The Test

by Patricia Gussin

  Frank lifted his head to stare at Gina. Then he grabbed the wad of Kleenex that she held out to him and blew his nose. “Look at me. For crying out loud, I can’t face anybody. “I can’t even face my daughter. My little girl doesn’t have a mother.”

  “Think about Meredith,” Dan said again. “Meredith is counting on you when it comes to Elise. You know that, man.”

  Frank said staring ahead into nothingness. “Yes, Meredith adored our little girl.”

  “Then you need to be there for her,” Dan said, amazed that he sounded like a coach. Not like someone who’d fucked up his own life for so many years.

  “Frank, Dan’s right,” Gina said. “Meredith believed in you. Just ask yourself, ‘what would she want me to do?’ Let that guide you.” Gina paused and held Frank’s eyes. “Okay?”

  There was a long silence. Then Frank rose and went to a side table. For a long time, he stared at a watercolor portrait of Meredith and Elise. “I’ll try,” he said, wiping the dwindling tears.

  “Gina and I will be there for you,” Dan vowed. “First, we’ll get through today.”

  Again, Dan thought about his brother. Dad’s favorite. Straight As. Varsity sports. Attorney. Senator. Dan shivered at his newfound ability to console and direct the icon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Rory was too ill to attend Meredith’s burial service. She had no pain, but she had zero energy. She needed IVs for nutrition and fluids. She had a catheter in her bladder. Although she tried to stay awake, she found herself sleeping more and more. And that terrified her. She was afraid that she might slip away before she could say what she had to say to those she loved. Now that Ashley was dead, she’d lost hope of a bone marrow match. She knew she was dying and she needed Chan to help her through it. Her worst fear: that Chan wouldn’t be able to bring himself to talk to her about this last phase of her life.

  She’d passed through the Kübler-Ross phases—denial, anger, bargaining, depression. She was now into acceptance. She was not afraid of death per se, but she was desperate to share her emotions with Chan. She’d tried, but each time he’d changed the subject. Before her leukemia diagnosis, she and Chan used to talk about his patients facing death. Analyze the dying process. Agree about how important it was to face reality. To communicate about what really counted. But when your life is involved, theory goes by the wayside.

  She and Chan had to talk, about the children, how to help them cope. Their older daughters were adolescents. And the younger ones? And the three who had already lost two parents? Together she and Chan had to decide what to say. They had to give the kids a framework that would allow them to move forward.

  “Let’s see if she’s awake.”

  Chan’s hushed voice came from the hallway outside her bedroom. The door opened a crack. From the sun that streamed through the window, Rory guessed it must be midmorning. She was not expecting company. Chan had discouraged well-meaners from the church and neighborhood from stopping by.

  “Rory, is it okay to come in?” A familiar male voice, but she couldn’t place it.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “It’s Dan.”

  “Dan?” She should have anticipated his visit. Of course, he’d be in town for Meredith’s funeral, but Dan had never visited their home. He strode into the room, and she thought of how much both her brothers looked like Dad’s political rivals, the Kennedys.

  “Sit down,” she invited, hoping for the strength to make him feel welcome. “I’m glad you’re here, Dan. I really am. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for Frank yesterday. How is he?”

  “Devastated,” Dan said. “Just hope he can get himself together. They need him in Washington these days. The country’s in such trouble.”

  “Is there any word on Ashley?” Rory asked, her voice listless, holding out little hope.

  “No,” Dan said. “I think we have to accept that she was killed outright. But with Meredith—and Frank the way he is—”

  “Dan,” Rory interrupted, “did Gina come with you?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Chan, could you ask her to come up?”

  When Chan left the room to find Gina. Rory said, “Dan, I know we’ve never been close, but in the time left—”

  “What do you mean?” Dan started to cross and uncross his legs. “You’ll beat this, Rory.”

  “No, Dan, not without Ashley,” Rory lowered her voice. “I know it, and Chan knows it, but he won’t let us talk about it. I don’t want to die until I can talk to him. About the children mainly, but also about him. I want him to have a life.”

  “Here she is,” Chan stepped aside to let Gina through the door.

  Rory couldn’t help but notice how Gina glowed with health and happiness as she entered the sick room and headed immediately to her bedside. “How are you?” she murmured as she bent to kiss Rory’s bony cheek. When she took her hand, Rory could feel an immediate warmth.

  “So, Rory,” Gina asked, “is there anything I can do?” She had been told about a new leukemia study, but would Rory live long enough to go on it?

  “There’s a new drug—” Chan started.

  “You’ve been on so many treatments already,” Gina said softly.

  “But this is different drug class,” Chan blurted.

  Gina’s dark eyes fixed on Rory’s. After a moment, Rory said, “Do you know what I really want?”

  “Why don’t you tell us?” Dan murmured.

  Rory looked at Chan, saw the raw fear in his eyes, but, with Dan’s opening, decided to press on before Chan came back with some cheerful response that would steer them out of dangerous territory.

  “I want to talk about what’s going to happen,” she said, holding Chan’s gaze. “I don’t want to pretend that I’m going to come through this. Don’t you understand, Chan? I need your help.”

  “For God’s sake, honey, I have tried. I’ve tried to do everything I could think of.” Chan began to wring his hands, but he did not take his eyes off of hers. “That new study. I know it’s the answer. I talked to Keystone Pharma today. You’ll be the first one on the study as soon as the FDA clears the Investigational New Drug application. It’s your dad’s own company. They’ll do everything in their power to get you that drug.”

  “Chan,” Gina said gently, “you’ve been an incredible husband. You’ve given Rory so much. Love, friendship, constant support. The best that medicine has to offer. Peace of mind that the children are happy and healthy and well balanced. No one could have done more than you have.”

  Chan turned to stare at Gina. Then he lowered his head into his hands and his whole body started to shake. “I didn’t do enough,” he said.

  Gina went to him and said firmly, “Chan, Rory needs to talk to you. She needs to know that it’s okay to let go. She needs you and the kids to help her do this one last thing.”

  Chan looked up. “Rory?” he whispered.

  “Yes, what I’m most afraid of is that I’m going to die, and that we will never have talked about our situation. That’s the only thing that really frightens me. Dying while the whole family is pretending that I’m going to make it. There’s so much we have to talk about. And maybe not much time.”

  “What are we going to tell the children?” he moaned

  “They already know, I’m sure. They’re starting to withdraw more and more. I want to be able to say good-bye to each of them. To tell them how much I love them. To tell them that they’ll be okay. To tell them to help you, and to help one another. To tell them that we’ll all be together in heaven. I need to do that, Chan.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Chan said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I tried to pretend. I didn’t know how scared you were—”

  Dan shut the door behind them.

  Dan and Gina headed for the Devon house. They decided to stay in Philadelphia for a few more days until Frank’s and Rory’s situations stabilized, and until the search and rescue effort at the World Trade
Center had come to some semblance of closure.

  “So sad,” Gina said after a prolonged silence. “How is Chan going to handle all those kids?”

  “He’s a prince of a guy,” Dan said, “but it’s gotta be tough.”

  “He was in complete denial, of course. I’ve been a nurse too long not to recognize it. I’m glad we could help Rory get through to him.”

  “Chan didn’t say how long he thought she had,” Dan said, making the turn onto Lancaster. “With all that’s going on in the family, I just can’t help thinking that I’m such a lucky man. To have you back and the kids. They’re happy that we’re together. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes, and now Terry has his dream job in Washington, and Carrie’s madly in love with Matt.”

  “I agree,” Dan said, but he had to remind himself not to let Terry down. In the midst of so much tragedy, he’d still have to deal with Dad’s “test.”

  “Are we getting close?” Gina asked, craning her neck to admire the classic architecture.

  “Still a few more blocks. I wonder what we’re going to find? An empty house, I guess.”

  “Won’t your father’s housekeepers be there?” Gina asked.

  “It’s Sunday,” he said. “I do have a key.”

  “What about Welton?” Gina raised her eyebrows.

  “I hope he’s out, but we’ll see.”

  Dan pulled into the long, circular driveway and Gina sucked in her breath. “Just look at these gardens.” Autumn foliage surrounded the stone homestead with its attached carriage house and the original stone barn in back. “Hey, are those tennis courts out by the pool? I missed them the last time I was here. My goodness, I still can’t believe you grew up here!”

  “Guess I took all this for granted when I was a kid,” Dan replied. “But you know what? I can’t wait to get back to our place in Florida.”

  “At least it’s not snowing this time. Brrr, it was cold last January. Looks like somebody’s here.”

  The front door was not locked so they didn’t ring the bell, but simply walked in. The door opened into a foyer dominated by a huge chandelier of Venetian glass. On the far wall was an original Water Lily by Monet, the most prized piece of family artwork as far as Dan knew. He led Gina past the library and solarium on the right, the living room on the left, and the stately dining room. That room still made Dan cringe as he recalled having to sit through stiff, formal dinners. Back then, as now, he liked simple, fast meals.

  They came to a stop at a closed door with music coming from inside.

  “Music room,” Dan said, opening the door.

  “Dan, Gina?” Welton’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. With both hands, he swept back silver-tinged hair. Then he rose out of a lounge chair, set down a hefty biography of Winston Churchill, and using the remote, lowered the volume of Bach’s violin concerto.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” He approached, but stood at the door as if to block their entrance. “We need to talk. I tried to talk to Frank yesterday, but he was too anguished about his wife. Still, you’d think that he’d have more concern for his own sister.”

  “We have to come to grips with reality,” Dan said. “Ashley was at the wrong place at the wrong time. She’s gone.”

  “Ashley is alive!” Conrad stated emphatically. “She’s alive and I have proof.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Truth be told, Welton relished having the house and property to himself. Ashley had been gone five nights now, and although he needed her back, he appreciated the serenity and the undivided attention of the servants. He’d not gone back to the University of Pennsylvania. He needed to concentrate on finding Ashley. He was now sure that she had not been killed last Tuesday. He’d carefully crossed checked the timing of her last contact with Schiller, and he’d hired an investigator, C. R. Crane, to check the location of the law office where she’d been headed that day. Stewart and Stewart’s New York City office in the World Trade Center had been on the opposite side of the initial explosion and on the fifty-second floor. Crane had reported that all occupants and visitors in the proximity of Stewart and Stewart had been accounted for. And now, Conrad had definitive proof that Ashley had not died last Tuesday.

  He had commissioned his investigator to keep looking for Ashley. She was out there, either in shock, or possibly defying him. But Crane’s fee was daunting, and Welton intended to approach Frank Parnell to help defray the cost. But the arrogant senator did not return his calls. And now he faced the most ignorant Parnell of them all, Dan, the tree farmer, and Gina, his meddlesome wife.

  They’d barged into his home, interrupting his solitude.

  Now he had to repeat himself.

  “Ashley is alive. I have proof, and I would hope that you would care enough to help me find her.”

  “I’m sure you’re distressed,” Gina said. Had she comprehended what he said?

  “Yes. Of course, I’m distraught. My fiancée is out there somewhere, stunned, confused, maybe injured. We must find her. Now that there’s proof. That’s why you’re here. Correct?”

  “Proof?” Dan asked.

  This fool didn’t even know. “Schiller told me that they found her ring. Her engagement ring.”

  “That can’t be good,” Dan began.

  “They found the ring not buried in rubble, but close to the surface of the plaza. You do realize what that means?”

  Both of them just stood there shaking their heads. Welton noticed that Dan was carrying an overnight bag.

  “It means that she was on the outside, not inside the tower. It means that she must have escaped. It means that she’s alive. Hurt, confused, suffering from posttraumatic shock, but alive.”

  Gina asked, “But where is she?”

  “We don’t know.” Conrad wanted to scream. “But she’s alive. Your family has to help me find her.”

  “I’ll speak to Carl.” Dan turned and Gina followed. “I’ll use the phone in the library.”

  They returned to the music room in ten minutes. Conrad again turned down the volume on the stereo. Music was the only thing that soothed him and the Parnell collection and equipment was phenomenal.

  “There’s been no sign of Ashley. NYPD has come to no conclusion. But they did find her ring as you said, relatively close to the surface.

  Welton realized that Dan Parnell and Carl Schiller believed Ashley was dead. They would influence the rest of the family. Welton needed Ashley to be found.

  “Gina and I plan to stay here in the house,” Dan said. “Frankly, we hadn’t expected you’d still be here.”

  Conrad started to say, “It’s my fucking house.” But grasping the edge of his chair, he breathed deeply. “Ashley and I live here together. We were to be married this week. We plan to make this our home.”

  “That no longer seems sensible,” Dan said. “We’d rather you move out. Today. Now.”

  Conrad’s face turned hot. “Ashley wants me here. She knows I’ll be waiting for her here. I’m sure that’s understandable to you. What we have to do is find her.” I know she’s not dead. I can feel it. “I’m begging you, bring Ashley home. When you do, I’ll be waiting here for her.”

  Dan shook his head. “When I talked to Carl Schiller—as executor of the estate—he said to tell you to leave.”

  Bach played at very low volume in the background as Welton hesitated, shifting his weight from side to side.

  Dan said, “I will wait here until you pack your belongings.”

  With that, Dan Parnell pronounced his own death sentence. In Welton’s mind, Dan had previously been beneath contempt. Now, he had become another enemy who needed to be eliminated. With a sneer of disgust, Welton stomped off to collect his clothes.

  “Dan,” Welton tried once again as he carried out his last load to the Parnell Mercedes in the driveway, “how can I convince Schiller and your brother to launch a search for Ashley? She’s alive. Doesn’t finding her ring prove it? How else could it have gotten there, so close to the surface? Jus
t think about it, and do the right thing.”

  All Dan said was, “There’ll be a memorial service next month—we’ll let you know the details.”

  “Fuck you. Fuck the Parnell family,” Conrad said as he drove off in the Parnell Mercedes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  OCTOBER 2001

  “I’ll finish the laundry, Sandra,” Ashley shouted up from the basement. “You run along to the gallery. Then I’ll take the boys to the library.”

  “I still can’t believe you have them reading books,” the other woman said on the way out. “Hey, Marcy, when you’re out, will you pick up some laundry detergent?”

  Two kids generate a ton of dirty clothes, Ashley thought, as she checked the time—five o’clock—plenty of time to put this load away and get to downtown Santa Fe before the library closed. She was feeling safe in New Mexico, safe enough to hang out in the library to check the Philadelphia Inquirer for mentions of her family.

  She was living with a family in Santa Fe—Sandra Becker, a single mom, and her two children. Sandra was an art dealer with her own gallery in the heart of Santa Fe’s art district. She and her former husband had been co-owners, but Sandra had bought him out after a nasty divorce. On the train leaving New Jersey, Ashley had decided to head for New Mexico to be near her dear friend Ruthie who was doing a pediatric residency at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. Ashley had vowed not to contact Ruthie, but she felt heartened just knowing that she’d be close by.

  Arriving in Santa Fe on a Friday night, her money running low, she’d stayed in a hotel near the train station, and first thing the next morning she examined the want ads for a job. She tried to be realistic. She was an unlicensed physician, not having finished the year of post-graduate training necessary to practice medicine. Even if she had, any attempt to apply for a license would trigger an investigation. Her current goal was to stay out of Conrad’s reach until the inheritance was settled. That was only three months away now. As much as she missed her family, especially Rory, she knew that Conrad would find her, and use his horrifying manipulative skills to get what he wanted, her inheritance. Was he insane? A cold-blooded murderer? She didn’t know, but she could not take a chance with her life and the growing life of her baby.