by Rebeca Seitz
Meg wiped her hands on a dish towel and retraced her steps to the phone. Picking up the receiver, she dialed Jamison’s cell.
“Jamison Fawcett.”
“Hi, honey.”
“Hey, you. What’s up?”
“Nothing much. I was just cleaning up here and thought I hadn’t said I love you lately, so I decided to call.”
“Well, I’ll take that kind of call any day. You okay?”
“Yeah, just worried about Kendra. You know how she can get.” Tootsie came trotting into the room and stopped by Meg’s foot. She obliged with a quick toe rub.
“I do, and I also know how much you let her stupid choices get to you. You’ve got to let her grow up, Meg. All you sisters do.”
“I know, I know. She’s not my child. But I’m almost sure she’s seeing that man Joy spotted the other day.”
“You asked her; she said no. What else can you do? Let it go for now.”
Meg stopped rubbing the terrier, and Tootsie walked away in search of more love. “I know you’re right. It’s so hard, though, to let her do this.”
“Yeah, but you’re going to have to. Listen, I hate to do this, but I’ve got a client coming here in about five minutes.”
“Never mind, we’ll talk about it later. I just called to say I love you.”
“Ah, Stevie Wonder. A legend.”
“You said it. Bye, hon.”
“Bye.”
Meg hung up the phone and leaned against the wall. Let it go, he says. Huh. Can’t think of one good song that tells me to let my baby sister run headlong into a burning building.
* * *
KENDRA CRACKED ONE eye open and looked at the clock. Ugh. Nine in the morning? How did that get here so fast?
She tossed the covers back and slid out of bed. Her feet sank into the carpet as she stumbled to the bathroom. She was standing in front of the mirror, checking out her sorry excuse for a reflection, when she realized how nine had come so quickly. It tended to do that when you didn’t get in bed until 3:00 a.m.
Images of Darin’s laughing face collided with those of Harrison’s sparkling eyes, and Kendra groaned. Reaching over, she pulled back the shower curtain and turned the faucet handle. Maybe a long, hot shower would clear her mind.
Fifteen minutes later her brain had regrouped the images into their respective folders in her brain, but the heart seemed to be having difficulties. Kendra stepped out of the shower, inhaling the cloud of steam that billowed around her. Wrapping a thick, white towel around her frame, she glared into the mirror and dared it to give her back the previous image.
The mirror obliged with a cleaner, shinier version of a woman who still didn’t have her act together. Kendra grinned at herself, pulling the plastic cap from her head. “Woman, you are a mess.”
She reached for the toothbrush as Miss Kitty came strutting into the bathroom.
“Morning, Miss Thang. How are you this fine day?”
The fluffy white cat meowed its breakfast appeal, then sauntered back out of the bathroom.
“Huh. I’ll get to you in a second,” Kendra turned back to the mirror, “just as soon as I get my face put on. I’d hate for somebody to see this mug without some cosmetic assistance.”
As she worked, turning this way and that to ensure the makeup had gone on smoothly, she forced thoughts of Harrison away. Darin didn’t deserve a conniving woman. And if that meant she wouldn’t talk to Harrison anymore, then fine. Darin really cared about her. Really, really cared about her. He listened when she told stupid stories from childhood, and he didn’t care about Sylvia, whatever he knew of her. Clay had probably told him whatever Tandy told him. That meant Darin knew enough of her childhood to know it was bad.
And yet he still called. He still picked her up and took her dancing so that all of Stars Hill could see. He treated her like a real person with feelings and dreams, and he didn’t make fun of either whenever she dared to share them.
And things were over with Harrison. He hadn’t been amused that, after two hours of waiting for her last night, she showed up only to tell him they had to end things. This time for good.
She put the finishing touches on her makeup and sailed out of the bathroom. A quick perusal of her closet reminded her it was time to do laundry. Oh, well. There were no plans to leave home today anyway. Just a lazy Saturday at home, working on Tandy’s painting and finishing up some articles whose deadlines were looming.
No Darin.
No Harrison.
Just her and Miss Kitty.
Sounded boring.
Boring but safe.
And a waste of the very expensive makeup she’d just applied.
She pulled on paint-stained shorts and a T-shirt and headed down the hall to the kitchen. Passing the second bedroom that served as a study, she decided to stop in and check her e-mail.
She waited through the start-up routine, then clicked on the Outlook icon. E-mails poured into her in-box, most of them the usual offers for Viagra and money from Nigeria. She deleted them even as more poured in, trying to keep up with the onslaught of spam. She almost missed Harrison’s name and deleted the e-mail. That might not have been a bad thing.
“About last night” the subject line read. Kendra looked at it for a second, grateful she had turned off the function that let her see the content of e-mails without double-clicking on them. She should delete this e-mail before reading it. No good purpose would be served if she did anything but.
Her treacherous hands, formed in Sylvia’s womb, double-clicked the mouse.
Hi, doll. I’m writing this in the hope that you won’t delete it before you even read it. I don’t know what happened last night, but my hope is that you feel differently in the light of day and won’t end things with us. I know it’s a hard situation, and I’m not saying I have any answers. I only know that the future of my days seems unbearably dark without the hope of seeing you again. I’m a horrible man for even typing that, but it’s the truth. Take some time if you need it, but call me when you want, and I’ll be here.
Miss Kitty came to the study door and gave a plaintive meow. Kendra blinked and stood up, deleting the e-mail before she could read it again.
“Poor baby,” Kendra cooed. “Is your momma starving you this morning?” She followed the cat to the kitchen and retrieved a can of cat food. “We should call somebody about that. The ASPCA would swoop in here in an instant and rescue you, I’m sure.”
Kendra scooped cat food into a bowl ringed with small white paw prints. Now for her own breakfast. There was nothing convenient in the fridge.
A trip to the grocery store wouldn’t take long. She’d have plenty of time to work on the painting and write her article even with a little trip to E. W. James.
Thinking like that is why you don’t have a good start on that painting yet.
She rummaged around in the refrigerator, pushing aside old Chinese takeout cartons and Ziploc bags with chemistry experiments growing inside. Ah! There in the back sat breakfast. Kendra retrieved the small carton of half a dozen eggs.
Miss Kitty purred her approval of the morning meal as Kendra poured olive oil into a skillet, then turned the burner on. Blue gas flames transferred their heat to the cooking pan as Kendra cracked eggs into a bowl.
Grabbing a mini whisk, she whipped the eggs into a froth.
“Hmm, we need something green, Miss Kitty.” Something green with every meal. The mantra had kept Kendra consistently healthy over the years, despite the occasional attack by a Krispy Kreme or Joy’s cooking. Spying a green pepper in the crisper drawer, she pulled it out and chopped it into pieces.
The bit she dropped into the skillet sizzled, and Kendra—satisfied that the oil was hot enough—picked up the bowl of mixed eggs and poured it in.
She hummed a tune from Heartland as she stirred the eggs, oil, and pepper with a wooden spoon. She left it cooking and snagged a couple pieces of bread from the bag on the counter, then dropped them into the toaster.
&nbs
p; Stirring the eggs some more, she continued to hum her tune.
Miss Kitty sat up, licked her lips, and went to twine her gratitude about her owner’s legs.
At precisely the moment Kendra turned to grab the butter.
This sent Kendra crashing to the kitchen floor, eggs and green pepper raining down like brimstone.
It took a second to register the searing heat on her thigh. She looked down, almost in a daze, and noted the egg burning her skin, the edge of a hot skillet resting on her leg, searing olive oil coating her flesh.
The moment her mind accepted the reality of the moment, she jerked away.
Screamed in pain.
Swiped at the oil and tried to stand up.
Her brain was too consumed by the torture of heat to make the injured leg work. She crumpled back to the floor. She shook her head. Miss Kitty crouched on top of the table, her cry loud. The cordless phone! Beside the cat.
Kendra lunged for it.
It clattered to the floor, and Kendra fought to ignore the agony engulfing her thigh. The oil slid to the back of her leg as she scooted, pushing the hot oil into her pores. Oh, God, help. A foot closer to the phone, she grabbed for it.
Her hand closed around the instrument. She got 911 dialed—please, God, let me have hit the right buttons—and again tried to stand. She was going to make it this time. Her muscles were working.
But a few degrees from vertical, Kendra’s foot slipped on the grease and she went down again, her head hitting the corner of the table …
And the world went to black.
* * *
MEG PUT AWAY the last dish and turned to survey her now spotless kitchen. She had just decided the bathrooms would be next when the phone rang.
“Fawcett residence.”
“Meg, it’s Tandy. Is Jamison working today?”
“Yeah, he’s behind. Can you believe that? Tax season is almost a year away, and the man’s already behind again. It’s just us chickens around here. Why? What’s up?”
“So you’re home alone?”
“The kids are here. What’s going on? You sound funny.” A frisson of alarm rang through her.
“I need you to be calm, okay? No one is dead, and she’ll recover from this.”
Meg’s morning waffles settled into her stomach like lead. “Who will recover?”
“Ken had an accident. She was making eggs and she tripped. The pan fell on her, and she’s burned. We’re on our way to Vanderbilt.”
The waffles reversed course and tried to fight their way back up and out her throat. She swallowed hard. “What? Eggs?”
“I can’t get into details while going a hundred miles an hour down the highway. She’s going to be fine. They’re taking her to Vanderbilt.”
“Does Joy know?”
“No, and neither does Daddy. I need you to call them and get up here.”
Meg snapped into mom mode. Her mind cleared and began making a list of what to accomplish. “Okay, I’ll take care of it. We’ll be there. Call me as soon as you get stopped.”
“Will do.”
Meg heard the click and reset her phone. As she punched the buttons to reach Joy, she couldn’t help thinking, Wasn’t she just saying that life was precious?
Eleven
Tandy flew into the emergency room parking lot of Vanderbilt Medical Center in Nashville. Her seat belt was off before the car settled into park. Two steps away from the car, she remembered her wallet and turned back for it. They would need an ID to get into Kendra’s room.
She raced across the parking lot, the hot sunshine mocking her with its bright intensity. People didn’t end up in the ER on a beautiful day like today. It never happened this way in books and movies.
Great, I’m getting hysterical. I’m expecting the weather to tell me when life’s about to take a turn for the worse. She burst through the sliding double doors and stopped long enough to spot the nurse’s station. Slow day in the ER. Five people sat in waiting chairs. None of them looked emergent to her.
“Hi, I’m Tandy Sinclair. My sister was just flown here from Stars Hill. Kendra Sinclair?”
“One moment, please.” The nurse moved like molasses in January. What was her problem? She tapped computer keys and acted like this was just another task to be completed and not like Tandy’s world had just spun off its axis. Tandy considered strangling her, but she didn’t know the hospital’s computer system, and there was no one else behind the desk to find her sister if she rendered this woman unconscious.
“Could you hurry, please? I’m sure she’s scared and—
“One moment, please.”
Tandy stared in shock. Strangulation was fast becoming a distinct possibility. She tapped the desk and bit the inside of her jaw. The bitter taste of blood touched her tongue.
“She’s in ICU. In the burn unit.” The nurse’s monotone gave no hint if that was good or bad. She looked over black-rimmed bifocals. “Are you a family member?”
“Oh, yes,” Tandy fumbled with her wallet. “I’m her sister.” Hadn’t she said that already? Her driver’s license stuck behind its plastic backing. “Here.” Tandy threw the wallet down on the desk. “There’s my license.”
The nurse picked up the wallet, eyed the license, then kept Tandy waiting for another eternity.
“Hmm.” She placed the wallet on the raised counter in front of Tandy. “Eleventh floor south. Follow the hallway until you see a bank of elevators on your right, then go to the eleventh floor, and turn right. Nurses’ station is right there.”
“Thank you!”
Tandy raced down the hallway. No use trying to get further information from Nurse No-Help. She prayed the ICU nurses would be better.
Her cell rang as she waited for the elevator.
“Tandy Sinclair.”
“Tandy?” Daddy’s voice almost broke the thin veneer of control she had on her emotions. “Anything new on our girl?”
“I just got here, Daddy. I’m on my way to find her now. She’s in ICU. The burn unit.”
“Well, that might be a good thing. Good care in that ICU.”
Tandy pushed away memories of Momma lying in a bed in this very hospital, fighting with everything she had to beat a cancer that had spread like kudzu in the Southern rain.
Focus on Kendra. Focus. Focus. Focus.
“I know, Daddy. I’ll call you soon as I get up there.”
“Okay. We’re twenty minutes out.”
“The elevator’s here. I’ll probably lose you.”
“See you soon.”
“Bye, Daddy.”
Tandy slipped her phone back in her pocket and jabbed the eleven on the elevator panel. Whose idea was it to put the slowest elevators in the universe in a hospital? How could this be happening? They were together just a few hours ago, planning her wedding and joking with each other about fuchsia bridesmaid dresses.
Antiseptic air wafted into the elevator as the door swished open. Tandy pushed away the memories of death that the smell conjured up and hurried to the nurses’ station. Not everyone who enters a hospital dies.
A youngish nurse with jet-black hair pulled back into a bun sat at the desk. The name tag on her carnation-pink top read “Naomi.”
“I’m Tandy Sinclair. I believe you have my sister Kendra here.” The calm voice shocked her. Had that been hers? She looked over her shoulder. Yep, hers.
“Yes, Miss Sinclair. She’s in room 1108.”
Wow. Naomi hadn’t even checked the computer before knowing the room number. Because Kendra’s case merited special attention? Was it that bad? “Can I ask, why is she in ICU?”
“Most burn victims end up in ICU. Kendra’s here specifically because she had an allergic reaction to the morphine they gave her in the ER. She’ll recover completely, but she’s up here at least until they remove her tube and can determine surgical course of action for the burns.”
“Surgery? She needs surgery?”
Naomi stood and came around the desk. Placing one arm behi
nd Tandy, she put small hands on either of Tandy’s elbows and steered her gently down the hallway. “I’ll get Dr. Phillips to come explain things for you. Right now, know that your sister is hurt, but she will make a full recovery with time.”
They paused outside a door, and Tandy saw 1108 on the panel to its right.
Naomi continued. “The allergic reaction necessitated that we put a breathing tube in the patient’s throat. Do not be alarmed. She can breathe on her own; the tube is just helping her until the swelling in her throat from the allergic reaction subsides.”
Tandy scrambled for composure. Her stoicism slipped like bald tires on black ice. Kendra with a tube down her throat? It couldn’t be possible. How could she boss people around and tell everyone her opinions with a tube down her throat?
Naomi gave a small smile and pushed open the door to Kendra’s room.
Tandy tiptoed in, trying not to recall the dark days of Momma’s stay in this place, of walking with catlike stealth so as not to wake her. The chemotherapy had made Momma feel like a thousand needles pricked her skin, and any noise could sound to her like an avalanche, squeaky tennis shoes like a million crying birds.
The short entry wasn’t lit. Shadows played along the walls. She could see Kendra’s feet beneath a sheet. Tandy would have sworn the shadows were whispering. Suddenly consumed with a need to protect her sister from whatever they planned, she rushed forward.
And stopped short.
Kendra’s dark spiral curls lay against a stark white pillow. Her face, always animated with light and laughter, fell slack. A large round tube came from her mouth, secured to her face with tape that pulled at the skin.
She’s gonna be mad about that when she wakes up. Bet it will hurt to pull off.
The light blanket on top of Kendra rose and fell, reassuring Tandy with its rhythm. Naomi had said Kendra could breathe on her own, right? Why then the tube? Tandy wrinkled her forehead and tapped her temple, struggling to remember the few words the nurse had shared.
But the sight of her loud, boisterous, mile-a-minute sister lying in a hospital bed shut down the logical portion of Tandy’s brain. If there existed something in the world that could render Kendra this silent, this small, then the world wasn’t what Tandy had always believed. It was a much more cruel place. A place full of hidden danger.