The flight seemed to take no time and a limo met us at the gate. Minutes later we were at the hospital. Karen met us at the front door and hugged her father while trying not to cry. A nurse attendant stood nearby. Paul looked back to me ready to rush in to see his son.
"You go," I said. "I'll stay here with Karen." He hesitated but entered the building in conversation with the woman. I wasn't sure from the look on Karen's face if she concurred as I took her hand.
"Don't you want to step inside?" I asked. "It's chilly out here."
"I'm okay." She added, "you go. I don't need a baby sitter."
"I do," I said as I continued to hold her hand. She tried to pull away but I wouldn't let go and she ceased trying. We began to stroll around the building. It was April and chilly. I was dressed for a climate four hundred miles further south. I tried to hide my shiver. Karen wore a lovely fur trimmed coat, obviously expensive but inappropriate for the times or her age. I told her the coat was beautiful.
"I don't like it. They have to kill them to make it."
I changed the subject. "What a scary evening for you; first Timmy falling and then being there when Mrs. Doberchek collapsed."
Karen simply shrugged. I thought she wouldn't answer but she said, "She just fell down on the sidewalk with her mouth open. The ambulance guys rushed up so I couldn't see what was going on. I went back to Timmy. He was still sleeping on the stretcher."
I wasn't sure if Karen lacked understanding of what happened or was blocking it out. "You're a brave girl."
"No, I'm not!" I was startled by the firmness of her response. "I wouldn't even go inside," she added.
"Your father says you don't like hospitals. I don't like them either."
"Because your husband died in one." It was more a statement than a question.
"No," I answered. "He died in an automobile accident. I don't like hospitals on general principals." Karen didn't answer nor did I continue the conversation. I was content to hold her hand and let her talk if she wished but we circled the building before she spoke again.
"My father wants to marry you," she said without a preamble.
"Did he tell you that?"
"He didn't have to. I know what he's thinking most of the time. He thinks you don't like him, at least as much as he likes you."
I wasn't sure how to answer but I gave it a try. "We don't know each other very well. I've only been with him a few days in total but I do like him; a lot."