by Ann Gimpel
Yeah. No one to call but me when something breaks.
Letting the Toyota warm up, she shut the hood and went back inside to gather her bag and laptop. She’d probably have downtime at the hospital and could get some work done. Check in with her team. See how the dig was progressing.
Guilt pricked her. She was here for Sarah. Not to lose herself in the latest bits excavated from the dig. Her gaze played over her small, neat cottage. A Cape Cod style, it had a wide veranda extending along the front and one side. One story, it had been built in the 1930s when families had more modest expectations about their homes.
A generous living room took up one side of the front of the house. The other half housed a combination kitchen and dining area. In the back were two bedrooms, one of which she’d converted to an office, and a bathroom with an old-fashioned clawfoot tub. She’d added a shower for convenience, but it was about the only modification she’d made. The place had scuffed hardwood floors and bay windows. The overall effect was homey, and she’d fallen in love with the cottage the moment she laid eyes on it ten years before. Even though she could have moved to something larger and fancier, she’d never wanted to.
Her sister owned an even older bungalow about a mile away. Her parents had rented it out after Sarah became too ill to live on her own. One of Sarah’s nursing friends with either one or two kids had been delighted by the arrangement. Affordable rentals within spitting distance of the University District were hard to come by.
Julie hustled out the door before her father called wanting to know if she was all right. So far, her phone had been quiet this morning. She backed the car out and set it in park, so she could shut the garage. Maybe one of these days, she’d spring for an automatic door opener.
“Or not.” Her words made her smile. She’d never been one for modern conveniences. Most of them required repairs eventually. Better to make do with the tried and true.
She backed the SUV onto her quiet street and headed toward the northernmost of two bridges spanning Lake Washington. Traffic, an almost twenty-four-hour phenomenon around Seattle, snarled to a standstill as she waited for an opportunity to merge onto the freeway. The sun had been poking through when she got up, but it had retreated, leaving nothing but gunmetal-colored clouds floating overhead.
“At least it’s not raining,” she mumbled and searched for a news station to listen to.
Ninety minutes later, she pulled into one of Overlake’s visitor parking lots. Because she lived and worked west of Lake Washington, she didn’t fully appreciate how hideous the bridge traffic had grown. Julie took a few deep breaths to steady herself. She was out of practice, had lost her competitive edge during the months she’d barely driven at all in Egypt. Today’s journey had given her more than a few, “Aw crap, he’s going to hit me,” moments.
She pushed her door open and grabbed her shoulder and computer bags off the passenger seat. Overlake Hospital loomed above and around her. It was an enormous, sprawling facility, and she was on the other side from where she’d been last night.
Julie strode toward the nearest place she saw a green entrance sign. Once inside, she studied a map complete with a “You are Here” arrow. When moments ticked past, she understood she was dragging her feet.
Why wasn’t she scurrying to her sister’s bedside as fast as she could? Was it because now that Sarah’s death wasn’t imminent, Julie had feelings to sort through?
She and Sarah had put that awkward, horrible night behind them. At least, on the surface. Sarah had sort of apologized and chalked it off to Brice’s overactive libido and too much wine. Juliana needed to believe her because, if she didn’t, the only other option was jettisoning her twin and hating her forever.
She’d be damned if she’d do that. Sarah’s health had been far more robust, but even then Julie suspected her sister probably wouldn’t make thirty. She resituated the strap from her computer so it didn’t cut into her shoulder as deeply. Treatments for cystic fibrosis had improved over the years of her sister’s illness. So much so, she’d lived longer than any of them anticipated.
Insight rocked Julie, and she moved back through the door, needing fresh air. She’d buried the hatchet with Sarah because she’d figured her sister would be dead soon. How could she live with herself if she let something as minor as a sexual fling stand between her and her twin? She clenched her jaws so hard, she was surprised her teeth didn’t crack.
“Oh yeah,” she muttered, talking out loud to steady herself. “I hated her for what she did. It wasn’t minor. She slept with the man I loved—and ruined everything.”
No. I let it ruin everything.
Julie winced. She’d refused to hear Brice out. Afraid if she did, she’d be forced to choose him over her sister. Her terminally ill sister, who was still alive fifteen years later. She quickened her pace. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so Draconian, but she’d only been twenty. At twenty she knew less than nothing except her heart was broken.
She ducked into a covered alcove lined with benches. Ashtrays suggested this was one of the sheltered outdoor smoking areas. She didn’t smoke, but she sat anyway, stacked her bag and computer case on her lap and wound her fingers together on top of them.
Her knuckles turned white from the pressure, but she had to get hold of herself. Christ! She needed therapy. Should have gone years ago. Julie felt small and petty and mean-spirited, but she’d been waiting for Sarah to die for years. As if her death would be fitting punishment for stealing Brice.
“What’s wrong with me?” She untangled her fingers and buried her face in her hands. “Sarah dying won’t bring Brice back. All it will do is leave me with a piss pot of guilt for not loving her enough.”
Looking back on the incident through thirty-five-year-old eyes, she understood a whole lot more than she did when it happened. Sarah had a hell of a time attracting men once they found out about her CF. Even sleeping with them wasn’t enough incentive for them to stick around. She must have been envious of Julie and Brice, wanted some of their love for herself...
She and her twin had gone their separate ways as soon as they graduated, Julie starting graduate school and Sarah med school. It had been a relief to not be roommates anymore, to not have to pretend she wasn’t hurt and angry. They’d still gotten together for dinner and movies and idle girl-chat from time to time. Sarah always seemed glad to see her, and Julie had risen to the occasion. After the first few years, she didn’t have to fake it as much.
The door next to the smoking area swooshed open, and a nurse slid through. She tugged a cigarette and matches out of a pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply. Blonde hair going gray was tucked under a surgical cap. “Horrible habit.” She offered a sheepish smile. “I’m down to maybe four a day, but I can’t get below it.”
Juliana nodded, grateful to have something else to focus on. “You’ll get there. Be patient with yourself.”
“Did you ever smoke?”
Julie shook her head. “No, but it has to be like any other addiction.”
Her phone rang, and she dug for it and glanced at the caller ID. Her father. She was surprised he’d waited this long. She tapped the display and held the phone to her ear. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, princess. Where are you?”
“I’m here. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right there.”
“Excellent. I told your mother you had to be close. Meet you in Sarah’s room.”
The connection clicked off before she said goodbye, but her father rarely bothered with any extra words.
The nurse narrowed blue-green eyes her way. “You’re not a smoker, but you’re sitting here and not inside with whoever’s waiting for you. Everything all right?”
Juliana started to reassure the nurse all was well, but the words refused to come. What emerged was, “No. I’m not okay, and I don’t think I ever will be again.” Before the nurse could dig further, Julie bolted to her feet and fled into the hospital, hooking her bags over one shoulder as she went.
&nbs
p; Being honest with a stranger was a start. Being honest with herself—finally—was a relief except it left her with a whole lot of crap she had no idea how to handle. She couldn’t confide in her parents. She had no close friends, only lots of acquaintances and bunches of associates in her field. When the rubber met the road, she didn’t know a single soul she was willing to bare her secrets to. Not secrets like these that made her look like a petty, vindictive bitch.
What kind of sick, sad loser held a grudge against a dying woman?
She hurried to a bank of elevators and found her way to the ICU. A different nurse presided today, a young, African American with a no-nonsense demeanor. She handed Julie the requisite mask, gloves, and gown and told her she had to leave her personal items outside Sarah’s cubicle.
Her parents were already inside, standing next to Sarah’s bed. Julie inhaled sharply and tossed her shoulders back. She pasted a smile on her face and hoped to hell no one looked at her too closely.
The nurse slid the door back, and Julie walked through. “Hi there, sunshine,” she quipped. “Sorry I’m late. Jet lag’s a real bitch.”
Her mother and father turned as a unit. “Happy you’re here.” Chris’s eyes crinkled at the corners, so she assumed he had to be smiling beneath his mask.
“You look better than you did last night,” her mother announced.
“Thanks.” Julie didn’t bother adding she didn’t see how she could possibly look like anything other than a fallen angel with a tarnished soul.
She edged closer, so she could see her sister. Sarah nodded. “Hi, Sis. Sorry to be such a drag.” Her voice was much clearer than it had been yesterday afternoon. So was her breathing.
Julie caught her hand and held on tight. “You are not a drag. I’m happy you’re pulling through this last crisis.”
An odd look fluttered across Sarah’s gaunt features. “I suppose I am too,” she said.
“Why, honey. Of course, you’re delighted you’re getting stronger.” Ariel grasped her daughter’s other hand.
“Yes, Mom. Of course, you’re right.” The pinched look left Sarah’s face, replaced by a faint smile. “How’s your house?” she asked Julie. “Still in one piece?”
“More or less. A couple of dead rats and a battle with the furnace, but nothing I couldn’t manage.” She neglected to mention she’d given up and used electric space heaters last night.
They chatted for maybe ten more minutes before the nurse tapped on the glass and motioned for them to wrap things up.
“We’ll be back as soon as they’ll let us,” Ariel said.
“Yes,” Chris seconded. “That nice nurse said we could have one more visit around suppertime.”
Sarah’s eyes were closing as they left her bedside.
“Sorry to interrupt”—the nurse trained liquid dark eyes on them—“but Sarah needs sleep more than almost anything right now. She’s not fighting for every breath, so rest will help her heal.”
Julie removed her mask and gloves and gown and followed her folks out of the ICU.
“We thought we’d grab something in the cafeteria,” her father said.
“Feel like joining us?” Ariel cocked her head to one side.
Julie thought about it, but her stomach was twisted into a knot and making small talk with her parents, who’d see through to her inner turmoil quick enough, wasn’t a good idea.
She waggled her computer their way. “I ate before I left home,” she told them brightly. “Brought work with me. I’ll be in that lounge at the far end of the hall.”
“Sure we can’t bring you something?” her father persisted.
“No, Dad,” she called over one shoulder. “I’m good for now.”
She waited for her parents to charge after her and insist she join them, but they didn’t. Chris and Ariel Wray had always been a closed system. So long as they had each other, anyone else just got in the way. They’d altered their parameters to accommodate their growing twins, but Julie had known from childhood her parents only needed each other.
It wasn’t that they didn’t love her and Sarah. They did, but they’d found something special in each other. Something that didn’t come along every day. She wanted what her parents had, but she may as well wish for the moon delivered on a platter.
She smothered a disgusted snort. No one found love hiding out in a tent at dig sites or barricaded into their office at the university. She hadn’t even gone on a date in maybe three years. Or it might be four. She’d lost count. If there was a way to appear enticing to men, she’d stopped trying a long time ago, and the thought of picking up that banner now made her tired.
Because she wanted to look convincing, she made her way to the lounge and set up her laptop in one corner along with a 4G hotspot. At least she could sort through her emails. They had to be piling up.
Julie booted up and stared at the Microsoft logo flaring across her screen. She was still staring as her desktop came into view. Instead of her various apps and programs, all she saw was Brice and Sarah.
Today was her day for insights into both herself and her twin. Sarah was tired of living. She’d almost been brave enough to admit it today but hadn’t quite made it. Julie tried to put herself in her sister’s shoes. Teetering on the edge of death—forever—had to take quite a toll. Maybe Sarah was disappointed she was still here because it meant she had to put on a brave, pretend face and keep going when it was the last thing she felt like doing.
Julie blew out a tight breath. She’d try to find a private moment with her sister. Tell her however she was feeling was okay. Julie wouldn’t try to humor her or talk her out of it. Depending on how that went, she might have a heart to heart about that night with Brice. Clear the air after all these years.
She closed her teeth over her lower lip. Not a good idea. Sarah wasn’t strong enough. Julie wanted to ease her own conscience, but she should have done that a long time ago.
Clicking apps, she brought up Word and wrote
Psychology is a crappy, non-scientific discipline that never helped anyone.
The words made her smile—and lightened her mood—but she still wondered if she should hunt down a therapist. She had to talk to somebody. If she went another fifteen years with all this hate and misery and anger bottled up inside, she’d be beyond salvage.
“Hell, maybe I already am,” she muttered and clicked the mail icon determined to get something useful accomplished.
Chapter Six
Brice was on his way to the pediatrics wing to look in on the small Davidson boy when his cell vibrated. He pulled it to eye level, surprised and pleased to see his mother’s number. Ducking into a side hall, he tapped accept and said, “Hello, Mom. What a lovely treat.”
Susan McKinnon’s smooth alto voice shook with laughter. “You always were a charmer, my boy. How are you? Is this a good time to talk?”
“I’m good.” Brice lied through his teeth, but Susan was too far away to nail him with her penetrating dark eyes. “And now is as good a time as any.”
“I know this is sudden, but how would you feel about some company over Christmas? We’d arrive on either the twenty-fourth or twenty-fifth and stay for a few days.”
“We?” Brice was confused. “Um sure, Mom. Always happy to see you.” He waited for her to clarify what she’d meant by the plural pronoun.
“Great. Thanks, son. Now for the we part. I didn’t mention this because I was waiting to see how it developed, but I met someone.”
“That’s wonderful.” Brice grinned into the phone. “I’m happy for you.”
“Wait. I’m not done.”
“I’ll try to refrain from interrupting.” He leaned against the wall, still holding the phone close to his ear. Whatever his mother had to say, he wanted to make sure not to miss any of it.
“Around this time last year, a new boy entered my tenth-grade math class. His father had just transferred in as one of our base surgeons. The boy had some troubles. His mother died from cancer just before th
ey moved, and he was angry, alienated.” Susan paused long enough to blow out an audible breath.
“I understood exactly how he felt because of how we lost your father. Anyway, we grew close, the boy and me. One day, he invited me home to meet his father. I’m still not sure quite how it happened, but we’ll be getting married in the spring.” Her words were lined with joy.
“Oh, Mom. I’m truly happy for you, and I’d love to meet your fiancé. And his son. What are their names?”
Susan laughed. “I was so excited to tell you—and a little bit scared too—I guess I left that out. My boyfriend’s name is Trevor Wilder, and his son is Rob. Trev is two years younger than me,” his mother went on, “but I’m thinking it’s not important.”
“No. It’s not. Hell, if the age difference were reversed, you wouldn’t give it a second thought. Wasn’t Dad like four years older than you?”
“Five.”
“Plan on staying with me,” Brice said. “I have a huge, mostly empty house and a wonderful housekeeper. I’ve told you about Lupe. She’ll be delighted to have guests to fuss over.”
“If you’re sure it’s not any trouble...”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll even try to get a day or two off from work. We can catch a ferry out to the islands.”
“Thanks, Brice. You’ll really like Rob. He reminds me a lot of you at that age.”
“I’m sure I’ll like them both. See you soon, Mom.”
“Looking forward to it.” She ended their connection
Brice stared at his phone, dumbstruck and absorbing the impossible. His mother. With a new husband. And a new son.
“Good for her,” he mumbled. His mother was a stellar woman. She deserved to be happy.
What about me?
The question was rhetorical. He deserved to be happy too. Everyone did, but he had a hard time coming to terms with being happy in a world that didn’t include Juliana.