Page 107 of Solo

“Are you real?” I ask with a slight tremor. I’m afraid of what the answer might be.

He smiles at me and chuckles, the way he did when I was a kid.

“Yes, Katherine, I’m real,” he says, reaching over to pull the rolling table across my bedside. He picks up a bowl and spoon that are sitting there. “The doctor says you need to eat, sweetheart. I need you to have a little broth for me. Can you do that, do you think?”

I nod and watch as he fills a spoonful and carefully brings it to my lips. I open my mouth and swallow the warm, salty liquid.

“Good girl,” he says happily, already filling another spoonful. We repeat this process until the broth is gone and he sets the empty bowl and spoon back on the table. Beverly quietly pulls it out of the way and adjusts my pillows under my head.

“You came,” I say to my father, still not completely certain he isn’t a figment of my imagination.

He nods.

“Why?” I ask.

He reaches out with his big, soft hand and brushes the hair from my forehead.

“Because you needed me. And, for the first time in your life, Katherine, I realized that was more important than anything else on the face of this earth.”

I try to respond, but I’m just too tired. My eyes slip closed and I feel a smile on my lips as his hand strokes my cheek.

“More than anything else, Katherine,” he repeats as I fall back to sleep.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Drew

When I arrive outside her hospital room I take a minute to catch my breath before I push open the door. But I needn’t have worried about alarming her because she’s out cold.

“Can I help you?” comes a voice behind me. I turn to see a tall, slender black woman, probably in her sixties. She’s wearing a nurse’s uniform and a name tag that identifies her as Beverly Keen, RN.

“Uh, yes, I’m here to see Miss Brenner. I’m her…uh…friend.”

She cocks a suspicious eyebrow at me. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

I consider concocting some fake story, but that never works, so I settle on the truth.

“Truth is, I’m not sure. I screwed up. Big time. And now she’s here and all I want is to beg for her forgiveness. Please. If she wants me to go, I’ll go, but I just have to see her,” I plead as her eyes soften.

“You can stay for a little while, but she’s not going to accept any apologies tonight. That girl is sick. Very, very sick and right now she’s resting so deep that she probably wouldn’t hear a bomb explode in the room next door.”

“I understand,” I say, in a rush to accept her offer before she changes her mind. “I’ll just sit here next to her for a while. I just want to be close to her.”

She gives me a harrumph and leaves us alone. I pull one of the recliners as close to her bed as I can and sit, leaning forward to take her hand. It’s chilly and I’m reminded of that night that I had to climb into bed to warm her.

In the glow of the room’s soothing, amber lighting, I can see how pale and wan she is. Her hair hangs in thin strings around her face, which looks gaunt now. Has she been eating? It seems like she’s lost a good chunk of weight.

I look at the IV pole behind her. That’s likely where her nutrients are coming from right now. Not to mention some serious antibiotics. A clear plastic hose snakes its way out of a panel in the wall behind her bed, becoming a cannula across her face, delivering oxygen through her nose. I want nothing more than to climb into the bed and scoop her into my arms. I want to tell her how sorry I am and that I want to make it better. That I love her. Because I do. But the most I can do for now is kiss the back of her delicate little hand and stroke it with my thumb.

“Please forgive me,” I whisper so softly that she wouldn’t have heard me, even if she were awake. At least, I think that’s how softly I say it.

“I wouldn’t count on forgiveness coming anytime soon.”

I jump, startled by the sound of a man’s voice in the room just a few feet behind me. When I turn around, I see him. Even though his face is half obscured by the dark shadows of the room, there is no mistaking who he is.

“Senator Brenner.”

The look on his face is sheer disdain. I recognize it because it is an expression that I, myself, have perfected. It occurs to me that the young woman sleeping besides us has been the unfortunate recipient of that glare from both of us. God, it’s a wonder she trusts anyone.