Page 22 of The Number of Love
She shook her a bit, but Maman didn’t stir. Margot screamed out her prayer, but Maman didn’t budge.
Telephone. She had to call for assistance.
Lukas.1532.He would know what to do.
Hospital. They could help.
DID. The admiral always had answers.
Eighteen.
She pushed to her feet, knocked her knee against the chest of drawers, slid out the door, hit her elbow against the frame.
Telephone.
Lukas.
Hospital.
DID.
Eighteen.
She lifted the receiver, listened for the operator. Telephone.
“This is the operator. How may I direct your call?”
Lukas. “Kensington–1532.” Hospital. DID.Eighteen.
“One moment, please.”
One moment. All it took for a pulse to disappear. For a heart to give up. For the whole world to change. Margot stood rooted to the spot, her eyes scarcely even blinking. They remained fixed on the window, where morning’s light was grey and heavy and soaked with autumn rains that distorted the world outside.
Distorted the worldinside.
Telephone. Lukas. Hospital. DID.Eighteen.
“Hello?”
“Lukas. Hospital. DID. Eighteen.”
“What? Margot, is that you?”
She couldn’t blink. She could only stare at the rain-soaked world beyond the rain-spattered window through her rain-soaked eyes. “C’est Maman.” No other words would come.
Telephone.
Lukas.
Hospital.
DID.
Eighteen.
Maman....
“Margot. Margot, come away from the window.” Lukas’s hand rested on her shoulder. Gentle. Firm. Both at once, in different respects.
