Thicker Than Water - DK5 (14 page)

“Anytime,” Kerry said. “Plenty of sun to go around, I promise you.”

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Melissa Good

“Kerrison.”

Kerry glanced at where her mother was now standing, with Angie and Mike next to her. Kerry gave Brian’s hands one last squeeze, then released them and straightened her shoulders before she started towards her family. Her eyes flicked to the far corner of the room where Dar was leaning against the window and gazing out at the snow. After a brief instant, Dar turned and met her gaze, her lips tensing in sympathy. Kerry returned the look, then walked to her mother. “I’m here.”

“Let us go into that area there.” Cynthia indicated a small office tucked inconspicuously in a corner. The doctor was standing there, obviously waiting for them. “It’s time.”

They filed into the room and closed the door behind them, leaving the rest of the assembled family and friends in a somber, chilly silence.

IT WAS GRAY outside. Dar could feel the chill through the thick glass of the window, and she watched in idle bemusement as the snow fell harder onto the parking lot below.

The weather seemed appropriate to the situation, though. Dar glanced down at the television news trucks gathered near the back entrance to the hospital, their lights glowing dimly in the winter gloom. It also matched the atmosphere inside the room, she acknowledged wryly as she glanced up to catch the reflection in the window of what was behind her.

Center of attention, Dar resisted the urge to straighten. She could see Kerry’s aunts and uncles glaring at her back, and the half furtive, half curious looks she was getting from the tall, blond Brian. Her…rival? Dar almost smiled. Kerry had called Brian a good friend, but she hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to him at their first meeting, a brief few minutes at Angie’s bedside after the birth of her infant son.

Brian’s son as well, in fact. Dar wondered if Angela had ever told anyone else about that. Even having only exchanged a nod with Brian, Dar thought he’d be a better match for Angie than her husband Richard. She looked at her own reflection, seeing the pale light glint off her eyes. Would that change now?

For Kerry’s sake, Dar felt badly about the whole reason they were there. She was honest enough with herself, however, to admit she wasn’t sorry to see the end of Senator Stuart. The man was a bastard who’d made his kids miserable most of their lives, in Dar’s view. And while she wasn’t glad, exactly, that he’d been stricken the way he had been, she also didn’t feel any reason to pity him.

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Dar sighed and watched the snow covering the cars. She was surprised at just how depressing it appeared.

“Excuse me.”

Dar’s eyes jerked up at the sound and she turned to find Brian standing right behind her. He met her surprised gaze warily, then pursed his lips and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yeah?”

“I…um.” Brian peered at her from under sandy eyebrows.

“We really didn’t get a chance to meet last time.” He stuck a hand out. “I’m Brian Evans.”

“I know.” Dar allowed a half smile as she took his hand and gripped it firmly. “Dar Roberts.”

“Yeah, I know,” Brian replied, returning his hand to his pocket. “Well, I just wanted to say hello.” He seemed at a loss for further conversation.

Dar leaned back against the glass and crossed one ankle over the other. He was fairly good looking, she decided, with an angular face and a gentle demeanor that reminded her just a little of Kerry’s. “I’m glad you came.”

He peered at her. “You are?”

Dar nodded. “Kerry needs all the friends she can get.” She glanced pointedly around him at the rest of her lover’s family, who were glaring at her with venomous intent.

“Ah.” Brian followed her eyes, then exhaled. “Yeah, it’s been tough, or so Angie told me. I guess it’s more important for some people to nurture their hatred.”

“Yeah.” Dar exhaled. “More I see of it, the more I appreciate my parents.” She shook her head a tiny bit. “What a waste of energy.”

Brian gave her a wry smile, then a motion at the door caught his eye and he turned. “Ah.”

Dar looked over his shoulder. In the doorway, stood a tall, very distinguished man with steel gray hair and a clean-shaven face. She glanced at Brian. “Someone you know?”

Brian exhaled. “Charles Durham.” He kept his voice low as the rest of the occupants of the room went to greet the newcomer.

“He’s been a friend of the family for many years.”

“Lawyer?” Dar asked.

“Worse.” Brian hesitated, then apparently made his decision, moved closer to Dar, and folded his arms. “Their very, very conservative pastor.”

“Oh.” Dar sighed, wishing she and Kerry and the unexpectedly nice Brian were three hundred miles away. “Great.”

THE INNER DOOR opened and the family filed out, followed 82
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by the doctor, who clasped Cynthia’s shoulders before he walked towards the ICU.

As Dar watched in concern, Kerry straightened her shoulders with an obvious effort, then turned to meet her eyes. The look in them was quiet but resigned as Kerry held out a hand in obvious invitation.

“Excuse me,” Dar murmured as she left her spot by the window and crossed the tile floor to Kerry’s side. She took her hand and clasped it. “You all right?” she whispered.

Kerry nodded, swallowing audibly. “I didn’t think it would be that hard to let him go,” she murmured. “Damn it hurts. Even after everything he did.”

Dar briefly rested her cheek against Kerry’s hair, trading trite words for the comfort of touch. They waited for the rest of the family to join them, everyone blessedly silent for a change, before they proceeded to the ICU.

The pastor joined Cynthia and they spoke quietly, heads bent together. His eyes flicked to Kerry, but Cynthia quickly raised a hand, in an almost impatient gesture. The pastor nodded and patted her shoulder, but couldn’t resist a slight shake of his head.

Kerry didn’t miss any of it, but she remained silent, firmly squeezing Dar’s hand as they stood waiting. Memories of stern lectures from their pastor rang within her, but she hoped with all her heart the old man would focus his energies on her father and leave her alone.

Dar squeezed her hand in return and took a step closer, bringing a welcome sense of security totally at odds with the chill, dis-approving atmosphere in the room, and managing to carry off an air of somber, yet potent intimidation.

Just when the tension was almost unbearable, Cynthia sighed and turned towards the door. “Please, let’s all go now.”

The hallway was quiet, save for the scuffs and squeaks of their shoes as they walked towards the critical care unit. As they entered, a nurse looked up and pressed her lips together in sympathy before she intercepted them.

“We’ve just taken him off the machines. You can stay as long as you want to,” she told them with professional gentleness, and waited for them to move past her before she pulled the privacy curtain around them and left.

Kerry was surprised at how quiet it was. They’d turned off all the alarms and all the pumps—machines stood mutely dark in the corner, save for one single monitor that showed an already irregular heartbeat.

She focused on the still figure in the bed, watching the hesitant breaths with a surreal sense of distance. It was almost like
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this was happening to a stranger. In a way, her mother had been right, she realized. Yesterday she’d said her goodbye, an inner part of her knowing there would be no recovery from this. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the end.

Kerry felt a warm touch on her back and she looked up at Dar, then glanced around the room. Everyone was solemn, leaving their differences outside for a brief time while they gave death its due dignity. Even Dar’s presence was accepted, however grudgingly.

Pastor Charles held Cynthia’s hand, his head bowed in prayer. Kerry pensively studied his profile, remembering long hours spent in Bible study and his uncompromising view of the world and all their places in it.

“Go with God, Roger,” the pastor said softly as he finished his prayer. “Knowing the Lord will watch over your family and keep them safe until you meet again.”

A shiver passed over Kerry, and she grasped the railings of the bed. The reality of the situation came clear as she watched her father’s chest move more slowly, more erratically.

She glanced at the slack face, its half open, glazed eyes staring off into a strange realm none of them could yet see. There was no expression there, no familiarity.

The green line on the monitor rippled, its bumps jerking and hesitating.

Kerry found it hard to breathe herself, and she focused on the railing between her hands, its faintly reflective surface showing a flash of blue green from her sweater. Dar’s hand settled on her shoulder, feeling warm and incredibly real in all that cold silence, and she only just resisted turning and hiding her face against her lover’s chest.

No.
She forced her eyes up, forced herself to watch that damn green line as it pulsed, the ridges and valleys becoming more and more indistinct.

If she turned her head, she wondered if she would sense Death’s presence, yet another silent, patient watcher in the room.

It was a creepy feeling, and suddenly Kerry felt afraid. As if sensing that, Dar moved closer, her body a wall of solid warmth behind Kerry, so close she could almost hear Dar’s heartbeat.

Kerry drew in a breath and released it, steadying her nerves.

Then she fixed her eyes on her father, only blinking a few times when the chest jerked, moved, then finally, gently, fell for the last time. It was accompanied by a soft, almost inaudible gasp.

The green line rippled, and went still. There was no alarm, no rush of nurses, just an eerie silence as everyone in the room seemed to hold their breaths.

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And then it was over. Cynthia drew in a shuddering breath and started to cry.

“MS. STUART?”

Kerry looked up at the voice, surprised to find the doctor standing next to her. She was outside the CCU waiting room, taking a moment to settle herself before she went back inside. “Yes?”

“I’m very sorry.” Dr. Bridges put a hand on her shoulder. “If it’s any comfort to you at all, he had no awareness of what was going on.”

Kerry studied his face. “I know. Thank you. I’m glad. He’d have hated being like that.”

The doctor nodded. “So your mother said.” He paused. “Do you have…ah…plans yet, as to…”

Dar returned from her walk down to the water fountain at that moment and joined them. She glanced questioningly at the doctor, then at Kerry, who reached a hand out for her in reflex.

“There’s something being planned, yes,” Kerry said. “The family counsel is arranging things and taking care of the press.”

“Good.” Dr. Bridges exhaled. “Well, you take care, Ms. Stuart. I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more.”

“Thank you,” Kerry replied and watched him walk away. She turned and looked at Dar, feeling suddenly exhausted. “Ugh.”

Dar put an arm around her and pulled her into hug.

“C’mere.”

Kerry went willingly and abandoned herself into a dark, warm haven that smelled of wool and Dar and blocked out the reality of the coldly lit hospital corridor. She suspected she was still in shock, because it hadn’t even occurred to her to cry or feel sad, a mixture of regret and relief filled her instead. “You know something?”

“Mm?” Dar murmured very close to her ear.

“Now the hard part starts.”

Dar sighed. “Yeah.” She glanced into the waiting room, where she could see the pastor with his arm around a distraught Mrs. Stuart, next to Angie and Michael. Dealing with all the family now that the immediate crisis was over was shaping up to be a tough ride. “Sorry.”

Kerry exhaled, warming Dar’s skin right through her pullover. “Thank God you’re here,” she whispered. “But I’m sorry I’m putting you through this.”

Dar rested her cheek against Kerry’s hair. “I’m not sorry at all. So don’t you be either, Kerrison.”

Kerry tipped her head back and gazed up at Dar. “Do you
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know, you’re the only person who has ever said that name in a way that makes me want to hear it more often?”

A tiny smirk appeared as Dar gracefully inclined her head.

“You do the same to me with mine. But don’t tell anyone, all right? It’ll wreck a lifetime of conditioning people not to use it.”

“No problem, Paladar.” Kerry found reason to smile, which felt strange after the past two days. “We’re going to have to go back to my parents’ house, you realize.”

Dar nodded. “I know.”

Kerry sighed and put her head back down on Dar’s shoulder.

“I don’t even know what to feel, Dar. Should I be crying?”

Dar was silent for a moment. “When they came and told us that Dad had died,” her voice was soft and reflective, “I didn’t cry at all.”

Kerry’s brows contracted. “Really?”

“Yes. Not for days. Then, I was at work and I was at my desk and…” A flash of that memory surfaced, twisting Dar’s guts. “It just hit me.” She paused. “That I was never going to see him again. And I lost it.”

“Mm.”

Even now, Dar felt the tears all over again. “I went into the Xerox room and locked the door and went to pieces for hours.”

Kerry thought about that. “Knowing how you feel about him, I’m not surprised. I don’t think that’s going to happen to me, though.”

Dar hugged her. “Maybe not. But give yourself a little time, okay?”

“Okay.” Kerry closed her eyes and wished it was over. “Dar?”

“Let me guess.” Dar gently scratched the back of Kerry’s neck and got a contented murmur. “You love me, right?”

“No,” Kerry said. “I love that you love me.” She gave Dar a big hug, then slipped an arm around her waist. “Let’s go get this started.”

“WAIT, MS. STUART! Can we get a statement!”

“Hold, on—look, that’s the brother, there. Go on!”

“Ms. Stuart, look this way!”

Kerry just kept her head down and kept walking, almost slipping as her boots stepped off the swept sidewalk and onto the snow covered parking lot. “Jesus.” She kept her hands in her pockets, aware of her uncles herding everyone along and her mother huddled between her and Michael. “Fucking ghouls.”