It took several days for word of what had happened to Lydia to trickle through the city, to reach all of those who knew her. Gossip moved lightening fast, but sometimes bad news crawled, even through the West End. Sometimes especially through the West End. When Kacey finally heard, it took days more for her to confront her demons. Days spent with hard work and some laughter, and a lingering shadow that kept her awake at night. In free moments she worked a long piece of black walnut, turning it, smoothing away splinters. A stop at the Forge to cap the ends with steel and band the grips, and the staff was complete.
Too short for Kacey, slimmer than comfortable for her hands with their long fingers and callused grip, it was designed for Lydia?s smaller, slighter frame. Walking staff or weapon, it was elegant in simplicity. When Kacey finished it, capped and complete, she sat on a bench in the Market across from A Stitch in Time for several minutes and steeled herself.
The sterile, almost cold feeling of the Redmond Clinic was a far cry from the memory of a field surgeon?s tent that haunted Kacey. The scent of astringents and blood in the air was all too familiar, and the occasional moan of pain or cry tightened her expression into stillness. An inquiry at the desk gave her Lydia?s room, and after some argument about the staff she was carrying, Kacey ventured that way.
Hard to say if Lydia would be awake or not ? the nurses had mentioned she was still easily fatigued. It was a feeling Kacey remembered all too well. So mindful of the cautions, she tapped on the door lightly. If Lydia was awake, Kacey would give her the staff in person. If asleep she would leave it, and the short note crackling in her pocket for that contingency.
Too short for Kacey, slimmer than comfortable for her hands with their long fingers and callused grip, it was designed for Lydia?s smaller, slighter frame. Walking staff or weapon, it was elegant in simplicity. When Kacey finished it, capped and complete, she sat on a bench in the Market across from A Stitch in Time for several minutes and steeled herself.
The sterile, almost cold feeling of the Redmond Clinic was a far cry from the memory of a field surgeon?s tent that haunted Kacey. The scent of astringents and blood in the air was all too familiar, and the occasional moan of pain or cry tightened her expression into stillness. An inquiry at the desk gave her Lydia?s room, and after some argument about the staff she was carrying, Kacey ventured that way.
Hard to say if Lydia would be awake or not ? the nurses had mentioned she was still easily fatigued. It was a feeling Kacey remembered all too well. So mindful of the cautions, she tapped on the door lightly. If Lydia was awake, Kacey would give her the staff in person. If asleep she would leave it, and the short note crackling in her pocket for that contingency.