and wisdomto know that sometimes shit just happens, the long-term consequences were devastating. Someone needed to be looking out for Brian, too.
And that someone might as well be him.
6
“ S hould we go downstairs?” Gene asked. “We have to talk first.” Catherine couldn’t let him see Lynda without preparing him. She would still be drugged and unlikely to remember Gene coming in to see her, but Catherine didn’t want to take any chances. With Lynda’s face pink and swollen, her body wrapped in bandages, a feeding tube taped to her nose, her hair a crude shag on the sides and missing in the back, and her eyes wary and frightened, even Catherine had to look hard to find the old Lynda. Gene would be devastated no matter how well she prepared him; Catherine just didn’t want it to show. Lynda already had enough to deal with without worrying about upsetting her uncle.
“How about some coffee? Have you had breakfast?” He glanced at his watch. “Make that an early lunch.”
She wasn’t hungry but knew Gene needed something to do, something he believed would help her. They were alike that way. Inactivity was her enemy.It left her too much time to think. Before her divorce, she’d spent a year agonizing over what it would be like to live without Jack and the next three years living what she’d imagined. At first the loneliness had been like a knife in her chest, reminding her with every breath that she slept alone, woke alone, and went out alone. Eventually the pain became as familiar as two place settings at the table instead of three; so familiar, she failed to realize the moment it wasn’t there anymore.
“A cup of coffee would be nice,” she said. “There’s a cafeteria downstairs.”
He picked up her purse and handed it to her. “I know I’m repeating myself, but I really am going to have to talk to Tom about taking better care of you.”
“If you can find him.” She was sorry the minute she said it.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. I’m just a little out of sorts today. Tom went up to the lake yesterday to close the cabin. I haven’t heard from him since. At least not directly. He left a message on the machine saying he wasn’t going to make it home last night. But I expected him long before now. He was here when I made the appointment to meet Rick and he knew I wanted him to be with me. At least I thought he did.”
“Did you try his cell phone?”
She nodded. “And his pager—at least a dozen times. He’s not answering either of them.”
“That doesn’t sound like Tom.”
“He’s not taking this very well,” she admitted.“He’s disappeared on me a couple of times since we’ve been here. Turns out he’s one of those people who doesn’t like hospitals.”
“Please tell me he’s not using that as an excuse.”
“Of course not.” At least not in those exact words. Tom had found ways to keep himself busy, all of them away from the hospital and always in the guise of helping. She’d gone from being grateful to confused to hurt. She wasn’t sure what she felt anymore.
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
Confined in the sanctuary of the cherry woodlined elevator, Catherine was tempted to dump her frustration and fear on her brother as she had during her divorce. Only the promise she’d made to Gene and herself never to do that to him again stopped her. “I can take care of it,” she said.
They picked up coffee and, at Gene’s insistence, sandwiches, and took them into the atrium, settling into a window seat that faced west.
“So tell me how she’s doing,” Gene said. “I assume that’s why we’re here instead of in her room.”
Catherine took a sip of coffee and put the cup aside. Even a swallow was too much for her stomach to handle. “She has what the doctors call a twenty-percent burn. They calculate these things to figure the medications and treatment and something else I can’t remember.
“The second degree burns will heal on their own, but
And that someone might as well be him.
6
“ S hould we go downstairs?” Gene asked. “We have to talk first.” Catherine couldn’t let him see Lynda without preparing him. She would still be drugged and unlikely to remember Gene coming in to see her, but Catherine didn’t want to take any chances. With Lynda’s face pink and swollen, her body wrapped in bandages, a feeding tube taped to her nose, her hair a crude shag on the sides and missing in the back, and her eyes wary and frightened, even Catherine had to look hard to find the old Lynda. Gene would be devastated no matter how well she prepared him; Catherine just didn’t want it to show. Lynda already had enough to deal with without worrying about upsetting her uncle.
“How about some coffee? Have you had breakfast?” He glanced at his watch. “Make that an early lunch.”
She wasn’t hungry but knew Gene needed something to do, something he believed would help her. They were alike that way. Inactivity was her enemy.It left her too much time to think. Before her divorce, she’d spent a year agonizing over what it would be like to live without Jack and the next three years living what she’d imagined. At first the loneliness had been like a knife in her chest, reminding her with every breath that she slept alone, woke alone, and went out alone. Eventually the pain became as familiar as two place settings at the table instead of three; so familiar, she failed to realize the moment it wasn’t there anymore.
“A cup of coffee would be nice,” she said. “There’s a cafeteria downstairs.”
He picked up her purse and handed it to her. “I know I’m repeating myself, but I really am going to have to talk to Tom about taking better care of you.”
“If you can find him.” She was sorry the minute she said it.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. I’m just a little out of sorts today. Tom went up to the lake yesterday to close the cabin. I haven’t heard from him since. At least not directly. He left a message on the machine saying he wasn’t going to make it home last night. But I expected him long before now. He was here when I made the appointment to meet Rick and he knew I wanted him to be with me. At least I thought he did.”
“Did you try his cell phone?”
She nodded. “And his pager—at least a dozen times. He’s not answering either of them.”
“That doesn’t sound like Tom.”
“He’s not taking this very well,” she admitted.“He’s disappeared on me a couple of times since we’ve been here. Turns out he’s one of those people who doesn’t like hospitals.”
“Please tell me he’s not using that as an excuse.”
“Of course not.” At least not in those exact words. Tom had found ways to keep himself busy, all of them away from the hospital and always in the guise of helping. She’d gone from being grateful to confused to hurt. She wasn’t sure what she felt anymore.
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
Confined in the sanctuary of the cherry woodlined elevator, Catherine was tempted to dump her frustration and fear on her brother as she had during her divorce. Only the promise she’d made to Gene and herself never to do that to him again stopped her. “I can take care of it,” she said.
They picked up coffee and, at Gene’s insistence, sandwiches, and took them into the atrium, settling into a window seat that faced west.
“So tell me how she’s doing,” Gene said. “I assume that’s why we’re here instead of in her room.”
Catherine took a sip of coffee and put the cup aside. Even a swallow was too much for her stomach to handle. “She has what the doctors call a twenty-percent burn. They calculate these things to figure the medications and treatment and something else I can’t remember.
“The second degree burns will heal on their own, but
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