A Touch of Gold Read Online Free Page B

like this before. It was as though I could hear a voice calling me.
    I tried to ignore the whisper and closed my eyes for a while, only to have them pop open again. But my gaze continued to go back to the bag that held my clothes. My jeans and the Duck T-shirt that I’d worn that day were in there—along with the gold coin from the museum.
    I wanted, needed , to see the gold coin again. I told myself it was because it might be the only piece of the museum still left intact. But it was more than that. There were voices inside me. I pulled up the white blanket and sheet, covering my head. But it was no use. Seeing the coin, feeling it in my hand again, had become an obsession.
    Another nurse came in and checked my pulse and temperature. “Would you like some more ice water, honey?”
    “No. I’m fine, thanks.” I rustled up a smile. “I’m trying to get a good night’s sleep for tomorrow.”
    “That’s right.” She beamed. “You’ll be going home in the morning. Who’s the lucky girl?”
    I might’ve objected to her patronizing tone, but I was too focused on getting her out of there so I could find some way to reach my clothes. It seemed to take her forever to straighten the sheets and check the IV. Why didn’t she leave?
    Once she was gone, I quit asking questions about why I wanted to see the coin again. Instead, I worked on how to get over there. It wasn’t that far. But I was surrounded by so many tubes and wires, I wasn’t sure I could manage to get away from them without alerting someone who might stop me.
    I sifted through the medical spaghetti and realized only one tube was actually attached to me. The only thing I had to worry about was that one line, which led to a bag of glucose hooked up to a tall, stainless steel pole. I moved across the narrow bed carefully until I could throw my legs off the side next to the pole. I used one hand to propel myself off the bed while the other hand held onto the glucose feed and moved the pole closer to me.
    The tile floor was cold under my bare feet, and my knee, which hadn’t hurt since I’d woken up, started hurting again. It was my storm knee. It always hurt right before a storm. Gramps said that was because I’d injured it surfing in the rough waves off the Atlantic side of Duck. He said it was my weak knee because it was my favorite to injure.
    Ignoring the pain, I rolled the pole closer to me as I got off the bed and struggled to keep my hospital gown from exposing my rear. Why did they always show people in the movies with the backs of these stupid gowns closed? Why did they create them that way in the first place?
    The voices from the coin kept me on track, whispering their secrets as I gingerly began to cross the room. Looking back on it, I wonder why I didn’t think I’d lost my mind. Maybe being raised as a finder of lost things made anything seem possible. Whatever the case, I didn’t question my thirst for the coin’s knowledge, and kept moving slowly across the tile.
    I was nervous that one of the nurses would come in and check on me again. They might keep me from reaching the coin and that wouldn’t do. It was the only thing in my mind, and the closer I got to that bundle of clothes, the more important it seemed.
    One of the wheels on the pole squeaked at every other revolution. I cringed each time. What would happen if I couldn’t reach the coin? What if someone else got to it before me? My brain buzzed with the whispers coming from it. What were they saying? If I held it in my hand again, would I be able to hear them more clearly?
    I could always say I was trying to reach the bathroom, I realized. They didn’t have to know my real purpose. If I never told anyone about the voices in the coin, I’d never have to share it with anyone.
    I finally reached the chair and ruthlessly shoved the bag of clothes on the floor so I could collapse where they’d been. I hadn’t known it would be such an ordeal moving a few feet. I was exhausted.