F Paul Wilson - Novel 05 (17 page)

 
          
You
feel yourself being drawn into Sam. You don't want to be inside her because you
know what happens here:

 
          
"I've
called your sister."

 
          
Sam
nods, but the pain makes her wince.

 
          
"I
left a message about the accident... your loss of blood."

 
          
He
gently touches her head. No matter what Sam does to herself, Eathan is always
there to pick up the pieces.

 
          
I'm
like Humpty Dumpty, Sam thinks. Except one of these days all the King's men
won't be able to put me back together pain
_m

 
          
Then
Sam sees something on the small side table. Was it there before or did Eathan bring
it?

 
          
A
matrioshka with Gorbachev as its outer skin.

 
          
The
phone rings. One long ring that fills the room.

 
          
Sam
watches Eathan pick up the receiver. She listens.

 
          
"Yes,
Julia. She's in
Grenoble
. Yes, the
Universitaire
Hospital
. It's very good."

 
          
Eathan
smiles at Samantha.

 
          
The
doll is gone from the table. Vanished. She must have imagined it.

 
          
"Yes,
a compound fracture with arterial damage ... yes, a lot of blood before they
got to her. Julie. I was hoping..."

 
          
Another
smile from Eathan for Sam.

 
          
Thinking
about Julie in
New York
. Stopping her busy
New York
life, listening to the news
of sister Sam's latest disaster.

 
          
You
remember the call. You remember how you felt.

 
          
The
words you said.

 
          
"So
what did Sam do this time?"

 
          
You
asked about the hospital. "We're AB positive
—
that's
compatible with just about any donor. There's got to be other ways to get blood
to her. She doesn't need me."

           
Did you really say that? Yes ...
yes, you did. You remember those words.

 
          
She
doesn't need me.

 
          
You
wanted the tie to be cut. You wanted Eathan to know that you weren't going to
be part of Sam's rescue squad. You had your own life, your own work
—

 
          
And
Eathan said ... he said:

 
          
"I
understand. Yes. I'm sure we can get enough blood here. I just thought
—
right, Julie."

 
          
The
receiver clicks down with a terrible finality.

 
          
Sam
looks away... up to the ceiling, the off-white ceiling that seems so far away.

 
          
She
knows what Julie said. She didn't hear the actual words but she's got a very
good idea of the content. She feels a pressure in her chest. She doesn't want
to cry, not simply because of the pain it will cause in her broken ribs, but
because she swore years ago that Julie would never make her cry again. So she
won't cry. She
won't,
dammit!

 
          
But
a sob breaks through, and pain stabs from her right side. And she cries harder,
huge, wracking sobs.

 
          
Damn
Julie. She did it again.

 
          
You
can't stand this. The pain
—
the emotional pain
—
is too much. You click the Exit button and watch the scene
fade.

 
          
Joseph
Conrad: "Vanity
plays lurid
tricks
with our memory."

—
Random
notes: Julia Gordon

           
Julie yanked the data glove off her
hand. Its sweaty insides stuck to her skin. Then she pulled off her headset and
wiped her eyes.

 
          
Tears!
she thought. My God, I'm crying!

 
          
She
never cried.

 
          
But
it really wasn't Julie crying. These were Sam's tears. Somehow Sam's emotions
and her physical response had transferred to Julie.

 
          
She
took a deep, shuddering breath and stared at her silent, unresponsive sister.
She almost expected to see Sam all bandaged, still recovering from her ski
accident. But Sam's face was unmarked now, and she slept, quite beautiful, her
shiny blond hair picking up the muted light in the room.

 
          
Oh,
Sam. I always knew you bruised easily, always took things hard, but I never
really appreciated, 1 mean, I never knew
haw
hard. God! Is that how 1
made you feel?

 
          
Julie
sniffed. The tears had stopped; the aching hurt was fading, but traces of it
remained.

           
Soon I'll be all me again, she
thought.

 
          
She
wiped her eyes one last time and began removing Sam's headgear
—
she didn't want Eathan to know she'd made another foray
into her memoryscape.

 
          
She
smoothed Sam's hair.

 
          
I
never meant to hurt you, Sam.

 
          
God,
1 lost patience with, you all the time, raged at you, but I never
—
ever
—
wanted
to cause the land
of pain 1 just experienced. Never knew I could.

 
          
Do
they make sisters any colder?

 
          
1
don't think so.

 
          
And
yet that wasn't completely fair. If positions had been reversed
—
if it had been Julie in die bed in New York and Sam on the
phone from Europe
—
it would have made perfect
sense to Julie for Sam to say it wasn't necessary for her to make a
transatlantic trip when there was so much AB positive-compatible blood
available. She'd have understood completely.

 
          
But
to Sam it was another stab in the back, another brick in the wall.

 
          
Julie
tried to shrug it off, but couldn't. She'd felt physical sensations: tasted die
snow, felt the slope slam against her body.

 
          
She
rubbed her leg, half expecting to feel the beginnings of a bruise.

 
          
Nothing
showed, of course.

 
          
But
now, emotions
—
someone else's emotions.
That was scary.

 
          
And
other disconcerting things as well: the dimming of the Oakwood memory node. Was
there ongoing deterioration in Sam's memoryscape?

 
          
The
door to the room opened. A woman dressed in a marched white dress came in.

 
          
"Mademoiselle,
vouiez'vous un cafe?"

 
          
Julie
nodded. "Oui." Then remembering the niceties of French etiquette, she
quickly added,
"Merti, Madame."

 
          
Remember
the niceties, Julie.

 
          
She
was just about through with die shutdown procedure when the door opened. Julie
turned, expecting to see the nurse with a steaming mug of coffee.

 
          
But
Eathan was there.

           
"Sorry," he said. "I
didn't mean to leave you alone for so long."

 
          
Eathan
seemed distant, preoccupied. Was something wrong?

 
          
On
impulse, she decided to tell him.

 
          
"I
made a quick trip back into Sam's memoryscape."

 
          
He
stiffened. "Alone? Don't you think
—
"

 
          
"I
saw Sam's ski accident... from her point of view."

 
          
Eathan
made a face. They had never discussed Julie's reaction to her sister's
accident. Eathan had never criticized Julie's refusal to come to Sam's side, to
donate blood.

 
          
"Your
sister careens from crisis to crisis." He pulled a chair close to the
computer console and sat next to Julie. "That was only broken bones. This
is far worse."

 
          
The
large windows that faced the quiet rue de Bourgogne were now tinged with a
filmy light. The full moon was slowly rising in the east.

 
          
"I
gather you didn't stay in too long."

 
          
"No.
I..." No, she couldn't tell him about the tears. "I just took a quick
look."

 
          
"And
it's still devastated?"

 
          
She
nodded.

 
          
"I
guess it's hopeless, eh?"

 
          
Julie
shook her head. "Not at all. I'm convinced I can learn something."

 
          
"But
you
didn't
see what happened to Samantha?"

 
          
"No.
Not even close. Just an old, painful memory ... about me."

 
          
Eathan
put a hand on her shoulder. "Julia, one of the calls I made was to
Samantha's doctor. I asked him if I could arrange to bring Samantha back to
Oakwood."

 
          
Julie
shook her head. "What? No
—
I mean, I want to go on with
this."

 
          
"I
can get Samantha the absolute best care at the estate. I already have my
personal physician lining up a
U.K.
team of neurological
specialists. Though no one feels that there's any chance
—
"

 
          
"But
—
"

 
          
"And
it's more than that."

 
          
The
pasty white top of the moon had slid free of the houses across the street. Now
it was a giant light shining in on them.

           
Julie looked at it, and for some
reason it chilled her. The moon, she thought. That dopey, dumb, grinning face.
Always the same dopey face ...

 
          
She
turned back to Eathan.

 
          
"I
think there may be danger here, Julia. If someone did something to her to cause
this... Sam could still be in jeopardy. If she knows something and were to
come back to consciousness, that could be dangerous. For all of us, but
especially her."

 
          
"You
think this man, this Liam
—
?
"

 
          
Eathan
raised a hand. "I don't know. But the roses, the prowler they've spotted
—
I only know that it would be safer for Samantha if she came
back to Oakwood. She'd be out of the country and away from O'Donnell."

 
          
Julie
hesitated. Oakwood. She remembered hearing the name for the first time as a
little girl. After the fire, their uncle had purchased an English estate, a
secluded manor on the
North Yorkshire
coast.

 
          
Julie
had never liked it there, too big, too many secret places, too isolated
—

 
          
"I
want to come."

 
          
Eathan
shook his head. "Julia, you have your work. You've seen inside your
sister's mind. There's no hope. Let it go."

 
          
"I
can't."

 
          
She
saw Eathan make a face. The lopsided grimace of the moon was now fully in the
window, watching her plead for this chance.

 
          
I
don't want to go to Oakwood, she thought. But if Sam's going, then that's what
I'll do. She reached out and took Eathan's hand.

 
          
"Let
me come. As you said, Oakwood is safe, secluded. I can make real progress
there."

 
          
Eathan
looked at her. She tried to fathom what he was thinking. Was it concern for
her, or for Sam, or did he lack faith in her new technology? Or would Eathan
find what happened to Samantha too painful?

 
          
"1
don't know, Julia. I
—
"

 
          
"Please.
I've never asked for much."

 
          
A
stinging remark. Leaving out the unsaid words, Not
tike Samantha.
I
haven't
been a problem.

           
"All right," he said.
"You're always welcome, of course. You know that. Call it a homecoming of
sorts. Oakwood has been terribly quiet since the two of you left." He
stood. "I've arranged for Samantha to be flown out of
Orly
tomorrow morning. I'll be
accompanying her. Should I make arrangements for you?"

 
          
Julie
shook her head. "I'll see to that. But could you arrange for the satellite
dish to be installed before I arrive? I have to see to getting my equipment
packed."

 
          
"I'll
call ahead. If I can't find someone in Bay, I'm sure I can get someone from
Leeds
."

 
          
Julie
watched Eathan move to the door. She stood and again grabbed his hand, squeezed
it. Eathan squeezed back.

 
          
"You
two always could talk me into nearly anything."

 
          
Julie
grinned. "I always knew Sam could."

 
          
"Maybe
you two are more similar than I thought."

 
          
He
opened the door.

 
          
"Eathan,"
she said. "Thank you."

 
          
And
Eathan nodded.