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The telephone rang, and Kitty woke with a start.
Sunlight filtered through the shabby curtains. She closed
her eyes.
Peter appeared from the bathroom, razor in hand, his
face half covered in lather. He crossed the room in four
great strides and snatched up the phone.
"Hello? This is Peter Beaumont... Wonderful!"
"What is it, Peter," Kitty asked from the bed.
He raised a finger to his lips. "What's that? She's here
with me. We're on our way."
He hung up the phone.
"Mama's awake," he said. "She's asking for you."
"Kitty!" Claire Beaumont cried as her granddaughter
appeared in the doorway.
"Hi, Gramma." Kitty crossed to the far side of the bed
and took a seat on the radiator. She held the old woman's
hand. "It's good to have you back," she said. "Are they
treating you right?"
"Just fine," the old woman said softly. "Very fine."
Peter moved to the bed and touched his mother's free
hand."Hi, Mama," he said. "Can I get you anything?"
Peter!" She gripped his wide fingers. "You see how
good God is? Our family is together!"
Peter and Kitty exchanged smiles. They sat in silence.
"Peter?" the old woman said, her voice suddenly
powerful, commanding.
"Yes, Mama?"
"Fetch the doctor. I want to know when I can go
"You're still weak, Mama...," Peter started.
She fixed a kind gaze on his face. The vehemence fell
away from her voice: