Between Sisters Part 50

I don't think needlework is a good therapy. I'm losing so much blood I'm getting light-headed.

"Hey, Diana," he said, wishing for the days when he'd been able to conjure her image. He stroked the pillow, trying to remember how it had felt to touch her. "I was at the hospital today. It felt good."

He knew what she'd say to that. But he didn't really know if he was ready to go back. His life had changed so much, degraded somehow into tiny bits that might not fit together again.

He hadn't forgotten the way people looked at him at his old office. They saw him and wondered, Is that what a murderer looks like? Is that what a murderer looks like?

He stared down at the pillow, stroking it. "You shouldn't have asked it of me, Di. It . . . ruined me.

"Well . . . maybe I ruined me, too," he admitted quietly. He should have stayed here, in this community he'd cared so much for. His mistake had been in running away.

It was time to quit hiding and running. Time to stand up to the people who judged him poorly and say, No more No more.

Time to take his life back.

Slowly, he got up and went to the closet, opening the louvered doors.

Diana's clothes filled two-thirds of the s.p.a.ce.

Three years ago, he'd tried to box them up and give them away. He'd folded one pink cashmere sweater and been done for.

He reached out for a beige angora turtleneck that had been her favorite. He eased it off of the white plastic hanger and brought it to his face. The barest remnant of her scent lingered. Tears stung his eyes. "Good-bye, Diana," he whispered.

Then he went in search of a box.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

THE NEXT MORNING STU WEISSMAN CALLED CLAIRE. HE spoke in clipped, rushed sentences. She was so groggy and disoriented, it took her several seconds to understand him. spoke in clipped, rushed sentences. She was so groggy and disoriented, it took her several seconds to understand him.

"Wait a minute," she finally said, sitting up. "Are you saying you'll do the surgery?"

"Yes. But this thing will be a bear cat. Could be a bad outlook all the way around. You could end up paralyzed or brain damaged or worse."

"Worse sooner, you mean."

He laughed at that. "Yes."

"I'll take the chance."

"Then I will, too. I'll be there tonight. I've scheduled the surgery for eight A A.M. tomorrow." His voice softened. "I don't mean to be negative, Claire. But you should put your affairs in order today. If you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean. Thank you, Dr. Weissman."

All that day, Claire said good-bye to her friends. She did it one at a time, feeling that each of them deserved that kind of attention.

To Karen, she joked about the gray hairs Willie was sure to cause her in the upcoming years and begged her friend to make this third marriage work. To Charlotte, she said, Don't give up on babies; they're the mark we leave in this world. If you can't have one of your own, find one to adopt and love her with all you've got. Don't give up on babies; they're the mark we leave in this world. If you can't have one of your own, find one to adopt and love her with all you've got. Gina was more difficult. For almost an hour they were together, Claire dozing off every now and then, Gina standing by the bedside, trying not to cry. Gina was more difficult. For almost an hour they were together, Claire dozing off every now and then, Gina standing by the bedside, trying not to cry.

Take care of my family, Claire said at last, fighting to keep her eyes open.

Take care of them yourself, Gina had responded, her voice spiking for humor that it couldn't reach. Then, softly, she said, You know I will You know I will.

They were awkward, painful partings, full of things unsaid and boundaries upheld. They all pretended Claire would still be here tomorrow night, laughing and s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up as she always had. She left her friends with that faith, and though she wanted to own it for herself, hope felt like a borrowed sweater that didn't quite fit.

She was bone tired, but most of all, she was afraid. Dr. Weissman had been guarded in his optimism and blunt in his a.s.sessment of the risk. A bad outlook all the way around A bad outlook all the way around, he'd said. The worst part of her fear was how alone it made her feel. There was no one she could tell.

Time and again throughout the long, drawn-out day, she found herself wishing that she'd died already, simply floated from this world unexpectedly. There was no way to be stealthy now, not with all her loved ones in the waiting room, praying for her, and the thought of the good-byes she still had left was devastating. Bobby and Sam would hold her and cry; she'd have to be ready for that. Meg would get angry and loud.

And then there was Ali. How could Claire possibly get through that that?

The hospital had a small nondenominational chapel on the second floor.

Meghann stood outside it, paused in the open doorway. It had been years since she'd gone to a church in search of comfort; decades, in fact.

Slowly, she went inside, let the door ease shut behind her. Her footsteps were hushed and even on the mustard-colored carpet. She slid into the middle pew and knelt on the floor. There was no cushion for her knees, but she knelt anyway. It seemed right to be on her knees when she asked for a miracle.

She clasped her hands together and bowed her head. "I'm Meghann Dontess," she said by way of introduction. "I'm sure you've forgotten me. I haven't talked to you since . . . oh . . . the ninth grade, I think. That's when I prayed for enough money to get Claire ballet lessons. Then Mama got fired again and we moved on. I . . . stopped believing you could help." She thought of Claire upstairs, so pale and tired-looking in that hospital bed, and of the risks the surgery entailed. "She's one of the good ones, G.o.d. Please. Protect her. Don't let Ali grow up without her mom."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Tears slid down her cheeks and plopped on her hands. She wanted to say more, maybe find a way to bargain, but she had nothing to offer beyond desperation.

Behind her, the door opened, closed. Someone walked down the aisle.

Meghann wiped her eyes and eased back onto the pew.

"Meg?"

She looked up, surprised. Sam stood beside her, his big body hunched in defeat, his eyes a watery red. "She's saying good-bye to her girlfriends."

"I know."

"I can't stand watching each one come out of her room. The minute they close the door, their smiles fade and the crying starts."

Meghann had run from the same thing. "She's lucky to have so many friends."

"Yeah. Can I join you?"

She sidled to the right, making room. He sat down beside her. He was close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, but they didn't touch, didn't speak.

Finally Sam said, "I was thirty years old when you called me."

She frowned. "Oh." What did he want her to say?

"I had no brothers and sisters and no other children."

"I know that, Sam. You pointed it out every time I screwed up."

He sighed. "I was p.i.s.sed at Eliana. She'd denied me my daughter's childhood. All those years I'd been alone when I didn't have to be . . . and the way you and Claire lived from hand to mouth. I couldn't stand it."

"I know that."

He twisted around to face her. "Claire was easy. She looked up at me with those big, trusting eyes and said, Hi, Daddy Hi, Daddy; just like that, I fell in love. But you." He shook his head. "You scared the s.h.i.t out of me. You were tough and mouthy and you thought everything I said to Claire was wrong. I didn't know you were just being a teenager. I thought you were like . . ."

"Mama."

"Yeah. And I didn't want Claire to be hurt. It took me a while-years-to see that you weren't like Ellie. By then it was too late."

"Maybe I am am like Mama," she said quietly. like Mama," she said quietly.

"No," he said fiercely. "You've been Claire's rock through this nightmare. You have the kind of heart that saves people, even if you don't believe it. And I'm sorry I didn't see that when I was younger."

"A lot of things have become clearer lately."

"Yeah." He sat back in the pew. "I don't see how I'll get through this," Sam said.

Meghann had no answer. How could she, when the question haunted her as well?

A few minutes later, the door opened again. This time it was Bobby. He looked terrible.

"She wants to see Ali," he whispered harshly. "I can't do it."

Sam made a fluttery sound. "Oh, G.o.d."

"I'll do it," Meg said, slowly rising.

Claire must have fallen asleep again. When she woke, the sunlight outside had faded, leaving the room a soft, silvery color.

"Mommy's awake."

She saw her daughter then. Ali clung to Meghann like a little monkey, arms wrapped around her aunt's neck, feet locked around her waist.

Claire made a quiet, whimpering sound before she rallied and pulled out a tired smile. The only way to get through this moment was to pretend there would be another. For Ali, she had to believe in a miracle.

"Hey there, Ali Kat. I hear you're eating all the cinnamon rolls in the cafeteria."

Alison giggled. "Only three, Mommy. Aunt Meg said if I had one more I'd throw up."

Claire opened her arms. "Come here, baby."

Meg leaned forward and gently deposited Ali into Claire's thin arms. She hugged her daughter tightly, couldn't seem to let go. She was battling tears and hanging on to her smile by a thread when she whispered into her daughter's tiny, sh.e.l.l-pink ear, "You remember how much I love you."

"I know, Mommy," Ali said, burrowing closer. She lay still as a sleeping baby, quieter than she'd lain in years. That was when Claire knew that Ali understood, but when her daughter leaned closer to say, "I told G.o.d I'd never ask for Cap'n Crunch again if He made you all better," Claire felt something inside her tear away. She clung to her daughter for as long as she could. "Take her home," she finally said when the pain became more than she could bear.

Meghann was there instantly, pulling Ali into her arms again.

But Ali wiggled out of Meg's grasp and slithered to the molded plastic chair beside the bed. She stood there, on the wobbly chair, staring at Claire.

"I don't want you to die, Mommy," she said in a husky little voice.

It hurt too much even to cry. Claire looked at her precious baby and managed a smile. "I know that, punkin, and I love you more than all the stars in the sky. Now you skedaddle on home with Grandpa and Bobby. I hear they're going to take you to see a movie."

Meghann picked Ali up again. Claire could see that she was near tears, too. "Make Bobby go home," she said to her sister. "He's been here every night. Tell him I said Ali needs him tonight."

Meg reached out, squeezed her hand. "We need you you."

Claire sighed. "I need to sleep now" was all she could think of to say.

Hours later, Claire came awake with a start. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt light-headed. For a split second, she didn't know where she was. Then she saw the flowers and the machines. If she squinted, she could make out the wall clock. Moonlight glinted on the domed gla.s.s face. It was 4:00.

In a few hours, they'd crack her skull open.

She started to panic, then saw Meg was in the corner, sprawled in one of those uncomfortable chairs, sleeping.

"Meg," she whispered, hitting her control b.u.t.ton; the bed tilted upward. The buzzing of the machinery sounded loud, but Meghann didn't wake.

"Meg," she said in a louder voice.

Meghann sat upright and looked around. "Did I miss the test?"

"Over here."

Meghann blinked, pushed a hand through her wild, tangled hair. "Is it time?"

"No. We have four more hours."

Meghann got up, dragged the chair over to the bed. "Did you sleep?"

"Off and on. The prospect of someone cracking your skull open keeps a girl wideawake." Claire glanced out the window at the moonlight. Suddenly, she was so afraid, she was shaking. All the veneer of bravery she'd applied for her family and friends had worn off, leaving her vulnerable. "Do you remember what I used to do when I had a nightmare?"

"You used to crawl into bed with me."

"Yeah. That old cot in the trailer's living room." Claire smiled. "It smelled like spilled bourbon and cigarette smoke, and it was too small for the two of us. But when I got into bed and you hugged me, I thought nothing could hurt me." She looked up at Meghann, then very gently peeled back the blanket.

Meghann hesitated, then climbed into bed with Claire, drawing her close. If she noticed how thin Claire had gotten, she didn't comment on it.

"How come we forgot all the things that mattered?"