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.. more distinct I suppose you might call it. There was no mistaking that she had to be awake.And the day after that, Ottilie asked where I was again. But of course I wasn't there to witness it.That night Tara positively refused to go home to her grandfather's house and insisted that she stay at the hospital with me. I still wasn't experienced enough as a father to argue the point without the possibility of that confrontation deteriorating into a shouting match. We were in the wrong place and the time was wrong for me to risk that happening. Besides she didn't have to go to school the next day because of the holidays.I was sat in the armchair, supposedly supplied for the patients use only; but experience had proved it to be the best one for dozing in. For a long time Tara had sat by her mother's bed in the darkened room; leaning forward. her arms resting on the bed as she chatted away to the unconscious form before her. I'm afraid that I didn't listen to what she was actually saying. She closed her eyes and reveled for a moment in the blessed relief. She wished she could just climb in. She piled the frozen food in. When she was done, she grabbed a towel from the counter next to her and a handful of ice cubes from the ice box and made herself an impromptu ice pack. She took the ice pack and walked out into the living room and collapsed on the couch. She dabbed the cold on her head and face. It felt so good! The heat of the air was already attacking the ice, and the towel started to get damp both from the melting ice and her sweat. She set the towel down next to her and reached inside for a cube. It was impossibly cold in her fingertips. She brought her hand up and touched the cube lightly to her cheek and slowly traced backwards toward her ear. She closed her eyes and moved the cube down below her ear, tracing down the cords in her neck. The ice sent shivers up and down her body as the ice kissed her neck. The heat of her body and the room made the cube melt.
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