Authors: Barbara Delinsky
"I can't believe you're sleeping through this, Michael. Everyone wants to see you. Mrs. Baker drove the twins in with Josh, Tommy, and Nat, but the nurses are making them stay in the waiting room. Same with half the football team. They're all rooting for you." Her voice cracked. "Wake up, damn it."
Jon took her hand. "We'll be back, Mike," he said. He looked nearly as upset as Leigh. "Can we bring you more tea, Teke?" Teke managed a weak smile but shook her head.
J.D. watched Jon and Leigh leave, then slipped his hands into his pockets and looked around. Everything in sight was either stark white or metal, neat as a pin, cold, and sterile. He hated it, which was interesting. Michael's room at home was colorfully loud and forever messy, and J.D. hated that, too. Or so he had always thought. In comparison with this, the image wasn't so bad.
"Did my parents say anything?" he asked Teke.
"Hello and good-bye," she said quietly.
"They don't handle illness well." He scanned the bank of machines at the head of the bed. "Has Gardner been back?" She shook her head.
"There's a doctor at the Mayo Clinic named Henry Finch. He's the best in the country for head injuries. I'm bringing him in." Teke looked up. "Don't you trust Bill Gardner?"
"Trust has nothing to do with it. It's common sense. Two heads are better than one. Besides, Gardner isn't brimming with ideas." Sam wandered in. "How's he doing?"
"The same," J.D. said, then brightened. "I just talked with the office. The media wants you."
"They'll hold."
"Too long and they'll cool off. The story's hot now."
"No matter." Sam looked at Teke. "Are you okay?" She nodded. He wandered back out.
J.D. was beginning to sense something surreal about the scene. Sam's lack of spirit, Teke's inactivity, Michael's unconsciousness--all were out of character. The accident itself was out of character. The Maxwell children were healthy and well cared for. They weren't hit by trucks and left lying unconscious in the street.
"This doesn't make sense," he muttered. "Why did he run into the house, then run right back out? Where were you?"
Teke swallowed. "The living room."
"Right there when he came in the front door." It didn't make sense.
"How could he not see you?"
"He may have," she said, sounding desperate. "I just don't know, J.D. I don't know what he saw."
You should know, he thought. You're his mother. He took a tempering breath and released it slowly. "It's getting dark. Are you hungry?" She shook her head. Her eyes were on Michael.
J.D. hadn't eaten lunch. "The kids must be hungry," he said.
"You take them to dinner. I'll stay here in case there's any change."
"Maybe I should, too. The kids can go out and bring something back."
"No. You go with them. They'll feel better if you do." It struck him that he would, too. He was no help to Michael here. He had to do something. "Where should I take them?" She shrugged. "I don't know."
"Well, neither do I," he barked. Meals were Teke's responsibility, not his. She cooked dinner, or she made reservations at a restaurant. She knew he hated making domestic decisions. "Where's there to eat around here?"
She gave him a bewildered look. "You would know that more than I. You work here."
"I work on the other side of town," he snapped. "What do the kids like?"
"Whatever you want."
"I'll let Sam and Annie decide. They have to eat, too. We'll be back after dinner."
"Not for too long. The kids need sleep. Take them home with you. I'm staying here."
"I'll stay, too."
"They need you at home. They're upset."
J.D. wasn't sure he could do anything about that. The girls were apt to talk out their fears with Teke, Annie, or Sam before they did it with him. He wasn't good at discussing feelings. What he was good at was negotiating mergers, executing estates, and writing contracts, not at holding hands, drying tears, and trying to explain things that had no explanation.
He had a quick, horrible image of dirty laundry,
unmade beds, and breakfast dishes in the sink--not Teke's style, but he didn't know how much she had done before Michael had been hurt. "Is there much to do at home?"
"Everything's done," she said. He was feeling momentarily relieved when she made a small, wrenching sound. "All done this morning. So long ago. Oh, God, if only I had--" She broke off.
"If only you had what?" J.D. asked.
She shook her head.
"If only you had what?" he repeated. He didn't like being put off. It was bad enough when the doctors did it. He didn't need it from his wife.
"If only I had been able to grab him," she said brokenly. "If only I had talked with him."
She looked ready to cry. He didn't think he could bear that. In an effort to shore her up, he said, "It wasn't your fault."
"I should have been at the door."
"It might not have made any difference."
"It would have."
He didn't argue further. Mothering, like meal making, was her thing. She defined herself in terms of it, set standards for herself that few other mothers did, and she usually met every one.
But she was right. She should have been at the door.
Early the next morning, Annie set down the phone, shifted her feet to the floor, and cushioned her hands in the folds of her nightgown. She had barely gathered her thoughts when Zoe and Jana appeared at the door. Though their faces were fresh from sleep, their eyes were alert.
"He's the same," Annie said before they could ask. She wished she could be more positive, but the
girls were fifteen, too old to deceive. "I just spoke with the nurse."
"Is he still unconscious?" Jana asked.
"Uh-huh."
"Is Mom still there?"
Annie nodded. "And your dad. He couldn't sleep, so he got dressed and went back in. It's good you and Leigh slept here. He wouldn't have wanted to leave you alone."
"He still thinks we're little."
"No. He knows you're growing up. It's just that he's never quite sure what's right and what isn't." Where parenthood was concerned, J.D. had two left hands. His heart was in the right place, but his gestures were often mistimed. "That's why he has Teke," she said with a smile.
"Is Leigh up?"
"I don't know," Jana said.
"Where's Dad?" Zoe asked.
Annie nodded toward the bathroom. "Shaving."
"Was he the one taking showers all night?"
He had only taken two, but the sound of water pouring through pipes in the still of the night was distinct. "He was restless. He's upset about Michael."
"Are we going back to the hospital after breakfast?" Jana asked. With a gentle smile Annie shook her head. "After school."
"But today's my easiest day. I won't miss much."
"Your mother wants you in school. She wants things as close to normal as possible."
"Yeah," Jana said. "And Mike'll be running in here any minute." Annie rose from the bed and went to the door. Putting an arm around both girls, she started them down the hall. "It's hard."
"He's my brother."
"The doctors will be doing more tests this morning, so it's not as though you can be with him."
"I could be with Mom."
"Your dad's with her."
"For now. Watch. He'll be in the office before long--"
"For the same reason that you should be in school. Let the doctors work with Michael this morning. You'll be thinking of him, which is the most important thing. By afternoon, you can go in there and talk."
After separating herself from Jana and Zoe, Annie knocked lightly on Jonathan's door, then opened it. "Leigh? Are you awake?" The drapes were still drawn. It was a minute before Annie's eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then she moaned. She shooed the other two girls off, slipped into the room, and closed the door.
"Oh, Jon ..." She sighed in disappointment. "You promised you'd sleep in the den."
Jon's voice was sleepy. "Leigh was upset. She's worried about Michael."
"So now we worry about her."
"Nothing happened."
"Leigh?"
"Nothing happened," Leigh said. To her credit, she was wearing a nightshirt. Jon's chest was bare, but that meant nothing. He slept in boxers, like his dad.
Annie sighed. She crossed to the drapes and drew them open, then perched on the end of the double bed that she and Sam had bought--cleverly, they had thought at the time--to accommodate Jon's imminent length. "Nothing may have happened this time, but you're playing with fire, guys."
"I love Leigh, and she loves me. We're getting married."
"Not yet. You're only seventeen."
"How's Michael?" Leigh asked.
"The same."
Leigh moved closer to Jon, who opened an arm to her. It was a gentle gesture, a protective one. It was also a grown-up one and gave Annie nearly as much pause as the fact of their being in bed together. She remembered when they were babies, then toddlers, then schoolkids, then preteens. They had been best friends all that time, and though everyone assumed they would one day branch out and go their own ways, that had never happened. Like saplings taken root side by side, they had grown taller and more shapely with their boughs intertwined. Annie guessed the future would be more of the same.
What worried her was the possibility of their spawning a sprout. So she said, "You know how your mom feels about this, Leigh."
"Not really. She doesn't talk much about sex. I don't think she likes it."
"Of course she likes it," Annie argued. Teke had never complained about sex to her, and they'd been the best of friends for years. "I think she's afraid of giving you guys ideas."
The two in the bed exchanged a look.
"What?" Annie prodded.
Jon said, "We already have ideas. Hell, Mom, half our friends are doing it. And these walls aren't made of stone. We hear you and Dad."
Annie blushed. "You do not. We're very careful." The words were barely out of her mouth when the phone rang. The color drained from her face.
Jon picked up before she could reach it. After infinitely long seconds, during which her fear for Michael went wild, he said, "It's for Dad. The Globe."
"Oh, God," she breathed in relief, then added, "Poor Dad. Such an incredible milestone in his
career." Wishing nothing more for Sam at that moment than that he could bask in the glory he deserved, she returned to her own bedroom. Sam was emerging from yet another shower. He knotted a towel around his waist and picked up the phone.
Sinking down against the headboard, Annie pulled the quilt to her waist. Watching him was a pleasurable activity. She had been doing it for more than twenty years and hadn't tired of it once. He had aged well. His body was more defined--shoulders broader, hips more lean, chest hairier. Years of smiles had etched joy lines by his eyes. His hair was thick, cocoa-colored, and well styled, as was the mustache that had matured along with him.
His face was drawn now, though. He was heartsick about Michael.
"They wanted a statement," he told her as he hung up. Pushing aside the quilt, she rose to her knees and wound her arms around his neck. His skin was damp and clean-smelling. She rubbed her cheek against his jaw. "I'm so proud of you, Sam. This case was an incredible one to win."
"The time was right," he said quietly.
"Not the time. You. Another lawyer wouldn't have done what you did. From the start the case promised to be a killer, yet you took it on with no promise of pay."
"Yeah," he said, the voice of self-derision, "and now I'm cashing in."
She took his face in her hands. "You worked hard. You deserve your percentage." But that wasn't the main point. "You went out on a limb for a cause. It takes a sensitive, dedicated man to do that. I just wish the timing had been different. I wish you could be ecstatic."
"Yeah. Well."
She looped her arms around his neck. "I wish we could. I'm sorry I missed you yesterday. I took my TAs to lunch. I haven't had much of a chance to get to know them. I couldn't have missed you by more than half an hour."
He stared unhappily at the window.
"Michael will be fine, Sam."
He made a pained sound and looked down at her. His eyes moved over her face with a mix of sadness and hunger. His arms went around her and, for a minute, held her so tightly that they shook.
"He'll be fine," she whispered.
"I love you."
"Oh, Sam."
He gave her a deep, desperate kiss--but broke it off when his body began to harden. Annie might have wished it differently, but she understood. He had to get dressed and head into town. She had to get the kids fed, dress herself, and get to school.
Fortunately, getting the kids fed was a snap in her house. Whereas Teke would have put out a spread of fresh-squeezed orange juice, scrambled eggs, and homemade waffles, breakfast at Annie's was simpler. She brewed coffee and drank a cup while the kids poured themselves juice, helped themselves to cereal, made toast, or, in the case of the girls, spooned up low-fat yogurt.
Sam's case had made the front page. That occupied them for a time. When the papers were put aside and the silence went on, Annie knew they were thinking about Michael. She didn't push them to talk. It was enough that they knew she was there.
They were on their way out the door when Sam came downstairs. He was wearing a gray pinstriped suit, blue shirt, and rep tie. It was one of his more conservative outfits and clearly went with his mood. He helped himself to coffee and drank it while he skimmed the paper.
"Don't want anything to eat?" Annie asked.
"Nah. My stomach's in knots." He put the empty cup in the sink. "I'll stop at the hospital on the way in. Want me to call you from there?" She nodded and raised her face for his kiss.
Five minutes later she was in the shower. Thirty minutes after that she was diffused dry, lightly made up, and dressed for work. She called the hospital again, only to receive a repeat of the earlier report. She wished she could talk with Teke, but for that, Teke would have to call her. Annie was surprised that she hadn't. She usually did when she was upset.
Sam called to say that Michael was the same, that J.D. had gone to the office, that Teke was tired but holding up.