Still Life (26 page)

Twice for no.

“That’s what I thought,” Drew said.

“You thought what?” Patsy asked.

“I thought her bid was too low. Now that other lady has to go all the way to Greece to see some old ruins she couldn’t care less about. Look, I owe you an apology,” Drew said in the same breath.

“You do?”

You do?

“I’ve been very rude and I’m sorry.” Drew squeezed Casey’s fingers, as if to say
Bear with me.
“I know you’re doing your best for Casey. It’s just so hard seeing her in this condition day after day.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“And I’ve been taking out my frustration on you and Warren.”

“He deserves better.”

“I know he does.”

Casey recognized the mock sincerity in her sister’s voice, remembered hearing it herself on many occasions. She pictured Drew’s downcast eyes, the slight tremble in her lips, the soft fluttering of her hands, as if she was searching for just the right words of contrition.

“Wow. I’m not used to apologizing. That took a lot out of me.” Drew laughed, a disarmingly soft sound that floated through the air like a wisp of smoke. “I don’t suppose you’d reconsider getting me that cup of coffee.”

“Not a chance.”

Shit.

“Bitch,” Drew muttered under her breath.

The front door opened and closed. “I’m back,” Warren called from the foyer. In the next minute, he was up the stairs and inside the room. “Drew, hi. Nice to see you.” Casey felt him lean forward to give her sister a kiss on the cheek. Clearly, he was trying a new approach.

“I understand Casey had a bit of a rough night,” Drew said.

“The doctor thinks she’s experiencing muscle spasms.”

“So Patsy was telling me. She seems okay now, though.”

“We’ll give her a shot later, make sure she has a restful night.”

No, I don’t want a shot of anything. I need my head to be clear.

“Do you really think drugs are a good idea?” Drew asked. “Won’t they just interfere with her progress?”

“I’m really not seeing a lot of progress, Drew. Are you?”

“Well, no. But you never know….”

“I don’t want her in any pain.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then suppose we let the doctor decide. Patsy, I’m dying for a cup of coffee. What about you, Drew?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to put Patsy to any trouble,” Drew said sweetly.

“Would you mind?” Warren asked Patsy.

“Of course not.”

“Thank you, Patsy,” Drew said. “You’re so kind.”

“So, how’s my niece?” Warren asked Drew as Patsy left the room.

“She’s fine.”

“I was thinking maybe I could take the two of you to Gettysburg this Sunday. If that works for you.”

“You want to take us to Gettysburg?”

He wants an alibi.

“I thought you might enjoy it. I know I would. Casey and I had such a good time when we went there. And it would give me the chance to make up for being such an asshole lately.”

No. Don’t fall for this.

“I haven’t exactly been all sweetness and light myself,” Drew said.

“So, how about it?”

Don’t do it.

“Think you could give me another chance?”

Several seconds of silence.

No. Please, no.

“Sunday would be great,” Drew said.

TWENTY-EIGHT

“ ‘D
orothea seldom left home without her husband, but she did occasionally drive into Middlemarch alone, on little errands of shopping or charity such as occur to every lady of any wealth when she lives within three miles of a town,’ ”
Janine was reading.

Where am I? What’s happening?

“ ‘Two days after that scene in the Yew-tree Walk, she determined to use such an opportunity in order if possible to see Lydgate, and learn from him whether her husband had really felt any depressing change of symptoms which he was concealing from her, and whether he had insisted on knowing the utmost about himself.’”

Was she back in the hospital? Had the last week been nothing but a dream?

“ ‘She felt almost guilty in asking for knowledge about him from another, but the dread of being without it—the dread of that ignorance which would make her unjust or hard—overcame every scruple.’ ”

Dread, yes, Casey thought. That was a good word to describe what she was feeling.

“ ‘That there had been some crisis in her husband’s mind she was certain: he had the very next day begun a new method of arranging his notes, and had associated her quite newly in carrying out his plan. Poor Dorothea needed to lay up stores of patience.’
Poor Dorothea needs to get a life,” Janine said.

What’s happening? Would somebody please tell me what’s happening?

“Almost finished that book?” Patsy asked, her voice swimming somewhere above Casey’s head.

“Page three fifteen.”

“Still a long way to go.”

“Guess I could say the same thing about Casey,” Janine said.

“I guess.”

“Gail told me she was making progress.”

“I think it was a case of wishful thinking.”

“She hasn’t opened her eyes since I’ve been here.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Patsy said. “And at least she’s not in pain anymore.”

When was I in pain?

“I guess that’s something to be thankful for.”

Casey fought through the fog in her brain to piece together the puzzle of what was happening. It came to her in fits and starts, a series of images exploding across her mind’s eye, as if from one of those twirling mirrored disco balls. In one such flash, she saw Patsy standing over her bed, her voice penetrating the darkness, commenting on her raised blood pressure and continuing distress, assuring her she was going to make her more comfortable. And then the prick of a needle in her arm, the subsequent floating in and out of consciousness.

How long had she been floating? What day was it?

“Casey,” she heard her sister whisper. “Casey, can you hear me? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”

How long ago was that? Had she been able to muster the strength required to tell her sister she was still cognizant?

“Casey, listen to me,” Drew had said on another occasion.

Or had it been the same occasion?

“Tap once for yes, twice for no.”

What day is it? How much time do I have left?

“Warren’s taking Lola and me to Gettysburg on Sunday. He’s being awfully nice to me all of a sudden. I can’t tell if he’s really trying to make up for being such a jerk lately, or if he’s up to something.”

He’s going to kill me.

“You come in, you put a pillow over her face, you leave without anybody seeing you,” Warren had said.

When had he said that?

“I love your T-shirt,” Patsy was saying now. “Who’s Ed Hardy anyway?”

Ed Hardy? Who the hell was Ed Hardy?

“The designer,” Janine said.

“Designer T-shirts. Wow. Guess it was expensive, huh?”

“Reasonably.”

“What’s reasonable?”

“Two hundred dollars.”

“Two hundred dollars for a T-shirt? Doesn’t sound very reasonable to me.”

A buzzer sounded.

“That buzzer means you’ve all overbid.”

What?

“What’s that?” Patsy asked.

“My BlackBerry. Oh, God. Another message from Richard Mooney.”

The little twerp?

“Who?”

“A client. I actually managed to find him another job, and he’s still not happy. Look, I’m going to call him back, get rid of him once and for all. Is there a room I can use for a few minutes?”

“Only about eighty of them.”

“I’ll just be down the hall.”

“Take your time.”

What time
is
it?

How much time had she lost? Casey wondered. How many days had passed since the last time she was fully conscious? How much time before she was sedated again?

“Your friend sure has expensive taste. Imagine spending two hundred dollars for a T-shirt.”

Casey tried moving her fingers beneath the covers, but she felt nothing. She tried wiggling her toes, but they refused to cooperate.

“Squeeze my hand,” she heard her sister urge. “Casey, squeeze my hand.”

When had she said that? Today? Yesterday? The day before that? When was the last time Drew had been here?

“It’s nice that Janine still comes over so often,” Patsy was saying. “And on her lunch hour, too.”

Her lunch hour? That means it’s a weekday.

“Although who knows how often she’ll come once she’s finished that damn book.”

The front door opened and closed. Was it Drew? Again, Casey tried flexing her fingers. If it was Drew, she had to be fully conscious and prepared.

“I’m back,” Warren called up the stairs.

Not Drew. Warren. Where had he been?

“Hi,” he said from the bedroom doorway moments later. “How’s Casey?”

“She seems to be resting peacefully,” Patsy said. “How was your workout?”

“Not great. I think I might have pulled something in my shoulder.”

“Oh, no. Let me have a look at it.”

“No, that’s all right.”

“Come on,” Patsy said. “I’m the one with the magic hands, remember? Now sit your ass down and let me have a look. Sorry,” she apologized immediately. “I didn’t mean to overstep …”

“You haven’t,” Warren said, chuckling. He plopped down in the nearest chair.

“Where is it sore?” Patsy asked.

“There. And a bit there.”

“Okay, take a deep breath and release it into my fingers. That’s right.”

“God, that feels good. You really
do
have magic hands.”

“Those seem to be your trouble spots.”

“In more ways than one,” Janine said flatly, returning to the room.

“Janine,” Warren said.

“I think this is where I came in.”

“I didn’t realize you were here.”

“Clearly. That’ll be quite enough, Patsy.”

“Thank you, Patsy,” Warren said.

“We need to talk,” Janine said.

“Certainly. About anything in particular?”

“In private.”

“I’ll be in my room,” Patsy said.

Seconds later, Casey heard the door to Patsy’s room close.

“Is there a problem?” Warren asked Janine.

“You tell me.”

“You mean other than the fact my wife is in a coma?”

“What’s with you and Florence Nightingale?”

“If you’re insinuating …”

“I’m not insinuating anything. I’m asking flat out. Are you sleeping with her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Of course I’m not sleeping with her. I hurt my shoulder at the gym. Patsy was just being kind….”

“Kind of what? Kind of available?”

“Really, Janine, if you could hear yourself sometimes.”

“Really, Warren, if you could
see
yourself sometimes,” Janine countered.

“What exactly did you see that was so awful?”

“Whatever it was, it was the second time I saw it. And I don’t like it one bit. And more important, Casey wouldn’t like it.”

“Casey wouldn’t have liked my sleeping with you either, but that didn’t concern you a whole lot at the time.”

What?

Silence. Then, “This is neither the time nor the place to talk about that.”

“Maybe it is.”

Janine closed the bedroom door, took an audible breath. “What happened between us happened a long time ago.”

“Less than a year,” Warren corrected.

What? No, this can’t be. I’m having a nightmare. It’s the drugs the doctor gave me. I’m hallucinating again. None of this is happening.

“It should never have happened,” Janine said.

“Maybe not, but it did.”

I don’t believe it. I
won’t
believe it.

What’s so hard to believe? Casey asked herself. If she could believe her husband capable of murder, surely he was capable of betraying her with one of her closest friends.

It wasn’t Warren’s betrayal she was having such a hard time processing, she realized. It was Janine’s.

“Look. I’m not proud of what I did,” Janine said. “I was going through a hard time, what with Casey opting out of our partnership. I was angry, I was spiteful, I let myself be seduced….”

“As I recall, it was you who did the seducing,” Warren corrected again.

“I was flirting. I didn’t think you’d take me up on it.”

“You’re fooling yourself, Janine.”

“Maybe. You fooled Casey, that’s for sure.”

“I love Casey.”

“You have an interesting way of showing it.”

“I’m showing it now.”

“A little late, isn’t it?”

“I guess that’s a guilt we’ll both have to live with.”

“You seem to be living with it rather well.”

“I can’t change the past,” Warren said. “What happened happened. It’s over. It’s time to move on.”

“Move on to the next in line?”

“It beats doing penance in Middlemarch.”

“It’s that simple?”

“It’s not that complicated.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I assure you that jealous is the last thing I am.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

Janine took a deep breath. “We’re having this conversation because what I am is sick at heart. Sick over the fact that I betrayed my best friend on earth with her lowlife scum of a husband, sick that her husband isn’t the man she thought he was, sick that she’s the one in a coma when I’m the one who deserves to be.”

“Oh, please, Janine. Give it up. Nobility doesn’t become you.”

“And most of all,” Janine continued, ignoring Warren’s interruption, “I’m sick that you have so little decency that you could carry on with another woman while your wife is lying there right in front of you.”

“Bullshit,” Warren said coldly. “The only thing bothering you is that that woman is no longer you.”

“I want her out of here, Warren. I want her out of here this afternoon.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I want Nurse Patsy gone.”

“Pardon me, but I don’t think that’s your decision to make.”

“Either she goes, or I swear I’ll tell everyone all about us. And that includes Detective Spinetti.”

“Now why on earth would you consider doing a stupid thing like that?”

“Because it’s all I
can
do for Casey now.”

“And you think she’ll thank you for it? Assuming, of course, that she wakes up.”

“I don’t know. Probably not. But I
do
know that if she stands any chance of waking up at all, she needs the very best of care, and frankly, I don’t think Patsy is the one to give it to her.”

There was a silence of several long seconds. “You might be right about that,” Warren said finally.

“I
am
right.”

“And I’m not stupid. Or callous. I may not have always been the best husband to Casey, but whether you believe it or not, I do love my wife, and I want what’s best for her.”

“Meaning?” Janine persisted.

“I’ll tell Patsy her services are no longer required.”

“When?”

“Right after you leave,” he said pointedly. “Oh, and Janine,” he continued, as Casey heard Janine gathering up her things and walking to the door.

“Yes?”

“I think we could use a time-out. Call the next time you decide to drop by. I’ll arrange to be elsewhere.”

Janine said nothing as she closed the bedroom door behind her.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Casey imagined Warren saying to Patsy sometime later. “It’s just not working out.”

“What do you mean?” she heard Patsy answer back.

“It’s nothing you’ve done. You’ve been wonderful. It’s just that I underestimated the amount of care Casey would require.”

“We could hire someone to give me a hand. I could call Donna….”

“Casey needs an RN, someone with more experience….”

“I could still help out.”

“It won’t work.”

“I don’t understand. I thought we …”

“That’s just the point,” Casey could almost hear Warren whisper. “There is no ‘we.’ There can’t be a ‘we.’”

“If this is because of Janine, because of what she thinks she saw …”

“Janine’s a very astute woman, Patsy. She doesn’t see things that aren’t there.”

“I’m so sorry….”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.
I’m
the one who should be apologizing to you. You’re lovely. That’s the problem in a nutshell. You’re beautiful and sweet and kind and thoughtful, and I find myself being drawn to you in ways I never expected. And I can’t afford to let that happen. Not yet,” Casey imagined him adding, holding out the carrot, perhaps even allowing a hint of tears to cloud his eyes. “Maybe later. Should circumstances change …”

Or something like that, Casey thought now, hearing Patsy sniffling as she carried her suitcase from her room to the top of the stairs. Something to give the young woman hope, a reason not to be angry he was firing her without notice or cause.

“I want you to take this,” Warren said from just outside Casey’s bedroom door.

“What is it?”

“Just a little something to tide you over until you find another position.”

“No, please. I couldn’t.”

“It’s only fair.”

“It’s
more
than fair. It’s way too much money. I can’t.”

“You can and you will. Please. I want you to have it.”

Oh, take it. It’s my money anyway. And I’ll be dead in a few days.