Free Searching for Cate by Marie Ferrarella Page A

now,” he told the woman. “Trying to reach her husband with the news. But any encouragement you can give her will be very good.”
    â€œEncouragement?” Cate didn’t like the sound of that. “What’s wrong with her?”
    Telling her wasn’t his call. His role here was limited, which at times frustrated him. “You’ll have to ask her.”
    Cate nodded, really expecting nothing less by way of an answer. Joan’s daughter hadn’t been very informative, either, when she’d spoken to her on the phone earlier. But that was probably because she really didn’t know what was going on. The girl was eighteen, too young to be burdened with anything that might be happening behind hospital walls. Her mother was undoubtedly keeping this from her. Whatever “this” was.
    â€œI will,” she told him. Moving around him, Cate rapped once on the door, then opened it. She assumed that the dark-haired doctor with the electric-blue eyes had gone on his way.
    The moment she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her, Cate forgot all about the physician she’d encountered. Forgot about everything except for the woman she saw sitting up in the hospital bed.
    The irony of the situation was not lost on her.
    A little more than four weeks ago, she was entering another hospital room more than four hundred miles to the north. Entering it to say goodbye to her mother, although she didn’t realize it at the time. Her mother slipped into a coma that evening and died twelve days later.
    And now here she was, walking into another hospital room, attending possibly another sickbed; this time, though, it was to say hello to her mother. Another mother.
    A host of emotions charged through Cate, riding horses with jagged hooves. There was anger, sorrow, joy and so much more. Too much to sort through and catalog. She felt as if she had no room in which to think.
    The woman in the bed—was that really her birth mother?—was talking on the phone just as the doctor had told her. Unable to help herself, Cate listened. The redhead’s voice was shaky. As shaky as the hands that were desperately clutching the receiver.
    â€œI’m going through with it,” she said to the person on the other end of the line. “I just wanted you to know. Dr. Graywolf said it was important to do it as quickly as possible.”
    The familiar name had her snapping to attention. Dr. Graywolf? Was her partner’s husband this woman’s doctor? Just how small was the world? Cate wondered.
    The fact that there was someone in the room, silently watching her, slowly penetrated the wall of fear around Joan. She murmured “I love you” to her husband and then hung up the phone, her eyes now on the young woman in her room. An eerie feeling wafted through her, as if this wasn’t real. As if none of this ever since she’d first detected the thickness on her right breast was real.
    As if she was looking into the mirror and seeing into the past.
    Joan cleared her throat, her nervousness growing. “Can I help you?”
    Cate kept looking at the woman in the bed, searching for some foolproof sign. All the while knowing that there wouldn’t be one. “That all depends.”
    â€œOn what?” Joan whispered the words, now clearly frightened.
    Cate took a single step toward her, then stopped. She was afraid that the woman would pass out if she came any closer. Did she know? On some instinctive level, did Joan sense that she was her mother?
    Cate put her thoughts into words. “On whether you’re willing to admit that you’re my mother.”

Chapter 9
    T he woman in the bed drew in a sharp breath. “Excuse me?”
    Cate’s heart was in her throat as she confronted a piece of her life. The very air felt still, despite the soft whoosh made by the air-conditioning system.
    Was this woman lying in a hospital bed, looking small, frightened and