I sat down and took her hand.
She opened her eyes. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” she said.
Whisky pushed his long muzzle on the bed. She touched his ears for a moment before turning to me again.
“There was no one big enough to keep me out,” I said, trying to smile. “Please get well, sweetheart, I can’t get along without you.”
“I’ll get well,” she said, “only, I’m tired. I’ll be better when I’ve had some sleep. I don’t want to stay awake any more.”
“Listen, kid, the doctor says you’re not trying,” I went on, stroking her wrist, “you must fight. There’s Whisky and me wanting you. You can’t pass us up.”
“It’s awfully hard,” she said drowsily. “I have only half my resistance. If my other half were here I know I’d be all right.”
Then I realized why she couldn’t get well. She had to have Arym to help her fight. Before I could say anything, a nurse came in and beckoned to me.
I petted Myra’s hand. “I’ll be back,” I said. “Promise you’ll wait for me.”
She kept her eyes open with an effort. “Come back soon,” she said urgently.