by Melissa Good
Cynthia was about to continue when a stir at the door made them both look up. Dar entered, her tall body filling the doorway with its vibrant presence. Her pale eyes flicked around the room then settled on Kerry’s face, a faint smile twitching at her lips as their gazes met.
Kerry smiled back and heard her mother sigh. Angie moved over, and Dar dropped into the seat next to Kerry, and offered up a brown and white carton and a banana.
“Thanks.” Kerry stuck the banana between her knees, opened her milk, and took a sip. It was thick and sweet, and she took a few mouthfuls before she swallowed the tablets Dar handed her.
Dar leaned back and draped an arm over Kerry’s shoulders, letting her other arm rest against her stomach. She could tell she’d walked in on some kind of discussion; the furtive glances and general air of discomfort were boringly familiar to her, usually duplicated whenever she entered the restroom at the office when it was already occupied.
Though, that hasn’t happened that much lately, Dar admitted.
Apparently, settling down and gaining a steady partner had elim-inated her from most of the racier personal gossip, and everyone still seemed a little embarrassed over the last false rumor about 78 Melissa Good Kerry and Andrew. She didn’t think she’d be getting any invita-tions to Tupperware parties any time soon, though.
That is, if Alastair forgives me for this one, Dar reflected quietly.
For putting my personal life before the company’s well being for the first time. He’d been very angry; even through the slightly raspy connection and the distance between them, Dar recognized that.
Angry and disappointed and more than a little frustrated.
But what choice did she have, really, between her honor and Kerry’s well being?
Well, I’m here. Dar firmly put work and the conversation with Alastair out of her mind as something she could no longer do anything about and concentrated on the situation at hand. She shifted her hand a little and gently rubbed the back of Kerry’s neck, which had a knot in it the size of a plum.
“Mmm,” Kerry murmured appreciatively, rocking her head forward to loosen the muscles Dar was working on. The warmth of her touch was almost as effective as the strong massage, and the tension eased out of her body after a few minutes. It was an odd sensation, because part of her knew that doing what she was doing, where she was doing it, was making everyone else uncomfortable.
Is it selfish? Kerry lifted her head and stretched, then eased back as Dar’s long arm curled around her shoulders. Her mother was staring off into the distance, and her aunts were pointedly looking elsewhere. Only Angie seemed unaffected, and as she met her sister’s eyes, Angie gave her a tiny, rueful shake of her head and the barest of winks.
Yes, Kerry decided. It is selfish of me. Everyone was hurting.
She was making it worse. She’d always been taught to deny herself for the comfort of others, and this was a prime example of the opportunity to do just that. Right. Now she just had to clue in her other half.
Kerry glanced at Dar, who was gazing down at the chocolate milk in her other hand. Dar’s profile was tense, and she could see the shift of the muscles along Dar’s jawline as she clenched and relaxed it. Dar was as uncomfortable as her family was, being there in a place where almost everyone hated her, and involved in a highly emotional situation she had little experience and less skill in dealing with.
Hm. My lifelong flowchart, Kerry realized, has gained a branch.
Sacrificing my comfort for others is fine—unless it hurts Dar. The solicitous attention was Dar’s way of dealing with the situation, focusing her concentration on something she could do something about and gaining some measure of balance from that.
Push Dar away, and it would please her family. Kerry swal-Thicker Than Water 79
lowed as Dar looked up and their eyes met. She saw the tiny fur-row form over the bridge of Dar’s nose, and in pure reflex she reached out and smoothed it away.
Dar relaxed and sat back, holding up her milk with a wry grin. “Open this for me?”
“Sure.” Kerry glanced casually around as she pulled the carton’s top open, then handed it back. Then she peeled her banana, took a bite, and chewed it thoughtfully.
MICHAEL AND BRIAN arrived just after noon. Kerry stood near the window in the waiting room, and she turned as she heard the footsteps. She met her brother’s eyes as he entered, followed by her old friend.
Mike went to her, and she pulled him into a hug. She gave Brian a pensive smile over her brother’s shoulder. “Hey, Mikey.”
“Hey.” Michael sighed, releasing her. “Sucky day.”
“Yeah. Big time.” She gave him a final squeeze, then ducked past him and found herself being hugged by Brian. Michael joined Angie and her mother on the other side of the room. “Hey, Bri,”
she greeted her onetime boyfriend.
“Hi, Kerry,” Brian replied shyly. “Sorry about all this.”
“Me, too.”
They parted. Kerry tipped her head back and they regarded each other for a moment. If things had been different, she realized, they’d have been married by now. She tried to imagine that, and found she really just couldn’t—it was too remote from who she was now. Though she felt an echo of warm affection when she looked at Brian, she knew she’d never loved him enough to spend her life with him. She wondered if he felt the same way.
“How are you?” She took his hands. “Angie said you got promoted?”
A brief smile flickered over his face. “They made me a junior partner, yeah. Not too bad for less than a year, but nothing like your career’s been.”
“Mm.” Kerry smiled back. “Thanks for coming down here. I know it’s a zoo downstairs.” She exhaled, glancing behind him to see her uncles reenter the room. “Not that it’s been much better here.”
“Yeah, Mike was telling me.” Brian gently rubbed her hands.
“It’s good to see you, though. You look great.” His eyes twinkled slightly. “I’ll have to come down to Miami sometime to see where you get that tan from.”
“Anytime,” Kerry said. “Plenty of sun to go around, I promise you.”
80 Melissa Good
“Kerrison.”
Kerry glanced at where her mother was now standing, with Angie and Mike next to her. Kerry gave Brian’s hands one last squeeze, then released them and straightened her shoulders before she started towards her family. Her eyes flicked to the far corner of the room where Dar was leaning against the window and gazing out at the snow. After a brief instant, Dar turned and met her gaze, her lips tensing in sympathy. Kerry returned the look, then walked to her mother. “I’m here.”
“Let us go into that area there.” Cynthia indicated a small office tucked inconspicuously in a corner. The doctor was standing there, obviously waiting for them. “It’s time.”
They filed into the room and closed the door behind them, leaving the rest of the assembled family and friends in a somber, chilly silence.
IT WAS GRAY outside. Dar could feel the chill through the thick glass of the window, and she watched in idle bemusement as the snow fell harder onto the parking lot below.
The weather seemed appropriate to the situation, though. Dar glanced down at the television news trucks gathered near the back entrance to the hospital, their lights glowing dimly in the winter gloom. It also matched the atmosphere inside the room, she acknowledged wryly as she glanced up to catch the reflection in the window of what was behind her.
Center of attention, Dar resisted the urge to straighten. She could see Kerry’s aunts and uncles glaring at her back, and the half furtive, half curious looks she was getting from the tall, blond Brian. Her…rival? Dar almost smiled. Kerry had called Brian a good friend, but she hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to him at their first meeting, a brief few minutes at Angie’s bedside after the birth of her infant son.
Brian’s son as well, in fact. Dar wondered if Angela had ever told anyone else about that. Even having only exchanged a nod with Brian,
Dar thought he’d be a better match for Angie than her husband Richard. She looked at her own reflection, seeing the pale light glint off her eyes. Would that change now?
For Kerry’s sake, Dar felt badly about the whole reason they were there. She was honest enough with herself, however, to admit she wasn’t sorry to see the end of Senator Stuart. The man was a bastard who’d made his kids miserable most of their lives, in Dar’s view. And while she wasn’t glad, exactly, that he’d been stricken the way he had been, she also didn’t feel any reason to pity him.
Thicker Than Water 81
Dar sighed and watched the snow covering the cars. She was surprised at just how depressing it appeared.
“Excuse me.”
Dar’s eyes jerked up at the sound and she turned to find Brian standing right behind her. He met her surprised gaze warily, then pursed his lips and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yeah?”
“I…um.” Brian peered at her from under sandy eyebrows.
“We really didn’t get a chance to meet last time.” He stuck a hand out. “I’m Brian Evans.”
“I know.” Dar allowed a half smile as she took his hand and gripped it firmly. “Dar Roberts.”
“Yeah, I know,” Brian replied, returning his hand to his pocket. “Well, I just wanted to say hello.” He seemed at a loss for further conversation.
Dar leaned back against the glass and crossed one ankle over the other. He was fairly good looking, she decided, with an angular face and a gentle demeanor that reminded her just a little of Kerry’s. “I’m glad you came.”
He peered at her. “You are?”
Dar nodded. “Kerry needs all the friends she can get.” She glanced pointedly around him at the rest of her lover’s family, who were glaring at her with venomous intent.
“Ah.” Brian followed her eyes, then exhaled. “Yeah, it’s been tough, or so Angie told me. I guess it’s more important for some people to nurture their hatred.”
“Yeah.” Dar exhaled. “More I see of it, the more I appreciate my parents.” She shook her head a tiny bit. “What a waste of energy.”
Brian gave her a wry smile, then a motion at the door caught his eye and he turned. “Ah.”
Dar looked over his shoulder. In the doorway, stood a tall, very distinguished man with steel gray hair and a clean-shaven face. She glanced at Brian. “Someone you know?”
Brian exhaled. “Charles Durham.” He kept his voice low as the rest of the occupants of the room went to greet the newcomer.
“He’s been a friend of the family for many years.”
“Lawyer?” Dar asked.
“Worse.” Brian hesitated, then apparently made his decision, moved closer to Dar, and folded his arms. “Their very, very conservative pastor.”
“Oh.” Dar sighed, wishing she and Kerry and the unexpectedly nice Brian were three hundred miles away. “Great.”
THE INNER DOOR opened and the family filed out, followed 82 Melissa Good by the doctor, who clasped Cynthia’s shoulders before he walked towards the ICU.
As Dar watched in concern, Kerry straightened her shoulders with an obvious effort, then turned to meet her eyes. The look in them was quiet but resigned as Kerry held out a hand in obvious invitation.
“Excuse me,” Dar murmured as she left her spot by the window and crossed the tile floor to Kerry’s side. She took her hand and clasped it. “You all right?” she whispered.
Kerry nodded, swallowing audibly. “I didn’t think it would be that hard to let him go,” she murmured. “Damn it hurts. Even after everything he did.”
Dar briefly rested her cheek against Kerry’s hair, trading trite words for the comfort of touch. They waited for the rest of the family to join them, everyone blessedly silent for a change, before they proceeded to the ICU.
The pastor joined Cynthia and they spoke quietly, heads bent together. His eyes flicked to Kerry, but Cynthia quickly raised a hand, in an almost impatient gesture. The pastor nodded and patted her shoulder, but couldn’t resist a slight shake of his head.
Kerry didn’t miss any of it, but she remained silent, firmly squeezing Dar’s hand as they stood waiting. Memories of stern lectures from their pastor rang within her, but she hoped with all her heart the old man would focus his energies on her father and leave her alone.
Dar squeezed her hand in return and took a step closer, bringing a welcome sense of security totally at odds with the chill, dis-approving atmosphere in the room, and managing to carry off an air of somber, yet potent intimidation.
Just when the tension was almost unbearable, Cynthia sighed and turned towards the door. “Please, let’s all go now.”
The hallway was quiet, save for the scuffs and squeaks of their shoes as they walked towards the critical care unit. As they entered, a nurse looked up and pressed her lips together in sympathy before she intercepted them.
“We’ve just taken him off the machines. You can stay as long as you want to,” she told them with professional gentleness, and waited for them to move past her before she pulled the privacy curtain around them and left.
Kerry was surprised at how quiet it was. They’d turned off all the alarms and all the pumps—machines stood mutely dark in the corner, save for one single monitor that showed an already irregular heartbeat.
She focused on the still figure in the bed, watching the hesitant breaths with a surreal sense of distance. It was almost like Thicker Than Water 83
this was happening to a stranger. In a way, her mother had been right, she realized. Yesterday she’d said her goodbye, an inner part of her knowing there would be no recovery from this. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the end.
Kerry felt a warm touch on her back and she looked up at Dar, then glanced around the room. Everyone was solemn, leaving their differences outside for a brief time while they gave death its due dignity. Even Dar’s presence was accepted, however grudgingly.
Pastor Charles held Cynthia’s hand, his head bowed in prayer. Kerry pensively studied his profile, remembering long hours spent in Bible study and his uncompromising view of the world and all their places in it.
“Go with God, Roger,” the pastor said softly as he finished his prayer. “Knowing the Lord will watch over your family and keep them safe until you meet again.”
A shiver passed over Kerry, and she grasped the railings of the bed. The reality of the situation came clear as she watched her father’s chest move more slowly, more erratically.
She glanced at the slack face, its half open, glazed eyes staring off into a strange realm none of them could yet see. There was no expression there, no familiarity.
The green line on the monitor rippled, its bumps jerking and hesitating.
Kerry found it hard to breathe herself, and she focused on the railing between her hands, its faintly reflective surface showing a flash of blue green from her sweater. Dar’s hand settled on her shoulder, feeling warm and incredibly real in all that cold silence, and she only just resisted turning and hiding her face against her lover’s chest.
No. She forced her eyes up, forced herself to watch that damn green line as it pulsed, the ridges and valleys becoming more and more indistinct.
If she turned her head, she wondered if she would sense Death’s presence, yet another silent, patient watcher in the room.
It was a creepy feeling, and suddenly Kerry felt afraid. As if sensing that, Dar moved closer, her body a wall of solid warmth behind Kerry, so close she could almost hear Dar’s heartbeat.
Kerry drew in a breath and released it, steadying her nerves.
Then she fixed her eyes on her father, only blinking a few times when the chest jerked, moved, then finally, gently, fell for the last time. It was accompanied by a soft, almost inaudible gasp.
The green line rippled, and went still. There was no alarm, no rush of nurses, just an eerie silence as everyone in the room seemed to hold their breaths.
84 Melissa Good And then it was over. Cynthia drew in a shuddering breath and started t
o cry.
“MS. STUART?”
Kerry looked up at the voice, surprised to find the doctor standing next to her. She was outside the CCU waiting room, taking a moment to settle herself before she went back inside. “Yes?”
“I’m very sorry.” Dr. Bridges put a hand on her shoulder. “If it’s any comfort to you at all, he had no awareness of what was going on.”
Kerry studied his face. “I know. Thank you. I’m glad. He’d have hated being like that.”
The doctor nodded. “So your mother said.” He paused. “Do you have…ah…plans yet, as to…”
Dar returned from her walk down to the water fountain at that moment and joined them. She glanced questioningly at the doctor, then at Kerry, who reached a hand out for her in reflex.
“There’s something being planned, yes,” Kerry said. “The family counsel is arranging things and taking care of the press.”
“Good.” Dr. Bridges exhaled. “Well, you take care, Ms. Stuart. I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more.”
“Thank you,” Kerry replied and watched him walk away. She turned and looked at Dar, feeling suddenly exhausted. “Ugh.”
Dar put an arm around her and pulled her into hug.
“C’mere.”
Kerry went willingly and abandoned herself into a dark, warm haven that smelled of wool and Dar and blocked out the reality of the coldly lit hospital corridor. She suspected she was still in shock, because it hadn’t even occurred to her to cry or feel sad, a mixture of regret and relief filled her instead. “You know something?”
“Mm?” Dar murmured very close to her ear.
“Now the hard part starts.”
Dar sighed. “Yeah.” She glanced into the waiting room, where she could see the pastor with his arm around a distraught Mrs. Stuart, next to Angie and Michael. Dealing with all the family now that the immediate crisis was over was shaping up to be a tough ride. “Sorry.”
Kerry exhaled, warming Dar’s skin right through her pullover. “Thank God you’re here,” she whispered. “But I’m sorry I’m putting you through this.”
Dar rested her cheek against Kerry’s hair. “I’m not sorry at all. So don’t you be either, Kerrison.”
