by Marci Bolden
“Fine,” she said. “I guess I’ll keep you around, then.”
“You’d better. I brought sweet-and-sour chicken.”
“I love sweet-and-sour chicken.”
“I know.”
She put her hand on his arm when he started to reach for the bag waiting for him to look at her. “Do you remember when I asked you not to give up on me?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m asking again. Please. Don’t give up on me.”
“Never,” he whispered. “I’ll never give up on you.”
“Hey,” Mallory said softly. “Why don’t you go home?”
Marcus looked up from the pile of papers on Annie’s desk. “No, I’m okay.”
Mal sat in the chair that he’d always occupied when coming in to have the exact same conversation about working too hard with Annie. “You can’t keep this up, Marcus. You’re going to make yourself sick. Mom wouldn’t want that.”
He gathered the scattered papers and tapped them into a neat stack, more to avoid Mallory’s gaze than to organize them. “She wouldn’t want me falling behind on contracts either.” He smiled slightly. “I did that once. Damn near missed a deadline to get paperwork to the mortgage company. She ripped me up one side and down the other.”
“She’s good at that. Still is.”
The underlying meaning of her words was clear.
“She’s going to need time to adjust to her new reality, Mallory. Don’t take her short temper personally.”
“She told the doctor she didn’t want to see me.”
“She told the doctor she didn’t want to see anyone. You know how independent she is, kid. Imagine, just for a moment, what it must be like for her to wake up and be so completely limited in her ability to do anything. She is a mover and a shaker. She takes the bull by the horns and makes it do what she wants. She can’t do that right now. She may never be able to do that again. This is terrifying for her.”
“It’s not so great for me either.”
“I know. But at this particular point in time, we have to put your mom’s feelings above our own. Just a little. She’s going to lash out and say things she doesn’t mean, partly because she’s scared, partly because she’s frustrated, and partly because she’s got a brain injury that isn’t going to always let her think before saying or doing. She didn’t mean that she doesn’t want to see you. She meant she doesn’t want you to see her in that condition.”
Mallory sniffed, and Marcus’s heart ached for her. For all of them. This was a hell of a situation.
“I’m supposed to be grateful that she’s alive. I am grateful that she’s alive. But even with all the warnings the doctors gave us, I really thought that when she woke up—if she woke up—she’d still be Mom.”
“It was what we all hoped for. But she has damage to crucial parts of her brain. She’s not going to be the same. We have to take it easy on her and ourselves.”
Drying her cheeks, she took a shuddering breath before meeting his gaze. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Taking it easy on yourself? You bounce between the office, meeting clients, and taking care of Mom all day, Marcus. And then you sit in this office half the night. You think we don’t know? We do. And we’re all worried about you.”
“I’m doing what I need to do to keep things going so when Annie is ready, she has a business to come back to.”
Mallory stared at him. “Do you think she’ll ever come back? Do you think she’ll ever recover enough to work again?”
“Well, if she doesn’t, this is still her business. It’s still her source of income, so we have to stay on top of things.”
“Are you sure you’re not just…”
“What?”
“Evading?”
He laughed softly. “I’m definitely evading.” He toyed with a pen for a moment. “You know, I spent an awful long time waiting for your mom to come around. She finally did, and this happened. It isn’t fair, and sometimes I let that eat away at me.”
“Did something happen?” She scoffed at her question. “Something else?”
He flashed to the memory of the first time he and Annie had eaten dinner in bed compared to earlier that evening. She’d struggled with everything from picking up her eggroll to trying to hold a fork. She’d very nearly given up eating dinner altogether, until he tossed his fork over his shoulder and started eating with his fingers. She’d laughed at him, but after some encouragement, she did the same and was finally able to eat her dinner. She’d been embarrassed. He could tell by the way she grew quiet and her cheeks turned red, but at least she’d eaten.
He shook his head slowly in answer to Mallory’s question. “I’m just trying to adjust, too.”
“How is she? When it’s just the two of you? I know she puts on a front for me. How is she with you?”
He exhaled loudly as he tossed the pen aside. “Terrified. She’s terrified, Mal. And it’s killing me that I can’t do anything to help her.” He cleared his throat and shifted. “Did you eat dinner?”
“If you call leftover pizza dinner.”
“Want to go to the café? You’re right. I need to get out of here. I already ate, but I could go for some pie.”
She stood and waited as he rounded the desk and grabbed his coat. Once they slid into the car, he started it and rubbed his hands together.
“Damn, it’s getting cold.”
“Fall is coming on quick this year,” Mallory said.
He pulled from the office and drove the short distance to the square, parking in front of Stonehill Café. There weren’t many cars parked there, which suited him just fine. He wanted his sister’s business to succeed, but he hated people asking about Annie and giving him that sad look.
Holding the door for Mallory, he shook off the cold as they sat at a table. He didn’t frequent the restaurant these days. It reminded him of dinners with Annie. Being here with Mallory didn’t help, either. Now he just thought of the night that he’d pissed Annie off and she’d stormed out before their dinner had even arrived.
Jenna slid a cup of coffee in front of Marcus, and he inhaled deeply. He hadn’t let himself think about how much he missed her coffee. He loved her coffee.
“This smells delicious.”
After filling a mug for Mallory, she sat next to the girl. “So? Any improvement?”
Marcus frowned. “She started physical therapy today. It was rough.”
“What do the doctors say?”
He shook his head as he blew on the hot brew. “The same. Hope, but don’t expect.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
He stared at her for a moment. “Don’t, Jenna.”
“Don’t what?”
“Give me that look. Annie is going to fight her way back.”
“Hey,” she said gently. “That look isn’t doubting Annie’s ability to recover. I’m worried about my brother. Annie is in good hands, Marcus. She’s being taken care of. But who is taking care of you? You look like hell.”
“Told him that,” Mallory muttered.
“You’ve shut me out. You’ve shut everyone out.”
“Told him that, too.”
Marcus glared at Mallory. She toasted him with her mug in response.
“I feel like I’m letting you down,” Jenna said, “but I can’t be at the hospital or at your office every minute of the day, and you never leave.”
“I’m here now.”
“You know what I mean.”
He sighed as he looked at his sister. “You’re not letting me down, Jen. Don’t think that. Please. I’m where I need to be.”
Jenna shook her head. “Marcus, you have to take care of yourself, too.”
“Jenna,” he said quietly.
“You didn’t do this to her.”
He lifted his gaze to her. “What?”
“I know you. I know what you’re thinking. That somehow you should have stopped this. Somehow you should have protected her.”
“I should have.”<
br />
“You couldn’t have. There is nothing you could have done to stop that kid from doing what he did. And you certainly can’t do anything about the fact that the police haven’t caught him.”
He raked his fingers through his hair and clenched his jaw. “How about getting us some menus, Jenna? We came for food, not absolution.”
She stared at him for a moment before pushing herself up. A moment later, she slapped two menus down. “Snap your fingers when you’re ready to order. I’ll come running like a good little waitress.”
“Jenna,” he called, but she marched off. “Brat.”
“What do you think you could have done?” Mallory asked quietly.
“What?”
“The shooting,” she said. “What do you think you could have done to protect Mom?”
“I don’t know.”
She stared into her mug. “Maybe if you’d been in the room with her that asshole would have turned around and walked out. Maybe if you hadn’t scared him, he wouldn’t have pulled the trigger.”
He stared at her, startled that she was throwing his guilt back at him.
“But if you had been there, in the room when he came in, maybe he would have shot you, too. Maybe if you hadn’t walked in, he would have made sure she was dead before he left. You saved her life, Marcus. You were there to call for help. You were with her when she slipped away. You made sure she wasn’t alone.” She blinked her eyes as they filled with tears. “We all know you did the best you could. Mom would tell you that you did the best you could if she knew you were torturing yourself.”
“Do us both a favor and don’t tell her. She doesn’t need worrying about me added to her plate.”
“I won’t. But I’ll worry about you for her. Jenna is right. You look like shit, man. You have got to get some sleep.”
He laughed quietly. “God, you’re so much like your mother.”
“I know. That’s how I know she wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for this. She would hate that you’re blaming yourself.”
He nodded. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I can stop. I was there. And she got hurt anyway. It’s a lot to deal with sometimes.” He pushed himself up before she could respond. “Figure out what you want, Mal. I need to go apologize to my sister so she doesn’t intentionally burn my food.”
Annie blinked several times. She never quite trusted her brain these days, but when the vision of the little girl standing over her hospital bed didn’t fade, she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes a little.
The girl smiled a toothy grin, and Annie smiled back.
“Remember me?”
Annie nodded at Kara’s granddaughter. The little brunette was impossible to forget. She’d walked down the aisle at Paul and Dianna’s wedding, proud as she could be, dropping petals and very nearly stealing the day from the bride.
“Jessica Martinson-Canton,” she said. “It used to just be Martinson, but then my grandparents got married and Daddy wanted his daddy’s name but didn’t want to drop his mommy’s name. Now, when I put my name on my homework, I have to remember both names and a hyphen. It’s so confusing.”
Annie nodded again.
Jessica’s smile fell. “Grandma said you have trouble talking, but she didn’t say you couldn’t talk.”
“I can talk,” Annie said. “Just not very well.”
“Me either. I have Down syndrome.”
“I know.”
“You got shot.”
Annie almost laughed. “I know.”
Jessica touched Annie’s forehead. “Is that where?”
“Yeah.”
“Grandma said you must have really good karma because you should be dead.”
Annie looked around the room. “Are you alone?”
“Grandma is outside. Grandpa is visiting his mom. She slipped on a letter that was on the floor in front of her mail slot and broke her ankle. Grandma said that was karma, too, because his mom stole his mail a long time ago so he didn’t know Grandma had my daddy. You don’t want bad karma.” She shuddered as if she were terrified.
Annie laughed at Jessica’s dramatic summary. Dianna had told her all about how Kara’s mother-in-law had kept Kara’s pregnancy a secret from Harry for almost thirty years.
Annie might get confused about some things, but at least she could remember her life and the lives of those around her. At least she hadn’t been robbed of her memories as well. “Why are you in here?”
“I’m supposed to be sitting in the chair while Grandma talks to Dianna about things they don’t want me to hear. But I did hear. Dianna said you don’t want people to see you. Grandma is worried that you’re depressed.”
“I am depressed.”
“They have medicine for that.”
Annie wasn’t sure if she succeeded or not, but she tried to lift her brows in surprise.
“I know all about this stuff because I spent so much time as a kid in the hospital.”
“And how old are you now?”
“I’m in fourth grade.”
“Oh.”
“You shouldn’t be upset that people don’t understand you. Sometimes people don’t understand me either. Grandma says I have to be patient because they just aren’t used to me. When they don’t understand me, I just take a breath and slow down.” She demonstrated by inhaling slowly and hesitating between each word. “I talk slower and try to say each word so they can hear.” She shrugged and returned to her normal pace, which was about five miles a minute. “It can be a pain sometimes, but once they get used to me, they understand. They’ll understand you, too. So don’t be sad. Or mad. Or think they’re stupid. Grandma gets mad when I say people are stupid for not wanting to talk to me, but she thinks the same thing. She just doesn’t say it because she’s trying to be a good influence on me. Daddy lectures her when she says bad things. He says he’s raising me better than that and he needs her to work with him since she’s the closest thing to a mother figure I have.” Jessica leaned on the bed and looked at Annie curiously. “Do you have a mom?”
“No.”
“Me either. Mine left because I’m not normal. Dad says it’s because she was scared. But I know better. If I’d been normal she would have stayed.”
Annie stared at her for a moment, her heart aching for the kid. “No, she wouldn’t have, Jessica. My daughter’s perfectly healthy and her dad left. It wasn’t because of her. And your mom didn’t leave because of you. Your dad is right. Brave people don’t leave.”
“Dad thinks I’m brave because I don’t let people make me feel bad about myself. I think if they don’t like me because I have Down, then I don’t like them either because they are mean. Is your family mean?”
“No.”
“Then why don’t you want to see them? Is it because you’re embarrassed? Because I get embarrassed sometimes. It’s hard not being like everyone else.”
Annie nodded and swallowed hard. Damn it. She was not going to cry in front of a fourth grader.
“I have to have help sometimes. I can’t always do things that other kids can do. It used to make me mad.”
“Not anymore?”
She shrugged. “I can still do other stuff. My grandma taught me to paint. I’m the best artist in fourth grade. And that’s no lie. I’ll make you something. Do you like rainbows? Rainbows are my favorite. They make anything prettier. Whenever I get upset, I draw a rainbow and it makes me better.”
Annie and Jessica looked at the door when it opened.
A moment later Kara poked her head in. “Oh, Annie, I’m sorry. She wasn’t supposed to wake you.”
“She didn’t.”
“She woke up and we had a nice chat,” Jessica said as Kara and Dianna walked in. “Well, I had a nice chat. She isn’t much of a talker.”
Annie laughed quietly, but Kara and Dianna looked concerned. “Stop. That look is the reason I didn’t want to see you.”
“We don’t like to be treated differently,” Jessica said, sounding defensive. “It h
urts our feelings.”
Annie looked at her, wondering how the kid had gotten so damned wise. But then she realized she’d been dealing with this kid-glove treatment her entire life. Annie couldn’t imagine how frustrating that had to be, even for a kid.
Kara moved to the foot of the bed. “It’s good to see you, Annie. How are you feeling?”
“Incompetent.”
She smiled. “It’ll get better. I promise. Come on, Jess. Grandpa’s ready to go home.”
Jessica looked at Annie. “Remember. Deep breath. Talk slow. And when you get mad, draw a rainbow.”
“I’ll remember. Thanks, Jessica.”
She trotted off, grabbed Kara’s hand, and started her nonstop chatter again as they left the room.
Dianna waited until the door closed before facing Annie. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.” She drew a breath and talked slowly. “I just got schooled on life by a fourth grader.”
Dianna smiled. “She’s a cool kid.”
“Talkative.”
“Oh, yes, she is that. But she’s ten, so that’s a given.”
“I remember. Mal talked all the time.” Annie tried to contain it, but her freaking emotions bubbled up and tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult. I just don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, Annie, I know.” She sat in the chair next to the bed and took Annie’s hand. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“I’m so scared, Di. I don’t know how to not be in control.”
“I know,” she whispered. “This is a scary time for all of us. You just have to know that we’re here. We’re all right here with you, and we’re just as scared and just as frustrated as you are. You can’t shut us out. We need you as much as you need us. We’re family. And we’re going through this together. Don’t turn away from us.”
“What am I going to do? How am I supposed to go through the rest of my life like this?”
Dianna snagged a tissue from the box on the table and wiped Annie’s cheeks. “Let’s not worry about the rest of your life today, okay? Let’s worry about right now. Let’s worry about the first step. And then we’ll worry about the second step. And the step after that.”
