Page 71 of Taken from Her
The admission surprised them both with its simplicity. Not complex emotional processing or trauma counseling or community integration, just the basic truth that Diana's presence made everything else manageable.
Diana kicked off her shoes and carefully settled onto the narrow hospital bed, avoiding IV lines and monitoring wires. Lavender shifted to make room, their bodies fitting against each other.
"Better?" Diana asked, her arm sliding around Lavender's shoulders.
"Much." Lavender closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Diana's soap beneath the hospital antiseptic. "How long before someone comes to check on us?"
"Nurses come in every hour, but Dr. Hassan said they'd be discreet." Diana's hand found hers again. "Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
For the first time in eighteen hours, Lavender felt completely safe. Not just protected by hospital security or police presence, but held by someone who'd moved heaven and earth to bring her home. The electronic beeping faded into background noise as exhaustion finally claimed her.
Diana's steady breathing and warm presence followed her into a dreamless sleep.
Lavender woke to the sound of muffled voices beyond her hospital room door. Not the clinical conversations of medical staff, but the warm cadence of people who knew each other well. Someone was crying softly. Someone else was laughing. The rise and fall of conversation carried the unmistakable rhythm of a community gathering.
Diana stirred beside her, blinking awake with the immediate alertness that came from years of emergency calls. "What time is it?"
"Eight-thirty." Lavender checked the wall clock, surprised she'd slept four hours. The monitoring equipment continued its steady beeping, but her body felt more solid, less disconnected from itself.
A gentle knock interrupted them. Dr. Hassan peered around the door, her expression pleased. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"
"Better." Lavender sat up carefully, testing her equilibrium. The world remained steady. "Ready for visitors?"
"Actually, that's what I wanted to discuss." Dr. Hassan stepped into the room, tablet in hand. "There are quite a few people in the waiting area. Georgia Darricott brought coffee for the nursing staff. Corinne Vernalis has been coordinating something that looks suspiciously like a meal delivery service.And I believe someone set up a card table for what might be an impromptu community meeting."
Diana laughed, the sound carrying genuine affection. "Sounds about right. Lavender's people don't wait for permission to take care of each other."
"Should I allow visitors? Small groups, brief visits?"
Lavender felt her energy returning at the thought of seeing familiar faces. The isolation of captivity had been manageable because she'd known rescue was coming, but the idea of reconnecting with her chosen family made her chest warm with anticipation.
"Please. But maybe warn them I'm still processing everything."
Dr. Hassan made notes on her tablet. "I'll coordinate with the nursing staff. No more than three people at a time, fifteen-minute visits to start."
After she left, Diana helped Lavender sit up fully and adjust the hospital gown to something approaching dignity. "Ready for the Georgia Darricott experience?"
"Is anyone ever ready for that?"
The first visitors arrived five minutes later: Georgia herself, followed by Sam Moscroft and Elle Kearsley. They entered with the careful energy of people balancing overwhelming relief with respect for recovery space.
"Well," Georgia said, settling into the bedside chair with her usual authority, "you look remarkably good for someone who's had such an adventure."
"Adventure." Lavender shook her head. "Only you would call kidnapping an adventure."
"The alternative terminology is less appealing." Georgia's sharp eyes studied Lavender's face, cataloging signs of trauma with the precision of someone who'd seen community members weather various crises. "How are you really?"
The question carried weight beyond polite inquiry. Georgia was asking as a community elder, as someone who'd watched Lavender build the café into Phoenix Ridge's emotional center, as the person who'd probably organize recovery support whether Lavender wanted it or not.
"Tired. Grateful. Processing." Lavender looked between her visitors. "How's everyone else handling this?"
Sam leaned forward in her chair. "We were all scared until we heard you were safe. Then relieved. Now we're planning how to make sure nothing like this ever happens again."
"The buddy system you and Chief Marten developed worked exactly like it was supposed to," Elle added. "When Georgia couldn't reach you for your usual Thursday morning check-in, we had search protocols activated within an hour."
Lavender felt her body loosen. The safety networks they'd built had functioned during the crisis, proving that community protection could be more than theoretical.
"Georgia, you tried to call me Thursday morning?"
