Chapter 1

Gilbert, a tall well built young man of 19 with hazel eyes, and curly brown hair, listened to the voice he could hear speaking in another room as he waited in the Charlotte Hospital corridor. The voice was light and musical, pleasant to listen to and her subject matter had a small smile tugging at his lips, despite his own sad circumstances. Listening to her chatter he felt he could almost forget he had left college, his exams unfinished. Almost forget he was here because his dad had been diagnosed with cancer. Almost forget that his world was crumbling apart. Almost. Then she laughed and he sat up straight. It was light and musical as well, but more importantly it was genuine and real. It was also the most beautiful sound he had ever heard and every time he heard it, he wanted to hear it again.

When a rougher older voice suggested some chocolate carmel cake and the girl's voice agreed enthusiastically, he gazed intently in the direction the vocies were a doorway or two down, and was rewarded finally with the sight of a young girl, about 16, with flaming red hair in a braid as she exited the room with an older gentleman with white hair and a beard. The two turned the opposite direction he was, but Gilbert felt his heart speed up. He wanted to know who she was. She appeared to be injured, her arm in a sling and what appeared like bruises visible on her skin. Each time he listened to her musical voice he wanted to see her, to pretend she was talking to him. Before he could go stand up and head in her direction, his mother stepped out of his father's room, tears on her face and said, "He would like to speak to you alone now, Gilbert."

Gilbert stood up, rising to his full height and embraced his mom, giving her a kiss on the cheek before wordlessly entering his father's room. He knew what was coming. He had sorted it all out in his mind when he stepped out to give his mom and dad a private minute.

"Well pa, I guess we'll have to see how good of a teacher you where," Gilbert said as he approached his dad's bedside. "You focus on getting better and I'll focus on the farm."

"Your studies-" the older man started to argue.

"Will hold," Gilbert said with a shrug. "Plenty of folks take a year or two off school to find themselves before college. The farm needs someone to look after it while you get well. "

"I hate to ask it of you," his dad said helplessly.

"Your not asking. I'm offering. I'm doing it. Redmond will still be there once you're better."

"Your football scholarship?"

"I can try out for the team when I go back. Maybe get a new scholarship. I'm doing this dad," Gilbert said gently but firmly.

The next morning as Gilbert approached his dad's room he heard the girl's voice singing. The song brought a smile to his face as she sang Buffalo Gal and then jumped straight into My Girl and then You Are My Sunshine. When it seemed she was done, though the curtian was closed and he couldn't see her, only hear her, though he remembered her vividly from the glimpse he had gotten yesterday, he clapped in appreciation and she shrieked in surprise.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, from behind the curtian."I didn't realize the door wasn't closed."

"I'm grateful the door wasn't closed," Gilbert said with a chuckle.

"Well at least you are. Yesterday one of the patients requested I stop and I promised to be ever so good and do so, but I forgot," she said in a pained voice.

"I'm here to see my dad. What are you in for?" Gilbert asked settling against the wall, hoping he could coax her to come out and meet him.

"I was in a er, a car accident of sorts," she said hesitantly.

"Of sorts?" Gilbert asked raising an eyebrow, even though she couldn't see him.

"It's a bit of a convoluted story."

"I like convoluted stories," he said smiling softly at the sound of her voice.

"Because they are so interesting?" her voice asked.

"Becuase storytelling is built into the human plan."

"Margaret Atwood said that. You can never kill storytelling because it was built into the human plan."

"She did. And what is your story?" Gilbert asked unsurprised this girl that touched his soul with her voice knew Margaret Atwood.

"Mine isn't as fascinating as the Hand Maiden's Tale, you might not want to hear it."

Before she could elaborate, the nurse stepped out of his father's room and motioned him over.

"I'll be back in a little bit. Perhaps you can tell me how one is in a car accident of sorts later or I can convince you to sing some more," Gilbert said hopefully.

A small laugh escaped her and she said, "We shall see. I need to finish getting ready. I hope everything is okay with your father."

"Thanks," Gilbert said softly before walking the rest of the way to his father's room and entering