by Radclyffe
“I have,” Emily said quietly.
Derian waited, watching her, and her silence, the unspoken compassion in her gaze, brought the past rushing back before Emily could throw up the barriers.
*
“I was seventeen, just a few weeks before I was set to travel to America for college.”
As always happened every time Emily thought about it, or, rarely, spoke of it, the present faded and she was back in her old bedroom again, staring into her closet, trying to decide what to leave behind. Living where it snowed would be fun—she hoped. At least it was a good reason to shop, although she planned to do most of that once she arrived. For the last month she’d scoured the university website, not just for the classes she wanted to take—which was the most exciting part—but also for activities of interest on campus and off, wondering how well she’d fit in when she didn’t know anyone. As intimidating as the idea of being alone in a new place was at times, she still couldn’t wait to go. What an adventure, especially for her, the least adventurous member of the family. The phone rang and she ignored it, taking out three shirts, holding them up and then putting one back. She simply couldn’t take everything, and she had to take her books. She couldn’t live for four years without them.
Footsteps in the hall were followed by a brisk knock on her partially open door. She glanced over at the butler. She started to speak, but the look on his face strangled the words in her throat.
“A call for you, Miss May,” Joseph said in an oddly tight, formal tone. He held out the phone. His hand trembled. “It’s the police.”
Frowning, she took the phone. Shouldn’t they be speaking to her father, if something was wrong? He’d be home soon. An hour, if traffic from the airport wasn’t heavy. “Hello? This is Emily May. I’m afraid my father—”
She remembered a man’s voice, words that made no sense, her brain suddenly slow and sluggish, trying desperately to discern the meaning behind phrases that couldn’t possibly apply to her or her life. Accident. Injuries. Airlift. Hospital. Emergency. Emergency. Emergency.
She’d been so cold, frozen, for days and days.
Emily shivered and a warm hand closed over hers. She blinked, and Derian was there, solid and real and warm. “My father had a short meeting in Jakarta, and he and my mother tacked on a few days’ vacation. My sister wanted to scuba dive and went with them. I begged off, I had too much to do getting ready for my trip to the States.” She took a breath, the pain in her chest cutting her breath short. “They were in a small plane—it went down just short of the airfield. No one was ever able to determine why. The pilot and my…” She swallowed. “My mother was killed instantly.”
“Emily,” Derian murmured gently. “I’m so terribly sorry.”
Emily blinked the searing pain of memory away. “A car came for me, from the embassy. My father worked for the foreign office. My father and my sister Pam were taken to the trauma center. I didn’t know about my mother until I got to the hospital. Even then it took hours for anyone to tell me anything.”
“I can’t begin to imagine how horrifying that must’ve been.”
“I don’t have any other close family, and all my friends—” She shrugged. “Well, they were teenagers, and this was something no one knew how to deal with.”
“So you were alone.” Derian bit off the words, angry at something she couldn’t change but wished desperately she had been able to. That she could have somehow been there, to share some of the pain, to shield her somehow from the horror.
“Of course, people came from my father’s post to help me with the details, and looked after the bills and insurance, things like that. I don’t remember. I didn’t really even pay any attention. I stayed with my best friend’s family at first.”
She hadn’t realized she was cold, hadn’t realized Derian had moved, until Derian handed her a hot cup of tea. Her fingers were numb on the cup. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to tell me the rest.”
Emily smiled weakly. “I want to, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.”
“My father never woke up. About ten days after the accident, he developed severe pulmonary complications. He died without ever knowing what happened, and part of me is almost glad. He would’ve so hated to be without Mother.” She grimaced. “I don’t know if that’s selfish of me or not.”
“There isn’t a selfish cell in your body.” Pain speared Derian’s heart. She couldn’t think of a single word that would be adequate solace, but Emily seemed to welcome her touch, and she needed to touch her just then. She clasped Emily’s hand again, cradled it in hers.
“Pam was in a coma for six weeks,” Emily said, her voice stronger now. “Severe brain contusion and, of course, many broken bones that eventually healed. But she…” She rubbed her eyes, brushed at the moisture there. “She suffered a severe brain injury and has never fully recovered. She’s not communicative and requires twenty-four-hour care.”
“In Singapore,” Derian said.
“Yes. I delayed coming to the States until she was released from the hospital and settled. Everyone—the doctors and social workers—felt she would do better if she remained in familiar surroundings.”
“And the long term?” Derian asked gently.
“Miracles happen, of course, and physically she’s still young and strong, but…” Emily sighed. “She’s likely to need a lifetime of round-the-clock care.”
“Moving her here is out of the question?”
“The immigration issues aside, I believe she knows and responds to the staff who have taken care of her since the beginning,” Emily said. “Plus, health care in Singapore is very good, if you can afford to pay for it. There was insurance money from my father, but, well, that doesn’t last forever. I’m lucky I have a wonderful job that I love, and that allows me to earn enough to take care of her.”
“So you help pay for her care,” Derian said. “You’re very remarkable.”
“No, not at all. She’s my sister.” Emily flushed. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished that my life was less complicated. I was angry for a very long time, at everyone. But I had no one really to blame. That’s the worst of it, having no one to blame.”
“Say what you will,” Derian murmured, “but I find you amazing.”
As warmth spread through her, Emily marveled at how special Derian could make her feel. For the moment, she’d let herself believe it.
Chapter Fourteen
A woman in a blue scrub suit with a wrinkled paper mask hanging around her neck turned the corner into the waiting room and stopped midway, glancing from Emily to Derian. “Ms. Winfield?”
Derian shot to her feet. “Yes?”
“I’m Louella Vix, the head cardiac OR nurse. Dr. Armstrong wanted me to give you an update.”
“Is everything all right?”
The nurse nodded. “Yes, the case is going perfectly. The doctor is just starting the last anastomosis. It will be at least another hour and a half before your aunt is headed to the recovery room, and midafternoon at the earliest before you’ll be able to see her.” She smiled. “I thought you might want to take a break. Go get something to eat. We have your number, don’t we?”
“Yes,” Derian said.
“Then if you’re not here when the doctor finishes, we’ll be sure someone calls you.”
“We’ll be here.” Derian wasn’t leaving anything to chance, and if positive energy played any role in fate, she intended to give it all she had.
“All right then. We’ll be out as soon as we’re finished.”
She left as quickly as she had come and Derian turned to Emily. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really,” Emily said. “These places always seem to take my appetite away.”
Derian grimaced. “I know what you mean.” She glanced around at the bare-bones décor in the bland, somewhat dingy room that seemed to have absorbed all the tragedies played out within its walls. “They try, I get that, but this
place is two parts desolation, one part desperation, and the last part despair.”
Emily regarded her with concern. “I think it might be a good idea if we take a walk.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right.” Derian rubbed the headache between her eyes. “The waiting is getting to me. I hate being helpless.”
“Believe me, I know.”
Derian heard the pain creeping into Emily’s voice and cursed herself inwardly. She wasn’t the only one suffering. “And this has to be terrible for you. I’m sorry, it’s not very sensitive of me to want to keep you here.”
“I want to be here for Henrietta,” Emily said, adding softly, “and if it’s helping you, I’m glad.”
“It helps more than you know,” Derian murmured, “but I’m feeling pretty damn selfish right now. This has to be bringing back some terrible memories for you.”
“I’m all right, really. Please don’t worry about me.”
“I know you’re all right. You’ve convinced me you’re tough,” she teased gently and felt rewarded when Emily laughed, “but I believe I’ll worry about you all the same.”
“Just not too much,” Emily chided, touched by Derian’s tender tone and surprised by how readily she could accept comfort from Derian when she rarely could from anyone else. Derian’s sympathy and understanding strengthened her, rather than making her feel small and diminished. She’d worked so hard to be neither. She rose, and in an impulsive reversal, took Derian’s arm and tugged her toward the hall. “Come on, let’s get outside for a little while.”
Gratefully, Derian let herself be guided to the elevators. Giving up control didn’t come naturally, but with Emily it was easy. The tightrope she’d been teetering on since she’d gotten the phone call from the surgeon gave way to solid ground for the first time all day. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Emily said. “If you need anything, anytime, just let me know.”
Derian regarded her so seriously, for so long, Emily blushed. She wished she could read Derian’s mind at that moment and was happy Derian couldn’t read hers, especially since she’d suddenly started thinking about the kiss. Derian couldn’t imagine she meant that kind of help, could she?
The elevator doors opened onto the bustling lobby and saved her from worrying about how Derian might have interpreted her offer. Once outside, in the sunlight, away from the scent of antiseptic, disease, and death, they strode toward Central Park, dodging through the crowds while managing to stay close together. When the throngs got too heavy and threatened to separate them, Derian curled Emily’s hand through the crook of her arm as naturally as if they’d walked together a hundred times.
When they passed a street vendor roasting nuts, Derian slowed. “You know, I think I probably need to put something in my stomach. Cashews?”
“I confess,” Emily said, “I’m a little bit addicted to the honey-roasted ones.”
Derian grinned. “Done.”
She purchased two bags, handed one to Emily, and they walked on.
“When my mother died,” Derian said after a few moments of silence, “I was lucky. I had Henrietta to help me make sense of it all.”
“I envy you that,” Emily said softly. “Neither of my parents had siblings, so our family was a pretty small unit. My father was often away on business, or when he wasn’t, he was preoccupied with it. He loved us, I know that, but he wasn’t always present for us. My mother and my sister were my world.”
“Then we’re even—I envy you that.” Derian shrugged. “Of my parents, I was closest to my mother. I loved both of my parents as children do, looking to them for support and protection and praise.” She laughed, with no humor in her voice. “Although there was precious little in the praise department.”
“Parents sometimes have an odd way of showing their affection,” Emily ventured. “And some just don’t see their children, or see the worth of them. There’s certainly no excuse for holding something against you that wasn’t your fault.”
Derian cut her a glance, a wry smile softening the tight line of her jaw. “You’re very kind and very perceptive, and I appreciate you taking my side. I suppose the fault lies on both sides—I wasn’t a particularly appreciative child, at least not of the things that my parents could provide.” She lifted a shoulder. “Security, and good schools, and not wanting for any of the physical things. I realize I’m very lucky, and it’s totally undeserved. I was born into safety and wealth.” She laughed again and shook her head. “And complaining about my childhood now makes me sound like something of an ass.”
“Not at all. I don’t think any child appreciates the circumstances of their birth, whether it’s difficult or not, privileged or not, and every child has the right to feel loved.”
“Yes, well, I have no complaints. My mother didn’t exactly have a great time of things either. She’d been groomed her whole life to be a man’s wife, and she was that first. My father’s disappointment at not having a son, but a daughter who didn’t even measure up, made their relationship pretty rocky.”
They stopped when they reached the entrance to Central Park. The weather was still cold enough to dissuade all but the most stalwart to stay still for very long, and Derian pointed to an unoccupied bench. “Are you too cold to sit? I promise to stop moaning about my horrible past. I’ve survived quite well and Martin must be much happier now, with a son and a young wife to give him what he always wanted.”
Emily caught back a protest. Derian’s experiences seemed terribly unfair to her, but she appreciated Derian wanting to make light of them. “I have to confess, I’m not quite ready to go back to that room. But I just want to say I think your father is the one who’s lost the most by not seeing what an accomplished, successful woman you’ve become.”
Derian stared. “Thank you. Not many people would agree with you.”
“What other people think doesn’t matter, though, does it?” Emily said as they sat side by side, finishing their cashews. “What about you?”
Derian raised a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Are you satisfied?”
“With what I’ve made of my life? Sure,” Derian said instantly, wondering as she did about the truth of her words. “I’m successful as far as making the right choices and backing the right teams, and I’m damn good at the tables.”
Emily laughed. “So I understand.”
“As I said, I have no complaints.”
Something about their shared waiting, and their shared worry, made for disclosures Emily never would’ve made otherwise. Knowing Derian loved Henrietta in the same way she did made her bold. “What about the other things in life? Do you want a family?”
“God, no. What would I do with a wife and children? What would I do for them,” she said, voicing thoughts she rarely entertained. “I’d probably be no better at child rearing than my parents, and I have no desire to saddle some poor kid with the Winfield legacy.”
“What makes you think that you would parent the way your parents did? I think you’re incredibly perceptive and you obviously love Henrietta, and what is more important to raising children than understanding and caring?”
“Nothing,” Derian said, fearing Emily gave her far too much credit and damn certain she could never measure up to the kind of unselfish loyalty Emily displayed toward her sister. Wanting to deflect the conversation, Derian countered, “And how about you? What are your long-term goals besides ruling the literary world?”
Emily laughed. “Really, I can’t see myself settling down for quite a long time. I work—well, I work when Henrietta works, and you know how that is.”
Derian frowned. “I do know, and we’re going to have to do something about that when she recovers.”
“I agree with you totally. Vonnie and I will do our best, but it wouldn’t hurt if you put in a word for her to slow down too.”
Derian winced. “I think that might result in shooting the messenger, but I’ll try.” She tapped a fingertip against Emily’s chin. “And you are
pretty good at deflecting questions. What do you want besides work in your life?”
Emily’s face flushed from the brief touch and a thrill of excitement raced through her. She could never remember being so sensitized to another’s physical presence. She’d held hands with women, kissed women, been in bed with several, and she couldn’t remember her heart beating so fast or the electricity shooting beneath the surface of her skin from the most casual of touches. Concentrating on the conversation was difficult, but she grasped on to the question to avoid thinking about Derian’s hands on her. “When and if I’m in a position to provide for a family, or at least substantially contribute, I’d like to get married and have kids. I don’t see that anytime soon.”
“Because of Pam?” Derian asked gently.
“That’s partly it, since I know I would be bringing substantial financial responsibilities to any kind of long-term relationship,” Emily said, “but most of it is because right now my goals are career oriented.”
“Well, I imagine any woman who loved you would understand about Pam, and no one worthy of you would want you to do anything differently.”
Emily’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”
“How often do you get home to Singapore?”
“Two or three times a year,” Emily said, “when I take my vacation time.”
“I’m sure Henrietta would give you all the time you need, vacation time or not.”
“Oh, she would,” Emily said slowly, “but as much as I want to see Pam, it’s always difficult.”
“When’s your next trip?”
“Well,” Emily sighed, “I was planning to go at the beginning of July, right after we get the summer releases all tucked away. Now, though—”
“Listen,” Derian said, “Henrietta won’t be back to work by then, but I’m sure the agency will run without you for—what—two or three weeks?”
Emily laughed. “I’m quite sure it can. Vonnie could probably run everything, or most of it, by herself at this point.”
