He turned slowly. It was Trish Bey, the head ICU nurse. They’d worked together for years. She and Diana had become close friends at the end. “Hello, Trish.”
She smiled. “It’s good to see you back here. We missed you.”
His shoulders relaxed. He almost smiled in return. “Thanks.” They stood there, staring at each other for an awkward moment, then he nodded, said good-bye, and headed for Claire’s room.
He knocked quietly and opened the door.
She was sitting up in bed, asleep, her head cocked to one side. The patchy hairless area made her look impossibly young.
He moved toward her, trying not to remember when Diana had looked like this. Pale and fragile, her hair thinning to the point where she looked like an antique doll that had been loved too hard and then discarded.
She blinked awake, stared at him. “Joey,” she whispered, smiling tiredly. “I heard you were home. Welcome back.”
He pulled a chair over and sat down beside her bed. “Hey, Claire.”
“I know. I’ve looked better.”
“You’re beautiful. You always have been.”
“Bless you, Joe. I’ll tell Di hi for you.” She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I’m tired.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry to see my wife.”
Slowly, she opened her eyes. It seemed to take her a minute to focus on him. “There’s no hope, Joe. You of all people know what that’s like. It hurts too much to pretend. Okay?”
“I see it … differently.”
“You think the white coats are wrong?”
“I don’t want to give you false hope, Claire, but yeah, maybe.”
“Are you sure?”
“No one is ever sure.”
“I’m not asking anyone else’s opinion. I want yours, Joey. Are you telling me I shouldn’t give up?”
“Surgery might save you. But there could be bad side effects, Claire. Paralysis. Loss of motor skills. Brain damage.”
At that, she smiled. “Do you know what I was thinking about just before you got here?”
“No.”
“How to tell Ali Kat that Mommy is going to die. I’d take any risk, Joe. Anything so I don’t have to kiss Ali good-bye.” Her voice cracked, and he saw the depth of her pain. Her courage amazed him.
“I’ve sent your films to a friend of mine. If he agrees with my diagnosis, he’ll operate.”
“Thank you, Joe,” she said softly, then closed her eyes again.
He could see how tired she was. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Bye, Claire.”
He was almost to the door when she said, “Joe?”
He turned. “Yeah?”
She was awake again, barely, and looking at him. “She shouldn’t have asked it of you.”
“Who?” he asked, but he knew.
“Diana. I would never ask such a thing of Bobby. I know what it would do to him.”
Joe had no answer to that. It was the same thing Gina always said. He left the room and closed the door behind him. With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
She shouldn’t have asked it of you.
“Joe?”
He opened his eyes and stumbled away from the wall. Meghann stood a few feet away, staring up at him. Her cheeks and eyes were reddened and moist.
He had a nearly irresistible urge to wipe the residue of tears from her eyes.
She walked toward him. “Tell me you found a way to help her.”
He was afraid to answer. He knew, better that most, the double edge of hope. Nothing hit you harder than the fall from faith. “I’ve spoken to a colleague at UCLA. If he agrees with me, he’ll operate, but—”
Meghann launched herself at him, clung to him. “Thank you.”
“It’s risky as hell, Meg. She might not survive the surgery.”
Meghann drew back, blinked her tears away impatiently. “We Sullivan girls would rather go down fighting. Thank you, Joe. And … I’m sorry for the things I said to you. I can be a real bitch.”
“The warning comes a little late.”
She smiled, wiped her eyes again. “You should have told me about your wife, you know.”
“In one of our heart-to-heart talks?”
“Yeah. In one of those.”
“It’s hardly good between-the-sheets conversation. How do you make love to a woman, then tell her that you killed your wife?”
“You didn’t kill her. Cancer killed her. You ended her suffering.”
“And her breathing.”
Meghann looked up at him steadily. “If Claire asked it of me, I’d do it. I’d be willing to go to prison for it, too. I wouldn’t let her suffer.”
“Pray to God you never have to find out.” He heard the way his voice broke. Once, he would have been ashamed by such obvious vulnerability; those were the days when he’d believed in himself, when he’d thought he was a demigod at least.
“What do we do now?” she said into the silence that felt suddenly awkward. “For Claire, I mean.” She stepped back from him, put some distance between them.
“We wait to hear from Stu Weissnar. And we pray he agrees with my assessment.”
Joe was at the front door when he heard his name called. He stopped, turned.
Gina stood there. “I hear my brother is acting like a doctor again.”
“All I did was call Stu.”