While My Sister Sleeps (2 page)

“No, she hasn't come to yet,” said the doctor. “We pulled up hospital records on her, but there's no mention of a heart problem.”

“Because there isn't one,” Molly said and, slipping past him, went to the bed. “Robin?” When her sister didn't reply, she eyed the tube. It wasn't the only worrisome thing.

“The tube connects to a ventilator,” the doctor explained. “These wires connect to electrodes that measure her heartbeat
. The cuff takes her blood pressure. The IV is for fluids and meds.”

So much, so soon? Molly gave Robin's shoulder a cautious shake. “Robin? Can you hear me?”

Robin's eyelids remained flat. Her skin was colorless.

Molly grew more frightened. “Maybe she was hit by a car?” she asked the doctor, because that made more sense than Robin having a heart attack at the age of thirty-two.

“There's no other injury. When we did a chest X-ray to check on the breathing tube, we could see heart damage. Right now, the beat is normal.”

“But why is she still unconscious? Is she sedated?”

“No. She hasn't regained consciousness.”

“Then you're not trying hard enough,” Molly decided and gave her sister's arm a frantic jiggle. “Robin? Wake up!”

A large hand stilled hers. Quietly, the doctor said, “We suspect there's brain damage. She's unresponsive. Her pupils don't react to light. She doesn't respond to voice commands. Tickle her toe, prick her leg—there's no reaction.”

“She can't have brain damage,” Molly said—perhaps absurdly, but the whole scene was absurd. “She's in
training.
” When the doctor didn't reply, she turned to her sister again. The machines were blinking and beeping with the regularity of, yes, machines, but they were unreal. “Heart or brain— which one?”

“Both. Her heart stopped pumping. We don't know how long she was lying on the road before she was found. A healthy thirty-something might have ten minutes before the lack of oxygen would cause brain damage. Do you know what time she started her run?”

“She was planning to start around five, but I don't know
whether she made it by then.”
You should have known, Molly. You would have known if you'd driven her yourself.
“Where was she found?”

The doctor checked his papers. “Just past Norwich. That would put her a little more than five miles from here.”

But coming or going? It made a difference if they were trying to gauge how long she had been unconscious. The location of her car would tell, but Molly didn't know where it was. “Who found her?”

“I can't give you his name, but he's likely the reason she's alive right now.”

Starting to panic, Molly held her forehead. “She could wake up and be fine, right?”

The doctor hesitated seconds too long. “She could. The next day or two are crucial. Have you called your parents?”

Her parents. Nightmare. She checked her watch. They wouldn't have landed yet. “My mom will be devastated. Can't you do something before I call them?”

“We want her stabilized before we move her.”

“Move her
where?
” Molly asked. She had a flash shot of the morgue. Too much
CSI.

“The ICU. She'll be watched closely there.”

Molly's imagination was stuck on the other image. “She isn't going to
die
, is she?” If Robin died, it would be Molly's fault. If she had been there, this wouldn't have happened. If she hadn't been such a rotten sister, Robin would be back at the cottage, swigging water and recording her times.

“Let's take it step by step,” the doctor said. “First, stabilization. Beyond that, it's really a question of waiting. There's no husband listed on her tag. Does she have kids?”

“No.”

“Well, that's something.”

“It's
not.
” Molly was desperate. “You don't
understand.
I can't tell my mother Robin is lying here like this.” Kathryn would blame her. Instantly. Even before she knew that it truly was Molly's fault. It had always been that way. In her mother's eyes, Molly was five years younger and ten times more troublesome than Robin.

Molly had tried to change that. She had grown up helping Kathryn in the greenhouse, taking on more responsibility as Snow Hill grew. She had worked there summers while Robin trained, and had gotten the degree in horticulture that Kathryn had sworn would stand her in good stead.

Working at Snow Hill wasn't a hardship. Molly loved plants. But she also loved pleasing her mother, which wasn't always an easy thing to do, because Molly was impulsive. She spoke without thinking, often saying things her mother didn't want to hear. And she hated pandering to Robin. That was her greatest crime of all.

Now the doctor wanted her to call Kathryn and tell her that Robin might have
brain damage
because
she
, Molly, hadn't been there for her sister?

It was too much to ask of her, Molly decided. After all, she wasn't the only one in the family.

While the doctor waited expectantly, she pulled out her phone. “I want my brother here. He has to help.”

HRISTOPHER SNOW WAS AT THE KITCHEN TABLE
, eating the flank steak that his wife had grilled. Erin sat on his right and, on his left, in her high chair, was their daughter, Chloe.

“Is the steak okay?” Erin asked when he was halfway done.

“Great,” he answered easily. Erin was a good cook. He never had complaints.

Helping himself to seconds, he picked out a kernel of corn from the salad and put it on the baby's tray. “Hey,” he said softly, “how's my pretty girl?” When the child grinned, he melted.

“So,” Erin said, “was your day okay?”

Nodding, he dug into his salad. The dressing was great, too. Homemade.

The baby struggled to pick up the corn. Christopher was intrigued
by her concentration. After a time, he turned up her hand and put the slick nugget into her palm.

“How was your meeting with the Samuel people?” Erin asked.

He nodded
fine
, and ate more of his salad.

“Did they agree to your terms?” she asked, sounding impatient. When he didn't reply, she said, “Do you care?”

“Sure, I care. But they'll be a while going over the figures, so for now it's out of my hands. Why are you angry?”

“Chris, this is a major building project for Snow Hill. You spent all last night preparing your pitch. I want to know how it went.”

“It went fine.”

“That doesn't tell me much,” she remarked. “Want to elaborate? Or maybe you just don't want me to know.”

“Erin.” He set down his fork. “We've talked about this. I've been working all day. I want to get away from it now.”

“So do I,” his wife said, “only my day revolves around an eight-month-old child. I need adult conversation. If you won't talk about work, what do we talk about?”

“Can't we just enjoy the silence?” Christopher asked. He loved his wife. One of the best parts of their relationship was that they didn't have to talk all the time. At least, that's what he thought.

But she didn't let it go. “I need stimulation.”

“You don't love Chloe?”

“Of
course
, I love her. You
know
I love her. Why do you always ask me that?”

He raised his hands in bewilderment. “You just said she wasn't enough. You were the one who wanted a baby right away, Erin. You were the one who wanted to stop working.”

“I was pregnant. I
had to
stop working.”

He didn't know what to say. They had been the town's favorite newlyweds, both blond-haired and green-eyed (Chris would say his own eyes were hazel, but no one cared about the distinction). They had been an adorable couple.

But what was happening between them now was not so adorable. “Go back to work, then,” he said, trying to please her.

“Do you want me to work?”

“If you want to.”

She stared at him, those green eyes vivid. “And do what with Chloe? I don't want her in day care.”

“Okay.” He hated all arguments, but this was the worst. “What
do
you want?”

“I want my husband to talk to me during dinner. I want him to talk to me after dinner. I want him to discuss things with me. I don't want him to come home and just stare at the Red Sox. I want him to share his day with me.”

Quietly, he said, “I'm an accountant. I work in the family business. There is nothing exciting about what I do.”

“I'd call a new building project exciting. But if you hate it, quit.”

“I don't hate it. I love what I do. I'm just saying that it doesn't make for great conversation. And I'm really tired tonight.” And he actually did want to watch the Red Sox. He loved the team.

“Tired of me? Tired of Chloe? Tired of
marriage?
You used to talk to me, Chris. But it's like now that we're married—now that we have a baby—you can't make the effort. We're twenty-nine years old, but we sit here like we're eighty. This is not working for me.”

Unsettled, he stood up and took his plate to the sink.
This is not working for me
sounded like she wanted out. He couldn't process that.

At a loss, he picked up the baby. When she put her head on his chest, he held it there. “I'm trying to give you a good life, Erin. I'm working so you don't have to. If I'm tired at night, it's because my mind has been busy all day. If I'm quiet, maybe that's just who I am.”

She didn't give in. “You weren't that person before. What changed?”

“Nothing,” he said carefully. “But this is life. Relationships evolve.”

“This isn't just life,” she fought back. “It's
us.
I can't
stand
what we're becoming.”

“You're upset. Please calm down.”

“Like
that'll
make things better?” she asked, seeming angrier than ever. “I talked with my mother today. Chloe and I are going to visit her.”

The phone rang. Ignoring it, he asked, “For how long?”

“A couple of weeks. I need to figure things out. We have a problem, Chris. You're not calm, you're
passive.
” The phone rang again. “I ask what you think about putting Chloe in a playgroup, and you throw the question back at me. I ask if you want to invite the Bakers for dinner Saturday night, and you tell me to do it if I want. Those aren't answers,” she said as another ring came. “They're evasions. Do you
feel
anything, Chris?”

Unable to respond, he reached for the phone. “Yeah.”

“It's me,” his sister said in a high voice. “We have a serious problem.”

Turning away from his wife, he ducked his head. “Not now, Molly.”

“Robin had a heart attack.”

“Uh, can I call you back?”

“Chris, I need you here now! Mom and Dad don't know yet.”

“Don't know what?”

“That Robin had a
heart attack,
” Molly cried. “She keeled over in the middle of a run and is still unconscious. Mom and Dad haven't landed. I can't do this alone.”

He stood straighter. “A heart attack?”

Erin materialized beside him. “Your dad?” she whispered, taking Chloe.

Shaking his head, he let the child go. “Robin. Oh boy. She pushed herself too far.”

“Will you come?” Molly asked.

“Where are you?” He listened for a minute, then hung up the phone.

“A heart attack?” Erin asked. “
Robin?
”

“That's what Molly said. Maybe she's exaggerating. She gets wound up sometimes.”

“Because she shows emotion?” Erin shot back, but then softened. “Where are your parents?”

“Flying home from Atlanta. I'd better go.”

He stroked Chloe's head, and, conciliatorily, touched Erin's. She was the one on his mind as he set off. They had only been married for two years, the last third of that time with a child, and he tried to understand how dramatically her life had changed. But what about him? She asked if he felt things. He felt responsibility. Right now, he felt fear. Being quiet was part of his nature. His dad was the same way, and it worked for him.

Molly, on the other hand, tended to be highly imaginative. Robin might have suffered something, but a heart attack was pushing it. He might have talked her down over the phone, if he hadn't wanted to get out of the house. Erin needed time to cool off.