Something About You (Just Me & You) (23 page)

He owed her that much allegiance after all of those bottles
of Febreze.

She was sipping her drink and mulling over the various ways
in which she could have told Theo to mind his own business when a strong hand
clasped her upper arm firmly. It was Gage.

“Sabrina.” His face looked grim. “Do you have a coat?
Purse?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Get them. That was Sebastian calling,” he said. “It’s
Molly.”

Molly slept peacefully on an uncomfortable-looking hospital
bed.

Sabrina kept vigil from a chair nearby. It was odd how her
friend looked so healthy. When her multiple sclerosis came out of remission,
her skin turned sallow and her eyes were circled with fatigue. Molly wasn’t
sick. Molly shouldn’t even be here.

It wasn’t fair.

Sabrina still couldn’t believe she was sitting in this
austere hospital room, where notes of gauze and Betadine scrub lingered in the
air. The past couple of hours had been hazy. She remembered the worried look on
Gage’s face when he dropped her off at the emergency entrance. Yet another
impression was of the Coles huddled together on a couch in the waiting area.
Shuck still wore his house slippers. Cybil looked a wreck, makeup-less, her
hair uncombed.

Can’t pick up the slack … can’t pick up the slack …
when the bottom falls out …

Her parting words to Molly replayed themselves in a hideous
loop. The bottom had fallen out. But not in the way Sabrina had expected. She
felt the same sense of sick disappointment she had when Nola told her that her
father had moved out of the house for good.

Molly’s eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze was unsteady for a
while, and then she finally focused on Sabrina’s face. Her mouth stretched into
what could have been either a grimace or a smile. Sabrina reached for her hand.
Molly’s fingers were so cold.

“How do you feel?” Sabrina asked.

“Not so wonderful.” Molly’s voice was raspy. “Here we go
again, huh?”

“Sebastian told me the doctor wants to keep you overnight.”

“Yeah, I had a freak-out. And not a minor one, either.
Plenty of women miscarry early in pregnancy, but I apparently am not equipped
with the right coping skills. The psychiatrist on call told me there are good
drugs for that.” Molly’s lips trembled as the tears that had collected in her
lower lashes hit her cheek and rolled down her face.

“That psychiatrist doesn’t know you from Adam,” Sabrina said
a little angrily. She plucked a tissue from a nearby box and blotted Molly’s
tears away. “I do. All you need is to talk it out, Molls. We don’t have to talk
now, if you don’t feel like it.”

“I do. I got my hopes up too soon,” Molly confessed. “I
didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I deserved it,” Sabrina gulped. She couldn’t stand knowing
that while she was at the ball, Molly was in an emergency room watching her
dream for a family bleed away. “I said hateful things to you that day at
Ella’s. I was insensitive. I can’t begin to tell you how much I regret every
word.”

“You were honest. If you hadn’t been, you wouldn’t be you,
Brini.” Molly pulled at the sheets. “I’m so cold.”

Sabrina knew just what to do. She retrieved a spare blanket
from the small hospital closet, doubled it and spread it over the thin hospital
bedding. Molly croaked out a thanks.

“You know something?” Sabrina asked as she pulled the chair
closer, “I could say something disingenuous like, ‘Oh, Molly, maybe this is all
for the best.’ Or ‘There’s a good reason for everything.’ But everything I
could tell you would be meaningless. I don’t know what to say to you this time,
Molls. That’s the truth.”

“You just haven’t found your magic words yet.”

“Magic words?” Sabrina was nonplussed. Molly was still a
little high from the sedatives. “You mean platitudes.”

“They
aren’t
platitudes, Brini. They’re words that
make me feel like I can make it through the hard times. You always seem to know
what they are.”

“I don’t believe in magic words. There’s only what people
want to hear and what they don’t. Anything else is likely to be a lie.”

“God, you’d make a terrible politician.” Molly’s mouth
stretched into a weak smile.

“How’s Sebastian?” Sabrina asked.

“Stiff upper lip. What can I say? He’s still a Cole. I go
home tomorrow morning. What do I do for the rest of my life, Brini?” Molly
looked truly baffled. 

“Well, let’s tackle this tomorrow bit first,” Sabrina said
pragmatically. “You’ll cry as much as you want. I’ll take care of you while
Sebastian grades papers in the evening. I’ll cook you bad food and complain
about Theo until you wish I’d go home. When you feel up to it, you’ll make
beautiful quilts. Plant bulbs for spring. You and Sebastian will love each
other more than ever. You
will
heal, Molly Parker-Cole. I know that
much.”

Molly closed her eyes and seemed to relax. “There they are.
Magic words.”

“I wasn’t really trying, you know.”

“There’s something I’ve always wondered,” Molly murmured.
“We’ve been best friends for more than thirty years. I like to think we’ve
rubbed off on each other. So why didn’t I turn out strong like you?”

Her friend’s speech was slurred, Sabrina noticed. She gave
Molly’s hand a comforting squeeze. The words “Do you really want to be?” were
on the tip of her tongue. While she was thinking about her response, Molly
drifted back to sleep.

Sabrina heard a soft cough. Sebastian stood in the doorway
favoring his good leg and looking like he’d been through hell. His eyes caught
Sabrina’s briefly before they moved to Molly’s face.

It wasn’t an
in love
look; having been the recipient
of many, Sabrina was keenly aware of the moony gazes men aimed her way during
the beginning of each courtship. This was something else entirely. Even though
Sabrina had never seen
that look
directed at her before, she knew what
it meant. She’d seen it transpire between Ella and Ike Fontaine too many times
to count. Heard the quiet affection in their voices whenever they’d spoken to
each other.

It was the look of forever love.

Sabrina stood up. “Next shift is yours, Sebastian.”

“My parents are still downstairs.” He ran a hand though his
hair distractedly. “I told them there’s no need to stay but—” He gave her a
beseeching look. “—you know my mother and father. The last thing Molly needs
right now is them hovering. We’ll need time together alone when she comes home.
Would you talk to them, Sabrina? Make them understand?”

“Of course I will,” she told him.

A clock above the nurses’ station told Sabrina that it was
only eleven o’clock, but it felt much later than that. The only thing she
craved was a chilled Topo Chico and sleep in short order, but Shuck Cole was
grilling a nurse for information, and Cybil stood nearby looking like she was
still in a state of shock. Sabrina pulled them aside.

“I can’t seem to get any answers from these people,” Shuck
groused to her. “Damned privacy laws.”

“How is Moll—” Cybil pursed her lips, drew a breath and
started over again. “How is my daughter-in-law?”

“Molly’s just fine,” Sabrina assured her. “The best thing
the two of you can do right now is go home. That’s what she and Sebastian
want.”

“This is a family matter,” Shuck complained. “Are you
pulling this out of your ass, Sabrina?”

“No, I’m not.” Sabrina kept her tone firm. “Molly and
Sebastian want to cope with this privately. Give them a week. Give them until
whenever. They’ll reach out when they’re ready.” 

Shuck Cole gave Sabrina the stink-eye and was about to say
something else when Cybil took her husband by the arm.

“Pack it in, Shuck,” she told him. “Sabrina’s right — for
once.” The look Cybil gave her lacked its usual steely edge.

Sabrina waited until the Coles were safely in the elevator
before she took the next one down. The combination of rich food and champagne
began to roil in her stomach as the car jolted into motion. She tried to keep
her emotions in check and focused on the meager ray of light that penetrated
the storm.
This is all for the best. Molly is safe.

Sabrina didn’t anticipate the jolt of energy that walloped
her in the diaphragm like an underhanded body shot and made her clasp her arms
around her waist. She drew herself upright and headed toward the waiting room.
Molly
will be fine
, she told herself again.

But nothing about the situation was fine.

And Sabrina couldn’t do a thing to make it right.

**

Gage flipped through a year-old issue of
Sports
Illustrated
and tried to tune out the all-too-familiar smells and sounds.
The soft whoosh of the nurses’ uniforms as they passed by the room. The sound
of diagnostic machines being wheeled around corridors. The odor of whatever
bland chicken entree that went out on those plastic trays.

He hated hospitals.

Everyone he’d known and loved who’d checked into one hadn’t
exactly come out standing. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Hospitals had
never represented healing, to his mind; they meant the end of the line.

Sabrina wandered into the room and went over to a service
cart that held a coffee maker, Styrofoam cups, and mugs of sweetener, powdered
creamer, and plastic stirrers. She picked up the carafe and stared into it
bleakly before putting it back on the burner with a sigh. Gage set his magazine
aside. He’d seen her look peaked before, but now she looked frankly exhausted.
He gave her a questioning look. “Is Molly—”

“She looks about as healthy as a horse. But how is she really?
I don’t have a clue.” Sabrina’s affect was flat and her face was devoid of
expression, but he saw turbulence brewing in her eyes. “What about Sebastian?”

“He’ll soldier through. He’s seen bad times, too. Far worse.
They both have,” Gage reminded her.

Sabrina paused as she processed what he just said. Then a
little crinkle appeared between her nose as her big eyes brimmed with unmasked
sorrow.

“I suppose I should feel relieved, but I don’t,” she said.
He heard the little hitches in her voice when she finally spoke. “Molly wanted
a baby more than anything. Almost anyone can have a baby. Even women who don’t
really want one. Women who don’t deserve one. Just about anyone but Molly.
She’s had such an uphill struggle, Gage.” Tears spilled over and ran down her
cheeks. Sabrina wiped them away in irritation. “Damn it, these heels are
killing my feet.”

She collapsed onto the rough waiting room carpet, her legs
pretzeling beneath her, and began to pull off the offending shoes. Gage got up,
sat down beside her and curled an arm around her shoulders.

He’d been on the receiving end of many a woman’s tears. He’d
seen argument tears, near-breakup tears, just-lost-my-job tears, and
that-time-of-the-month tears. But Sabrina’s tears were different. They were
earnest and heartfelt.

She wasn’t crying for herself.

“Ah, Sabrina,” he said, gathering her closer to his chest.
“The bigger hills are all a part of the ride. None of them are insurmountable.”

“I know, but try telling Molly that,” she murmured against
his lapel. “She’d be a great mom. She’d be the best. And … I was sorta
looking forward to being Aunt Brini, too.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “I was looking forward to being
Uncle Gage.” 

He righted her, reached into his pocket, and produced a
white handkerchief. He dabbed away the mascara tracks that coursed down her
cheeks, then folded the handkerchief and pressed it against her nose.

“Gage, seriously—” she began to protest.

“Don’t ‘seriously’ me now, honey. Give me a good blow,” he
coaxed. She did.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He rose to his feet and extended his hand to help her up.
“We’ve done our work here,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

They drove back to Cadence Corners in silence. Out of the
corner of his eye, Gage could see Sabrina alternately studying her French
manicure and looking out the passenger side window bleakly. This was a hellish
way to end what had started out as a pleasant evening. Disaster had a funny way
of drawing out a person’s finer qualities. That was one thing Gage knew about
both himself and those with whom he kept close company. Tonight, he’d seen his
friend, the kid genius, be a real man. A husband. Gage had found out something
else as well.

Sabrina March was anything but cold and hard. 

She was more than that. Far more.

She was cool, yes, but only in a crisis. In the waiting room
when she had finally burst into tears, she had shown him just how warm and
compassionate she was to the people she really loved. He could have sworn there
was a moment on the dance floor when the same
something
he saw in her
eyes when he first kissed her resurfaced. She’d looked up at him with those
wary eyes, her lips slightly parted as though she were searching for a word
that was right on the tip of her tongue.

If they hadn’t been interrupted by Sebastian’s phone call,
they both could have gone down for the count.

Gage pulled the car into his side of the driveway and killed
the motor. Beside him, Sabrina was sniffling quietly and trying to rub away
mascara smears with the ball of her hand.

“I meant to tell you something earlier,” he told her.

“What’s that?” The look on her face was unreadable.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

He got out of the car and went around her side to open the
door. As a blast of winter air buffeted them from the north, he could have sworn
he saw a brief smile cross her lips.

From: molly@lechateauduparker…

To: sabrina@lascasadimarch…

Subject: Surviving the Partials

Dear Brini,

A-ha! I’ve thought of at least one silver lining to this
nightmare of a week: A damned good reason to opt out of spending two whole days
with Cybil and Shuck over the Christmas holidays. Well, we’ll still put in an
appearance for the good eats. Cybil’s personal chef makes this astounding wild
mushroom ravioli.

Anyways, here’s more about my plan. One of the Cole clan
always shows up with a tot. I shall hold the child and coo at him/her longingly
until it becomes obvious that my hormones are still a little “off.” (Hey, it
could really happen.) Once everyone in the room is good and uncomfortable,
Sebastian will say something like, “All of this is very hard on Molly.” Then
we’ll come home early and watch
A Christmas Story
.

That’s such a good movie. I love the part when Ralphie
chokes on Santa’s lap. I could watch it over and over.

I can’t believe Les wanted to draw names when there are
all of
four
of you. And I can’t believe you caved and bought Chit —
I mean
Chet
 — that ludicrously expensive single-serve
espresso-latte brewer either. Sounds like a plot if you ask me. He probably
figured it was the very last thing on the wedding registry he and Fay would get
and made you the chump. If it were me, I’d get him a Mr. Coffee. But hey, it’s
your moolah.

Happy Holly-Daze. Please survive.

Love,

Molly

P.S. Your “home-cooked” dinners are terrible. I know you
were aiming for comfort food, but really, Brini. Ramen noodles mixed with tuna
fish and peas? I’ll give you one chance for a do-over the day after Christmas.
We’ll pretend that I’m still distraught and physically fragile. You can stick
one of my yummy frozen casseroles in the oven, and we’ll dine together on
something edible and do girl talk. Sound cool?