"There's a towel on the nightstand when you're finished. I'm going to check on Antonio and breakfast." She left before I could clean myself up. I threw up once more before Antonio came in. He wiped up the mess and handed me a clean, warm washcloth before leaving with the dirty towel and full basin. After he left, I laid back down and tried to reconstruct everything that had happened the night before. I lifted the covers and brought my left foot up so I could see it. A line of red dots tinged the white gauze wrapping.

"How does it feel?" She asked carrying in a tray of food.

"It feels fine."

"Do you need another basin?"

I shook my head and pulled the covers back up to my chest as she approached. I was naked.

"I thought you might be in rough shape this morning so I instructed Antonio to fix an appropriate breakfast; scrambled eggs, toast and tomato juice." She placed the tray in front of me and began peeling an orange for herself as she sat in the chair next to the bed again.

I took the fork, swallowed the excess saliva gathering in my mouth again and began to eat. I felt better in minutes and ate everything on the plate as she peeled, segmented and ate the orange.

"Thank you for breakfast, for letting me stay here, for everything. You were right about the drinking. I must have been really drunk, I don't recall how I got out of my clothes. I don't even remember your name."

She looked at me apathetically as she chewed. There was something unnerving about the way she eyed me. Usually when someone stares, you can see the determination and effort in their expression. Hers was one of total relaxed confidence. She swallowed and cleared her throat. "My friends call me Poppy."

"What do your patients call you?" I countered.

She smiled and held her small hand out to me. "Hello, my name is Poppy."

I leaned over, placed my right hand in hers. "Evan Michaels."

"Yes, I know. I took your clothes off last night after you went unconscious. Your wallet fell open on the floor when I folded your pants. I hope you don't mind, you had a lot of blood on your clothes and I didn't want to ruin the bedding."

I nodded. "Thanks. You don't look like a nun," I said, still confused.

"Thank you, I think. Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"This is a church isn't it?"

She smiled. "Ah, it used to be a long time ago. It is my home," she said looking at the old wooden walls. "I'll show you the place when you're up and around."

I wondered if she intended to let me stay until I'd healed. The charity I had received so far seemed out of place, even from a church. And now, knowing that it came from a stranger, I felt wary.