there.’
Molly’s imagination was stuck on the other image. ‘She isn’t going to die, is she?’ If Robin died, it would be Molly’s fault. If she had been there, this wouldn’t have happened. If she hadn’t been such a rotten sister, Robin would be back at the cottage, swigging water and recording her times.
‘Let’s take it step by step,’ the doctor said. ‘First, stabilization. Beyond that, it’s really a question of waiting. There’s no husband listed on her tag. Does she have kids?’
‘No.’
‘Well, that’s something.’
‘It’s not.’ Molly was desperate. ‘You don’t understand. I can’t tell my mother Robin is lying here like this.’ Kathryn would blame her. Instantly. Even before she knew that it truly was Molly’s fault. It had always been that way. In her mother’s eyes, Molly was five years younger and ten times more troublesome than Robin.
Molly had tried to change that. She had grown up helping Kathryn in the greenhouse, taking on more responsibility as Snow Hill grew. She had worked there summers while Robin trained, and had gotten the degree in horticulture that Kathryn had sworn would stand her in good stead.
Working at Snow Hill wasn’t a hardship. Molly loved plants. But she also loved pleasing her mother, which wasn’t always an easy thing to do, because Molly was impulsive. She spoke without thinking, often saying things her mother didn’t want to hear. And she hated pandering to Robin. That was her greatest crime of all.
Now the doctor wanted her to call Kathryn and tell her that Robin might have brain damage because she, Molly, hadn’t been there for her sister?
It was too much to ask of her, Molly decided. After all, she wasn’t the only one in the family.
While the doctor waited expectantly, she pulled out her phone. ‘I want my brother here. He has to help.’
Christopher Snow was at the kitchen table, eating the flank steak that his wife had grilled. Erin sat on his right and, on his left, in her high chair, was their daughter, Chloe.
‘Is the steak okay?’ Erin asked when he was halfway done.
‘Great,’ he answered easily. Erin was a good cook. He never had complaints.
Helping himself to seconds, he picked out a kernel of corn from the salad and put it on the baby’s tray. ‘Hey,’ he said softly, ‘how’s my pretty girl?’ When the child grinned, he melted.
‘So,’ Erin said, ‘was your day okay?’
Nodding, he dug into his salad. The dressing was great, too. Homemade.
The baby struggled to pick up the corn. Christopher was intrigued by her concentration. After a time, he turned up her hand and put the slick nugget into her palm.
‘How was your meeting with the Samuel people?’ Erin asked.
He nodded fine, and ate more of his salad.
‘Did they agree to your terms?’ she asked, sounding impatient. When he didn’t reply, she said, ‘Do you care?’
‘Sure, I care. But they’ll be a while going over the figures, so for now it’s out of my hands. Why are you angry?’
‘Chris, this is a major building project for Snow Hill. You spent all last night preparing your pitch. I want to know how it went.’
‘It went fine.’
‘That doesn’t tell me much,’ she remarked. ‘Want to elaborate? Or maybe you just don’t want me to know.’
‘Erin.’ He set down his fork. ‘We’ve talked about this. I’ve been working all day. I want to get away from it now.’
‘So do I,’ his wife said, ‘only my day revolves around an eight-month-old child. I need adult conversation. If you won’t talk about work, what do we talk about?’
‘Can’t we just enjoy the silence?’ Christopher asked. He loved his wife. One of the best parts of their relationship was that they didn’t have to talk all the time. At least, that’s what he thought.
But she didn’t let it go. ‘I need stimulation.’
‘You don’t love Chloe?’
‘Of course, I love her. You know I love her. Why do you always ask me that?’
He raised his hands in bewilderment. ‘You just said she wasn’t enough. You were the one who wanted a baby right away, Erin. You were the one who wanted to stop working.’
‘I was pregnant. I had to stop working.’
He didn’t know what to say. They had been the town’s favorite newlyweds, both blond-haired and green-eyed (Chris would say his own eyes were hazel, but no one cared about the distinction). They had been an adorable couple.
But what was happening between them now was not so adorable. ‘Go back to work, then,’ he said, trying to please her.
‘Do you want me to work?’
‘If you want to.’
She stared at him, those green eyes vivid. ‘And do what with Chloe? I don’t want her in day care.’
‘Okay.’ He hated all arguments, but this was the worst. ‘What do you want?’
‘I want my husband to talk to me during dinner. I want him to talk to me after dinner. I want him to discuss things with me. I don’t want him to come home and just stare at the Red Sox. I want him to share his day with me.’
Quietly, he said, ‘I’m an accountant. I work in the family business. There is nothing exciting about what I do.’
‘I’d call a new building project exciting. But if you hate it, quit.’
‘I don’t hate it. I love what I do. I’m just saying that it doesn’t make for great conversation. And I’m really tired tonight.’ And he actually did want to watch the Red Sox. He loved the baseball team.
‘Tired of me? Tired of Chloe? Tired of marriage? You used to talk to me, Chris. But it’s like now that we’re married–now that we have a baby–you can’t make the effort. We’re twenty-nine years old, but we sit here like we’re eighty. This is not working for me.’
Unsettled, he stood up and took his plate to the sink. This is not working for me sounded like she wanted out. He couldn’t process that.
At a loss, he picked up the baby. When she put her head on his chest, he held it there. ‘I’m trying to give you a good life, Erin. I’m working so you don’t have to. If I’m tired at night, it’s because my mind has been busy all day. If I’m quiet, maybe that’s just who I am.’
She didn’t give
