The Wife They Burned novel · Chapter 8 of 32

Chapter 8: Donations

"Because of me," I said.

"Because of a space heater," Abel said. "Get in. I'll follow you back."

"I have my car."

"I know. I'll follow you."

He did, all the way to Lantern House, with Sarge's head out the window.

When I parked, he flashed his lights once and drove away.

I stood on the sidewalk and watched until the truck turned the corner.

Joy was on the porch.

"He followed you home," she said.

"He's suspended because of me."

"He followed you home," she said again, as if I hadn't heard her the first time.

The money kept coming.

It came in fives and tens from nurses.

It came in one check for fifty thousand from a man in Minnesota whose twins had lived in a house like ours for a winter.

A cardiology fellow at the hospital ran a bake sale in the lobby and raised four thousand dollars in brownies.

The boy from room seven made a poster for the porch with a thermometer on it.

Every evening at dinner he colored in a little more with a red marker.

On Monday the twentieth he stood on a chair and colored in the top.

"Nine hundred thousand," he announced. "And twelve dollars. The twelve dollars is mine."

Everybody clapped.

Joy cried into her mashed potatoes and blamed the onions.

Nine hundred thousand dollars would run Lantern House for three years.

It wouldn't buy the house.

The next morning I put on my one good suit and walked four blocks to the hospital.

The hospital president was a tired man in a gray cardigan.

Years before he ran anything, he'd slept a month in his car in the hospital garage while his son had leukemia.

He'd seen my video.

He'd seen Fallon's too.

"We'd take it tomorrow," he said. "We'd staff it, insure it, run it. I've wanted to for five years."

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