Paid in Full (23 page)

“Yes, recently,” Molly nodded adamantly.

The muscles of Jane’s face relaxed slightly. “Good. The idea of Ari contracting anything . . .” She stepped back and pressed the elevator button, both of them listening as the elevator strained to ascend again. The doors opened at the eighth floor, and Molly hesitated, wanting to thank Jane, but not knowing how. She stepped out of the elevator and turned around.

“If you want her back, you had better not do anything to make her unhappy.” The tone in Jane’s voice was unmistakably deadly. Although Molly was almost a foot taller and could have cast a shadow over Jane’s entire body, she was intimidated by the slight woman whose loyalty was unwavering. Molly stood there mute for a full minute after the doors had closed on Jane’s words.

She found Ari’s room and held her breath as she walked through the doorway. Relief and disappointment overtook her at the sight of the beautiful woman sleeping. She set the vase on the nightstand, careful not to make a noise, and turned to the bed. The sight of Ari’s bandage protruding from her hospital gown brought tears to Molly’s eyes, and she instinctively stroked her hair in comfort. Standing there, her heart pounding in her chest, she knew Bob’s last words to her were true, but it would be a long time before she admitted her feelings to Ari or anyone else. She leaned over and kissed Ari’s forehead gently.

Soft footsteps crossed the tile, but Ari couldn’t open her eyes. Maybe it was a dream. The medications were working—she couldn’t focus, but she could smell the musk that hovered in the air. Molly. As the footsteps retreated toward the door, Ari opened her eyes in time to see Molly depart, her head down and her shoulders hunched. She looked beaten down, and a wave of sympathy swept through Ari. She opened her mouth to call out, but Molly was gone. Or was it a dream?

Noises from the hall drew Ari’s attention to the doorway. Two children scampered past, their laughter prompting a sharp reprimand from an elderly woman who hurried by after them. A young couple trailed behind, armed with balloons and flowers. The woman glanced into Ari’s room, her face already molded into a sympathetic expression. It was the same face Ari wore whenever she walked into a hospital. The suffering was all around, amidst the white gowns, IV drips and beeping machines.

Ari had never been hospitalized before, not even as a child. How she managed to avoid breaking a bone, needing stitches or even cracking open her skull, amazed her parents. In fact, Ari had never crossed a hospital’s threshold until three days after her twelfth birthday—the day her mother entered the hospital for chemotherapy and her first of three bouts with cancer. Hospital visits became routine, and her mother’s illness remained the most vivid memory of her teenage years. When the cancer finally took her mother’s life, Ari avoided hospitals, and she had never again been inside one except for the unexpected visit to the emergency room following her attempted suicide. Even then, she refused to be admitted.

The drugs were definitely working, numbing the pain in Ari’s shoulder. Thanks to Bob’s quick actions, she’d been in surgery within thirty minutes of being shot, and she would make a full recovery. She closed her eyes to shut out the last few hours, the confrontation with Kristen, the pain, Jane’s worried face, an empty hospital room.

A long time ago Ari had made a deal with herself on the advice of a therapist. She could think of her mother for twenty minutes a day, but no more. To dwell on the past would send her into a deep depression—of this she was sure. She’d been there before. Usually if she thought of other things, her mother’s image would fade, a fact that gave Ari relief and shame at the same time. Today, though, the other thoughts were too horrible, and her mother, and surprisingly, her father, filled her mind. Maybe it was the meds. Maybe it was the hospital. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was because she was totally alone.

Ari’s gaze shifted to the nightstand and the beautiful arrangement of lilies. Tears streamed down her cheeks and it befuddled her. In the last two hours she’d faced a murderer, been saved by her best friend, and in her mind, abandoned again by her family. Yet, a vase full of flowers made her cry. She couldn’t understand it. A tiny white envelope protruded amongst the lilies. Ari plucked the card from the plastic holder and stared at the short message:

I’m sorry. Can we forget the last week and try again?

Ari smiled. Suddenly she didn’t feel so alone. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Molly’s cologne and thinking about the future. When the phone rang, it was tempting to ignore it. The medications were really taking hold and Ari was ready for sleep again. Still, she found herself reaching for the receiver out of habit.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end was immediately recognizable, although she could barely understand what he said, the poor connection and his distress garbling his words. When he finally took a breath from his harangue, Ari paused and smiled before she spoke.

“I’m okay, Dad.”