My Soul to Keep Part 29

One message from her mother, of course. Next, Kendrick confirming their plans to see the Alvin Ailey dance company on Sunday. (Was he going to turn into something, with his fine self? Jessica, for one, would be relieved.) The last message, from only fifteen minutes before, was from David Wolde himself. Alex's heart jumped with renewed fascination; this man's blood, someday, might lend insights that could change world medicine. Her baby sister's husband.

"Listen, Alex, it's after twelve-thirty and I was wondering if it would be too unreasonable to expect my wife back here soon." He was p.i.s.sed, not even pretending to be in a good mood. David pampered Jessica to death, but he never cozied up to anyone else. "Perhaps you can resolve whatever this is during the daylight hours?" the voice went on. "It's late, and this is very disconcerting. I'm debating whether to come search for her-"

Alex pressed the b.u.t.ton to erase the messages. Jessica must have made up a h.e.l.l of a story to get out of the house so late, and Alex knew she wouldn't help the situation by calling David if she didn't know the story herself. Jessica would be home soon enough, if she wasn't by now.

Where were those d.a.m.n cats? They always hid when she brought strangers to the apartment, but any other time they were all over her as soon as she came home for another precious few minutes. Maybe they were asleep, which was exactly where she needed to be.

But first, she needed to chill out. If not, she'd spend another night staring at the ceiling.

Alex poured herself a gla.s.s of white wine from the half-full bottle Kendrick had brought, turned on her black torchere lamp to a dim setting, and put on her new Anita Baker CD. Then she opened the gla.s.s sliding door leading to her balcony, which stretched from her living room to another gla.s.s door in the bedroom.

The breeze smelled thick and nearly sweet to her, like the ocean coated with sugar. She left the door open behind her and leaned across the iron railing to gaze three blocks east toward the black water. From seven stories up, she could see the fanning leaves of palm trees and the Spanish-style courtyard with a fountain that had seduced her into buying the one-bedroom condominium, even though she still thought it was overpriced. She could watch that gushing fountain, with its green-shaded lighting inside the pool of water, all night long.

No more thinking about David or his blood. Not tonight.

Alex closed her eyes, enjoying her favorite refrain of Anita's song. She sipped the wine and savored the fine, pure taste. She could smell the ocean, and feel a restless calm, all around.

Alex heard the sharp crack against the back of her head before she felt it, and when she did, the pain was sudden and blunt.

Then, it seemed to be gone. What she felt afterward wasn't nearly as startling. It was liberating.

She was flying.

She was

41.

"You're crazy," Sy said, standing over Jessica's shoulder at her computer terminal.

"This has to get edited. Am I right? Then let's get it done," Jessica said, her eyes locked on the type on the screen. She spoke rapidly, without inflection. "Who was it you asked me to call? I'm not going to get anywhere with the housing people in Washington. The best they'll say is that they'll conduct an investigation of the trafficking charges. I'll add that here." She pointed between two paragraphs, her finger barely trembling.

Kira was sitting at the desk in front of Jessica's, flipping through the pages of a coloring book she'd brought. She whirled around in the too-big chair. "Mommy," she said in a whine thinly disguised as a whisper. "Do you have crayons in your desk?"

"No, sweetheart. Use the red pen Mommy gave you."

"I used red already. See?"

"I'll look in a minute, Kira. I'm working."

Sy leaned over Jessica, his hands on her shoulders. "Don't do this, kiddo."

"What do you mean, *Don't do this'? I am doing this. We can finish this in two hours, Sy. It's running Wednesday."

"Now we're leaning toward Sunday. We have time. You have more urgent things to take care of right now. I don't even know what the h.e.l.l you're doing here."

Irrationally, Jessica felt enraged. "What am I doing? I'm doing my job. That's what I'm G.o.dd.a.m.ned doing," she hissed, blinking back unexpected tears. Floodgates. Just waiting.

Her hand fumbled on the keyboard, highlighting a large paragraph in bright green. She gasped. She couldn't think of what to do. What if she erased it accidentally? What then?

Sy reached over to push the CANCEL key. The green went away. The paragraph was fine, untouched. Everything was fine. Fine.

"Where's David, Jessica?" Sy asked her patiently.

"I don't know," she said. "I think he's at home."

David had mentioned an errand he needed to run home for, something to do with an inspector's appointment, and he'd left Jessica with her mother and Kira at the hospital. And Randall Gaines was there, too, talking to Bea in a corner. Jessica hadn't wanted to be there anymore, that was all. So she took Kira's hand and told Bea she'd be back, and somehow she ended up in the parking lot and spent ten minutes in the sun looking for the minivan until she remembered that it was gone because David had taken it. So, she pulled open the door of a cab and told Kira to get inside, and here she was. Here she was.

Sy spoke softly. "How's your sister?"

"Fine," Jessica said, feeling moisture trying to slip from her nose, so she wiped it with her knuckle. "She's fine. No change. You know. Nothing new."

"Aunt Alex is sleeping," Kira said, waving her pen instructively at Sy as she spoke. "She hasn't waked up yet."

Sy squeezed Jessica's shoulder hard before turning to walk away. "You need to go, Jessica. I don't want to see you here when I get back from my cigarette break. You'll do more harm than good right now."

A sob caught in Jessica's throat. That's what Peter would have said. Exactly what Peter would have said.

It was all wrong, all wrong, all wrong.

Peter was supposed to be here. And Alex was supposed to be at work at her lab, not taped up and plastered and strapped in a bed in an intensive care unit. She was supposed to be waiting at the other end of her telephone with a smart-a.s.s crack, not breathing into tubes from a machine, in a three-day-old coma. Three eternities. And more likely ahead.

Alex wasn't supposed to jump from her balcony and try to kill herself. Jessica never would have believed it was a suicide attempt-Alex was so clearheaded, with a heart so full of faith-but the police found a note that Alex had typed to her and Bea on the screen of the computer in her bedroom: first I'm sorry, and then a verse from Ecclesiastes: And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly: I perceived that this also is vexation of spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.

Jessica had memorized her sister's words, sobbed over them, prayed over them. Those words kept her awake at night. She had brought Alex knowledge and sorrow.

Everything, everything was wrong.

"Mommy, this phone isn't working," Kira complained.

"Hang up and dial nine first," Jessica said, not thinking clearly enough to wonder whom Kira could be trying to call.

A glimpse of beauty inside ugliness is what David had said about Adele; that was how Jessica felt, right now, about Kira. Jessica had dressed Kira meticulously that morning, parting her hair into two short, neat puffs, giving her a shirt with a frilly collar to wear beneath her pink denim overalls and lace-fringed socks to wear with her loafers. Since the news of Alex's fall, Jessica hadn't let her daughter out of her sight.

She had done this. She had made this happen. She had lied and stolen and broken a promise, and she made it happen. Alex had been going along just fine, loving her life, and then Jessica had to bring her something, a secret, that made her want to die too soon. And now nothing would ever be right again. Nothing.

You can live with knowing about it, Alex?

Step on a crack. Break your sister's back.

"Hi, Daddy," Kira giggled into the telephone handset. "Nope. Guess where. Wrong. One more guess. No," she said, and laughed. "I'm at Mommy's work. Coloring my book. Yes. Right next to me. But can I talk to you first? Pleeeeeez? Okay, Daddy. Wait."

Jessica sighed, pushing the b.u.t.tons to clear her computer screen. Sy was right. Nothing would improve just because she was hiding away here. It was time to go back to the hospital.

"Mommy ... Daddy wants to talk to you," Kira said.

The telephone cord was too short to reach Jessica, so she stood and sat at the edge of her coworker's desk to take it. As she did, she rested her hand on top of Kira's head as though to balance herself.

"Bea has been looking for you for an hour, calling here frantic. What happened, Jess?" David asked her.

"I just had to leave," Jessica said quietly.

"All right, darling. I know how hard this has been, but stay there and let me take you back to Jackson. There was some news a short while ago."

"News?" Jessica asked, nearly whimpering, expecting grief.

"Alex opened her eyes. She's done it twice."

Overwhelmed with joy, Jessica sobbed. She couldn't speak.

"I'm on my way to you. Wait downstairs with Kira, mi vida."

Jessica mumbled something and hung up. A few coworkers were gazing at her from across the room, feeling too awkward to approach her. She understood. Hardship had no friends. It was a solitary task.

Kira was rubbing Jessica's elbow, gazing up at her with wide brown eyes. "Mommy, don't be sad," she said. "You're always sad. Please don't be sad."

Jessica sobbed again, wrapping her arm around her daughter. Oh, this child. She'd been so blessed to have this child.

"I'm not sad, Kira," she said into her ear. "How could I have a little girl as precious as you and be sad? I'm crying because I'm happy. People cry when they're happy too."

At that, Kira smiled. She found a napkin on the desk and wiped it across the tears watering her mother's face.

While Randall Gaines took Kira to the gift shop to look at a big white teddy bear that had caught her eye, Dr. Ivan Guerra led the family to the hall just outside of the ICU waiting area. Jessica could hear the television set playing a rerun of Roseanne as the physician fixed a hopeful expression on his young, mocha-complexioned face. He was the same doctor who had tended Uncle Billy, and the sight of him made Jessica fearful of unthinkable news. He must think their family was horribly accident-p.r.o.ne.

"I'm concerned about overwhelming her," Dr. Guerra cautioned, "so I want to limit her visitors to two right now."

David rested one hand on Jessica's shoulder, one hand on Bea's. "You two go," he said. "I'll go catch up to Kira."

Jessica had visited her sister's bedside all weekend, but she was always stunned by the sight of her. She did not look like Alex at all. Jessica didn't know if it was from medication or injuries, but her body looked swollen the way Uncle Billy's had. Her face, especially, was like a stranger's, round and fat. The rest of her was dwarfed by the beeping machines and devices hooked into her flesh, her nose, her invaded bronchial pa.s.sage.

Alex's nose and jaw had been broken in her fall. She'd broken many other bones, including parts of her back-but somehow. when Jessica gazed at Alex's face, it was her sister's broken nose and jaw that most pierced her heart. With her bandages and swelling, she looked as though she had been severely beaten. The awful sight made Jessica ask herself: Who did this to you?

But Alex had done it to herself. Seven stories down. Her fall had been broken by a tall coconut palm and the thick clump of gardenia bushes near the courtyard's fountain, where she landed. If she'd fallen closer to that fountain, the police told Bea, she'd be dead for sure. Solid concrete all around. Somebody's watching over this lady, he said.

Bea clasped Alex's hand first, leaning over her. "Pumpkin ..." she said, nearly whispering, "I don't know why it is that everybody in the family has to fall out of a tree this year."

Alex's eyes fluttered open, nearly startling them. She gazed at them with her eyelids half shut. Jessica laughed, excited, clutching her mother's shoulders. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you. Thank you.

"Honey," Bea went on, "you're going to be just fine."

Alex didn't move, but a snake of tears crept down the side of her face. With the edge of Alex's pillowcase, Bea wiped Alex's face; miraculously, Bea herself was not crying. "I know. I know, Pumpkin. You're scared. Anybody would be. But Dr. Guerra just told us some very good things about you. So you just leave it all in G.o.d's hands, and don't you worry about a thing."

Alex's lips moved, as though she wanted to speak, but Jessica and Bea both hushed her.

"You just rest," Bea said.

"The doctor said not to talk, Alex."

Alex worked her dry lips around, giving Jessica a glimpse of the thin metal wires holding her jaw in place. Again, she felt a gripping surge of anger. Was it Alex she was so furious with? Or only herself?

"We know you love us, Pumpkin," Bea said, as though they were holding a conversation. "And we know you're sorry for causing us worry. Just put that out of your head. Don't even think like that. We just thank the Lord you're still here with us, and the rest of it doesn't even matter. Want to see Jessica now?"

After drying her own face, Jessica took her mother's place and clasped Alex's hand, careful not to disturb her IV tube. Alex squeezed her fingers with surprising strength, and Jessica smiled.

"It's okay, Alexis," she said. She wished she could speak to her privately, just for a moment.

Was she upset about anything in particular? the police asked when Alex was first brought in. Yes, Jessica had said, dazed. She'd just asked me to come to her office to talk to her. Did you expect her to try something like this? No, Jessica said, her face afire with guilt. Never. She didn't understand. Yes, Alex must have been disappointed about the real origin of the blood, feeling as though something that she'd worked so hard to find was wrested away.

But suicide? She thought she knew her better than that.

Jessica leaned over the bed, estimating where Alex's ear would be behind the thick bandage wrapped around her skull. "We'll make it okay," she whispered. "There's a better way than what you did. We'll find a way, Alex. Both of us. Together."

Confusing sounds issued from Alex's mouth: a whisper, a grunt. "Sun ... won ... put ... me ..." The words sounded nonsensical.

"You can tell me later, okay? I can't understand," Jessica told her tenderly, stroking her fingers. "Don't talk now."

"Putch ... me ..." Alex's breathing was labored.

"What's she saying?" Bea asked.

"I don't know," Jessica told her mother, frustrated. Alex sounded like she was delirious, or maybe Jessica couldn't understand her sister's words because of the wires and tubes.

"Does she want to write it down?"

Jessica glanced back at Alex's face. Her sister's eyes were closed, though her breathing hadn't changed. She must be so weak. "You okay, honey?" Jessica asked her.

Alex squeezed her fingers in response, more feebly this time, her eyes still closed.

"We better leave her alone," Bea said. "We're not going far, Alexis. All right? We'll let you rest, but we'll be right here."

Very faintly, Alex smiled. No one but kin would have seen it.

There was no talking Bea into leaving the hospital, even though they'd tried ever since Alex was admitted in the predawn hours on Sat.u.r.day. One of Alex's friends, a sister who was a resident at Jackson, had found a reclining chair and moved it into Alex's room while Dr. Guerra turned a blind eye, so Bea even had a decent place to sleep.

"You all go. Just go," Bea instructed Jessica, David, and Randall Gaines in the waiting room. She didn't look like a woman whose daughter was critically injured, barely out of a coma after a suicide attempt. Her hair was combed, her lipstick fresh. She was in control. Jessica couldn't remember much control at all in the awful days after her father had died. But, then again, maybe that was where Bea had learned it. Sorrows lining her pockets.

"Get some sleep, Mom," Jessica said, hugging her.

"You too, baby. You look like someone punched you under your eyes. David isn't beating on you, is he?"

"Oh, stop," Jessica said, laughing despite herself.