Vegas Sunrise (34 page)

“If that's what you believe, then make it easy for him. You have the wings. You got rid of the keys. Now, hide the pictures and go out to the waiting room. Do it, Fanny. Do it right now.”

“I'm doing it, Ash. Watch me. See, I ripped the backing just a little. I'm sliding the pictures down inside. Now I'm hanging it back the way it was. Your mother hung these pictures, did you know that?”

“Take a deep breath, act like nothing happened. Light a cigarette. You can quit another day. Toss your purse on the floor by the chair and walk over to the nurses' station. Act unconcerned, Fanny.”

“Okay, okay.”

The first person Fanny saw when she opened the lavatory door was Jeffrey Lassiter. She blinked and reared back. “What is wrong?” She knew shock and fear showed on her face. That should prove to Jeff that she was upset over Marcus.

“Nothing. You seemed so . . . upset, I decided to come over here to make sure you were all right. Are you?”

He has mean little eyes,
Fanny thought.
Why didn't I ever notice that before?

“I always get upset when I come here. I never know if the news is going to be good or bad.” She tossed her purse onto the floor by the chair she usually sat in. “Excuse me a moment, Jeffrey. I want to check with the nurse.”

“Take your time. I'll keep my eye on your purse.”

Fanny nodded. She stayed at the nurses' station longer than usual as she made small talk and accepted a cup of coffee. How many seconds would it take him to go through her purse? Five, ten? A whole minute. He'd have to paw through the junk, open the zipper compartments. Two minutes?

“If you're sure you're all right, I'll get back to the casino,” Jeff said when she sauntered over to her chair.

“I'm fine. I appreciate you taking the time to drive over here. I'll call you later in the week.”

“You know I moved into the penthouse, right?”

“No, I didn't know that,” Fanny lied. “It's quite comfortable. It looks different now than when your father lived there. He was partial to black and white, chrome and glass.”

“You're sure there is nothing I can do?”

“Everything's fine. Thank you for coming.”

Her heart hammering in her chest, Fanny watched as Jeffrey walked away. How did CIA spies do this day in and day out? She felt wiped out, frazzled, down for the count.

“You pulled it off, Fanny. That's my girl. He suspects, but that's okay. Get those pictures and the keys. NOW!”

“I have other things to do right now, Ash. The charge nurse told me the doctors want to talk to me. They're with Marcus now. I think there's been some kind of change in his condition.”

“Those pictures could screw up Sage's life, Fanny. You have to destroy them. That's a goddamn order, Fanny!”

“I don't have to listen to you, Ash. This isn't the navy.” So much for words, Fanny thought as she headed for the ladies' room. The ugly pictures and the keys safe in the zippered compartment of her purse, Fanny took her place in the waiting room to wait for her conference with Marcus's doctors.

The knitting needles clicked furiously as Fanny's thoughts ran rampant. How did Jeffrey Lassiter get the pictures of her son and daughter-in-law? Was Ash's illegitimate son blackmailing her son? How could Birch's wife do such a thing? Her instincts about the young woman had been right. That brought it all back to Sage. She believed with her heart, with her mind, with her gut, that Sage would never betray Iris and his family. If her instincts in regard to her son were right, what other explanation was there for the obscene, ugly pictures? When her meeting with the doctors ended she would take a trip up to Sunrise. She could do nothing for Billie until later in the day.

Fanny adjusted the granny glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Maybe she should think about Billie instead of the ugly pictures in her purse. On the other hand maybe she should think about Marcus and what the doctor was going to tell her. Was John Noble here? If he was, the medical center was allowing him to participate because he was a friend of the family and for the long years of service he'd given to the center before his retirement.

She heard the steps, knew they were coming at her from behind. Fanny wadded up her knitting and shoved it into the large canvas bag. She took a deep breath and waited. Was the news going to be good or bad? Why wasn't she feeling something? Why wasn't her heart pounding in her chest? Why didn't she feel light-headed? She'd felt all those things with Ash. Why was Marcus's condition different than Ash's? Marcus was her husband. Ash
was
her husband, too . . .

Six doctors! Fanny's heart fluttered in her chest. Ash said Marcus was going to live. Damn, she had to stop pretending Ash talked and visited with her. If she wasn't careful, they'd come after her with a net. She let her breath out in a slow
swoosh
of sound.

She felt at a disadvantage. Ash had always told her never to sit at a meeting. Standing he said, put you on everyone else's level. Eyeball to eyeball was always best. Fanny was on her feet in the time it took her heart to beat twice. She inclined her head slightly to acknowledge the five white coats. John Noble was in a three-piece suit.

John stepped forward. Fanny thought she'd never seen him look so inscrutable. “There is bad news and good news, Fanny. Marcus woke around two this morning. That's the good news.”

“Marcus woke and you didn't call me! Why, John? That's unforgivable.”

“Yes, it is. That's part of the bad news, Fanny. We started to run some tests immediately. You couldn't have done anything except to sit here just the way you were doing. It was a judgment call. The trauma to Marcus's head is much more severe than we originally thought.”

“Is Marcus going to live, John? I want you to tell me the truth.”

“There is no reason to think otherwise at this time. His quality of life is . . . we think it will be very different, Fanny.”

Fanny drew in her breath. “What does that mean exactly? Spell it out, John.”

“The tests . . .”

“Just tell me, John.”

“Indications point to Marcus suffering brain damage, Fanny. He doesn't know me. It's doubtful he'll know you.”

Fanny shuddered. “Is . . . is he like . . . is he like Philip was in the beginning? I really need to know, John. Don't sugarcoat this. I want it straight.”

“Philip recovered and led a productive life after his stroke. Marcus's condition is different. We're going to run some more tests, Fanny. We just don't know yet. He's awake. In my opinion and in the opinion of my distinguished colleagues, that's a good thing.”

Fanny backed up to the chair she'd been sitting on. John reached out to help her, but she shrugged off his hand. “What . . . what should I do? Shouldn't I do something? Why are you just now finding this out? Couldn't you tell earlier? I don't believe this. Surely something can be done. Do these things reverse themselves?”

“Fanny, when Marcus fell, he hit his head on the concrete. It was a horrendous blow. It's a miracle he survived at all.”

“Are you saying his brain is scrambled?”

John's voice was careful, edgy sounding when he said, “I don't think I'd put it quite like that.”

“That means . . . that means . . . How can God do this to me, John?”

John Noble bit down on his lower lip. He took a minute to compose himself. “Fanny, I'm just a retired doctor. I don't have the answers you're looking for. Is there anything you want to ask my colleagues? They're the best in their fields. They've done everything humanly possible. Aside from running a second series of tests, it is what it is. We're going to give Marcus a bit of a rest now and start the tests after lunch. You can visit with him now.”

Fanny stared at the man who had been a friend most of her life and at the stoic specialists in their crisp white coats. She nodded. She was halfway down the corridor when she remembered her purse. She went back for it.

Fanny looked through the plate-glass window of the ICU room, her mind totally blank as she stared at her husband. He looked the same as he had yesterday. She wiggled her fingers. Marcus smiled and did the same thing.
Please, God, let all those doctors be wrong.
She lowered her head, tears dripping onto the molding around the window. When she looked up again, Marcus was still wiggling his fingers. Fanny bit down on her lower lip, breaking the skin. When she tasted her own blood, she backed away from the window out of fear that her frenzy would allow her to put her clenched fist through the glass.

“Whoa. What can I do for you, Fanny? Let's sit down and talk. Please, Fanny.”

Fanny wiped at her eyes. “I don't know what to do, John. I didn't go in because I don't know what to say. How can a person as strong and vital as Marcus suddenly turn into someone who might not recognize me? We're married. We lived and loved together. All of that can't be gone. It just can't. Why me? Why Marcus? I don't know what I'm supposed to feel, what I'm supposed to do. He's my husband. Now you're telling me he could be a borderline idiot. I hate the word, but it is what you said in a roundabout way. I almost put my fist through the glass a few minutes ago. I don't think I can handle this. No, no, that's a lie. I
know
I can't handle this. Look at me, John. I'm not Sallie Thornton. Marcus isn't Philip Thornton. I cannot do what Sallie did. I simply cannot do that. I don't care what that makes me in your eyes. I refuse to allow myself to turn into Sallie Thornton. Do you hear me, John? I absolutely positively will not allow that to happen to me.” Fanny's voice rose to a high-pitched scream.

“It's a shock, Fanny. Right now you're overwrought. When you've had time to think, to come to terms with Marcus's condition, things will fall into place. Look, I'm not saying Marcus is, using your term, an idiot. I don't like that word any better than you do. We need time. We need more testing. The general consensus was that Marcus would not wake. He did. I personally am taking that as a positive sign. Marcus is in excellent physical condition for a man his age. That's another plus. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but over the years I've seen many things in many patients. Patients lived when they should have died. Patients died when they should have lived. I'm betting all my medical knowledge on the fact that right now, at this point in time, that Marcus is just confused. He's been in that gray place where there were no sights, sounds, or familiar faces. He's in the light now. Time, Fanny. You need to give it time and let your conscience be your guide.”

Fanny's eyes popped wide. “Did you say the word ‘conscience'? Oh, no. All my life I've had to deal with my conscience. Everyone depended on Fanny's conscience. Do not ever talk to me about my fucking conscience, John. Never, ever! I mean it. That's not going to work with me. I will not turn into another Sallie Thornton. You can take that one to the bank. I'm walking out of here, and I'm not coming back. Tell anyone who needs to know. Don't call me. Don't write to me. I'm out of here.”

“Fanny, wait. You're walking out on your husband? You can't do that, Fanny.”

“Who says I can't? You? I'm going to do it. Watch me.” Over her shoulder she called out, “I'll pay the bills, but that's all I'm going to do.”

John's voice was so low-pitched Fanny had to strain to hear the words. “Are you saying you're going to
abandon
your husband? You'll never be able to live with yourself if you do something that drastic.”

Fanny stopped in her tracks.
“Abandon?”
she said in a choked voice. All her life she'd never understood that particular word. Her own mother had abandoned her and her brothers. If there was one word in the English language she hated, abandon was the word. “Don't do this to me, John. These things just keep slapping me in the face. When does it stop? When is it over? Why me?”

“Sallie always said God never gives you more than you can handle.”

“Don't talk to me about Sallie, John. I'm not denying my responsibility in regard to Marcus. I will not be a slave to . . . to Marcus the way Sallie was to Philip. I raised four children. I will not . . . be a custodian for someone who . . . who . . . I have a life. I used to have a life, and I want it back.”

“Fanny, I can't let you leave here feeling as you do. I wouldn't be much of a doctor or a human being if I didn't try to make things right for you.”

“You can't. No one can. I'm leaving.”

“You didn't go in that room, did you?”

“No, I didn't. I can't.”

“I'll go with you, Fanny. Don't you owe something to Marcus? How hard is it to say hello? What will you do if he recovers completely? How will you explain what you did to him and to yourself? Your family will never understand, nor will they forgive you. Just five minutes, Fanny. Then if you still want to leave, I won't try to stop you.”

“You couldn't stop me even if you wanted to. All right, John. I'll say hello.” Fanny steeled herself to walk back down the corridor to the ICU ward. She didn't stop to peer through the window. She opened the door, her back ramrod stiff, and marched over to the pristine white bed.

Fanny's eyes filled with tears as she approached the bed. It took her several minutes before she could bring herself to speak. “Hello, Marcus?”

The man in the bed stared at her with no sign of recognition. His voice was coarse and ragged-sounding. “Hello.”

He looks thin,
Fanny thought,
and in need of a shave
. His eyes were dull and listless, so unlike the intense, sparkling scrutiny she was used to. How pale and waxy his skin looks. “Do you know me, Marcus?”

“Are you a nurse? This is a hospital.”