to a full on seizure. She shook from her shoulders to her slippered feet. I put an arm across her chest to keep her from bucking out of her chair. For such a tiny woman, she held a lot of secret strength. She had always been strong. But after the incident, after three years of sitting in a wheelchair nearly completely unresponsive, I had thought that strength had been stolen from her.
    I was damn wrong about that.
    “Nurse,” I shouted. “Get in here!”
    Finally a woman in white slacks and a colorful flower-print shirt rushed into the room. She took one glance in our