equipment and the bed before approaching me. Checking my monitor, she smiled gently.
“There you are, Mrs. Davis. How are you feeling?”
“Thirsty,” I whispered.
She steadied a straw cup as I drank; the water was wonderful.
“Where are my kids?” I asked.
She replaced the cup on my tray and unnecessarily straightened the blanket.
Her gaze avoided mine.
“They were here during the surgery,” Kayla said softly. “All three of them. In the family waiting room.”
“Okay.”
“But they left. About an hour ago.”
I watched her through anesthesia’s
