The Color of Love (14 page)

Derian rose and started for the door, vaguely
aware that Aud was following her. “I’m on my way. Is she awake?”

“Enough that she appears to understand what
I’ve told her, but I don’t believe she’s capable of signing a surgical consent
form.”

Derian stepped into the street and waved for
a cab. “When do you plan on operating?”

“As soon as you say I can.”

“I want to see her first.”

“The OR will be ready in forty minutes. I’d
prefer not to wait.”

Derian lunged in front of a cab and it
screeched to a stop, spraying her trousers with the melt from yesterday’s snow.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there.” She yanked open the back door and jumped in. Aud,
close on her heels, yanked the door shut.

“You crazy, lady?” the cabbie shouted,
scowling at her in the rearview mirror. “I almost hit you.”

“I knew you wouldn’t. Get me to St. Luke’s in
fifteen minutes, and I don’t care how you do it.”

“I couldn’t get you there in fifteen minutes
if the streets were empty, and that isn’t going to happen.”

Aud leaned forward. “There’s a hundred-dollar
tip for you if you make it happen.”

He shoved the car into gear and shot into
traffic, squeezing into line in front of a bus. When he slammed on his brakes
to narrowly miss hitting a black stretch limo, Derian and Aud were thrown back
against the seat. Brakes screeched and horns blared.

“Maybe you should’ve offered him fifty,”
Derian muttered, as Aud, pressed to Derian’s side, struggled to right herself.
“We might actually get there alive.”

“We’ll get there. What did they say?”

Derian recounted the doctor’s
recommendations.

“Emergency surgery. God, Dere. Everything is
happening so quickly.”

“You know Henrietta. She’d want to go all
out. And that’s what we’re gonna do.”

“I’m really glad you’re here.” Aud gripped
Derian’s hand.

“So am I.” Derian rested their joined hands
on her knee. She’d forgotten what it was like to face uncertainty and fear with
someone by her side. She thought back to the night before and Emily waiting so
patiently for her, despite her exhaustion, despite that they’d been strangers.
The memory warmed her. She needed to call Emily. As soon as she saw Henrietta,
she’d call Emily.

The cab driver earned his tip even though it
took him twenty-two minutes instead of fifteen. After handing the driver his
cash, Derian jumped out and held the door for Aud. They hurried across the
sidewalk, through the lobby, and to the elevators. Outside the ICU, Derian
said, “I’ll be out as soon as I know what’s going on. I don’t think I’ll be
long.”

“That’s all right, do whatever you have to
do.”

“You don’t have to wait—you must have a busy
day ahead.”

Aud smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed
Derian’s cheek. “Dere, don’t be an idiot.”

“Okay. Right. I’ll work on that.” Derian
turned away.

“Dere,” Aud said quietly behind her, “I’ll
have to call Martin.”

Derian looked back over her shoulder. “Why?”

“Because he’s her brother, because it’s my
job, and because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Do what you have to do.” She slammed her
palm into the red button and it thunked satisfyingly into the wall. The doors
whooshed open and she strode in. Martin wouldn’t care, and he wouldn’t come.
She put him out of her mind.

Immediately, a young woman with short red
hair and maroon scrubs moved to intercept her. “I’m sorry, visiting hours
aren’t for—”

“I’m Derian Winfield. My aunt is going to
have surgery soon. A Dr. Armstrong—”

“Oh, of course.” She held out her hand. “I’m
Dr. Carolyn Wayne, the intensive care fellow. I’ve been looking after your aunt
during the night.”

“Is she all right?”

“Yes. Come on, I’ll take you down. She may or
may not wake up while you’re there, but she has been lucid for short periods.”

“And the surgery is still scheduled?”

“The OR just called. They’re sending for her
now.”

Derian’s stomach tightened. She didn’t know
much about surgery, but she knew this was major. And Henrietta, always bigger
than life, seemed smaller, diminished, lying so still beneath the light white
sheets. Acid burned its way up her chest.

The resident disappeared as Derian leaned
over the bed and took Henrietta’s hand. Like yesterday, the metronomic beep of
machines, the rhythmic scroll of the digital readouts, the tubes and vials and
bags all heightened the surreal sensation of having been catapulted into an
alien universe. “Hey, HW. It’s Dere.”

Henrietta lay motionless and Derian rubbed
her hand between both of hers. Absolutely certain Henrietta was cataloging
every word and action, even if she didn’t show it, Derian reported in the
no-nonsense, get-to-the-point way HW had drilled into her when she was young.

“So the doctors think the best way to get
your heart tuned up and running optimally is to take you into the chop shop for
an overhaul. Something about redirecting the fuel lines. The mechanic—a guy by
the name of Armstrong—sounds like he knows what he’s doing, so I told him to go
ahead.”

She cleared her scratchy throat. “I really
need you back behind the wheel, HW. I think a lot of people do. This is no time
to be sitting out the race.”

A furrow formed between Henrietta’s brows and
her lids slowly opened. Her eyes wandered for an instant and then found
Derian’s. The haze gave way to sharp clarity. “Who’s sitting out?”

Derian laughed, a great weight lifting from
her heart. “Just making the most of a rest stop, were you?”

“How bad?”

“Fixable.” Derian kissed her hand. “You’re
gonna have surgery in a few minutes.”

“Huh. The agency—”

“Will be there when you get out of here,”
Derian said vehemently. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Emily—”

“Emily can take care of everything.” Derian
pushed a hand through her hair. “Hell, she’s like a miniature of you.”

“Not true. Softer.” Henrietta’s voice was a
weak imitation of her usual full-bodied trumpet.

“That’s what you want everybody to think,”
Derian scoffed, “but I know better.”

“She’ll…need…help. Martin—”

“To hell with Martin.” Derian leaned closer.
“Listen, stop worrying about the agency. It’s been there a hundred years, and
it’ll be there a hundred more. But I’ll do whatever I can, I swear.”

“Good…always counted on you…”

Her eyes drifted close and Derian’s heart
twisted. She’d never wanted anyone to count on her, especially when she was
afraid she’d disappoint. But she couldn’t say no to Henrietta. “I swear.”

*

Emily didn’t go back to her office but walked
directly out of the conference room, down the stairs, and out into morning rush
hour, pausing just long enough to grab her coat and purse from her office. She
was too angry to think, and if she stayed she was likely to say something she’d
regret to one of the staff. No matter how infuriating she found Donatella’s
unnecessary presence, she was one of the senior staff members and, as
Henrietta’s de facto second, she had to maintain order and keep the office
running. If that meant putting up with Donatella Agnelli for the time being,
that’s what they’d all have to do until Emily could figure out some other plan.
She was a planner. That’s what she did. No matter what challenge confronted
her, she didn’t back down. She took her time, sorted out the options, made a
plan, and made it happen.

If only she could talk to Henrietta. For the
last half dozen years, Henrietta had been her sounding board, professionally
and personally, and she hadn’t realized until now just how much she counted on
her. If Winfield was her family, Henrietta was the heart. No wonder they all
felt so lost.

She cut through the crowd as if guided by
radar, reflexively avoiding the slowly ambling groups of early-morning
tourists, the commuters as focused as she on getting to their destinations, the
throngs of street vendors setting up stands, and delivery people pushing
handcarts across the sidewalk laden with cases of beer and boxes of food and
all the other commodities that kept New York running twenty-four hours a day.
When she finally reached St. Luke’s, slightly out of breath but no longer on
the verge of raging, she put Donatella from her mind. Time for all of that
later. Now was only about Henrietta. As she pushed through the double doors
into the bustling lobby, she wished as she hadn’t in a long time that she could
call her mother, just to hear the comforting welcome in her voice and know
there was one place in the world everything would be all right. A wish as
foolish as wanting to undo the past.

She closed her eyes in the elevator, waiting
for the pain to settle into a dull ache in the recesses of her soul, as it
always did. Composed again, she followed the crowd into the hall and turned
right toward the intensive care unit. Out of nowhere, she thought of Derian.
Did her directional dyslexia make something as simple as remembering which way
to turn a challenge? What kind of effort did it take to navigate an
increasingly complex physical world when faced with an inherent block to one’s
place in it? Derian would not want her sympathy, nor did she have any—only
respect for a challenge met and conquered. She had never heard or seen one word
about Derian’s condition, which only spoke to how well she handled it, since
nothing else about her life seemed free from public scrutiny. Emily flushed
with unexpected pleasure, realizing Derian had shared something so private with
her.

She glanced at her watch, not exactly sure
when visiting hours started, but it didn’t really matter. She’d wait.

“Emily?”

Emily peered into the waiting room. “Aud!
Good morning.” Even as she spoke, fear flashed through her. “God, is it
Henrietta? Has something happened?”

Aud, looking stylish and composed, rose
quickly and hurried toward her. “No, no, at least no emergency. But Dere got a
call this morning at breakfast, and the surgeons want to operate right away.
She’s inside. I haven’t heard anything more than that.”

Emily struggled to decipher the barrage of
words. Henrietta. Surgeons. Dere. Breakfast. This morning. Aud and Derian,
together. And of course, why not. Grabbing on to her runaway thoughts, she
edited the extraneous, what was none of her concern, what
didn’t—couldn’t—matter.

“Is she worse? Is that why they want to
operate so quickly?”

Aud shook her head. “I don’t think there’ve
been any new developments—but from what I could gather, when they reviewed all
of the tests, they felt they couldn’t wait.”

“God,” Emily whispered.

“Come on, sit down. Would you like some
coffee? Tea?”

“What? No, I—”

“You’re looking just a little shaky,” Aud
murmured.

“No, I’m all right. Just a shock.” Emily
pulled her fraying nerves together. “But I could certainly use some tea.”

Aud said, “I’ll get it. I need more coffee
too.”

“No, I’m really all right now. I just rushed
over here, and I wasn’t ready.”

“Who is?” Aud muttered. “How do you take your
tea,” she went on, pouring hot water from a large carafe.

“I don’t suppose there’s milk?”

“Mini Moo.”

“That’ll do.”

Aud returned with a simmering tea and a cup
of coffee of her own and sat down next to Emily. “We’ve met before, at one of
the Winfield meetings. It was brief, I think right after you started interning
for Henrietta.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily said, “I don’t remember,
but it was very overwhelming at first—so many people I only met for a few
seconds. I’m sure I’ve forgotten ninety percent of them.”

Aud smiled wryly. “After a while you get the
hang of facial imprinting. But you probably don’t need that skill at the
agency. It’s kind of its own little universe—cloistered.”

Emily laughed. “Well, it’s hardly a
monastery, but we are pretty close-knit. Everyone is very concerned about
Henrietta.”

“She inspires that kind of loyalty.” Aud
glanced in the direction of the ICU as if she were trying to see inside the
barred doors. “I don’t think there’s anything else that could’ve gotten Dere
back here that quickly.”

“I imagine if you’d called her, she would
have come.”

Aud, in that moment every inch an attorney,
riveted her with a piercing stare. “How so?”

“I could see last night that you’re good
friends,” Emily said. “I think she would be very loyal to her friends.”

A shadow stirred in Aud’s eyes, a swirl of
gray passing through the startling aquamarine.

“Loyal. She is. In fact, I don’t think
there’s a single thing that means more to her than that.”

“That rather says it all, doesn’t it,” Emily
said. “Trust, truth, everything that matters.”

“Exactly what Derian would say, if she ever
really talked about those things,” Aud said in a distant tone. Her attention
refocused on Emily. “You have a pretty good read on her. I thought you just
met?”

“We did, but”—Emily gestured to the room, the
empty hall, the low hum of distant voices—“this place tends to strip away the
surface very quickly, doesn’t it. We spent quite a long time waiting yesterday
with nothing to do but talk.”

“I’ve known Derian all my life,” Aud said.
“She’s not usually a sharer.”

Emily smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me. You
grew up together?”

“Our
fathers
grew up together—prep school, college, even studied law together.
Our families were like one big extended family. We’re almost the same age, so
we literally knew each other from the beginning.”

“I didn’t realize Mr. Winfield was also an
attorney.”

“Martin never practiced. My father, like my
grandfather, is the Winfield attorney.”

“And now you.”

“And now me,” Aud said softly.

“Did you always know you’d work with your
father?”

“No,” Aud said. “I had visions of a different
path, but somewhere along the way, I gave in. Or maybe I just changed my mind.”