She heard the crunch of gravel next to her. Vic. “Here, give me the dog. You go inside,” he said.
She rushed to the house. A patrolman stationed at the entrance held up his arm.
“I live here,” she declared. “What’s going on?” She looked over his shoulder into the foyer to the grand stairway that split into two at the landing. Down one side, she saw two emergency medical technicians balancing a stretcher as they descended carefully. She couldn’t tell who was strapped down. But she saw Noreen bringing up the rear. Her face was pale, her hair askew in a low ponytail.
Mimi muscled past the policeman, raced across the carpet and pounded up the stairs. She flattened herself against the railing and peered down as the EMTs maneuvered past her. Another policeman helped Noreen.
It was irrational, she knew, but Mimi half-expected to see her mother’s body.
Only, it wasn’t.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AN OXYGEN MASK COVERED her father’s face. His skin was waxy gray.
Mimi reached out to touch his arm. “Father, I thought you were in New York with Noreen?”
Conrad lifted his hand to remove the mask. “This happened after we came home. Something untoward… I…I can’t talk of it now…” The effort seemed to sap his strength, and the EMT replaced the plastic device to aid Conrad’s breathing.
“We should really get going,” the emergency medic said.
Mimi nodded and moved to the side. “Of course.” Untoward? Her brain focused on her father’s vocabulary. It was so Lodge in its formality—a microcosm of their distant relationship.
She waited until Noreen reached the same step, then stumbled along next to her. “What happened?” she asked.
Noreen barely glanced her way. “We’d just gotten back from New York City and were up in the bedroom changing when your father got these chest pains and had difficulty breathing. I called 9-1-1.”
“His heart?” Mimi held Noreen by the forearm as they stepped down to the entrance hall. They stopped as the paramedics flipped the legs down on the stretcher. The wheels moved silently on the massive Oriental carpet.
“They’re not sure,” Noreen answered in a daze.
The EMTs hustled outside. One of the policemen turned. “Mrs. Lodge, you can travel with Mr. Lodge or come with one of us.”
“I’ll ride with my husband,” Noreen answered, ghostly pale.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Mimi asked.
Noreen shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. Brigid is due back from a friend’s house any minute now, and you could do me a favor and be here for her. I wouldn’t alarm her, though. I’d ask Press, but I’m not sure where he is at the moment. And I tried to call you earlier, but you didn’t pick up.”
“I didn’t have my phone with me.” That’s how nervous and excited she’d been about the picnic with Vic. That seemed like a lifetime ago. “Don’t worry. I can handle everything. Do you have your phone?”
Noreen fumbled in the pockets of her linen slacks. “I…I…”
“Maybe it’s in your bag?” Mimi suggested softly.
Outside in the driveway, the noise from police radios filled the air along with the rapid-fire conversations of the paramedics doing their job.
Noreen looked down as if surprised to see her Birkin bag in the crook of her elbow. “Of course. I took it because it has all the insurance information.” She bit down on her lip.
“Mrs. Lodge? We’re ready to go now,” one of the paramedics called.
Mimi squeezed her arm. “It’ll be all right.”
Noreen nodded stiffly, then with the help of one of the policemen climbed up into the ambulance. The doors shut with a decisive finality. Mimi stepped back and watched the vehicles circle around the drive and head for the gate. The police cars were out front, sirens going, lights ablaze.
And then there was silence. The sirens growing fainter as the cavalcade sped toward the hospital. Silence, that is, except for the buzzing of the cicadas and the chirping of crickets. Nature had decided to take back the night. Mimi stood in front of the house, doors open, light pouring out. It was profoundly empty. She wrapped her arms around herself. That cold feeling that she never really lost enveloped her like a tight bandage.
“You going to be all right?” Vic was standing on the edge of the driveway. An enormous rhododendron hovered over him.
Roxie cowered fearfully behind him, trying to look small. Her head sunk into her hunched shoulders as if waiting for the giant leaves to attack or the sirens and strange men to return. But when she saw Mimi turn their way, the dog braved a tail wag.
Mimi lowered herself step by step off the front portico and walked slowly toward them. “It’s my dad.”
“I gathered. Heart attack?” Vic asked. He stood still.
“They’re not sure. Something about him having difficulty breathing. I’m supposed to stay here and take care of Brigid when she comes home.” Mimi waved toward the house.
He moved closer. “Probably just as well. There’s nothing worse than sitting around an emergency ward. Do you want me to stay with you?” He put out his hand and rubbed her shoulder. “It’s not a problem, you know.”
“No, no, that’s not necessary. I know you have work tomorrow.” Of course she wanted Vic to stay, but she wasn’t going to admit it. Out of politeness. Out of pride. Out of fear.
Roxie rubbed her flank against Mimi’s leg, and Mimi squatted down. “Oh, sweetie, you’re the best. I’m sorry you got scared with all the commotion.” She snuggled close to the dog’s head, closed her eyes and let her cheek rest against the silky fur. After a moment or two, she squeezed a little harder, then stood up.
“Okay. I won’t keep you,” she reiterated. “I’m fine here, really. It was a shock—the ambulance and stuff, but it’s not as if my father and I are all that close.”
Vic shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. No matter what, he’s still your father.” He placed his hand gently against her cheek and bent down to be eye to eye. “Promise that you’ll call when you hear what’s up?”
She braved a smile. “It could be late.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She nodded. “Okay.” She looked up into his eyes. He looked worried. Nobody ever worried about her.
“I can stay. Give me coffee and I can move mountains.”
She shook her head. “The mountains are fine just where they are, thanks. And I’ll be okay. I can do this.”
“I know you can. That’s not the point.”
She nodded in acknowledgment. “I know. But I have to do this. It’s important to me.” If she was going to move on, going to turn the page on her fears and be open to the possibility of happiness in her future, she needed to know she could stand on her own in a time of crisis. “You understand, don’t you?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, even though I don’t like it.”
She knew he spoke the truth. Knew that he respected her enough to make her own decision. “We should get together tomorrow, but maybe it’s better to see what happens here?” Mimi suggested.
“Sure. But make no mistake. If it turns out to be serious, I’m seeing you tonight.”
“If that’s the case, it won’t be like I’ll be all bubbly and ready to party.”
“I don’t need bubbly and party. You’ll need help—”
Mimi started to protest.
He put his fingers to her lips.
“Don’t object. Just say yes.”
“Okay, for your sake.”
Vic breathed in. “No, for yours.” He brushed a light kiss on her lips, then, jingling Roxie’s leash, the two walked down the driveway to his car parked in the street.
Leaving Mimi alone. She turned, trudged up the steps to the house that had never felt like a home. Something stopped her from crossing the threshold.
The picnic basket.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LATER THAT EVENING, Mimi began to realize how much space a sleeping eight-year-old could take up in a bed.
“Mom took Dad to the hospital for some tests,” Mimi had explained when Brigid arrived home. It was technically true. She wasn’t going to lie to her sister, but there was no need to alarm her, either.
Brigid had shaken her head, her silky reddish-blond hair swinging beneath two blue barrettes. “I don’t understand. Why would he get his tests at night? Why can’t he go to the doctor during the day?”
The kid was clearly no dummy, Mimi thought. They sat on Brigid’s double bed. A fairy princess bed, with a pale pink duvet of tufted cotton, and mounds of pale pink pillows with Irish lace—what you’d expect from an Irish mother, right? Overhead, miles of blush-colored organza were draped over the four posts, anchored by a headboard painted with butterflies and fairies. The latter held wands and were tapping the heads of frogs and other woodland animals, all prepared to turn them into princes or at least happy creatures.
Mimi took Brigid’s small hands in hers, looking down at her gnawed fingernails. What anxiety could a girl who slept in a fairy princess bed have? Clearly, some that Mimi didn’t know about. She hesitated, wanting to choose her words carefully. She knew the cost of lying to children firsthand.
Instead, she looked Brigid directly in the eye. But she spoke in the tender voice of…of…a big sister. “You’re right. Most tests can be done in the doctor’s office. But this kind couldn’t, and it needed to be done right away.”
Brigid’s eyes opened wide.
Mimi didn’t know what to do if she started to bawl.
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” her sister asked. Her determined jaw quivered.
“We don’t know for sure. But whatever it is, your mom called the hospital right away, and he’s having the best possible care.” Mimi hoped she sounded reassuring.
“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Brigid’s eyes welled with tears.
The kid didn’t muck around. And in Brigid’s fear, Mimi recognized the same fear she had experienced when her father broke the news of her own mother’s suicide. It seemed cowardly, but for a split second, Mimi wanted to run and hide in the closet of her own bedroom—the way she used to when her mother and father fought, or later when he brought her back for the funeral, and Mimi had refused to come out for the service.
But Mimi wasn’t a child anymore. If she were, she could have told her, “You’re lucky. He’s too mean to die. Not like my mother.” But she didn’t. Because she was the adult in the room, and Brigid deserved to have a glowing picture of their father until she decided otherwise.
So, instead, Mimi pulled Brigid into her arms. “What do I think? I think that he’s going to be all right—and I’m not just saying that. I think it’s not his time to die, not yet.” She held her sister close, rocking her gently.
Brigid cried softly into her chest, and Mimi felt the salty wetness grow into two round circles on her thin sweater. Finally, the tears diminished and the sniffling stopped. Yet, Mimi didn’t let go. She dropped her chin to the young girl’s head, breathed in the smell of herbal shampoo and murmured, “You know, I think that at a time like this, the best thing is to have some ice cream.”
Brigid’s narrow shoulders heaved a deep sigh. Hesitantly, she raised her head and gazed at Mimi, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Her skin had blotches from the wet tears. “Mummy doesn’t let me eat after seven,” she said between hiccups. “She says it’s not healthy. It’s one of her rules, and she’s very strict about her rules.”
Mimi fingered back a loose strand of Brigid’s hair and tucked it behind her small, perfect ear—a fairy princess ear. “Well, I’m sure your mother’s absolutely right. But you know, every once in a while you just have to bend the rules—especially in the case of an emergency. And this is one of those cases.”
Brigid frowned in thought. She blinked, her eyelashes clumped and dark with wetness. “I think you’re right. And maybe because it’s such an emergency, I could have chocolate sauce on the ice cream, too?”
“It might have to be carob, but we’ll make do.”
Vic was right, Mimi realized. In the end, it didn’t matter. It was family.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MIMI WOKE WITH A START at the sound of the phone ringing. She shot upright on the bed. Disoriented, she looked around. Brigid’s room, she realized.
Her little sister lay on her pink duvet, curled in a tiny cocoon. She was still wearing her leggings and T-shirt from during the day. Her thumb was jammed in her mouth, and she cradled a plush rabbit up against one nostril.
Mimi patted around the coverlet looking for her phone. It must have slipped out of her jeans pocket when she’d dozed off. She found it under her hip. The time on the screen read two in the morning.
Mimi pressed Talk. “Hello,” she said softly and rose off the bed, careful to untangle herself from the covers and the army of pillows.
“It’s Noreen. Everything all right with Brigid?”
Mimi lifted a pink mohair throw—an airy, spun confection—and leaned over to cover Brigid. The throw rose and fell with each of her sister’s deep breaths.