Contributor (Contributor Trilogy, book 1) (7 page)

Dara knew perfectly well that her voice rose with every word, and that people were beginning to turn and look, but she didn't care. Jonathan clearly did, though. He looked around uneasily.

"Dara, honey, you're upset right now, and that's understandable," he said, placating.

"Of course I'm upset!" she shouted. People openly gaped at her.

"You don't want to do this in public. You don't want to show your private grief like this," he whispered.

All of the fight went out of her as she realized she was just providing fodder for gossip. She didn't want anyone taking her love and concern for her mother and twisting it into something ugly.

Still, she seethed with anger at him. She had always believed that the two of them could all but experience one another's thoughts, hopes, dreams, fears. How could he not understand how she felt?

By the time they reached the med center, she had put all of her uneasiness about Jonathan aside. Later, when things were better—if they were better—she would take the time to think about what her feelings meant. For now, her sole concern was her mother.

"Sweetheart," her father said, standing up and enfolding her in a tight hug as soon as he laid eyes on her, his distress clearly written on his face. She almost forgave him—almost.

"How is she?" Dara asked.

"She's in recovery right now. She was in surgery for several hours."

Dara blanched. "Why didn't you tell Letizia that when you sent updates?"

"I didn't want you to worry. I didn't... I just..." Her father's face crumpled and he fell back into his chair, head in his hands. His shoulders heaved, making his whole body shake. A burst of compassion burned its way through her anger. Her parents loved one another, of that she had never had any doubt. She couldn't imagine the pain her father must be experiencing.

"You said it, Dad, she's strong." Dara knelt before her father and put her arms around him.

"I know, I know. I just... I feel so lost." He lifted his tear-streaked face to hers. "I didn't want you to see me like this. I tried so hard, but..."

"You don't have to hide this from me. You love Mom and you're scared. You don't have to try to protect me from that," she said, tears rolling down her own cheeks.

"I know the competition has been grueling for you, and I knew how your mother would react if something happened to your chances and I..."

A moment of perfect clarity struck Dara. Her father had reacted exactly as he had been meant to react. Work had always been salvation, and so he had clung to it with all his might, hoping it would provide his daughter with some sort of shield against her fear and worry.

"It's okay, Dad," she said, her anger finally dissolving completely. "Please, tell me what happened."

"Your mother was with her group, and they were testing a new machine. She...she didn't know that there had been a programming error, and so when they activated the machine..." His face drained of all color. Alarmed, Dara half-rose, looking around for help. Jonathan had moved a discreet distance away, and she gestured him over frantically.

"Dad, are you all right? Dad?" He shuddered in response.

"Please, go find a doctor," she said to Jonathan. "Tell them that—"

"No!" Joshua shouted, half-rising from his seat. "I don't need them, your mother does!"

"Okay, Contributor Morrow," Jonathan said soothingly. "Just let me know if you do need anything, please."

"Thank you." Joshua's distant voice and far-away expression made Dara suspect he was reliving what he'd been told about his wife's accident. Had they really told him all of the details? Or had he forced them to tell him?

"Please, Dad, I can't... I don't..." Dara stammered, her stomach churning.

"She suffered a head injury," her father said, mercifully leaving out the graphic details. "It caused some bleeding in her brain. That's why they did surgery, to try to relieve the pressure caused by the bleeding."

Horror-struck, Dara tried her best not to pass out or start screaming, or both. "Were they successful?" Her voice came out as a faint squeak.

"Yes, we were," a young doctor said, approaching them.

"Is she...can we..." Dara began, but he shook his head.

"We'd like you to wait for a while. She's resting now."

"Will she recover?" Dara was loath to let the words escape her. They made this all far, far too real.

"With an injury like this, it's hard to say. All of her vital signs are strong, and she responded well to surgery. We'll know more once we run some additional tests. For now, the best thing to do is remain positive."

Dara sank into the chair next to her father. Her mind refused to acknowledge the truly serious nature of her mother's situation, but she knew a head injury was bad. If her mother's brain had been damaged, there was no telling when—or if—she would ever recover.

"When can we see her?" Joshua asked.

"Tomorrow," the doctor said firmly. "She needs to rest now. You should both go home, try to get some sleep."

Staring up at the man, Dara wondered if they trained doctors to say things like this. Surely he could never have been on the receiving end of such news; if he had, he wouldn't dispense such useless advice. Dara knew sleep would be impossible.

"Oh. Okay," Joshua said. His eyes began to glaze, and Dara knew her father was on the verge of collapse. She would have to be strong for him, however much she felt like falling apart herself.

"I'll take you home," Jonathan said quietly.

"Thanks," Dara said, grateful for his solid, reassuring presence.

No one spoke much as they made their way to the Morrows' apartment. Her father was almost comatose, Jonathan propelling him along. He helped Joshua to the bedroom while Dara went into the kitchen to make tea and to try to find something to give her father to eat. She suspected it had been many hours since his last meal.

In some ways, having to care for her father was a relief. Though Dara would have liked to sit on her couch and have a good cry, she doubted it would do much to make her feel better. The worst part of all this was feeling useless and, since there was nothing she could do for her mother, it was at least some comfort to do something useful for her father.

"Do you want me to stay?" Jonathan asked, joining her in the kitchen.

She poured tea into a mug, her shaking hands causing several drops to scatter over the counter. "No, Jon. You have to be up tomorrow and I don't want—"

He waved her protests away. "It doesn't matter if I don't get any sleep. I want to be here for you, if you need me."

Taking his hand with her free one, she squeezed firmly. "That means more to me than I can say but, really, there's no reason for you to stay. Once I take this tray to my dad, I'm going to go lie down and try to sleep."

"Are you sure?" His brows drew together in a way she had often found endearing.

"Yes, I am."

"All right," he said reluctantly. "If you need anything, anything at all, I want you to call me. I don't care what time it is."

"I will." She stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss. Just as her lips touched his, the door tone sounded.

"Mom!" The mug slipped through her suddenly nerveless fingers and fell to the floor, shattering. She sprinted for the door, shocked when she found Letizia standing outside.

"We were going to meet tonight. Do you remember?" Letizia asked, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

"Yes, yes," Dara said, the adrenaline draining from her system, leaving her feeling queasy and shaken.

"I hate to intrude at a time like this, but it's very important."

What the hell could be so important that you show up at my door at ten o'clock on a night like this!

Dara wanted to scream but, instead, she stepped aside and allowed her master to enter the apartment.

"I'm making some tea for my father. Please excuse me while I take his tray to him. I'll just be a minute."

"Of course, Dara. Do whatever you need to do. I'll wait."

Dara nodded, both surprised by and suspicious of Letizia's solicitousness.

"Is that Letizia?" Jonathan asked as Dara entered the kitchen. He dropped the last shards of the shattered mug into the recycling chute. A fresh mug of tea sat on the tray, along with some toast and fruit.

"What would I do without you?" she whispered, throwing herself into his arms. "And yes, it is."

"Why is she here?"

"I don't know. I just wish she'd go away."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay? What if..." His voice trailed off, as if he were unwilling or uncertain how to complete the thought.

"No, really. Everything will be fine. Just go home now and I'll see you in the morning."

"All right. Call me if you need me."

"I will," she promised, and he gave her one last, quick kiss. She could hear him greeting Letizia on his way out.

"I've brought you some tea," Dara said, her voice hushed, as she entered her father's room. She set the tray down and twisted her hands, uncertain what more to do.

"Thank you," her father said faintly.

"Please, Dad, I know it's the last thing you feel like doing, but try to eat something," she pleaded.

"I will." His lackluster tone did little to convince her.

"Maybe tomorrow I should stay home with you and—"

"I'm not staying home tomorrow," he interrupted.

"What?" she asked, astonished.

"Dara, I can't." He turned to face her. "You heard what the doctor said about your mother. I'm...I'm trying to keep up my hope, but she has a severe head injury. I don't know if she'll ever... We can't afford for me to..."

His expression made it obvious that he found the thoughts too horrible to contemplate. She couldn't blame him; she felt the same way. Worse yet, she knew he was right to think this way. In all likelihood, if her mother turned out okay, it would be after a very long convalescence. Magnum would want her in a long-term care facility because they wouldn't want the family to be burdened with the responsibility of caring for her. And while Dara knew that neither she nor her father would find it a burden, there would be no arguing the point. The best hope they all had was for Dara and Joshua to prove that they could care for Leona while continuing to be valuable Contributors.

Dara realized what a long road they had ahead of them, and it made her feel so weary she wanted to curl up on her parents' bed and fall asleep like she had when she was a little girl who'd had a nightmare.

Instead, she said, "You're right, Dad. We both need to go in tomorrow. We can go see Mom after our shifts."

He nodded, and she noticed how red and hollow his eyes were. It was so strange and unsettling to see such vulnerability in her father. She supposed this was part of growing up, this change from the conviction that her parents were invincible and would always be there to protect her, to wanting to protect them. It made her feel much, much older than her seventeen years.

"Try to get some sleep," she said.

"You too."

She bent down and kissed his cheek before heading out into the living room to face Letizia.

Chapter 10

"How's your mother?" Letizia asked.

"She suffered a serious head injury and the doctors had to operate to relieve the pressure caused by the bleeding. She was resting when we left."

"Will she be okay?" Letizia's face paled.

Dara shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Did you want to discuss my project?"

"What?" Letizia asked, clearly taken aback.

"Isn't that why you wanted to meet?" Dara asked, confused as well.

"No, Dara, no! It's just... I wanted to apologize about what I said back at headquarters. It's...it's not a good place to talk."

Dara bristled. "Of course. All our colleagues are there and—"

"No! Creators, you think I'm just worried about appearances?" Letizia sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Look, I know you don't want me here. I don't want to be here either—I have no business intruding on you right now."