While My Sister Sleeps (17 page)

“Please don't read it.”

“He lives in Utah. How did he find out?”

“Your friend Nick.”

Molly felt a tug inside. Her friend Nick hadn't called. Not to
apologize for the piece in the paper, not to see how she was doing. A true friend would have offered to help. Molly would have liked to tell Kathryn he had done that.

Discouraged, she turned back to the laptop and answered several more notes. She didn't read any others aloud. Kathryn seemed to prefer listening to the sough of the machines. She wasn't even talking with Robin, though whether that was because she was tired, realistic, or depressed, Molly didn't know. But the longer her silence went on, the more frightening it was.

So Molly did say, “I fired Liz.”

Kathryn didn't react.

“Did you hear?”

Kathryn looked at her and raised a questioning brow.

“I fired Liz. I told her at the meeting on Monday that we wouldn't work with the Maskins. She waited until we were distracted with this, then went ahead and submitted the order herself.”

“She did that?”

“Yes. I can't work with her, Mom. I'm sorry. I know she's good, but there have been other instances where she badgers me until she gets what she wants, and Snow Hill suffers.”

Kathryn returned to Robin.

“I'll call her and apologize if you want.”

“No. It's fine.”

“Greg Duncan can fill in until we hire someone else, and he wouldn't be a bad person to take over anyway. He's really artistic and totally loyal.”

“Molly. It's fine.”

“The timing stinks. But that's why what she did was inexcusable. I'm sorry. I lost my temper. She was making me feel like a little kid who didn't know a whole lot.” She stopped talking
. Her mother wasn't listening. Molly waited, but finally returned to her e-mail.

And there it was—a note from Nick. Reading it, she felt a huge relief. “He tried to kill the piece, Mom.”

“Who?”

“Nick. They'd already gone to press, but he says there won't be anything else unless we ask for it. His heart's in the right place, really it is.”

Kathryn looked doubtful. “Oh, Molly. I don't know. If he's so great, where is he?”

“He knows you don't like him.”

“It isn't that I don't like him. I simply question his motives. He is seriously driven.”

“Yes, because his parents weren't, and they paid a price. He wants to be successful.”

Kathryn gave a confirming nod. “Seriously driven. He'll use you as long as you have something to offer.”

“He doesn't use me. Nick and I were friends long before he ever met Robin.”

“Like he didn't know who Robin was before that?”

Molly couldn't believe they were rehashing this now, but she couldn't end the argument. Her friendship with Nick involved her own self-worth. “You're saying he deliberately befriended me to get to her. But if that's so, why is he still my friend?”

“More to the point, if he
likes
you so much, why aren't you a couple?”

“Because that's the way your generation thinks, not mine. We have friends of both sexes.”

“Maybe. But he uses you to stay close to Robin.”

“They
broke up
, Mom.”

“Your sister did the breaking up,” Kathryn pointed out
quietly. “If he had his druthers, they'd still be together. His attraction to her bordered on obsession. Robin found it stifling.”

“She broke up with him because of Andrea Welker.”

“That was the catalyst. But the other was a real problem, and your friendship with him doesn't help. He needs a clean break. He can't get over Robin, as long as he's hanging around you.”

Feeling just ornery enough to change the subject, Molly pulled the note about Robin's heart from her pocket. Kathryn frowned at the envelope, looked away from it and removed the letter. Something in her face changed as she read it. She read it more slowly a second time, and even more slowly a third. Then she set it down and looked at Molly with a dismay that put Molly to shame.

“I found it in her files,” she said meekly. “It was tucked in with her bills.”

“Why were you going through her bills?”

“I'm supposed to be packing us up to move next week, and there are all these big file folders with papers bulging out.” She tried changing the subject again. “How can I move on Monday? I can't think of packing.”

Kathryn gave no sign of hearing. She was studying the letter. “Was this anywhere special?”

“No, just tucked in with bills. I called Terrance Field again. He heard about Robin from other people, so he knows I'm not making it up. But he still says he needs his contractor in on Tuesday.”

“People in
Florida
are talking?”

“Actually,” Molly backtracked, “he just said that he heard. He could have read it online. Or he could have called the hospital to check out my story.”

Kathryn stared for a minute, then refocused on the letter.
“Was there anything else with this—medical records or anything?”

“No,” Molly said and, because her mother persisted, asked, “So, does Dad have a heart problem?” She was putting Kathryn on the spot—who to call a liar, Charlie or Robin? But Kathryn was the one who wasn't letting it go.

Molly expected her to deny it. All she said was, “Dad takes good care of himself.”

“Meaning he does have an enlarged heart, but it's under control?” Molly was suddenly frightened. She didn't want anything happening to her father either! “He denied it yesterday. Why the secret?”

One of the machines began to ring.

Molly's heart lurched, but Kathryn remained calm. “It's the ventilator. It happens a lot. They'll be in.”

She had barely finished speaking when the nurse arrived. She adjusted the machine, checked Robin, talked quietly with Kathryn for a minute
—no change, everything looks fine, she's hanging in there—
then left.

Molly became as quiet as Kathryn. The waiting was torture. She sat for a few minutes here, then in the lounge. She took the elevator to the ground floor and idled through the gift shop. She returned to the room and sat with Charlie while Kathryn used the restroom, but she didn't ask about his heart. It didn't seem to matter.

Three o'clock became four, and then five. Chris came from work but didn't talk about Snow Hill, and neither Charlie nor Kathryn asked. Their minds were on Robin.

So was Molly's, which was why she opened her laptop again and this time logged on to Robin's e-mail account. There were fewer messages today than yesterday; friends were realizing
that Robin couldn't answer. With a slimmer in-box, though, the list was easily viewed. Nick's name jumped out.

“Hey, babe,” he wrote, “I'm hearing things I don't like. Where's that determination? Where's that GRIT? Miracles don't just happen—we have to MAKE them happen. I'm counting on you recovering. It isn't only your life, it's mine too. Remember our plans? I love you. Duke.”

Heart pounding, Molly read it again. And again. She wanted to think that the note was simply a good friend cheering Robin on—except that to hear Robin tell it, Nick was neither good nor a friend, in which case
Remember our plans?
was delusionary. And then there was that
I love you
at the end. Obsessive, as Kathryn claimed?

She skimmed back over e-mail Robin had received prior to Monday. Finding nothing from Nick, she went back one week, then a second. And there it was.

“Hey. Last weekend's race wasn't a big one, but you did well. You keep getting better and better. I really miss you, babe. Remember how we used to talk after each race? I talk to myself now—not much fun. Sometimes I talk with your sister, but that makes it worse. She doesn't like talking about you, so what's the point? I still don't know what went wrong with us. Are you sure we can't work it out?”

What's the point?
Molly should have closed the computer before more harm was done, but a morbid curiosity drove her on. She found a note sent five weeks ago. “Have you thought about what I said, babe? I know your family is a problem. That's why it would be better if we moved away. Your parents will come around. They just need time.” And another sent two weeks prior to that. “You're killing me, Robin. Here's a thought. I don't need to wait to move up the ladder here. I can
do it anywhere. So where would you most like to live? Name it, and we'll go.”

Molly felt like a fool. Her mother was right—Nick was using her. And why did she care? Friends came and went. But she had believed him. She had believed
in
him. She had felt better about herself, thinking that a person like Nick valued her friendship.

She didn't tell anyone what she had read, didn't speak at all. Nor could she eat when Chris brought pizza from the shop down the street. She left the room quietly when the neurologist came to do the EEG. And when Kathryn emerged in tears, Molly cried for Robin.

KATHRYN'S
tears didn't last long. She was angry again—at the neurologist for the results of his test, at Charlie for urging her to have it done, at Molly for causing trouble at Snow Hill, at Chris for doing nothing. She let each of them know it when they returned to the room. In the process, she exhausted herself.

Charlie took her hand. “Let's go home, sweetheart.”

But Kathryn felt a sudden, almost childlike fear. “I can't leave her alone.”

“I'll stay,” Molly offered.

“You don't understand. I'm her mother.”

“I'm her sister. I love her, too. She'll be okay, Mom. I'll make sure nothing happens.”

Her voice was convincing. And Kathryn was just tired enough to give in.

MOLLY
waited until she and Robin were alone. Then she put her head down, touching her sister's arm, and wept. She tried to imagine a life without Robin and came up short. Robin might be a self-centered slob who overshadowed Molly in everything. But she never went anywhere without bringing something back that was just right for Molly.

It's not the gift
, her grandmother used to say.
It's the thought.
For the first time, Molly understood.

In time her tears dried and she sat quietly. She remembered the strength Robin had always shown, and tried to absorb what little bits might still exist.

Then she let out a defeated sigh. “Oh, Robin,” she said sadly. “You were right. How could I not see the truth about Nick?” His ongoing curiosity about Robin should have been a tip-off.

Molly hadn't seen the truth, because she hadn't wanted to see. That said, she wasn't stupid. She knew who was calling the instant her phone rang—knew that a higher force was at work because whereas her phone usually showed only one bar in this room, it now had three—and knew that this was her chance to recoup some of her self-respect.

“Hey,” she said in a friendly enough way.

“Hey, yourself. Did you get my e-mail?”

“Sure did. It was sweet.”

“Where are you? You sound nasal. Are you getting a cold?”

“No cold.” Lots of tears, but he didn't have to know that. “It's probably the reception.”

“You're at the hospital?”

“Yes. With Robin.”

“Can I come?”

“Not a good idea.”

“Why not? You're upset.”

Molly wanted to scream. But Robin would appreciate this.
Talking for her sister's benefit as much as her own, she said clearly, “It's the whole thing with Andrea Welker. My parents don't trust you.”

“I told you. I won't report another thing without your say-so. That's a
promise.
”

“Oh, Nick,” Molly said sadly, “it's more than the paper. They think you're using me to be near Robin.”

“That is ridiculous. Robin and I broke up. There was nothing there, Molly. You and I were friends before and after. Let me come over, and I'll explain to your mom.”

Molly might have started crying again, if he hadn't been playing so perfectly into her hand. She had never been a devious person. But she had never felt so hurt.

“Really, Nick. Not a good idea right now. I actually think there's a little improvement. So if you come over and Robin senses it, she could be upset.”

“Improvement? You said she was brain dead. What do you mean, improvement?”

“There may be some movement,” Molly said. Devious? Try evil, but just then, she didn't care. “It's hard to tell what's voluntary and what isn't. I've started reading notes aloud to her— you know, notes from friends, e-mail they've sent her. Some of them are really good—like this one I just read.” She knew the words by heart. “
Where's that grit?
you asked.
Miracles don't just happen—we have to make them happen. I'm counting on you recovering. It isn't only your life, it's mine too.
I mean,” Molly said tartly, “what girl wouldn't be moved by a love letter like that?”

In the silence that followed, she made a face and nodded at Robin. Oh, he got it. She waited, wondering how he would handle
that.

Finally, with a dismissive laugh, he said, “Okay, Moll. You've
cornered me. But you're jumping to the wrong conclusion. Don't you think I wrote that deliberately to give Robin reason for hope? Look, she was in love with me. If something like that wakes her up, isn't it worth the lie?”

“The question becomes, who's lying. See, Robin says she didn't love you. She's said that from the start. She kept telling me you were using me, only I didn't believe her. I would have if she'd shown me this e-mail. She was protecting me, Nick. She didn't want me to read what you wrote her three weeks ago about how talking with me made things worse because I wouldn't talk about her. She wasn't sick then, Nick. No need to try to wake her up. So why did you say that? And the little love note you sent her
seven
weeks ago, the one where you said you'd move to wherever she wanted to live? No, Nick. If anyone's lying, I think we know who.”