by Lynn Ames
“Do I want to know how you know that? Please tell me you’re not here.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want to hear.”
Dara sighed. “You’re here.”
“Of course I’m here. I’m your best friend. Where else would I be?”
“I can think of dozens of places. I have to get to the hospital, Car. What do you suggest?”
“I’m working on alternative exits right now.” Dara could tell by Carolyn’s breathing that she was on the move. “Looks like you could take the elevator to the second floor. There are some ballrooms there. The hotel staff services them from the back via a service elevator from the basement kitchen. Looks relatively quiet, but it probably won’t be for long. Most conferences start at 8:30 or 9 a.m.”
“That gives us about a ten-minute window.”
“Exactly. Are you all dressed and ready to go?”
Dara spared one more look in the mirror. Even with her makeup expertly applied, she could see the dark smudges under her eyes and the telltale signs of stress. She knew Carolyn would spot them too. “As ready as I’m going to get.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you on the second floor.”
“Carrie?”
“What is it?” Dara heard the concern in Carolyn’s voice and understood why. She rarely used her best friend’s childhood nickname.
“I… Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie. Hurry down here so I can give you a hug.”
The elevator opened on the second floor. Dara literally got one foot out and Carolyn grabbed her by the hand and was propelling her around the corner. “This way.”
“What happened to my hug?”
“Only if you want it splashed all over the social media sites.” Carolyn glanced back over her shoulder. “One of the conferences started early. It’s a geek conference. Want to place a bet on how many cell phones and tablets are walking around here right now?”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Dara hustled to keep up with Carolyn’s determined steps. It was obvious she’d scouted the precise route.
“This way, ladies.” The massive man in a server’s uniform held a door open.
Carolyn handed him something that Dara assumed was money. She mustered up her best megawatt smile and met the server’s eyes. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We’ve still got to get you out of the hotel, Ms. Thomas.”
Dara knew it shouldn’t surprise her after all this time that people recognized her, but somehow it always did. “I have faith in you.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll sure do my best.” He led the way through a back corridor and around a corner, then through a set of double doors and to a service elevator.
When they stepped out of the elevator, they were in the basement. People were hustling everywhere. Dara smelled the scent of freshly made coffee and bacon and her stomach growled.
“I brought you some fruit and a bagel,” Carolyn said. “Somehow I doubt breakfast was high on your list this morning.”
Dara threw her arm around Carolyn’s shoulder. “Please tell me my stomach wasn’t loud enough for you to hear.”
“Okay. Your stomach wasn’t loud enough for me to hear.”
“Placater.”
“Maybe.”
Dara released Carolyn. She was aware that heads were turning in her direction, but she ignored them. Early on in her career, she made a point of acknowledging those who acknowledged her. Then she’d experienced her first serious stalker. The consultant Carolyn hired to review Dara’s security insisted she immediately stop engaging the public so openly. Reluctantly, Dara acquiesced. Rudeness was a foreign concept to her. The idea that people might think her cold or aloof pained her and she said as much. She remembered the consultant’s response quite clearly.
“You have a choice. You can either be friendly and dead, or aloof and alive. Pick, because you can’t have it both ways.”
“When we get through this next door,” the hotel staffer was saying, “you’ll be in the parking garage.”
“Thank you,” Dara said. “I really appreciate your help.”
“No worries, Ms. Thomas. I’m a big fan.” He smiled sheepishly.
As promised, Dara and Carolyn emerged on the ground floor of the parking structure. Dara paused for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. A flash went off in her face, momentarily blinding her.
Carolyn lunged forward, and Dara grabbed her by the arm. Two more flashes, and the photographers faded into the shadows.
“Don’t. It’s not worth it.”
“I hate that. I’m sorry, honey. I thought I had a foolproof plan.”
“It was a good plan. There’s always going to be one. Don’t worry about it.” Dara waited a beat. “But I do hope they got my good side. Also, I was hoping to avoid them following me to the hospital, so let’s see if we can’t shake them.”
Carolyn led the way a short distance to her car and they managed to get inside and drive out of the garage without further incident.
Two blocks away from the hotel, Carolyn reached over and caressed Dara’s hand. “Want to talk about it?”
“About what?” Dara knew it was a weak dodge but honestly, what was there to say?
“About how you’re feeling. When we hung up last night, you were about to listen to your mother’s message. You haven’t said a word about it yet and you look like little Dara Thomas this morning, not the confident, strong woman I know you are.”
Dara closed her eyes and rested her head against the headrest. “How is it I can fool everyone else in the world, but not you?”
“Probably because I’ve known you longer and better than anyone else in the world.” Carolyn paused. “And maybe because I lived through your story and watched your pain every day. For the first time in fifteen years, I see that same look in your eyes this morning.”
For a fleeting moment, Dara considered remaining mum. She had no desire to relive the dream she’d had last night or most of what her mother had to say in her message. But this was Carolyn, the one person from whom she’d never kept anything and who deserved an honest answer.
During the remainder of the drive to Sloan-Kettering, Dara recounted all of it. She left nothing out. She watched as Carolyn’s expressions changed from sad to angry to outraged and back to sad.
When Dara finished, Carolyn turned to her. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I wish there were words to make you feel better, but I know there aren’t. I wish I could change so many things about your childhood for you, but I know I can’t. Most of all, I wish I could take away your pain, but I know I can’t do that, either.”
“I don’t expect—”
“Let me finish.” Carolyn held up a hand. “I’m glad your mother told you how proud she was of you and that she loved you. When she called me looking for you that day that your father died, I considered not telling you. You were doing so well, coming into your own and you had such a big audition that day. I just knew in my bones that you were going to get the part and that it would be the start of great things for you. I didn’t want the news to be one more thing you had to overcome. There had already been too much. In the end, I think all of those swirling emotions helped you nail the part.”
“You were right about that.”
“What I never told you was something your mother shared with me on the phone.”
Dara shifted in her seat to fully face Carolyn. “You kept something from me?”
Carolyn nodded mournfully. “I knew how you felt about your parents and I just— You didn’t need to hear it.”
“Hear what?” Dara wasn’t sure she could take any more revelations right now.
“Your mother wanted me to tell you that your father had set aside some money for you for when you came to your senses and gave up, as he called it, ‘this foolish acting notion.’”
The comment should’ve made Dara angry. Instead, what she felt was resignation.
“Obviously, based on what was on the recording, yo
ur mother doesn’t feel that way anymore. I mean, she compared you to Katherine Hepburn and your father’s remark eight years ago was before you landed your first big role.”
“Car, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. That was just who my parents were.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I’d change it in a heartbeat if I could.”
“I know. There is one thing that’s been bothering me.”
“Only one?”
“Okay, more than one, but one thing that puzzles me. How did the hospital get my phone number? Even my own mother didn’t have it.”
“Actually, she did. Sort of.” Carolyn glanced at her. “Because she knew I would never give it to her, your mother had her lawyer call me a few months after your father died to get your number. He needed it for some legal documents your mother was having him revise. I gave it to him with the stipulation that your mother would never try to contact you directly. I’m sorry. That’s my fault.”
“No. It’s okay. I can see why you did it. I just wondered how they found me directly.”
Carolyn pulled the car into the hospital’s parking garage.
“What are you doing?”
“Parking the car. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“No.”
“Dar—”
“No. This is mine to do. I’ve got it.”
Carolyn pulled into a space and cut the engine. “I’m not going to let you deal with this by yourself, I don’t care what you say.” She opened the car door and stepped outside, arms crossed, feet spread shoulder-length apart, ready for battle.
Dara joined her. “I appreciate your loyalty. You know I do. But I really think I need some time alone with mother. Until yesterday, I thought I’d made peace with her and left that time of my life in my rearview mirror.”
“And now?”
Dara stared off into space and shook her head. “I don’t know. Today the decision to let my mother die lies in my hands, and I believe that somehow, before I make that call, I have to find a way in my heart to forgive her, to see her as a flawed human being, not a…”
“Cold-hearted bitch?”
Dara slowly shook her head. “More like a supremely unhappy, miserable, emotionless woman.”
“Same thing, nicer dressing.”
“Anyway, I need clarity here.”
“And you think my being there makes that harder?”
Dara smiled kindly. “I think this could take a little while and I don’t want to feel like I’m holding you up.”
“I already said—”
“I know what you said. Please, Car, help me out here.”
Carolyn relaxed her stance, and Dara knew she would capitulate. “Really? You’re not just letting me off the hook?”
“I am not.”
Carolyn fingered the key fob. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“You’ll call me if you need anything and let me know when you’re ready to go so I can pick you up?”
“Pinky swear.” Dara held up the digit in question and wiggled it.
“Well, if it’s a pinky swear…”
Dara leaned forward and gave her friend a warm hug. “Love you, girlfriend.”
“Love you too, sweetie. I won’t be far away.”
“I know.” Dara disengaged, waved, and headed for the doors to the hospital.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rebecca took her time browsing in the airport newsstand. Her flight wasn’t for another two hours and she’d finished all of the novels she’d brought with her.
She picked up the latest Steve Martini book and flipped it over to read the synopsis. Sufficiently intrigued, she held onto the book and moved on to scan the newspaper headlines. A delivery person dropped a bundle of newspapers on the floor in front of her and efficiently sliced the plastic tie holding the pile in place. She saw that it was the National Enquirer—something she would never stoop to read. Still, although she tried not to pay attention, it was hard to miss the big, bold, banner headline. “Dara Thomas’s Private Pain.”
“Not so private if you’re broadcasting it all over the front page,” Rebecca muttered. A picture of the movie star accompanied the headline. She looked incredible, even dressed casually as she was in designer jeans and a light sweater.
“May I?” She indicated the stack.
“Whatever,” the worker said as he pocketed the box cutter.
Rebecca picked up the rag and opened it to the promised story on page two. Inside, there was a second snapshot of Dara, obviously taken at the same time as the first. Farther down on the page was another photo, this one of an elderly woman in a hospital bed. Tubes and machines surrounded her and her face was in shadow. The quality of the picture made it clear it had been taken surreptitiously, most likely with a cell phone camera.
“Oscar favorite Dara Thomas is dealing with off-screen tragedy. Her mother, from whom Thomas mysteriously has been estranged for manyyears, is apparently dying of cancer. Thomas flew to New York yesterday to be by her side. No word on how long the actress plans to stay in town, but sources tell us that her mother could die any day now.”
Rebecca closed the paper and returned it to the stack. She didn’t know whether to believe the article or not, but either way, she felt sorry for Dara. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be her—to have your most intimate emotions and moments plastered across the pages of a tabloid for the world to see and dissect. She was glad she’d never need to know.
“Good morning, Ms. Thomas.” The nurse looked up from adjusting the bed covers.
“Good morning.” Dara noted that her mother’s cheeks appeared even more sunken and ashen than they were yesterday. “How…how is she?” Dara realized this was probably a foolish question. It was abundantly clear how her mother was.
“No change, I’m afraid.”
“I guess that was a silly question.”
“There are no silly questions when it comes to losing a loved one.” The nurse regarded her compassionately. “Doctor Emanuel spoke with you yesterday, right?”
“He did.” It struck Dara that perhaps she should at least move all the way into the room instead of standing like a statue in the doorway. She approached the bed and looked down at her mother, but stopped short of touching her. The memory of the recording was still too fresh in Dara’s mind and on her heart.
“Do you want me to get him?”
“The doctor?” Dara knew she was stalling. Who else could the nurse have been talking about?
“Yes.”
“I—I don’t think I’m quite ready just yet.” Dara made eye contact. “Is she in any pain?”
“I don’t think so. She’s on a morphine drip and she’s shown no indication of discomfort.”
“Good.” Dara hesitated. “Is there anything more she needs right now? I mean…”
“No. I’m done here. I imagine you want some time alone with her.” The nurse headed for the door. “If you need anything, I’ll be around.”
“Thank you.” When the nurse was gone, Dara dragged a chair to the side of the bed and sat down. Now that they were alone, she had no idea what to do.
For a while, she simply sat and watched her mother breathe. The frail chest rose and fell faintly, and the pulse point in her neck seemed to stutter periodically. After a time, the machine noises faded into a steady hum in the background.
“Mother.” Dara reached out and touched her mother’s hand. “I don’t really know what to say. I’m not sure you can hear me. And even if you can, I’m not sure what you…” Dara paused as an unexpected wave of long-buried emotions threatened to swamp her. Her lips trembled.
“Why couldn’t you have loved me, Mother? Was I so unlovable? Really? I tried. I tried to be a good girl. I tried to stay out of your way and to be an easy child. I tried to… Damn.” Dara fumbled in her pocketbook for a packet of Kleenex. She blew her nose, deposited the tissue in the waste basket by the side of the bed, and prayed for composure she wasn’t sure she could find. She
took a deep, settling breath. It wouldn’t do to stay stuck in the past. She should focus on the things her mother said about her career and stick to the present.
“Thank you, Mother, for letting me know that I haven’t turned out to be the disappointment I’m sure you thought I’d be.” Dara slid her hand underneath her mother’s so that their palms were touching. “I’m glad you saw my movies. I’m glad you liked them. Kate Hepburn, eh? High praise, indeed. Thank you, for giving me something positive to hold onto.
“I don’t know what my next project is just yet, but I know what I’m hoping for. If you liked my other work, I know you’d really love me in this role, if I can get it. It’s an adaptation of the Pulitzer Prize-winning Constance Darrow novel, On the Wings of Angels. I think I could really connect with the material and do it justice.”
Dara smirked. “I don’t suppose you’ve read the book, Mother, have you? I hear it was pretty good, but that the author is a complete mystery.” She studied her mother’s face, but there was no change in her expression. Had she read the book? And if she had, would she have made the connection between Dara and Constance? Dara didn’t think so. After all, they’d been estranged for so long that the last written work her mother had seen was most likely a high school term paper. She probably wouldn’t have been able to recognize her style.
Would her mother have been proud of her career as an author? Dara felt an unexpected twinge of sadness as the realization dawned that her mother would never get to see anything more of her work or to know about her alter ego, Constance. How ironic. Until last night, she hadn’t even known, or thought she cared, that her mother had seen her movies. Now… Now she deeply regretted that her mother would likely miss her best work as her career continued to take off. Why on Earth should that matter to her? After all this time?
The sound of someone clearing his throat startled Dara, and she jumped.
“I’m sorry. I apologize for interrupting.” Doctor Emanuel walked around the bed and checked the IV connections without looking at Dara.
“No, it’s okay. I…I was just keeping her company.”
A second man entered the room and stood off to the side.
