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CHAPTER TWO
An hour after the phone call with her father, Lucy pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the tinted window and watched the lights of the city blur past them as the driver navigated them to the San Francisco Airport. She could vaguely hear Jamie talking to the pilot about taking them to Palm Springs. When he finished, she felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t move into him as she wanted to, but she didn’t pull away, either. They rode in silence until the limousine parked in a secure area of the airport and stopped about thirty feet from a deluxe looking silver jet with “WHITCOMB ENTERPRISES” stenciled across the side in elegant black letters.
After exiting the limo, Jamie led Lucy up the ramp and into the jet. A woman in a black skirt and blazer helped her through the jet doors and led her to an open area with several plush seats. They were nothing like the airline seats she’d seen in the past, not even in first class, which she’d used her points to bump up to once. Lucy shuffled to one of the recliners and practically collapsed into it. She was vaguely aware of Jamie buckling her seat belt as she glanced around the rest of the jet. It had a wet bar and an espresso machine. A closed door toward the back had her wondering if there was actually a bedroom on board.
He sat down in the recliner next to hers and took her hand. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to fall into a deep sleep from which she could wake and start the day over again. She concentrated on the feel of Jamie’s grip and way he occasionally stroked her arm.
Mason had used to stroke her arm like that. Despite how things had ended between them, he’d always been affectionate and caring. That’s why it had stunned her when he’d walked away from her so easily, only to take up with Gail. Now Mason was dead. His eyes, which had reminded her of dark chocolate and could light up her world when he laughed, would never light up again. Oh God.
She sobbed and instinctively moved away from Jamie. Think of Gail, she told herself. Gail is still alive. With Gail there’s still hope.
As Lucy closed her eyes, however, hope eluded her.
The doctors don’t think she’s going to make it, her father had said.
But she has to make it, Lucy thought.
Her older sister couldn’t die.
She couldn’t die without Lucy seeing her. Without Lucy telling her she loved her.
Time lost meaning, and Lucy’s mind drifted between the past and the present. The next thing she knew, someone was shaking her and calling her name.
“Lucy, we’re here,” Jamie said.
Her eyes popped open. The lingering dream she’d been having of her and Gail, nine and eleven, making bracelets for each other that said, “My sister/My best friend,” drifted away. Within minutes, they were on the move again, in another limo, then pulling up in front of the doors of a big hospital. She wasn’t sure how she managed to put one foot in front of the other, much less breathe, but somehow Jamie held her firm and steady and got her inside.
Everything seemed to be happening so fast. She couldn’t get a hold on reality. All she could do was cling to Jamie and the safety and comfort he represented, even as a part of her knew his presence and those feelings were only temporary. He was leaving the university. Had come to her classroom just hours ago to say good-bye. Unfortunately for him, he’d gotten caught in this maelstrom that was currently her life, but soon she’d have to pull herself together and deal with the reality of what was happening on her own.
Soon, she’d have to let Jamie walk away.
A nurse directed them to the ICU on the tenth floor. The elevator opened into the waiting room and the sight of all the people she’d avoided for fifteen years twisted her stomach into a tight knot. Her mother and father looked very much as they should after the passing of fifteen years, their hair grayer, their bodies more fragile, their faces painted with lines she didn’t remember. They sat on a sofa next to one of her aunts, who didn’t look like she’d aged at all. Mason’s parents were seated in a corner with his mother’s face buried in his father’s chest.
There were men in suits standing around the perimeter of the room, and by their posture Lucy suspected they were her father’s bodyguards; even before Lucy had left home at sixteen, her father, a congressman, had already received several threats on his life. He’d been fanatical about ensuring his family was safe and terribly furious each time Lucy had ditched her guards in order to have some time to herself.
Her father neither rose nor called her over. He just stared at her and she knew what he was wishing. That it was her lying in the ICU bed rather than Gail.
Her mother followed her father’s gaze and the second she saw Lucy, her face contorted. She stood, then rushed to Lucy, pulling her into her arms as she sobbed. For several precious seconds, Lucy closed her eyes, cherishing the feel of her mother’s embrace. But before she could begin sobbing, too, her mother pulled away.
In all these years, her mother had never reached out to Lucy. Not once. She’d never betray her husband in such a way.
“Gail?” Lucy asked.
When her mother’s expression crumpled and she dissolved into tears again, Lucy knew.
Her big sister, her first best friend, her first confidante was dead.
“Milly…” her mother murmured.
“Milly is home with the nanny,” her father said.
“Milly?” Lucy asked.
Her mother looked up. “Gail and Mason’s baby. She’s six months old.”
Oh God. Gail had had a daughter and no one had told her? She shouldn’t be surprised. And she wasn’t blameless. While it was true neither her parents nor Gail had tried to contact her to make amends, Lucy had tried only once—when she’d left her cell phone number on Gail’s answering machine. For fifteen years, she’d let hurt feelings and pride dictate her actions and now…
She sobbed, a broken sound that sounded more broken because of the way she tried to hold it back. Somehow, Lucy’s mother was returned to the embrace of her husband. Then Jamie had his arm around her.
