"You have to be discreet about that kind of thing, though," Elizabet said. "Gram taught me that, telling me a story about how some folks tried to burn her out of her house in Georgia, back in the thirties. That's the first thing I'd like to teach you, how to help people without them realizing it. So you can stay out of trouble, child."
"I'd—I'd like that," Kayla said hesitantly, and was rewarded by another of Elizabet's warm smiles.
"Well, we'd better start moving," the woman said, standing up and carrying the dirty plates to the kitchen sink. "We have a lot to do today."
She wasn't kidding about that, as Kayla found out over the next few hours. The first stop was at a shopping mall in West Hollywood, where Elizabet wielded a credit card like a medieval knight with a sword, buying Kayla a new pair of jeans, several T-shirts and sweatshirts, underwear and socks, and a new pair of high-top sneakers. The new sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floor as they walked through the mall.
Kayla was uncertain how to react to all of this generosity on Elizabet's part, but that didn't stop her from looking wistfully at a pair of silver hoop earrings in one window display. She had the plain steel stud earrings that the lady in the shop had used to pierce her ears last year, but she'd never owned another pair of earrings. Elizabet only laughed, out came the credit card again, and Kayla left the shop with her stud earrings in her pocket and the new silver hoop earrings dangling from her ears.
Their next stop was Cedars Sinai Hospital, only a few blocks away from the shopping mall. Elizabet parked the convertible in the garage. Kayla followed her into the lobby of the hospital, and stopped just inside the entrance as a wave of dizziness and nausea hit her like a fist. "Elizabet—" she managed to say, as everything whirled around her. The older woman caught her as she nearly stumbled and helped her to a nearby chair.
"Take a few deep breaths, child," she said quietly.
Kayla buried her face in her hands, afraid she was going to faint. Beyond the dizziness, she thought she could hear voices: someone cursing in Spanish as a pain ripped through her, the wail of a newborn baby, a boy screaming as a doctor set his broken arm, the unending pain of an old man breathing through a respirator.
"I hadn't thought about this," Elizabet murmured, chafing Kayla's hands with her own. "Just keep breathing and try to push all of that away from you—it's not happening to you, it's someone else's life, someone else's pain."
"I think—" Kayla said, gulping for air and wishing she hadn't eaten anything for breakfast "—I think I'm going to be sick." She pulled away from Elizabet and ran for the women's bathroom, which fortunately was only twenty feet away.
Elizabet was waiting for her in the bathroom, standing by the counter, when she emerged again. Kayla accepted the wet paper towel from her and wiped her face, then rinsed her mouth out with water from the sink.
"I think I'm okay now. It was just an awful shock, that's all." Kayla dried her face with another paper towel. "I want to go see Billy."
The woman at the front desk directed them to Room 416 in the children's ward, where Billy was staying.
Walking through the children's ward was harder than she'd thought it would be, with sudden pain and shock pummeling at her from behind every closed door, striking without warning. She walked stiffly beside Elizabet, tense and wary, waiting for each new assault on her senses.
Elizabet placed her hand on Kayla's shoulder as they walked down the corridor, a warm touch. A wave of calm flowed over her, holding the shrieking pain at bay. Kayla stopped, looking up at Elizabet in surprise.
"It's an old trick," Elizabet said, and then she smiled. "I'll teach it to you sometime."
"I'll hold you to that promise," Kayla said as they stopped in front of Room 416. "Damn," she said without thinking about it.
"What?" Elizabet asked.
"He's asleep. We probably shouldn't wake him up." She pushed through the door anyhow, wanting to see how he looked.
Billy was lying on his back, breathing steadily. An IV needle ran to his left arm, clear fluid dripping into the plastic line. He looked very young, asleep and in a hospital gown, not at all like the tough guy that had taken care of Kayla and Liane for so many weeks.
Even from the door, she could sense the steady beating of his heart, the torn muscle slowly knitting itself back together in his leg. Kayla backed out of the room and closed the door quietly behind her. "He's okay," she said. "I'd like to come back here later, though, when he's awake. And I want to ask the nurses if Liane's been here. I haven't seen her since . . . since what happened last night, and she's probably scared out of her wits."