by Ann Gimpel
Angus shouldered his duffle, grabbed his bag, and followed her up the brick stairs with Brice bringing up the rear.
Angus had given him a lot to think about. Grist for the proverbial mill. Juliana wasn’t the only Wray woman to chase a man away. Granted, her motives were quite different, but the net result had been the same. The words from her text felt as if they’d been stenciled on his soul.
I’m hoping you can forgive me, so I have a prayer of forgiving myself.
Next time they had a private moment, he’d tell her all was forgiven. It was the least he could do. He might still be angry, and he certainly didn’t trust her, but those weren’t sufficient reasons to withhold forgiveness.
Christ! I sound like a sanctimonious piece of shit.
He waited while Lupe herded Angus to the room she’d made up for him and bid his friend good night.
“Same to you,” Angus replied. “Can’t wait to get my teeth into that five a.m. run.”
“It’ll be cold.”
“Not as cold as Scotland,” Angus countered.
Brice laughed. “Not as damp, either.”
“Few places are.” Angus laughed. “We Scots are a hardy breed. If we weren’t, we’d have died out eons ago.”
Chapter Twelve
“Katie. You have to quit worrying about this.” If Juliana could have reached through cyberspace and shaken her graduate student, she would have.
“Isn’t there some way you could come back here? Not for very long. Just a day or two.”
“I’m pretty sure it won’t be necessary,” she replied, thinking there was no such thing as a “quick trip” to the Nile Delta’s hinterlands.
“But you said you walked out on Smithwick. Who knows what the hell he’ll do?”
“I walked out on him because the only other option was bashing my fist dead center into his sexist face. I really do need to get moving. I’ve been late getting to the hospital the past couple of days.”
“I understand. Truly, I do. Sorry to be so needy, but walk me through why you’re so confident things will work out.”
Julie blew out a tight breath. “Because Smithwick’s first loyalty is to the university. His next is to the archaeology department. Our find is big. Possibly world changing, once we’ve moved those bones and artifacts out of the field and can study them properly. Smithwick may be a pompous ass, but he’s not going to compromise such a monumental discovery by cuing the world in on how much infighting—and outright theft—mars the hallowed halls.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right. Thanks, Dr. Wray. I’ll try not to bother you again.”
“It’s not a bother. If something else happens that I need to know about, by all means get hold of me pronto.”
Katie signed off. Julie stared at her phone through a count of ten. She hoped she was right about her boss, but men like him were old school. It hadn’t yet sunk in that women had rights. Never mind being worthy of those rights because they’d earned them by being more competent—and much harder workers—than their male counterparts.
She threw everything she might need into her car and pulled out of her driveway. Her parents had insisted on sharing a meal with her whenever she got to the hospital. They were clear they didn’t care if it was breakfast or lunch or dinner or some hybrid meal that fell between traditional food consumption times.
Julie closed her teeth over her lower lip. They were worried about her, food her mother’s panacea for everything. If she dug a little deeper, the one they were truly alarmed about was Sarah. It didn’t feel safe to focus on her, so Julie received the brunt of their attention.
Something had definitely changed during Sarah’s last cystic fibrosis flareup. Juliana’s best guess was she’d come face to face with her mortality and fully embraced death since it meant she didn’t have to fight any longer. Though she’d grown visibly stronger each day—even her skin wasn’t quite as transparent—she hadn’t glommed onto the proof she wouldn’t die tomorrow with her usual blend of relief and enthusiasm.
Julie drove on autopilot, her thoughts busy as she viewed her twin from an entirely different angle. Before, Julie had signed on with Team Parent and begged, cajoled, and cheerlead. Whatever it took to get Sarah past the crisis du jour. One huge problem was they’d been doing that for themselves, not for Sarah. None of them could stand the thought of losing her, so they had the doctors pull out all the stops to keep her alive.
It’s what families do.
No. It’s what first-world families with adequate resources do, she argued.
She’d lived in enough third world countries to embrace and appreciate death for the blessing it was. For a brief time, she’d dated another M.D. He’d joked that this was America where death had become optional.
It wasn’t far from the truth.
One thing was certain. She was done playing her usual role. What she’d said to her sister was the party line she’d stick with. She loved her and would support whatever Sarah decided. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t made the round trip to hell more times than Julie could count. Watching her sister fight for every breath while her scarred lungs seized, drowning in thick mucus, had given her a new interpretation of the term courage.
A quick glance outside told her she’d reach Overlake in about ten minutes. For once, traffic was at least moving on the northern Lake Washington bridge. She thought about calling Smithwick, but it would be the wrong thing to do. By now, he’d made up his mind. Assuming he’d told Orestes to back off, she didn’t want to appear to gloat.
What she could do was get hold of her contact at National Geographic. Mike Willis sat near the top of the heap of antiquities photographers. If the field trip to her dig site was still on, he’d tell her.
And then maybe she’d have to fly back to Egypt, after all.
She guided the car into a slot, grabbed her computer and bag, and trotted smartly into the hospital. Over the days she’d been visiting Sarah, she’d figured out the most expeditious routes from Point A to Point B. It was around eleven, so maybe she and her folks could have lunch at the “normal” time. It would please them. Their military backgrounds meant they liked “normal” and “regular.”
She caught a nurse’s eye, and they buzzed her into the ICU. Sarah was alone and smiled when she saw her. Julie held up a hand to indicate she’d be there in a flash and hurriedly donned the requisite gloves, gown, and mask. She’d be delighted when they transferred her sister to a less germ-free environment.
“Hiya!” She moved into Sarah’s glassed-in enclosure.
“Hi, yourself.”
“Where are the folks?”
“They called. Dad had some conference thingie come up. Someone wants to pick his brain about Iraq or Afghanistan.” She rolled her eyes. “He lives for stuff like that.”
“He does indeed.” Julie perched on the foot of the bed facing her twin. “You really are looking a whole lot better.”
Sarah’s smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. “I know, huh? Beyond that, I feel better than I have in the last two or three years. I’d been heading downhill for a longtime, but I was in full denial.”
“Why?”
“Because if I admitted how sick I was, I...” She coughed and tried again. “Okay. No more secrets. Last time I got this sick, I promised myself I wouldn’t go through it again. That I’d...take care of things before I sank into purgatory for like the fortieth time.”
Julie nodded and selected her words carefully. “I’m not questioning your decision or your right to choose the where and how of your death, but what was it about your last bout that made you decide it wasn’t worth it anymore?”
Sarah angled her head to one side. “You really do want to know, don’t you?”
“Yes. I do.”
Sarah pushed her dark hair out of her face. “It wasn’t just one thing, but a whole lot of little ones. Cumulative, I guess.” She extended the fingers of one hand, counting on them. “One. I wasn’t well enough to keep working. Two. I was tired
of the pitying glances people angled my way when they thought I wasn’t looking.”
Sarah hesitated. “And that includes from you and the folks.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It means you care, but, like most of us when we’re confronted with something we can’t control and don’t understand very well, we establish a safe distance.”
Julie started to protest she hadn’t done that, or if she had, she hadn’t meant it that way, but she kept the words inside. Instead, she said, “Go on.”
“Not so much more. I can’t have kids. Not with all the drugs I have to take. I’ve never had a man interested enough to get past the specter of my impending death.” She shrugged. “You’d think with all those movies like Love Story out there, I’d have found someone.”
Julie’s eyes stung with tears, but she blinked them away. This wasn’t about her. Careful of the tubes and wires, she gathered Sarah into her arms. “I’ve always loved you.”
“Not true.” Sarah’s voice was muffled. “You hated me over Brice, but it’s okay because I hated myself.” She pushed out of Julie’s arms. “You have no idea how good it felt to finally clear my conscience on that one.”
“You could have told me anytime.”
“No. I wasn’t brave enough. I’ve had you and Mom and Dad. And a few friends from nursing school. That’s it. My social circle was too limited to risk alienating anyone.”
“I understand. More than you think I do, and you’re right about my temper. I told my department head off just yesterday.”
“You didn’t.” Sarah’s eyes widened.
“Oh yeah. I did. It felt damned good, and it’s one of the plusses of having tenure. The old creep can’t fire me. He could if I burned crosses in lawns or committed criminal offenses, but telling him off will never make the penal code hit parade.”
A look that was part shock, part terror, and part sheer joy washed over Sarah’s face. She was facing the rest of the ICU; Julie’s back was to it. “What?” she asked and turned in time to see Brice and another smocked man—presumably another M.D.—on their way to Sarah’s enclosure.
Sarah had turned on her side. “Tell them I’m tired,” she begged and placed a hand over the side of her face.
Them? Must mean Sarah knew the other man. “Who is he?” Julie asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Sarah moaned. “Make them go away. Sisterly solidarity and all that.”
Uncertain, Juliana got to her feet. She’d just turned, intent on trying to honor her sister’s wishes, when Brice and the other man walked into the enclosure. Brice nodded her way. He might have been smiling, but it was impossible to tell under his mask.
“May I introduce the other Wray sister,” he said. “Angus, this is Juliana. Juliana, meet Dr. Angus MacDuff.”
Automatically, she extended a gloved hand his way. “Nice to meet you, Doctor.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he replied in a thick, Scottish brogue. “Sarah told me she had a twin.”
Aha! Sarah does know him.
Brice motioned to her. “Let’s take a walk, Julie. Give them some time alone.”
A stifled moan rose from Sarah. It galvanized Julie into action. “Uh, she says she’s too tired for visitors. Maybe you could come back later?”
Angus, who’d been focused on Sarah’s prone form, turned to face Julie. His dark eyes blazed with determination. “I traveled all the way from Paris. I most certainly am not about to come back later.”
Moving to the bed with coiled precision and grace, he dropped a hand on Sarah’s arm. “I’m afraid it won’t be quite so simple to give me the slip this time, my dear. I’ve had a lot of years to think about you. Nay, about us.”
“Come on,” Brice urged. Sliding the door to Sarah’s cubicle open, he motioned Juliana through. When she hesitated, he added, “Angus won’t hurt her. Please.”
Reluctantly, Julie left her sister’s side. “Who the hell is he?” she asked Brice once the door to her sister’s room had slid shut.
He removed his mask, gloves, and gown. “Get rid of all that stuff and come outside the unit with me, where we can talk privately.”
Mystified, she complied. Once they were walking down a corridor, she sputtered, “How is it you know something about Sarah that I don’t?”
He turned an infuriating grin her way. It had the same boyish quality that had stolen her heart as a sixteen-year-old. “Is that the worst part?” he inquired archly. “Me knowing something you don’t?”
She ducked down a relatively deserted side corridor, and he followed her. “This should be private enough,” she said. “Now spill.”
“He was one of her professors in medical school. They had an affair.” Brice took a measured breath. “Do you remember the bad time she had at the end of her second year of med school?”
“Of course I do. Question is how do you know about it? You and I had split up something like four years before.”
His cheeks developed a rosy hue, but he held her gaze. “Because I kept tabs on both of you. Your parents and my mom stayed in touch, so I’d hear news from time to time.”
“Mmph. Would have been nice if they’d told me,” she muttered.
“Kind of like they were consorting with the enemy?”
Julie shook her head. “No. They never knew about us. Not much, anyway.”
“Keep telling yourself that, sister. My mom knew, which meant your parents did too.”
Heat rose from the open neck of her T-shirt to the top of her head, but she couldn’t go there. Not with him. She’d confront her humiliation in private. “Sarah. What about Sarah and this Dr. MacDuff?”
Brice shrugged. They were lovers but kept it on the Q.T. since he was her professor. After she nearly died, she told him to go away, to find a woman who could give him children and a full life.”
Julie swallowed hard. Tears were close to the surface—again. All the ones she hadn’t shed for her sister during the years she’d put on a brave face.
Brice was eying her as intently as he probably viewed specimens beneath his microscope. “Juliana?”
“I’m all right. Go on.” Her words didn’t match her expression or her body language, but Brice didn’t point it out. The air between them vibrated with her longing to throw herself into his arms, but she’d lost the right to do that when she refused to listen to him.
“Angus did move on. Tried to, anyway. He married once that I know of, but it didn’t last long. He and I have known one another professionally for over a decade, but we only began working together about five years ago.”
“What does that have to do with my sister?”
“Patience never was one of your long suits,” he observed.
“Touché.” She spun one hand in a come along motion, still fighting an inane desire to throw her arms around him and hang on.
“Angus phoned—well, actually it was Skype, but that’s splitting hairs—quite recently. Told me he was on his way stateside, and he’d be working with me on the next phase of Sarah’s treatment. At the time, I had no idea they had history, but when I picked him up from the airport last night, I asked a lot of questions. We’ve shared plenty of patients, and he never felt the need to be present for any of them.”
“Which means you just found out about him and Sarah too?” Julie arched a brow.
“Yup. It’s exactly what that means.”
“What did he tell you—about Sarah?” Julie pressed for more details.
“That he’d always loved her, and he was going to take his best shot at convincing her to become his wife.”
Julie slumped against a nearby wall, too overcome to speak. When she located her voice again, she said, “But that’s wonderful. Aside from it being incredibly romantic, it might be just the thing to rekindle her interest in living.”
Compassion flared in the depths of Brice’s hazel eyes. “Maybe. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”
“Why not? She’s better. Even I can see that, and she admitted she
feels more energetic than she has in years. Having Angus here now is brilliant. Just the added element to—”
He dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Juliana. You cannot live her life. Stop trying.” Before she had a chance to fire off a snappy rejoinder, he added, “Oh yes, in line with your text, I forgive you. ’Tis the season and all, plus I suppose I forgave you a long time ago, but you weren’t around for me to tell you.”
Her mouth fell open, and she fought for words. Before she came up with anything profound—or anything at all—he spun and started down the side hallway.
“Wait,” she croaked.
“Nothing to wait for.” He stopped long enough to turn back toward her. “Forgiving you does not mean I don’t think what you did was a slap in the face to all the time we had in as a couple. It was, and I don’t trust you as far as I can see you.”
He did go then, leaving her fighting a combination of fury, resignation, and the sad, slow realization she still loved him. If she’d had doubts about the last, they evaporated, blown away like so much pixie dust.
Maybe she should pack up and go back to the dig site. A place people had to work to find her. The more she thought about the idea, the more appeal it held. Sarah was out of the woods. Her parents had everything they needed in each other.
Something Brice said nagged. Her parents. They’d known about her and him, which meant they also knew about Sarah. How many other secrets were they sitting on? She bit back a snort. This was what happened when both your parents had backgrounds in military intelligence, and everything was on a “need to know” basis.
Maybe thinking about them alerted her mother’s parental radar because her phone dinged with its text tone.
The ICU nurse said you’re here somewhere. Meet us in the cafeteria, honey.
Julie re-read the text. Nowhere to hide. Not the ICU with Sarah and the Scottish doctor. Certainly not her car. Besides, she hated lying. At her age, she shouldn’t even be considering it. Blowing out a ragged breath, she texted back.
See you in five minutes.
Her mom replied with a smiley face.