While My Sister Sleeps (19 page)

Given the choice, Molly would rather have been at the greenhouse or with her grandmother. Either place held the promise of comfort—but how selfish was that? There was no comfort for Kathryn and certainly none for Robin.

When Charlie suggested lunch, she went gladly. It was something to do, and she was desperate to talk. They settled at a table in the cafeteria, Charlie with a grilled chicken salad, Molly with a cheeseburger.

She stared at the burger for a minute, then sat back and said, “Robin would be sitting here with a salad like yours, telling me how many grams of fat are in this burger. I've always loved cheeseburgers. Can I really eat this now?”

“Are you hungry?” her father asked with perfect logic.

She had thought she was, but something about the burger bothered her. It might have been the size, though it wasn't as big as some. It wasn't the smell, which was really good, or the sheer appeal of comfort food. The problem, she realized, was her guilt. Robin could have none of this. Even if they inserted a tube straight to her stomach, she couldn't enjoy food.

But Molly was hungry. Leaving the table, she returned with a fork and knife. She took off the top half of the bun and cut into the burger. This was better.

“If you're worried about gaining weight,” Charlie said as he worked on his salad, “don't be. Did it ever occur to you that Robin was jealous?”

“Of me?” Molly asked.

“You've always been able to eat what you want without gaining weight. That's the kind of thing other women hate you for.”

“Robin never gained weight.”

“Because she ran. And because when she wasn't loading up on carbs for a race, she ate salads.” He eyed the burger. “Cholesterol's another story, but you don't have to worry about that yet.”

“Robin thought she didn't either.”

“Her problem wasn't cholesterol. It was being an extreme athlete. That would tax even the best of hearts.”

“Does that mean that you may have a bad heart,” Molly asked, “but since you're not an extreme athlete, it never became a problem?”

“My heart's fine.”

“Why do you eat salads?” She had never thought twice about it. Now she wondered if there was a reason.

“I like salads.”

“That's all?” When he gave her a strange look, she said, “Robin told her doctor that her father had an enlarged heart. I found a letter. It was right there in black and white. Why would she say it if it wasn't true?”

Charlie frowned. He gave a small head shake, lifted his soda but studied the straw for a minute before sipping.

“That's the thing,” Molly said sadly. “We just don't know. She isn't here to tell us why she said what she did. And she can't tell us what she wants.” She picked at the burger for a minute, then set the fork down. “What are we supposed to do, Dad? How does a family make a decision like this? How do they even
begin
to approach it? Mom's right. To hear the doctors tell it, what's up there in that room is just a body, a shell with nothing inside.”

“Nothing intelligent,” Charlie corrected. He was no longer eating either.

“Do you believe that?”

“I trust the doctors when they say her brain no longer functions.”

“Do you believe that there's absolutely no chance of recovery?”

At one time he had talked of miracles. Now, he said quietly, “I believe they're right about that.”

“Then what's upstairs is just a body.”

“There's still a heart beating,” he cautioned.

“Would it beat if the machines were turned off?” She saw the answer on his face, and could almost understand why Kathryn was so stubborn. She wasn't clinging to hope, but to her child's last remnant of life.

“What about her soul?” Molly asked.

“It's in heaven.”

“Already?” He nodded. “Not hovering here still? How can we feel it, Dad? How do we know what to do if Robin doesn't give us a hint?”

Charlie took her hand. “Robin is in a good place. From this point on, we have to do what's best for us.”

“We know what Mom wants,” Molly said, remembering Kathryn's hand holding Robin's. “What do you want?”

“What Mom wants.”

She might have predicted that answer, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear. “Do you agree with her?”

“It doesn't matter. I want what she wants.”

“Chris wants to turn everything off.”

“What do you want?”

“What Robin wants.”

He smiled sadly. “If only we knew.”

That was the challenge. Molly grew pensive. “Would Robin want to be lying up there for months? She does love being the center of attention, but there's no winning this, and she hates to lose. Remember Virginia Beach? She was the best female runner in the field until the organizers lured in three better contestants a week before the race. Robin withdrew rather than lose.”

“It was a political decision,” Charlie explained. “She needed a win at that point.”

Molly understood that. “But take what she did then and apply it to now.”

“No comparison. This is life and death. There's nothing political about it.”

“Maybe not, but Robin has pride. This is the woman who pays two hundred dollars for Luciano to cut her hair before every major race.”

“She does that for luck.”

“She does it for looks,” Molly insisted, “and I would, too, if I had hair like hers and a perfectly shaped scalp.”

“What's wrong with your scalp?”

“I don't know since I can't see it through all this hair, but that's not my point. Robin does care about how she looks. Would she want the world seeing her like this?”

“It's just us, sweetie,” he said quietly. “I take it you want her off life support.”

“I want what
she
wants.”

Charlie looked past her, and suddenly Nick was standing there. Not only hadn't Molly seen him coming, but she was astonished that he would show up after their phone conversation last night. In a split second, she was livid.

He looked nervous. That gave her some satisfaction. Actually, he was grossly pale. When he shot her an uneasy glance, she steeled herself. But he turned to Charlie. “Mr. Snow? I'm sorry—I want you to know how sorry I am about Robin. This just isn't what anyone expected. I hope my article didn't make things worse. I'll make sure there aren't any others. I know privacy is important right now, but if there's anything I can do, anything at all to help, I'd like to do it.”

Molly wondered what he was up to.

“Thank you for offering,” Charlie said politely—and why not? He didn't know what a
snake
Nick was.

“I'd like to see her—just to talk,” Nick went on. “Would that be possible?”

“No,” Molly snapped before Charlie could reply. Calmer in the next breath, she shook her head. “Not possible.”

“Not for the paper. For me.”

Molly smiled. “Not possible.”

Nick appealed to Charlie again. “She and I were connected. I can't explain it.”

Charlie looked confused.

“My parents are going through hell,” Molly said. “This doesn't help.”

Nick gave her a beseeching look before leaving.

“What was
that
about?” Charlie asked.

Such a loaded question—Molly might have laughed if it weren't so tragic. Smile gone now, she said with conviction, “I may not know whether Robin would want to spend years on life support, but I do know that she would not want that man here.” Rising, she took her tray and walked off toward the trash.

CHRIS
never quite got home. After driving for an hour, he ended up back at the hospital and went looking for Molly. He caught her in the lobby and drew her into a quiet corner.

“We have a problem,” he said in a low voice. “Liz is threatening to make trouble. What's the story? Is her firing a done deal?”

Molly looked angry, not a good sign. “Yes,” she said. “Did she actually call you to complain?”

“She's out of work, so she's concerned,” he explained, trying to be casual. “Is there any chance of her being reinstated?”

“Absolutely none.”

“Does Mom agree with that?”

“She will,” Molly warned. “If Liz is reinstated, I'm outta here. Mom won't want that.”

Chris was feeling squeezed. His sister was putting him in a bad position. “You've made this personal. That's no way to run a business.”

“This is a family business. We can run it whatever way we want. What's she threatening?”

He looked away in disgust. “Oh, stupid stuff, but she has a big mouth.”

“That's why I fired her.”

“I wish you'd checked with me first. She and I go back a ways, so I feel responsible. I was the one who introduced her to Mom.”

“And Mom liked her. We both did. That must have gone to her head, because she's become impossible. A prima donna?
Big
time. No one is shedding tears that she's gone.”

“Maybe we should offer severance,” he tried.

“Maybe we should threaten to sue,” Molly countered. “What she did was one step shy of fraud.”

“That's pushing it.”

“She took advantage of a family
tragedy
, Chris. It doesn't get much worse than that.”

“Okay,” he conceded, “her timing was bad.”

“It still is. She calls you to complain about money, when your sister's
life
is about to end?”

“That's Mom's decision to make, not mine.”

“But you're family, so you're involved. How can Liz expect you to deal with her pettiness right now?”

“She doesn't see this as petty,” Chris reasoned. And yes, he was involved. The social worker was right about that. He felt a
hard tug at the thought of Robin. That was one reason he wanted this settled. Looking for a compromise, he said, “What if we let Liz work at Snow Hill just until she finds something else?”

“Do that,” Molly warned again, “and she'll spend the time duplicating her Rolodex, stealing our vendors, and bad-mouthing us to any customer who'll listen. Am I wrong?”

Sadly, no. Liz was not an easy person when she felt she had been crossed. That was one of the reasons Chris had broken up with her. And he had never looked back.

The problem was what he should do now.

ITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF THE START OF THURS
day's class, David knew something was bothering Alexis Ack-erman. She refused to look at him. When he tried to engage her in the discussion, she shrugged and looked back at her book. He might have challenged another student
—Have you read the assignment? Would you like to share your thoughts?—
but Alexis was too vulnerable. He couldn't push her, especially when feeling as guilty as he did.

The bell rang, but she didn't move. When the room cleared, he walked to her desk. “Are you all right?”

“What did you say to my father?” she asked angrily.

Guilty? No point denying it. “I said I was worried about you.”

“Did you call me anorexic?”

“No. But I did tell him that you collapsed.”

She grew plaintive. “I didn't collapse. My legs just felt funny.
I wish you hadn't talked with him, Mr. Harris. He was angry at me.”

For showing
weakness?
David wanted to ask. For having a problem? Oh boy, could he empathize. He had grown up in a family where performance mattered. His heart broke for Alexis.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “But you do worry me.”

“I am totally fine,” she insisted, gathering her books. “I eat plenty of food.
More
than enough. And I'm no thinner than the others. You just don't know what dancing's like.”

“I guess I don't,” he said, stepping back.

She made it out of the chair and all the way to the door this time before crumbling. By the time he reached her, she was opening her eyes. She raised her head when he knelt, but dropped it back to the floor. “I feel weird,” she whispered.

He pushed the books off her. Holding a hand to keep her from moving, he reached for the wall phone. He had barely finished his call when she tried to get up again. She made it to an elbow before falling down.

“I'm okay, I'm okay,” she breathed.

Frightened, David sat on his heels. He wanted to comfort her by taking her hand, but that was a no-no. Sexual harrassment? He hated it. What about basic human warmth?

Left with no option but a soothing voice, he said, “The nurse will be right here.”