Reunion Beach by Elin Hilderbrand (english novels for students .TXT) 📕

Kristina from her sleep. She leaped from her bed and raced to the window to peer out. Joe . . .

To her horror she saw a stretcher being wheeled from the house to the open doors of the ambulance. Joe was lying on it and his parents were trailing behind in their pajamas. Mr. Cohen’s arm supported his wife.

Kristina grabbed her bathrobe and raced out the front door. The ambulance was pulling away by the time she’d arrived.

“Joe!” she cried after it.

Mrs. Cohen came closer to put her arms around her. Both women were crying openly, fear trailing down their faces.

“We’re going to the hospital,” she told Kristina. “Would you like to come with us?”

Kristina didn’t give a thought to what her mother would say or do when she found out. She jumped into the Cohens’ car, barefoot, and sat in stoic silence, praying all the way to the hospital. The blackness filled the car, though dawn was but an hour off. The hospital waiting room was air-conditioned and clean, that much could be said for it. But the pale green and white paint, the bad art, and the uncomfortable wood and polyester chairs were dismal. She imagined Joe leaning close to her and saying in a low voice, “It’s the definition of institutional décor.”

How long she sat waiting for the chance to see him, she couldn’t remember. But the sun was high in the sky by the time Mr. and Mrs. Cohen returned to the waiting room, their faces haggard and shoulders drooping.

“He’s asking for you,” Mrs. Cohen said gently.

Kristina looked into her red-rimmed eyes and saw the unspoken message. This would be her good-bye.

She gingerly pushed open the door to his room and peered inside. More institutional décor. Her eyes went directly to the slender form lying in the metal hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. His eyes were closed. He lay so still, and his skin was so white she sucked in her breath, wondering in a panic if she was too late. But then his eyes fluttered open, and seeing her, he smiled weakly.

Her heart leaped to her throat. “Joe!”

She hurried to his side and clasped his hand. Tears began to flow uncontrollably. “Don’t go,” she begged him. “Fight this. You can. You’re the strongest, bravest person I know.”

The shake of his head was barely perceptible. “It’s my time.”

The words struck her to the core. He meant to leave her. Here. Alone in this horrible, lonely world. It was inconceivable.

“Then I’m coming with you,” she said, squeezing his hand.

A teasing smile crossed his face. “A suicide pact?”

“Yes.”

He made a mild, mocking face. “Please . . .”

“I mean it,” she said fervently.

“Kristina . . .” His expression shifted to sympathy.

Imagine, she thought with shame, he was offering her consolation.

“That’s not one of our stories,” he said. When she frowned, his smile slipped away, and he spoke earnestly.

“Listen to me. This is my time. My destiny. Not yours.”

“How do you know? Maybe it’s my destiny to go with you.”

His laugh was soft and weary. “What’s your hurry?”

“You’re all I care about on this earth.”

“Not true. You love your mother.”

“No, I don’t,” she fired back with more vehemence than she’d intended. “I hate her.”

“You don’t,” he said with conviction. “But I’m not talking about Deborah. You have two mothers.”

Kristina’s mind spun. “Her? My birth mother? I don’t even know her.”

“But you do. Somewhere, somehow you do. And you love her.”

He took her breath away. He knew her better than she knew herself. “I don’t even know where she is.”

“Then find her.”

“You know I can’t,” she said pulling back her hair from her face in a gesture of frustration. “I promised Deborah I wouldn’t.”

“And you keep your promises.”

“Yes,” she said, feeling the truth of it. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But Deborah, for all that she’s bat-shit crazy, is still the only mother I’ve ever known. She’s her own worst enemy. She’s unstable.” Kristina looked at her hand over his. “I won’t add to her misery. She is still my mother.”

“You’re a good person.”

She sniffed and wiped her nose. “I’m not. Any goodness you see in me is because of you.” She leaned closer so her face was inches from his. She stared into his dark brown eyes, the color of chocolate, and still saw the inner light shining in them.

“Please, help me come with you,” she said in a pleading voice. “It hurts too much to stay in this world if you’re not in it.”

Sadness flickered in his eyes. Joe patted the mattress. There wasn’t much space on the narrow hospital bed, but both Joe and Kristina were pencil thin and she managed to settle in the small bit of mattress. His body was all bones and flesh, but it was all Joe. She curled up on her side and rested her head in the crook of his arm. She smelled medicine and starch, but not Joe. His scent was already lost to her.

“See, here’s the thing about dying,” he told her in an even voice that, against his chest, sounded to her like a lullaby. “It’s like graduating. If you live a good life, you’ll be rewarded and get to go on. How . . .” She felt the slight lift of a shoulder. “I’m not so sure.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in heaven or hell.”

“I never told you that,” he replied. “I said I don’t know what heaven is. In Judaism, the afterlife is not as well defined as in Christianity.”

“You mean the pearly gates?” She heard his laughter rumble in his chest.

“There are lots of theories,” he continued, speaking softly. She heard the weariness and worried if speaking was taking too much of his energy. Too much of his precious time.

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk.”

“I want to,” he replied. “I don’t know if I’ll have another chance. And don’t you know? Talking with you was what I’ve lived for these past years. You kept me alive.”

She felt herself come undone. “Joe . . .” she cried, clutching him tightly.

He patted her hand and kissed her forehead. “Let me finish,” he