the plane taxied through the darkness to the terminal, she downloaded new messages and scrolled through the list.
‘Anything interesting?’ her husband asked.
‘A note from Chris–his meeting went well. A thank-you for the Collins’ wedding shower. And a reminder from the newspaper that the article on flowering kale is due at the end of the week.’
‘It’s all written, ready to go.’
Appreciative, she smiled. Charlie was her marketing chief, a behind-the-scenes guy who had a knack for writing ad copy, press releases, and articles. In his quiet way, he invited trust. When he suggested to TV producers that Kathryn was the one to discuss autumn wreaths, they believed him. He had single-handedly won her a permanent spot on the local news and a column in a home magazine.
Speaking of which, ‘Grow How is due at the end of the week,’ she mused. ‘It’ll be for the January edition, which is always the toughest. Molly knows the greenhouse better than I do. I’ll have her write it.’ She returned to the BlackBerry. ‘Robin didn’t e-mail. I wonder how her run went. She was worried about her knee.’ Accessing voice mail next, she smiled, frowned, smiled again. She finished listening just as the plane reached the gate. Releasing her seat belt, she put the BlackBerry in her pocket and followed Charlie into the aisle. ‘Voice mail from Robin. She had to drive herself because Molly refused to help. What’s wrong with that child?’
‘Just refused? No excuse?’
‘Who knows,’ Kathryn murmured, but grinned. ‘Good news, though. Robin got another call from the powers-that-be wanting to make sure she’s set to run New York. They’re counting on her for the trials next spring. The Olympics, Charlie,’ she mouthed, afraid to jinx it by speaking aloud. ‘Can you imagine?’
He lowered her suitcase from the overhead bin. Kathryn was lifting its handle when her BlackBerry jangled. Christopher’s number was on the screen, but it was Molly’s voice that came on saying, ‘It’s me, Mom. Where are you?’
‘We just landed. Molly, why couldn’t you help Robin? This was an important run. And did you lose your phone again?’
‘No. I’m with Chris at Dickenson-May. Robin had an accident.’
Kathryn’s smile died. ‘What kind of accident?’
‘Oh, you know, running. Since you weren’t around they called us, but she probably wants you here. Can you come by on your way home?’
‘What kind of accident?’ Kathryn repeated. She heard forced nonchalance. She didn’t like that, or the fact that Chris was at the hospital, too. Chris usually left crises to others.
‘She fell. I can’t stay on now, Mom. Come straight here. We’re in the ER.’
‘What did she hurt?’
‘Can’t talk now. See you soon.’
The line went dead. Kathryn looked worriedly at Charlie. ‘Robin had an accident. Molly wouldn’t say what it was.’ Frightened, she handed him the BlackBerry. ‘You try her.’
He handed the phone back. ‘You’ll get more from her than I will.’
‘Then call Chris,’ she begged, offering the BlackBerry again.
But the line of passengers started to move, and Charlie gestured her on. She waited only until they were side by side inside the gate before saying, ‘Why was Chris there? Robin never calls him when there’s a problem. Try him, Charlie. Please?’
Charlie held up a hand, buying time until they reached the car. The BlackBerry didn’t ring again, and Kathryn told herself that was a good sign, but she couldn’t relax. She was uneasy through the entire drive, imagining awful things. The instant they parked at the hospital, she was out of the car. Molly was waiting just inside the ER.
‘That was a cruel phone call,’ Kathryn scolded. ‘What happened?’
‘She collapsed on the road,’ Molly said, taking her hand.
‘Collapsed? From heat? Dehydration?’
Molly didn’t answer, just hurried her down the hall. Kathryn’s fear grew with each step. Other runners collapsed, but not Robin. Physical stamina was in her genes.
She caught her breath at the cubicle door. Chris was there, too. But that couldn’t be Robin, lying senseless and limp, hooked to machines–machines that were keeping her alive, the doctor said after explaining what had happened.
Kathryn was beside herself. The explanations made no sense. Nor did the X-rays. Her daughter’s hand, which she clutched, was inert as only a sleeping person’s hand would be.
But she didn’t wake up when the doctor called her name or pinched her ear, and even Kathryn could see that her pupils didn’t dilate in response to light. Kathryn figured the person doing the prodding wasn’t doing it right, but she had no better luck when she tried it all herself–not when she pleaded with Robin to open her eyes, not when she begged her to squeeze her hand.
The doctor kept talking. Kathryn no longer took in each word, but the gist got through with devastating effect. She didn’t realize she was crying until Charlie handed her a tissue.
When Robin’s face blurred, she saw her own–the same dark hair, same brown eyes, same intensity. Two peas in a pod, they had neither the fair features, nor the laid-back approach to life of the others in the family.
Kathryn refocused. Charlie seemed desolate, Chris stupefied, and Molly was stuck to the wall. Silence from all three? Was that it? If no one else questioned the status quo, it was up to her–but hadn’t it always been that way when it came to Robin?
Defiant, she faced the doctor. ‘Brain damage isn’t an option. You don’t know my daughter. She’s resilient. She comes back from injuries. If this is a coma, she’ll wake up. She’s been a fighter since birth–since conception.’ She held Robin’s hand tightly. They were in this together. ‘What comes next?’
‘Once she’s stabilized, we move her upstairs.’
‘What’s her condition now? Wouldn’t you call it stable?’
‘I’d call it critical.’
Kathryn couldn’t handle that word. ‘What’s in her IV?’
‘Fluids, plus meds to stabilize her blood pressure and regulate the rhythm of her heart. It was erratic when she first arrived.’
‘Maybe she needs a pacemaker.’
‘Right now, the meds are working, and besides, she wouldn’t be able to handle surgery.’
‘If the choice is between surgery and death-’
‘It isn’t. No one’s letting her die, Mrs Snow. We can keep her going.’
‘But why do you say her brain is damaged?’ Kathryn challenged. ‘Only because she doesn’t respond? If she’s been traumatized by a heart attack, wouldn’t that explain the lack of response? How do you test for brain damage?’
‘We’ll
