Nurse Walters held out a sheet of notepaper. “And Edna insisted that I write down these five days. When I’d done it…she fell back in her bed and died.”
My hand shook as I took the paper from her.
When I glanced at Mello Melodeon, he didn’t have as grim an expression as I thought a friend should have at a moment like this.
Reluctantly, I scanned the dates on the paper and murmured strickenly, “Five terrible days.”
“What did you say?” Nurse Walters asked.
“Five terrible days,” I repeated, but didn’t have the strength to explain.
“That’s not what Edna Carter said,” Nurse Walters told me.
“What did she say?” Mello urged her, but I could see that he knew the answer to his question.
Puzzled by our reactions, Nurse Walters said, “Well, she told me these were five glorious days, five especially joyful days to come in a blessed life. Isn’t that odd? Do you think it means anything?”
At last I met Lorrie’s eyes.
“Do you think it means anything?” I asked.
“My hunch is yeah.”
Folding the paper, tucking it in a pocket, I sighed. “It sure is spooky this side of paradise.”
“But lovely.”
“Mysterious.”
“Always.”
“Sweet.”
“Oh, yeah,” she agreed. “Sweet.”
Gently, reverently, I took tiny Rowena from Lorrie. So small she was, but in spirit and in potential, no smaller than any of us.
Holding her so that she faced away from me, I turned in a full circle. Even if her eyes were as yet unfocused, perhaps she could see the room in which she had been born and see the people who had been present for her entry. Perhaps she wondered about them and about what waited beyond this room.
Turning with her, turning, I said, “Rowena, this is the world. This is your life. Prepare to be enchanted.”
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