Chapter 22: Her Own Stone

Geneva's POV

At nine on Memorial Day morning I lay in the scanner with a fever of a hundred and one.

The machine knocked, and my teeth chattered between knocks.

"Hold still," the technician said through the speaker. "Two more minutes."

I had been awake since four.

Giles had spent the night in the chair beside my bed.

His jacket lay over his knees, and one hand was on the rail.

When the table slid me out, he was standing at the window with his phone in his hand.

"Stewart texted," he said. "Beth is first on the program. The pastor's wife wouldn't change it."

"What time is it?"

"Nine forty."

"Where's the doctor?"

"The colleague I gave your case to is with the tumor board."

"They read it at noon, and she promised to call me."

He crossed the room and crouched in front of the table.

"Geneva, you have a fever," he said. "I can't stop you, but I'm asking you not to leave this building."

"My name is on a stone."

"I know."

"Beth's going to stand in front of every person I grew up with and say she forgives me."

"You don't know what she'll say."

"I know exactly what she'll say."

He looked at me for a long moment, and I looked back.

He wasn't my doctor, and I had never been so glad of it.

"Two hours," I said. "I'll sit the whole way. I'll drink the water. Please."

He stood up.

"I'll get the car," Giles said.

He drove the way I had never seen him drive.