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Unformatted text preview: ge of Marie Claudette with her six fingers. Six fingers on the left hand. Rowan had had beautiful and perfect hands. Hands of a surgeon. What if she had done what Carlotta Mayfair wanted? What her mother had wanted? What if she had never come home? He awoke with a start. The nurse was lifting Rowan's right leg, carefully, gently, smoothing the lotion over the skin. Look how thin, how worn. "This will keep her from getting drop foot. We have to do it regularly. You want to remind the others. I'll write it on the chart. But you remember." "I will," he said. "She must have been a beautiful woman," said the nurse, shaking her head. "She is a beautiful woman," said Michael, but there was no anger in it, no resentment. Just setting the record straight. Thirty-two HE WANTED to do it again. Emaleth didn't want to stop dancing. The building was empty; no one else came this evening. And she wasn't dancing, except in her sleep. She opened her eyes. There he was. The music was playing, she'd been hearing it in her dreams, and now he was so insistent....
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10