While My Sister Sleeps (34 page)

“They'll keep the machines on—”

“Time's running out,” Kathryn repeated.

Molly was worried. “Where's Dad?”

“I sent him home. He was exhausted.”

“So are you. Go home, Mom, please? Nothing's changing. Robin will be here like this tomorrow morning.”

“Every night is precious.”

Molly tried a different approach. “Did Robin live at home? No, she didn't want to be sleeping under your nose. Maybe she wants to sleep alone now.”

Kathryn's eyes filled. “
Enough
of what Robin would want,” she cried and pressed a finger over her lips. After a minute, she refolded her arms. “This is what
I
want, Molly. Besides,” she added, “I don't think I could drive right now.”

“I'll drive you,” Molly offered, feeling worse at that moment for Kathryn than for Robin. “Dad can drive you back tomorrow.”

For a minute, Molly saw a small softening and thought her mother was relenting. But Kathryn only shook her head. “No. I need to do this.”

MINUTES
after Molly left the room, though, Kathryn changed her mind.
No, I don't need to do this
, she thought.
This isn't what I want. I want my mother.

The thought startled her, but she couldn't shake it. She wanted Marjorie—wanted to pour out her heart and cry in the arms of the one person whose job it was to listen. It didn't matter how old or how independent Kathryn was. She needed her mother.

Taking her purse from the chair, she fumbled inside for her keys. Her comb fell out. In the process of picking it up, she stumbled against the IV pole. Grabbing it, she steadied herself, and, mercifully, the IV continued to drip.

Keys finally in hand, she kissed Robin's cheek. “I'll be back. I'm going to see Nana.” It was okay to leave to do that.

She stopped at the nurse's station, theorizing that if they knew Robin was alone, they would check her more often. As the elevator descended, though, Kathryn wished she had a video cam in the room. For all she knew, they
never
came in. They could monitor the machines from their station.

The elevator opened. She was about to press the button and go back up, when she thought of Marjorie again. She needed her mother. It was irrational, of course. Marjorie wouldn't say anything that would help. She wouldn't know
what
Kathryn was talking about. She wouldn't know
Kathryn
, period.

Still she continued on to the parking lot. Night had fallen, but large overhead lights pinpointed the cars. There weren't many left. Still it was a minute before she found hers, parked where she had left it that morning. Fumbling, she dropped her keys and had to pick them up from the pavement before she
finally got the door open, and once inside the car she could barely breathe. The air was stifling.

She was upset. She was tired. She was frightened.

Rolling down the window, she took a deep breath and started the engine. She backed out of the space and left the parking lot. The main road was dark. Only when a passing car honked and passed, plunging her into darkness again, did she realize she hadn't turned on her headlights.

The omission shook her. Her mother had Alzheimer's disease. She wondered if this was an early sign of it in herself. But it
couldn't be
, not with everything else that had happened this week. No God could be so cruel.

Bereft, she began to cry. When her vision blurred, she drove more slowly, hands tight on the wheel, but even then she came within inches of hitting a large flower-shaped mailbox.
Pull over
, said a little voice, but she swung too quickly and sharply. The car careened off the road into a meadow. Foot still on the gas, she tried to correct the error. Instead, she lost her bearings completely and ran into a tree.

ATHRYN WAS SHORT OF BREATH. IT WAS A
minute before she raised her head, another before she moved her limbs. Nothing hurt.

The car wasn't as lucky, to judge from the noise it was making. Wanting to silence it, she turned off the engine, but when she tried to restart it, it refused to turn over.

One headlight still burned. Climbing out under low branches, she used its light to see what she'd done. The front of the car was pleated in a dozen odd angles against the tree. There was no smoke, just an odd, sweet smell of antifreeze and grass.

Belatedly, her knees began to wobble. Stumbling back to the car, she sat for a minute regaining control. The damage might have been worse—to her, to a passenger, even to the car—but she had trouble feeling grateful. This was one thing too many on top of the rest.

And the grand purpose of an accident now, Charlie?
she wondered.
Your sprite, Mom?

At least, she wasn't crying. That was something.

She was pulling out her phone when she saw a car zip by without stopping—but of course, she was easily twenty feet from the road, with her one headlight aimed away. A passerby wouldn't see her. Nor, from where she sat, could she see any houses. But there was that flower mailbox.

She would need a tow. But who should she call? No one was hurt, no other car involved. But if the police came, there would be questions, and she wasn't in the mood. She started to call Charlie—but she wasn't up to telling him, either. The one she wanted, she realized, was Molly.

The girl picked up after a single ring. “Mom?”

“Where are you?”

“Just got home. What's wrong?”

Kathryn might have laughed hysterically. Where to start? “Think you can come pick me up?”

“Of
course.
”

“Not at the hospital. I had a little accident. You'll have to kind of look for me.”

“
Accident?
” Molly cried in alarm.

“I'm fine. I hit a tree.”

“
Mom.
”

“I'm fine, Molly. Really. I'm walking around. Nothing hurts.”

In the short silence, she pictured Molly composing herself. “Tell me where to look.” Her voice was bobbing, like she was already heading outside.

“I'm on South Street, maybe four minutes from the hospital. Know that flower mailbox?”

“Yes.”

“I passed it just before I went off the road. One of my headlights is still on. Park on the side of the road, and you'll see me.”

“I'm getting in my car right now. Are you sure you're okay? Have you called the police?”

“And start the whole world talking?”

“Okay,” Molly said. Her engine started. “Did you call Dad?”

“No. He'll be sleeping. He thinks I'm still at the hospital.” In the time it would have taken Charlie to get out of the house, Molly would be here. Besides, Molly was the one Kathryn needed.

She didn't tell Molly what she wanted, though—until Molly finished exclaiming over the car, turned off the lone headlight, and guided Kathryn to the Jeep—at which point Kathryn said directly, “Drive me to the nursing home to see Nana?”

The darkness couldn't hide Molly's surprise. “
Now?
”

“You've been wanting me to go.”

“Yes, but during the day. It's nearly eleven at night.”

“Are you worried she'll be in bed with that man?” Kathryn asked.

“I'm worried she'll be asleep,” Molly said with simple logic. “We'll go first thing in the morning. She really does sleep alone, Mom. Thomas has his own room at the other end of the floor.”

Kathryn was soothed by her voice. Feeling surprising calm, she said, “I just find it so hard to understand.”

“I know, Mom. Don't you think his family has trouble with it, too? But they're just like children meeting for the first time each day. They don't remember what's come before, and there is no after. They live in the here and now.”

“She gets so excited seeing him,” Kathryn remarked. Something
about the dark made discussing this easier. Or maybe it was hitting a tree and freeing a gaggle of tied-up thoughts.

“That's how she shows pleasure. Whether it's him, me, you, a tea sandwich—it doesn't matter. She doesn't know the cause, only that something makes her smile.”

Simple logic again. Kathryn was considering it when Molly said, “Why don't I drive you home?”

“No. Not home.” She had left the hospital needing her mother, but if that was on hold, she wanted to
do
something. Being constructive was part of who she was. She had felt too helpless all week.

“Then my place,” Molly suggested. “Robin's place.”

Robin's place sounded right. Nodding her assent, Kathryn leaned back against the headrest. After a minute, she began to relax. It was nice to be driven, nice to yield responsibility for a short time.

Tired as she was, though, she didn't sleep. She raised her head when they turned off the main road. The path to the cottage was dark, but she could smell trees, flowers, rich earth. They were the sedative she needed.

MOLLY
still thought of the cottage as it had been before packing—furnished simply, cozy and comfortable. Seeing it now as she opened the front door, she was apologetic. “I'm sorry everything's a mess.”

Kathryn barely seemed to notice. She wandered around the room, touching a windowsill, a bookshelf, the sofa. Watching her, Molly was frightened. She had felt her mother shaking when she helped her into the car. She looked steadier now, but that didn't mean she was okay. She could have a concussion.
There could be internal damage. She could keel over in an instant and be gone.

After Robin, anything seemed possible.

But Kathryn didn't look injured. In a natural show of surprise, she jumped when Molly's cat scampered out from between cartons and ran down the hall. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes.” Quickly, Molly explained. “It was abused. I've rescued it.”

“But you're moving home Monday,” Kathryn argued, sounding like herself.

“Not my fault, Mom. The vet begged me to take her. She needs a quiet, no-other-pets place, and this was the only one I could think of.”

Kathryn studied her. “Why do I sense that the vet didn't have to do much convincing?” she finally asked, less in disapproval than resignation. “Your sister didn't tell me you had a cat.”

“She didn't know. I just got this one on Monday. That's why I was late getting home. The poor thing has led a traumatic life. She's skittish.”

“Not a good sign. She may never socialize.”

“She will. I can tell. She doesn't hide as much as she did at first. She loves Robin's bed.”

Kathryn cleared her throat loudly. “And after next Monday?”

“She won't be a problem, Mom. I've thought this out. Cats don't need much space. She'll stay in my room until I find another place.”

“That could take a while.”

For the first time, though, Molly realized that she would be looking alone. “No,” she said sadly. “It's just me. A smaller place will be easy to find.” But it wouldn't have the character
of this one. “I keep hoping Mr. Field will relent.” Kathryn wasn't listening. “Are you sure nothing hurts, Mom?”

“I'm sure.”

“Want a hot bath?”

“No. It was a nothing accident. I wasn't watching where I drove.”

Molly guessed it was more than that. Kathryn's emotions had to be frayed. Wanting to see Marjorie was telling in and of itself.