Looking Through Windows (27 page)

Glancing at Ann's reflection in the rear-view mirror, Owen could see the hard outline of her jaw. "Are you all right?" he asked worriedly.

Ann met his gaze in the mirror, her eyes steely. "I will be," she replied quietly. "I hope you'll understand if I go directly back to Weston. I might as well use the time to study."

 Weston was nearly empty as most of the students were still away on spring break. She went for a long ride on Meg Friday afternoon. Spring was trying to gain a foothold as the weather warmed and crocus began to bloom. Meg seemed to feel it also, as she pranced and tossed her head, unable to move more slowly than a trot. When Ann eased her hold on the reins, Meg broke into a canter that swallowed up the miles as they hopped downed trees and low stone walls between fields. After a couple of hours, Meg was finally tired enough to walk. Swaying in rhythm with Meg's walk, Ann noticed the green buds on the maples and oaks. She wondered what spring in Switzerland was like and if Emily was enjoying the warmer weather. She sponged Meg off and cleaned her tack, and decided to drive by Maggie and Cris's apartment to see if they were back yet.

Seeing their cars parked on the street, she decided to go up. Cris answered her knock. "Hi!" she said with a big smile and a hug. "Come on in."

Ann suddenly realized she was still in her breeches and boots. "Sorry, I should have changed."

"Don't be silly," Cris insisted, closing the door behind Ann.

"Hey," Maggie said from the kitchen where she was pouring herself a drink. She did a double take, still pouring although she was no longer over the glass. "Shit!" she exclaimed, red-faced, as she scrambled to clean up her mess. She glanced sidelong at Ann again. "You could have warned me," she grumbled.

Cris shook her head, laughing. "Why don't you pour two more of those while you're at it?" she suggested as she led Ann into the living room. "I don't blame her. You know you could stop traffic," she said admiringly, looking Ann up and down.

"Thanks," Ann murmured, blushing. "Did you two get away for break?"

Cris glanced toward the kitchen. "Well, yes. I went home to Albany for a few days, and Maggie went to see her folks."

Ann looked at her in surprise. "You weren't together?"

Cris shook her head. "Maggie isn't welcome at my parents' house," she said, looking apologetically up at Maggie as she served glasses of soda to them and sat next to Cris on the couch.

"You're kidding. Doesn't your family know about the two of you?" Ann asked incredulously.

"Oh, yes, they know," Cris said, a little bitterly. "They choose to ignore what they don't want to know, however. They expect me to be home for holidays and vacations, but on their terms."

Maggie reached over to take Cris's hand. "My family, on the other hand, loves Cris," she said with a sad smile. "They think she's a good influence on me."

"Family," Ann said angrily, her face taking on the hardness it had acquired recently.

"What happened to you?" Maggie asked.

Ann looked from one to the other. "I saw Emily."

"Where?" they asked in unison.

She told them everything in the same flat, unemotional tone she had used in telling her parents.

"So your brother was the cause of all of this? And you never got to talk to her?" Cris asked in disbelief. "After going all that way?"

"I didn't leave the hotel room for two days; I was afraid I might miss her call," Ann said. "I guess she's moved on."

Maggie glanced at Cris before asking, "Have you?"        

For the first time in days, Ann's eyes filled with tears. She leaned her elbows on her knees, her face in her hands, and wept. Cris came and knelt beside her chair, holding her.

"I guess not," Maggie said softly.

Chapter 55

M
aureen and Robert Warner entered the physiotherapy gym, looking very pale and tired. They had barely slept since getting the phone call two days ago from Dr. Schuler. They had been met at the airport by Madame Choubert and had been driven directly to the hospital. Madame told them that the limo would return and wait for them. They entered the hospital, and when they inquired about Emily they were directed to the physiotherapy gym. Despite having been told, they were not prepared for the sight of Emily hopping in the parallel bars, learning to adjust to the loss of her leg.

"Mom, Dad!" she cried out as she turned in the bars and spied them. Her mother rushed over and held Emily tightly. Her father gave her a kiss on the cheek. Maureen couldn't stop crying. The physiotherapist quietly brought a wheelchair for Emily and left them for a while. Emily sat, holding her mother's hand and reassuring her.

"Mom, I'm fine."

Her mother nodded, wiping tears from her cheeks. "I know, I know. I was just so worried."

Robert brought two chairs over. "How's your head?" he asked as he and Maureen sat.

"Much better," Emily replied. "I was so dizzy the first time I stood that I almost fell. I would have if Ursula hadn't caught me."

"Is there... does your leg hurt?" Maureen wasn't sure how to ask.

Emily rubbed her thigh. "Oh, it throbs, but it's getting better."

"What does your doctor say about the cancer?" Robert, pragmatic as always, wanted to know the facts.

"He thinks the amputation caught everything," Emily replied, "but he wants me to follow up with an oncologist back home just to be sure."

"When will he discharge you from the hospital?"

"Well, if I can handle stairs and things with crutches, I think they'll let me loose in a few days," she said. "Let me introduce you to Ursula, my physiotherapist."

Maureen and Robert stepped back to let Emily and Ursula resume their session. At one end of the bars, Ursula handed Emily a pair of crutches and gave instructions in German. She ventured outside the safety of the bars, having to adjust her body's sense of balance without the weight of her leg, Ursula holding tightly to a safety belt cinched around her waist.

After another half hour of walking with brief rest periods, the session was over. Emily directed Robert as he wheeled her back to her ward. In the long room with twelve beds lining the walls, Emily hopped into her bed. She gave her parents the key to her flat. She insisted that they go get some rest, claiming that she also needed to rest. They left reluctantly, promising to return later in the afternoon.

Lying in her hospital bed with her eyes closed, Emily tried to shut out the recurring image of the look on Laura's face when she had arrived at Emily's bedside in the intensive care ward. It had only been an instant, but Emily had seen that Laura would never look at her the same way, the way she had on the beach. If Laura, who worked in the medical field, had reacted like that, what chance was there that Ann would ever look at her the same way again?

Not long after, Dr. Schuler came in on his rounds. Emily told him about her progress with the crutches, and informed him that her parents had arrived. "So, when can I leave?"

"You don't appreciate our hospitality?" he teased with a wink as he examined her limb again.

"Well, I can't say it's been my favorite part of Zurich," she said with a droll smile.

"We can probably discharge you in two days," he said. "I would like for you to return to the United States right away, and get in touch with an oncologist immediately. Is there a doctor I can contact for you?"

Emily thought for a moment, and gave him the name of her parents' family doctor. He hadn't treated Emily for years, but he would probably know of an oncologist near her home in Scranton.

The next two days were a flurry of activity as her parents packed up her apartment. They made arrangements for a return flight and shipping Emily's belongings back to the States. Fortunately, she had been content with a rather spartan existence.

The day she was to be discharged, Madame Choubert came to the hospital. "This is not how I envisioned the termination of your position," she said with dry humor.

Emily smiled. "Nor I, Madame."

"Have you been able to make all necessary arrangements?" Madame inquired.

"Yes, with my parents' help, everything is packed." Emily's tone became serious. "I deeply regret leaving you so abruptly, I know how busy the school is."

"Nonsense," Madame scolded her. "We got along before you arrived, and we shall continue after you have gone."

Her voice and face softened. "Let me know how you are doing.  When you have recovered, if you wish to return, I will have a position waiting for you."

"Thank you, Madame."

As she left, Madame Choubert left firm instructions that the nurses were to call L'Ecole as Emily was being discharged, and the limousine would be sent to take the Warners to the airport.

For the first time in over a week, Emily was allowed to dress in her own clothes, tucking the leg of her khakis under her in the wheelchair. When all was ready, the limo was contacted and the journey home began. The American consul had arranged for an aide to meet them at the airport and expedite their passage through customs.

Settled into spacious first-class seats as a courtesy from the airline, Emily sat back for the long flight to America. Her last view of Zurich was an aerial one as the plane circled before heading west.

Chapter 56

T
he telephone was ringing as Ann entered her apartment. Dropping her book bag on the couch, she picked up.

"Hello, Ann," came Katharine's voice.

"Hi, Mom. What's up?" Ann carried the telephone into the kitchen and rummaged in the refrigerator for something to eat.

"Not much. I was wondering if you'll be coming home for Easter. It's a long weekend for you, isn't it?"

"It is." There was a bit of an edge to her voice. "But I won't be home."

"Ann, I think Michael really is sorry," Katharine said, reading her mind as to why she wasn't coming home.

"I'm sure he is," she acknowledged, "because he got caught. If he hadn't tripped up, I don't believe he would have confessed what he did at all. I think he would have just let Emily disappear from my life and wait for me to get over this."

"Are you getting over this?" Katharine asked gently.

Ann's throat suddenly tightened. "Not yet. And I'm not ready to forgive Michael yet, either. I'm sorry if this tension hurts you and Dad, but I'm not going to pretend this didn't happen."

There were a few seconds of silence. "All right," Katharine sighed. "We'll talk to you soon. I love you."

Katharine sat back, absentmindedly twirling a pen in her fingers. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there when she heard the front door open.

"Kate!" Owen called out as he came in, depositing his bags at the base of the stairs.

"In here," she called from the study. "Just catching up on some paperwork," she said as she stood to give him a kiss and hold him tightly. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he smiled. Taking her by the hand, he led her to one of the sofas. "Come and sit with me. I've got something to tell you."

"Do you remember meeting Helmut Beschmann?" he asked as they sat.

Katharine furrowed her brow. "He works for the German biotechnology firm with the patent on the new gene splitting technique, right?"

"Yes," Owen nodded. "His company is trying to negotiate a merger with a firm in Wisconsin to start using their technique in the U.S., so he has been attending a language school in Zurich. Guess who his instructor was?"

Katharine's eyebrows rose. "Not Emily?"

"Emily. But he said he was told about a month ago that she had had an accident and had to return to the States with her family."

"Did he have any idea what happened?" Katharine asked with concern.

Owen shook his head, frowning. "No. They were trying to protect Emily's confidentiality, telling only her clients and then only telling them what I've told you."

Katharine was staring at the fireplace. "Ann is still hurting over all of this. She'll be done with finals in a couple of weeks."

"I know."

Chapter 57

"
A
re you sure this is necessary?" Emily moaned as she lay back in bed.

"I'm sure." Dr. Susan Hall, tall and imposing with sharp features and sharper hazel eyes behind her wire-rimmed glasses, laid a surprisingly gentle hand on Emily's forehead. "I know the side effects are awful, but if we blast any remaining cancer cells with three intense months of chemotherapy, I think you'll have a clean slate." Her last words echoed a little in the bathroom as she flushed the contents of the emesis basin down the toilet and then rinsed it in the sink.

She checked Emily's IV and then scribbled new orders in the chart. "I'll order a medication which should reduce the nausea. I'll check on you later," she promised.

After only a few precious minutes of peace and quiet, a nurse's aide bustled in. Emily kept her eyes closed.
'Even her walk is cheerful,'
she thought with clenched teeth.