1. The Last Flight Chapter 9


    Date: 10/1/2015, Categories: Lesbian Author: Annamagique, Source: LushStories

    Very quickly but with great care, the two nurses lifted me gently into the wheel chair, guiding my leg and ensuring it was properly supported. “What is it?” I demanded, “Is she... has she...?” They didn't answered but busied themselves with getting me comfortable and then, when they were satisfied, wheeled me rapidly from my side ward and out into the main corridor. A few minutes later, my heart pounding with trepidation, we arrived at the intensive care ward. The curtains were drawn around Jemima's bed and I could hardly breathe as the nurse who was pushing me stopped and waited whilst the other went through. I could hear voices, speaking rapidly but quietly, in French and could understand nothing, no matter how hard I strained. Suddenly, I caught a phrase I could understand. One of the voices said quite clearly: “Non, c'est mort!” Dead! She was dead! I just sat, numb, shocked. I looked up at the nurse who was still behind me, hands patiently on the handles of my chair. She just looked down at me and smiled. I could read nothing in her eyes as my own began to well up. I had to see Jemima and began to push myself up out of the seat. Firm hands on my shoulders held me gently but firmly in place. “Non, Mademoiselle, s'il vous plait.” At that moment the curtain parted and the first nurse put her head through, indicating to the second that she could bring me through. My heart was almost stopping and I held my breath as we passed through the gap. Jemima lay motionless upon her ...
    ... bed covered only by the white cotton sheet. She looked so serene, unmoving, her arms straight along her sides on top of the sheet. I was too late and my eyes filled with salty water which overflowed and trickled down my cheeks. “Noooo...” I whispered the drawn out word and began to move my head slowly, side to side, as my lower lip began to tremble uncontrollably and my hands shook as I clasped them tightly together. As if my utterance had disturbed her, Françoise turned, seeing me for the first time. “Karen, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there.” I looked up at her with tear filled eyes. I wanted to say something but my lips would not move and the words would not come. The tears flowed freely. “Hey, come on, it is Ok. See?” As she spoke, I heard a voice. “Karen?” Jemima turned her head to me. My hand clapped to my mouth immediately and the tears flowed even more. “Jemima...” Her name came falteringly through the tears and tremors. “You... You're alive!” My words were no more than a whisper. She smiled and nodded, reaching out her hand to me which I clasped tightly and pressed it to my face. “I thought...” I kissed her hand. “I thought I had lost you, even before I found you.” Françoise seemed seemed alarmed. “Karen! Why did you think that? I would have told you!” she declared and looked at the two nurses. speaking to them in French. Both shook their heads vigorously, frowning and uttered: “Mais, Non!” “I heard you say it, Françoise.” I said, “I heard you say, 'c'est mort'!” ...
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