While My Sister Sleeps (26 page)

“Sprite,” Molly murmured. Definitely a sign.

Calling Peter had been the right thing. But what to do now? She could tell Kathryn or not. She could tell Charlie or not. She could make up a wild story about Peter having a premonition and calling. Or she could say nothing at all.

She needed an objective opinion, but the only person she could think to call was David. So she dug out his card and pressed in his number. His “hello” was low.

“Omigod,” she realized, “you're in the middle of a class.”

His voice remained soft, cautious now. “Everything okay?”

“It's the same. I'll call you back.”

“No, I'll call you. Give me two minutes,” he said and that was literally all it took. His tone was normal now, pleasantly soothing. “Class was just ending,” he explained. “I had to go over the assignment. I don't usually keep my phone on, but there's an issue with Alexis.”

“How is she?”

“I'll let you know soon. She was asking for me, so I'm heading to the hospital now. Where are you?”

“Home, but I'd like to run something past you. Can we meet there?”

They arranged a time and place. Satisfied, she ended the call and went into the den. Within minutes, she had saved Robin's files on her own computer and burned a new CD.

This was for Kathryn. And no, it wasn't the original. Molly wanted that one for herself. She believed that her sister meant these files for her, and while she couldn't keep their content from Kathryn, a copy would have to suffice.

SHE
met David in the hospital parking lot. He looked like a really cool school teacher—in shirt, tie, and jeans, with a leather backpack that he lowered to the ground. His warm smile said she had been right to call. She trusted him with private information. She didn't know why—maybe because he wasn't a Snow Hill person and didn't know the Snows’ friends, or maybe because her mother had blasted him and he hadn't withered. But he felt safe to Molly.

There in the parking lot, leaning against the Snow Hill logo on the door of her Jeep, she told him about Peter.

“Amazing,” he remarked when she was done. “You had no clue.”

“None. I mean, I've been remembering little things she said—like when one of her friends adopted a baby and she wondered how an adoptive parent would feel if the child ever wanted to know its birth parents, or when she told me I should try tennis, maybe sign up for a week at one of the really good tennis schools—but was I supposed to ask
why
she was saying those things? If Robin had sprung this on me last week, I'd have said she had sunstroke. I'm also amazed that I called him—who am I to do that?”

“You're Robin's sister, and her wishes were clear.”

“But what do I do now? He's practically on his way. If I asked him to hold off, I'm not sure he would. He wants to come. He called me back in five minutes with his flight plans. I've stuck my neck way out.”

David thought a minute. “I'd have done the same.”

Which was probably why Molly had sought him out. He was an ally at a time when she needed one. “Will my family be happy? My mother?”

“Maybe not short term. Long term, yes. It's what Robin wants.”

“Robin is only here in spirit. My mother is here in the flesh. Should I tell her?”

“You said that mentioning his name snapped her out of a stupor. That's a good thing, isn't it?”

“Mentioning his name is different from his walking in the door.”

“Did you sense she was hostile toward him?”

Molly thought back. “No. But she's been private about Robin's situation. Only immediate family in the room. That's her order. She won't even let her friends come to the hospital. She may feel he has no right to be there.”

“You have Robin's CD. That's strong stuff.”

Yes, but Molly was still apprehensive. “Mom will be furious with me for calling him without asking her first.”

David smiled sadly. “That's the dilemma with family. When it comes to our parents, we're always children. At what point do we grow up? They raise us to function as individuals, but when do they allow us to act independently?”

“Never,” Molly said. “We have to do it on our own. But how do we know if we're right?”

“When the facts say so. Robin's journal speaks volumes.”

“And you'd really have done the same thing?” she said, needing his reiteration.

“Yes. Not that I'm an authority. My family didn't appreciate what I did. The Ackermans may be the same, but I still think I did the right thing.”

Molly didn't hear stubbornness. She didn't hear pride. What she heard was conviction, which was what she felt on the matter of Peter. “Mom could still refuse to let him in.”

“Would she do that once he's there?”

“Probably not. But she could refuse to be there herself.”

“Would that be so bad? This is really about Peter and Robin.”

Put that way, it made sense. “So you think I should tell her?”

He studied the ground before finally raising his eyes. “I would. She's been through so much. It's only fair to prepare her for this.”

Molly was touched. “Amazing you can say that after how she treated you.”

“She was upset.” He made a diffident sound. “Not that I'd ask for a repeat.”

Molly straightened as nearby movement caught her eye. “Oh no.” Her mother was heading their way. She looked exhausted; her step lacked its characteristic resolve. But her eyes didn't waver.

As she neared, Molly became her parent's child again, timid and unsure. “Mom, you remember David. He's a teacher. One of his students is here.”

Kathryn nodded but said nothing.

“Mrs. Snow,” David acknowledged nervously, then said to Molly, “I'd better head in.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, Kathryn said, “Our Good Samaritan.”

Her voice, like her step, lacked something. In the void, Molly gained strength. The time for half-truths had passed.

Taking her mother's arm, she headed for Kathryn's car. “He's concerned. He keeps checking back.”

“He's the one who might have gotten there sooner.”

“No,” Molly reasoned, choosing not to remind Kathryn of her earlier tirade, “he's the one who got her heart going and called for help, so any hope there was wouldn't be wasted. If it hadn't been for him, she might have been lying there for hours. She might have been hit by a car in the dark. Trust me. He agonizes over not having been able to do more.”

Kathryn stopped walking. “Have you and he talked much?”

“Some.” Molly got her walking again. “He's a good person. Like I say, he's a teacher.”

Kathryn seemed suddenly distant. When they reached her car, she asked, “Did I really favor Robin?”

“Yes.”

“I didn't mean to. Her running just took so much time. But you're the one I count on. You do make me proud.”

Molly wasn't ready to believe that, especially with what she had to say. “I called Peter.”

Kathryn gave a start. “You what?”

“He's coming here. I read more of Robin's diary,” she said and pulled the CD from her bag. “She really wanted to meet him.”

Kathryn had blanched. She stared at the CD in horror.

“Read it, Mom,” Molly urged. “Not all of it is fun, but if we're looking for direction from Robin …”

Kathryn's eyes rose. “You
asked
Peter to come?” When Molly didn't deny it, she cried, “How
could
you? I have gone out of my
way
to give Robin a full and complete life without him. He has
no right to
see her like this.”

“She wanted to meet him, Mom.”

“She did not.”

“Read what's on the CD.”

Kathryn closed her eyes and hung her head. When she raised it again, she put a hand on the back of her neck. “When is he coming?”

“Early tomorrow.”

“Can you call him back? Tell him this isn't the time for a visit?”

“If not now, when? This is his last chance. It's something Robin wanted.”

“She didn't envision this,” Kathryn chided. “Oh, Molly. Do
you have any idea what I'll feel if he comes here? Did you stop to think of that? Or what your
father
will feel? He's the only father Robin has ever known. Inviting Peter here is a slap in the face to him. And what about
Chris?
”

“Chris will handle it. If not, he needs to grow up. There's so little we can do for Robin. Would you deny her this?”

“She didn't want to see Peter. She would have
told
me if she had.”

“Like she told you about her heart?” Molly asked and, seeing Kathryn's stricken look, softened. “Read her journal, Mom,” she begged. “Robin had thoughts and feelings we never knew about, and it's not your fault or mine. We tried to be there for her. But she was more than just a Snow. She was her own person.”

Molly was actually thinking that there was something redeeming in that, when Kathryn said, “I don't want to see him.”

“You don't have to. He can come when you're not here.”

“I don't want Robin alone with him.”

“I'll be with her the whole time.”

“What if he decides to stay? What if he claims parental right and wants a say in what we do?”

“He doesn't. He told me that, and he was really firm. He knows he hasn't been part of Robin's life. And he didn't ask to come here. I did the asking, because it was what Robin would want. You're right that she may not know the difference, but we will. When it's over, I want to know that I did what I could in the time she had left.”

Her mother fumbled in her purse and brought out the keys.

“Don't you?” Molly asked.

Kathryn got in the car, but when she tried to close the door, Molly held it. “Talk to me, Mom.”

“What can I say? It's been a harrowing week, and the worst is still ahead.”

She sent Molly a look so startling that Molly released the door. As she stepped back, it struck Molly that her mother, who controlled so much of her life but couldn't control this, was terrified.

LEXIS ACKERMAN WAS IN A PRIVATE ROOM ON
the hospital's elite floor. David approached with some trepidation. As it happened, she was alone—sad for Alexis, not bad at all for him. She had the television on, but turned it off as soon as she saw him.

Smiling, he left the door open and came in. “You look better,” he said in an upbeat tone, though it was more wishful thinking than reality. With her dark hair pulled tightly back, she was as pale and waif-like as ever. But, of course, he couldn't say that. Instead, trying to make light of the situation, he glanced at the IV. “Filet mignon with broccoli and a baked potato?”

She didn't smile. “I don't eat beef.” She looked past him, seeming relieved to find him alone. “I want to ask you something, Mr. Harris. What are the other kids saying about me?”

He wasn't sure they were saying much at all. She was something
of a nonentity at school. Unable to say that either, he fudged it. “I think they're worried.”

“They must have been talking after I was carried out.”

“Most of them were at lunch.” He smiled again. “You picked a good time to collapse.”

No smile this time either. “They think I'm weird anyway, but I don't want them saying things that are wrong. I'm not anorexic. I'm just thin. Dancers have to be thin. Can you tell them that?”