Fin

She and James became fast friends over the next couple of weeks. He served as an outlet for her feelings–a shoulder to cry on, basically. She didn't tell him the most explicit details about her marriage, but it was evident that every time she spoke, she was hurting.

They went out to coffee one day and James was telling her about a show he was performing that was an adaptation of Jane Eyre. He was playing Mr. Rochester.

"I think it's my big break, you know? Maybe someone will see my talent and take me seriously," he said, excitedly. "I, uh, I want you there, Lydia. I mean, as support. My parents don't exactly like the recent choices of my life and it'd be great if you could at least stop by and say hi. It'd make me feel loads better–"

Her phone rang so loudly that she jumped a mile in the air. She fished it out of her pocket and answered, breathlessly, "Hello?"

"Is this Lydia Eckhart?"

"Yes."

"Mrs. Eckhart, I'm Dr. Russell at St. John's Hospital. Your husband collapsed on the street this morning and was brought to our hospital. I can explain more if you came in at this time, Ms. Eckhart...Ms. Eckhart? Are you there...?"