While My Sister Sleeps (27 page)

David wasn't saying any such thing. Alexis wasn't thin; she was
emaciated.
There wasn't an ounce of fat on her face, and still her head seemed too large for her body. Not even the big, fluffy robe she wore could hide the protrusion of her collarbone.

“Maybe you'll be able to tell them yourself,” he tried. “Any idea when you'll be back at school?”

She made a face. “They won't
tellme.
They're
evaluating me.
I don't know how long it'll take. My parents want me to go somewhere and rest awhile, but then I'll miss too much.”

“Rest might be good,” he said and, pulling at the strap on his shoulder, dug into his briefcase. “I talked with your other teachers. I have their assignments for the week.”

Her eyes widened. “What did you tell them?”

“Nothing, Alexis. All they know—all anyone knows—is that you're in the hospital.”

“I am
not
anorexic. I'm just tired. Will you tell them that? I don't want rumors starting, Mr. Harris. I don't want people staring at me when I get back.”

“No one will stare at you.”

“They
will.
They'll be thinking I have an eating disorder— which is
such
a joke. Do you know how many of them make themselves
throw up
in the lav? I have
never
done that. I'm just
thin. But they'll be comparing me to my brothers, who are huge; they play
football
It's different for a girl. Especially with dancing.” She lowered her voice. “I wanted you here so you could see that I'm fine. Can you tell everyone that?”

“Mr. Harris?” came an authoritative voice from behind him.

He turned. Alexis's mother had arrived.

“He brought my assignments,” Alexis explained quickly. “He's just leaving.”

Donna Ackerman nodded.

“I'll check back on you another time,” David told the girl.

“Oh, I'll be home soon and back at school. I'm feeling much better.”

He smiled. “That's a relief. I'll let people know.” He left the room and was halfway down the hall when Donna called his name.

She jogged up. “I appreciate your coming. She was asking for you.”

“She's worried about what people are saying.”

“So am I. If she'd told me she wasn't feeling well, she could have stayed home yesterday and we'd have avoided all this.”

“Do the doctors have a reason for keeping her here?”

Donna gave a long-suffering sigh. “You know the medical profession. Doctors can find
anything
if they look hard enough. Alexis is anemic. She just needs a little boost. We'll get her home and take it from there.”

David wasn't sure where they would “take it” if they denied the problem, but that was for the doctors to say. Whether Alexis's parents would listen was something else. For now, he was simply glad the girl was here.

“Let me know if there's anything I can do,” he offered.

“I will,” the woman said and turned back to her daughter's room.

He watched her for a minute, thinking of his own parents and his brother's drug problem, even of Kathryn Snow with Robin. Self-delusion was a tricky thing. A product of pride? If so, he was just fine being modest. It might be a whole lot easier on his own kids some day.

Wondering how Molly was doing, he took the elevator down and was crossing through the lobby when he saw a trio of familiar faces—mother, father, and son—from his student-teaching year. Breaking into a smile, he approached.

“This can't be the same Dylan Monroe I taught when he was in first grade,” he teased. “That guy was little. This one's get-tin’ pretty big.”

Deborah Monroe smiled back and extended her hand. “David.
You
have not changed. Dylan, you remember Mr. Harris, don't you? He taught you to read.”

“Oh no,” David cautioned. “Denise Amelio taught him to read. I just nudged him along when he started thinking about songs and not books.”

The boy's eyes were large behind glasses that seemed even thicker than David remembered. “You loved Springsteen.”

“Still do,” David said. “And you?”

“Dylan,” he said with a grin.

“Good choice. Still playing the piano?” When the boy nodded, David turned to the parents. “What brings you folks all the way up here?”

The dad answered. David couldn't remember his name. Both parents worked—Deborah as a doctor—but she was always the one who made it to school.

“Marvin Larocque,” he said. “Dylan has a corneal problem.”

“Two,” the boy put in. “Both eyes.” He seemed proud to acknowledge the problem. David found that refreshing.

“Marvin is the best transplant person in town,” the father explained.

“We're still a year or two away,” cautioned the mother, “but it doesn't hurt to do the legwork now. Dylan's father lives near here. That makes it easy.”

“And my dog
—my
dog—has a mom and brother living with Dad and Rebecca. That
really
makes it easy.”

“
You
have a dog?” David asked.

Grinning, Dylan nodded.

Deborah put a hand on his head and turned the boy toward the elevator. “This could be the start of a long conversation, but we have an appointment upstairs. Good seeing you, David. Didn't I hear you were teaching in this area?”

“Sure am. Twenty minutes from here. But hey, you go on. Good luck with Dr. Larocque. I taught his son the year before last. The kid loves acoustic guitar.” He winked at Dylan. “A little inside tip.” He held up a hand and watched the threesome leave, then turned to find a new face.

David had never formally met Nick Dukette, yet that was the name that came to mind. Something about intense eyes made David think of the people he had known growing up. This man was close to his age.

His guess was correct. “David Harris? I'm Nick Dukette, here to rebut what Molly told you. I am not evil,” he said, but what little humor might have been in his voice ended there. His face was tired and tight.

“She didn't use that word.”

“No, but I'm sure that was the gist.”

David wasn't about to relate what Molly had said, and Nick didn't appear to expect it. He went right on. “I've met your dad.”

“Really.”

“Several times, actually. He's one of my idols.”

“If I tell him that, will he recognize your name?” David asked, well-trained to detect phonies.

“I doubt it,” Nick said without balking. “I had nothing to offer then. Now I do.”

“What's that?”

“A bio of Robin Snow. I've been writing about her for a while. Molly's actually encouraged me to do it. It's exactly the kind of thing your dad serializes in his papers. I'd offer an exclusive.”

David wasn't surprised by the offer, only the speed with which it came. Nick was all business. “Why not just approach a publisher in New York?”

“I don't know one personally. On the other hand, New York might see what your dad publishes and take notice.”

True
, David thought.
And blunt.
“Give him a call, then.”

“Like I say, he wouldn't recognize the name. I was hoping you'd give him the heads-up beforehand. You can vouch for me. You live here. If you read the local paper, you read me.”

“Actually,” David said in a moment's perversity, “I get my news on TV. Journalists today don't write the way they used to. They overlook basic questions. They stress irrelevant details for the sake of drama.”

Nick smiled smugly. “My bio of Robin is different.”

“Did Robin know you were putting together a bio while you were dating her?”

“Ah. Molly told you that Robin and I dated. Actually, yes. She knew. She loved it.”

“The attention or the bio?”

His smugness wavered. “She hasn't had a chance to read the bio.” He swallowed. “That's what makes it so timely. I mean,
here she is, hanging by a thread between life and death. It's the kind of hot story that your father loves.”

It was, but David wasn't his father. “What about the Snow family?”

“Like I say, Molly gave me the go-ahead. Besides, authorized or unauthorized, I have more information than anyone else. If your dad doesn't want it, I'll go elsewhere; but I thought that since there was this connection, you being here and even knowing Molly, it would make for a good fit. What do you think?”

“I think, maybe, no,” David replied easily. “I'm not involved in my father's work.”

“You don't have to be involved. All you have to do is call him. What about your brothers?”

“I tried it in journalism, but my instincts suck. They know that. Trust me, if I were to push your name with them, it could do more harm than good.”

“All I want is an intro. Tell them you have a friend who wants to call. Once I get through on the phone, I can take it from there.”

“Tell you what,” David suggested, thinking that Molly would be interested in seeing what Nick was hawking, “show me what you have. If I'm comfortable with it, I'll see what I can do.”

Nick grinned. “Deal.” He raised his eyes, and his expression flipped from pleased to worried. “Chris!” he called and said to David, “Do you know Molly's brother?”

David recognized Chris from the ICU floor, but even if he hadn't, the resemblance between brother and sister was marked. Nick made the introductions. Chris looked distracted.

“How's Robin?” Nick asked.

Chris shrugged.

“You heading upstairs? Want company?” “No. I have to talk with my dad.” Darting David a parting glance, he walked off.

DRIVING
to the hospital, Chris had been fixated on his own agenda. When he reached Robin's room, though, Charlie was the first to speak, and what he said pushed Chris's agenda aside.

Not that Chris was entirely surprised to learn about Peter. It explained his mother's emotional investment in Robin. He hadn't taken that personally, but he knew Molly had. He wondered how she felt learning the truth.

The one he had immediate questions for, though, was his father. They were in Robin's room, leaning side by side against the wall, their voices low, eyes on Robin, the machines, the flowers—anything but each other. It was easier that way.

“You knew all along?” Chris asked.

“Not details,” Charlie said. “I didn't need to know those.”

“But you knew his name.”

“Sure did. Even back then, I read the Sports section first. Longwood was a big deal in Boston.”

“What'd you think about Mom being with a star?”

“It was only one night, Chris.”

“But he was famous.”

“Your mother barely knew that. I followed his career more than she did.”

“Before you knew about Mom and him?”

“After, too.”

“For Robin's sake?”

“Mine. I like tennis.”

Chris's situation was different. There had been overlap between his time with Liz and his time with Erin. But Erin didn't know about Liz. He wondered how he would feel if he learned she had been with someone else, too.

“Did it bother you coming after him?” he asked quietly.

“If you're talking about sex, let's not. If you're talking about love, there's no contest. Your mother wasn't pining for him. She loved me.”

“You saved her. You offered her marriage. You supported her.”

“Hold on,” Charlie warned and did look at Chris then. “If you're saying she used me, you're wrong. Before we ever went on a date, she told me about Robin. I had a choice—go for it or walk away. I chose to go for it. Your mother and I hit if off from the start, and it was mutual. She gave back as good as she got.”

“But she was having another guy's baby.”

“So? Look around. Blended families are common. We were just ahead of our time.”

“Okay. Then her fixation on Robin. Did it bother you?”

“No. I understood it. And I agreed with her. Robin needed more help.”

Christ made a face. “In what?”

“School, for one thing. It didn't come easy for Robin.”

That was news to him. “She won every prize.”

“Actually,” Charlie said with quiet authority, “if you go back and look, the prizes weren't for academics. They were for things like improvement and congeniality.”

What Chris remembered most was the big deal they made of any prize Robin got. Conceding his father's point, he said, “She's always been hyper-social. Is that because her father was?”

“I'm her father, Chris.”

“But the rest of us are reserved.”

“Not your mother. Robin may have inherited physical traits from Peter, but she learned behavioral ones from Mom.”

Christopher wasn't sure that was correct. You could inherit behavioral traits. Hadn't Chloe been born with the ability to pacify herself? She was sucking her thumb, then rubbing the edge of her blanket, then kicking her mobile to make it jingle. She inherited resourcefulness from Erin, yet she certainly hadn't seen Erin sucking her thumb.

But he didn't want to argue with Charlie. So he said, “Does it bother you knowing Robin's been in touch with him?”

“No. I wish I'd known. I'd have talked with her about it. But her behavior toward me never changed, Chris. She knew I loved her.”

Christopher envied his father's unflagging faith. He wished he could be as sure about everything he did. “I have a problem, Dad.”

“With this?”

“No. Liz Tocci. She's threatening to make trouble. When I first met her? We were together.”

Charlie was slow to register what Chris had said. Then he was startled. “Together like … ?”

“Yuh.” Chris put his hands in his pockets. “Not exactly one night like Mom and this guy, more like a couple of weeks and around the same time I first met Erin.”

“Liz Tocci?” Charlie asked in disbelief.

Chris felt the same disbelief. “I was a senior. I didn't go looking for it, but there Liz was. Kind of like a last fling.”

“Did you bring her here for that?” Charlie asked disapprovingly.

Chris looked at his father. “No. It was over before I graduated. She knew I was seeing Erin. She even knew we got married
, but she kept in touch. When she was looking to leave the city, I set up her interview with Mom. She was an old friend. She never suggested anything more than that until now, when she needs a weapon. The fact that Molly fired her is driving her nuts. She wants to be reinstated.”