“Moving her here is out of the question?”
“The immigration issues aside, I believe she
knows and responds to the staff who have taken care of her since the
beginning,” Emily said. “Plus, health care in Singapore is very good, if you
can afford to pay for it. There was insurance money from my father, but, well,
that doesn’t last forever. I’m lucky I have a wonderful job that I love, and
that allows me to earn enough to take care of her.”
“So you help pay for her care,” Derian said.
“You’re very remarkable.”
“No, not at all. She’s my sister.” Emily
flushed. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished that my life was less
complicated. I was angry for a very long time, at everyone. But I had no one
really to blame. That’s the worst of it, having no one to blame.”
“Say what you will,” Derian murmured, “but I
find you amazing.”
As warmth spread through her, Emily marveled
at how special Derian could make her feel. For the moment, she’d let herself
believe it.
A woman in a blue scrub suit with a wrinkled paper
mask hanging around her neck turned the corner into the waiting room and
stopped midway, glancing from Emily to Derian. “Ms. Winfield?”
Derian shot to her feet. “Yes?”
“I’m Louella Vix, the head cardiac OR nurse.
Dr. Armstrong wanted me to give you an update.”
“Is everything all right?”
The nurse nodded. “Yes, the case is going
perfectly. The doctor is just starting the last anastomosis. It will be at
least another hour and a half before your aunt is headed to the recovery room,
and midafternoon at the earliest before you’ll be able to see her.” She smiled.
“I thought you might want to take a break. Go get something to eat. We have
your number, don’t we?”
“Yes,” Derian said.
“Then if you’re not here when the doctor
finishes, we’ll be sure someone calls you.”
“We’ll be here.” Derian wasn’t leaving
anything to chance, and if positive energy played any role in fate, she
intended to give it all she had.
“All right then. We’ll be out as soon as
we’re finished.”
She left as quickly as she had come and
Derian turned to Emily. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really,” Emily said. “These places
always seem to take my appetite away.”
Derian grimaced. “I know what you mean.” She
glanced around at the bare-bones décor in the bland, somewhat dingy room that
seemed to have absorbed all the tragedies played out within its walls. “They
try, I get that, but this place is two parts desolation, one part desperation,
and the last part despair.”
Emily regarded her with concern. “I think it
might be a good idea if we take a walk.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right.” Derian rubbed the
headache between her eyes. “The waiting is getting to me. I hate being
helpless.”
“Believe me, I know.”
Derian heard the pain creeping into Emily’s
voice and cursed herself inwardly. She wasn’t the only one suffering. “And this
has to be terrible for you. I’m sorry, it’s not very sensitive of me to want to
keep you here.”
“I want to be here for Henrietta,” Emily
said, adding softly, “and if it’s helping you, I’m glad.”
“It helps more than you know,” Derian
murmured, “but I’m feeling pretty damn selfish right now. This has to be
bringing back some terrible memories for you.”
“I’m all right, really. Please don’t worry
about me.”
“I know you’re all right. You’ve convinced me
you’re tough,” she teased gently and felt rewarded when Emily laughed, “but I believe
I’ll worry about you all the same.”
“Just not too much,” Emily chided, touched by
Derian’s tender tone and surprised by how readily she could accept comfort from
Derian when she rarely could from anyone else. Derian’s sympathy and
understanding strengthened her, rather than making her feel small and
diminished. She’d worked so hard to be neither. She rose, and in an impulsive
reversal, took Derian’s arm and tugged her toward the hall. “Come on, let’s get
outside for a little while.”
Gratefully, Derian let herself be guided to
the elevators. Giving up control didn’t come naturally, but with Emily it was
easy. The tightrope she’d been teetering on since she’d gotten the phone call
from the surgeon gave way to solid ground for the first time all day. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Emily said. “If you need
anything, anytime, just let me know.”
Derian regarded her so seriously, for so
long, Emily blushed. She wished she could read Derian’s mind at that moment and
was happy Derian couldn’t read hers, especially since she’d suddenly started
thinking about the kiss. Derian couldn’t imagine she meant that kind of help,
could she?
The elevator doors opened onto the bustling
lobby and saved her from worrying about how Derian might have interpreted her
offer. Once outside, in the sunlight, away from the scent of antiseptic,
disease, and death, they strode toward Central Park, dodging through the crowds
while managing to stay close together. When the throngs got too heavy and
threatened to separate them, Derian curled Emily’s hand through the crook of
her arm as naturally as if they’d walked together a hundred times.
When they passed a street vendor roasting
nuts, Derian slowed. “You know, I think I probably need to put something in my
stomach. Cashews?”
“I confess,” Emily said, “I’m a little bit
addicted to the honey-roasted ones.”
Derian grinned. “Done.”
She purchased two bags, handed one to Emily,
and they walked on.
“When my mother died,” Derian said after a
few moments of silence, “I was lucky. I had Henrietta to help me make sense of
it all.”
“I envy you that,” Emily said softly.
“Neither of my parents had siblings, so our family was a pretty small unit. My
father was often away on business, or when he wasn’t, he was preoccupied with
it. He loved us, I know that, but he wasn’t always present for us. My mother
and my sister were my world.”
“Then we’re even—I envy you that.” Derian
shrugged. “Of my parents, I was closest to my mother. I loved both of my
parents as children do, looking to them for support and protection and praise.”
She laughed, with no humor in her voice. “Although there was precious little in
the praise department.”
“Parents sometimes have an odd way of showing
their affection,” Emily ventured. “And some just don’t see their children, or
see the worth of them. There’s certainly no excuse for holding something
against you that wasn’t your fault.”
Derian cut her a glance, a wry smile
softening the tight line of her jaw. “You’re very kind and very perceptive, and
I appreciate you taking my side. I suppose the fault lies on both sides—I
wasn’t a particularly appreciative child, at least not of the things that my
parents could provide.” She lifted a shoulder. “Security, and good schools, and
not wanting for any of the physical things. I realize I’m very lucky, and it’s
totally undeserved. I was born into safety and wealth.” She laughed again and
shook her head. “And complaining about my childhood now makes me sound like
something of an ass.”
“Not at all. I don’t think any child
appreciates the circumstances of their birth, whether it’s difficult or not,
privileged or not, and every child has the right to feel loved.”
“Yes, well, I have no complaints. My mother
didn’t exactly have a great time of things either. She’d been groomed her whole
life to be a man’s wife, and she was that first. My father’s disappointment at
not having a son, but a daughter who didn’t even measure up, made their
relationship pretty rocky.”
They stopped when they reached the entrance
to Central Park. The weather was still cold enough to dissuade all but the most
stalwart to stay still for very long, and Derian pointed to an unoccupied
bench. “Are you too cold to sit? I promise to stop moaning about my horrible
past. I’ve survived quite well and Martin must be much happier now, with a son and
a young wife to give him what he always wanted.”
Emily caught back a protest. Derian’s
experiences seemed terribly unfair to her, but she appreciated Derian wanting
to make light of them. “I have to confess, I’m not quite ready to go back to
that room. But I just want to say I think your father is the one who’s lost the
most by not seeing what an accomplished, successful woman you’ve become.”
Derian stared. “Thank you. Not many people
would agree with you.”
“What other people think doesn’t matter,
though, does it?” Emily said as they sat side by side, finishing their cashews.
“What about you?”
Derian raised a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Are you satisfied?”
“With what I’ve made of my life? Sure,”
Derian said instantly, wondering as she did about the truth of her words. “I’m
successful as far as making the right choices and backing the right teams, and
I’m damn good at the tables.”
Emily laughed. “So I understand.”
“As I said, I have no complaints.”
Something about their shared waiting, and
their shared worry, made for disclosures Emily never would’ve made otherwise.
Knowing Derian loved Henrietta in the same way she did made her bold. “What
about the other things in life? Do you want a family?”
“God, no. What would I do with a wife and
children? What would I do
for
them,” she said, voicing thoughts she rarely entertained. “I’d probably be no
better at child rearing than my parents, and I have no desire to saddle some
poor kid with the Winfield legacy.”
“What makes you think that you would parent
the way your parents did? I think you’re incredibly perceptive and you
obviously love Henrietta, and what is more important to raising children than
understanding and caring?”
“Nothing,” Derian said, fearing Emily gave
her far too much credit and damn certain she could never measure up to the kind
of unselfish loyalty Emily displayed toward her sister. Wanting to deflect the
conversation, Derian countered, “And how about you? What are your long-term
goals besides ruling the literary world?”
Emily laughed. “Really, I can’t see myself
settling down for quite a long time. I work—well, I work when Henrietta works,
and you know how that is.”
Derian frowned. “I do know, and we’re going
to have to do something about that when she recovers.”
“I agree with you totally. Vonnie and I will
do our best, but it wouldn’t hurt if you put in a word for her to slow down
too.”
Derian winced. “I think that might result in
shooting the messenger, but I’ll try.” She tapped a fingertip against Emily’s
chin. “And you are pretty good at deflecting questions. What do you want
besides work in your life?”
Emily’s face flushed from the brief touch and
a thrill of excitement raced through her. She could never remember being so
sensitized to another’s physical presence. She’d held hands with women, kissed
women, been in bed with several, and she couldn’t remember her heart beating so
fast or the electricity shooting beneath the surface of her skin from the most
casual of touches. Concentrating on the conversation was difficult, but she
grasped on to the question to avoid thinking about Derian’s hands on her. “When
and if I’m in a position to provide for a family, or at least substantially
contribute, I’d like to get married and have kids. I don’t see that anytime
soon.”
“Because of Pam?” Derian asked gently.
“That’s partly it, since I know I would be
bringing substantial financial responsibilities to any kind of long-term
relationship,” Emily said, “but most of it is because right now my goals are
career oriented.”
“Well, I imagine any woman who loved you would
understand about Pam, and no one worthy of you would want you to do anything
differently.”
Emily’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”
“How often do you get home to Singapore?”
“Two or three times a year,” Emily said,
“when I take my vacation time.”
“I’m sure Henrietta would give you all the
time you need, vacation time or not.”
“Oh, she would,” Emily said slowly, “but as
much as I want to see Pam, it’s always difficult.”
“When’s your next trip?”
“Well,” Emily sighed, “I was planning to go
at the beginning of July, right after we get the summer releases all tucked
away. Now, though—”
“Listen,” Derian said, “Henrietta won’t be
back to work by then, but I’m sure the agency will run without you for—what—two
or three weeks?”
Emily laughed. “I’m quite sure it can. Vonnie
could probably run everything, or most of it, by herself at this point.”
Derian chuckled. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Although now, until my visa situation is
straightened out, I don’t want to leave the country.”
“Sorry?” Derian frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, it’s just some kind of snafu,” Emily
said quickly. She hadn’t intended to bring her problems to Derian. “It’ll get
sorted out as soon as things settle down a bit.”
“What kind of snafu?” Derian said
insistently.
“Henrietta was just telling me, right before
it happened,” Emily said, “there may be difficulty renewing my visa.
Immigration policies have gotten a lot more restrictive, and unless…
until
the labor
application is approved, I’m a little bit in limbo.”
“Who’s handling it?”
“The agency’s attorneys, but I confess, I
don’t actually know who.” Emily gasped. “Oh God, I hope it’s not Donatella.”
“Donatella?” Derian frowned. “What has she
got to do with anything?”
“Oh, do you know her?”
Derian snorted. “Donatella has been around as
long as I have, I think. She’s something of a hatchet man for my father—she
takes care of trimming the fat, in his words—weeding out personnel and
retooling acquisitions that aren’t producing.” She made a wry face. “I used to
think there was something personal between my father and her, and maybe there
is, but that’s not something I really want to think about. So what about her?”