Second Chances in Lavender Bay (The Lavender Bay Chronicles #3)

29. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

D iana removed her belongings from the bedside cabinet, packing them into the small suitcase her mother had brought for her. She was finally going home from the hospital. The neighbor had offered to give them a lift, but Diana had told her mother no. She wanted to go by taxi. She didn’t want to see anyone she knew. Didn’t want to have to make inane small talk.

“You’ll feel so much better to be in your own bed,” her mother said, emptying the top drawer of a few toiletries. There was a forced cheerfulness in her voice. A brightness Diana didn’t think she’d ever feel again.

She finished packing—there wasn’t much—and slammed the suitcase shut, anxious to get out of there.

“I’m ready, Ma. Let’s go,” she said, hoisting the suitcase off the bed. She was aware of the eyes of the other women in the ward on her. She’d not engaged with any of them, choosing instead to listen to their mundane conversations about husbands and children, knowing she’d never have those types of conversations. They’d tried to get her involved, but she’d only nod or shrug or, if it was a good day, give them a one-word answer.

As she made her way out of the ward with her mother at her side, they called out to her one after the other. “Good luck, Diana!”

There was that word again. Luck.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice flat. Then she walked out of the ward and into the corridor, hoping she’d never have to come back to this hospital again.

Once home, she set the suitcase down in her bedroom behind the door, not at all interested in unpacking it. She undressed, pulled on her nightgown, climbed into bed, and turned toward the wall, her good side resting on her arm.

Her mother appeared in the doorway. “Diana, what are you doing?” Her laugh was nervous. “It’s the middle of the day.”

Diana shrugged. She had no energy to answer.

“Did you unpack your suitcase?” her mother asked.

“I’ll do it later. I’m tired. I want to take a nap.”

“All right. Will I close the door?” There was uncertainty in Millie’s voice.

“Please.”

Weeks later, Diana was hardly eating and had spent most of her time in her bed, despite her mother’s best efforts. She couldn’t see the point of getting up. For what reason? She’d lost her job and suffered a permanent disfigurement.

When Millie failed in her efforts to motivate her daughter, she enlisted the help of Laura and Joy, who visited regularly. Initially, Diana resisted their efforts. In the beginning, she lay on her side, blanket pulled up to her shoulders while they visited. Gradually, she sat up in her bed, pulling the covers up to her waist. This was progress. Other coworkers tried to visit, but Diana had her mother turn them all away, and eventually, they gave up. With nothing to do, Diana could outwait them all.

But Laura and Joy had their own ideas. And pretty soon, just to shut them up and get them off her back, she agreed to get out of bed and sit with them in the parlor. Then a beautiful day came along, and they prodded her to sit out on the porch, her first time outside since she’d come home from the hospital.

She continued with these brief forays out onto the porch, only a few minutes at a time to get some fresh air. And if a neighbor passed by and waved, she returned the wave but stood and went inside to discourage anyone from approaching or trying to engage her in conversation.

Her new world was the interior of the house and the front porch, and she muddled along with the help of her mother and her two best friends. Every day was long and something to be got through. She took up smoking, hoping it would calm her nerves. It did, somewhat.

But then everything changed.

A letter arrived from Preston.

He was due home on leave, and he couldn’t wait to see her.