Cora dropped her tray across from mine, sat, and demanded, “Start talking, missy, and do not leave anything out.”
“Talk about what?” I asked, praying she wasn’t talking about the closet and Torin. No one had seen us, other than the security guard.
“Jess Davenport. Did you really call her a skank and threaten to kick her butt from here to the Grand Canyon.”
My jaw dropped. “I did not.”
“I heard you called her an airhead,” Keith said.
“That I did.” Laughing, I looked up, and my eyes met with Jess’. She, Torin, and her entourage just entered the cafeteria. She clung to him like he was her lifeline and tried to kill me with her eyes again. Yeah, right back at you. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Torin.
“When did this happen?” Eirik asked.
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s discuss something else. Did you get the e-mail Doc sent out about the meeting on Friday?”
The mood at our table changed. Cora nodded and stared at her plate. Eirik’s lips pressed into a straight line. Keith looked at us and frowned. “That’s the swim coach, right?”
“Yeah.” Eirik glanced at me. “I think the meeting is about Kate’s funeral. I heard it’s on Saturday. They have the first wake on Friday morning at ten and the second Saturday morning before the service.”
“Are you going?” Cora asked, looking at me with teary eyes.
I nodded. “Saturday for the wake and the funeral, unless Doc asks us to go as a team.”
“Eirik?” Cora asked.
He nodded. “I’m going on Saturday, too. I went through my photographs and found quite a few of her pictures. I might make a slideshow, burn it on a CD, and give it to her parents.” His gaze swung from me to Cora then back to me again, a slight flush on his cheeks. “I know they probably have home movies, but this will be different. You know, it will be something from the swim team.”
I squeezed Eirik’s hand. I didn’t know any guy who’d think of doing something that special for someone else, but that was Eirik. He was amazing. From the way Cora stared at him, I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
“I think we should use Movie Maker and add comments.” I glanced at Cora. “You’re good with the software.”
Cora grinned, her mood improving. “I can add fancy animation, zoom in and out, and make her the focus on every picture. You can add pithy captions, Raine.”
As the three of us discussed what we could do to make the presentation memorable, Keith cleared his throat and cut in. “What can I do to help?”
“Oh, we didn’t mean to leave you out,” Cora said, laying her head on his arm. “You can inspire us by feeding us. Since my parents still limit my computer time and I’ve been forced to abuse my poor cell phone, we can meet at…” She glanced at me then Eirik.
“My place,” I said. We hardly ever went to Eirik’s when his parents were around. “Should we start tonight?”
“I can’t,” Cora said. “My family is going to my aunt’s for dinner.”
“Tomorrow?” I asked, and everyone nodded. “Keith, do you still volunteer at the hospital?”
“Yeah.” He bit into his burrito, chewed, and swallowed. He washed it down with soda. “I’ll be there Friday after school and possibly on Saturday.”
“Do you know anyone in Records?”
“Yeah. Debbie. Why?”
“I’m trying to see my medical records, maybe find the identity of the nurses who took care of me in the ICU after I was born.”
“Your doctor should have your medical record on file, but if he doesn’t, come and see me on the first floor, Orthopedic Wing. I’ll take you to Debbie.”
“Whoa, what’s going on?” Cora asked. “What’s this about your birth record?”
“My mother said I was a preemie, and I want to thank the nurses who took care of me. I plan to nominate them for the Daisy Award.”
“What the heck is the Daisy Award?” Cora nudged Keith’s arm. “And who’s Debbie and why is she willing to help you?”
While Keith reassured Cora of his feelings, my gaze connected with Torin’s. I was desperate for answers he couldn’t give me. It didn’t matter how far I had to go to find them. Somebody somewhere must know if I miraculously recovered from a near fatal condition in the last seventeen years. It was the only explanation for the runes.
As soon as I got home that evening, I called Dr. Carmichael’s office. Her nurse wasn’t helpful. “I’m sorry, Miss Cooper. We don’t give out medical records to minors.”
“But these are my medical records. All I want is the name of the nurses who took care of me when I was born. I’m thinking of nominating them for the Daisy Award,” I added, hoping to wow her.
“Bring your mother with you, Ms. Cooper,” the woman said, clearly not impressed. “Both of you must have picture IDs and a copy of your birth certificate to prove she is who she claims to be. We’ve had problems with adopted children trying to track down their birth mothers, so we are very cautious and thorough when it comes to these things.”
“Thanks.” For nothing. There was no way I could ask Mom to take me to the hospital without explaining my reasons. She might think I was obsessed with my birth and haul me to a shrink’s office.