While My Sister Sleeps. Barbara Delinsky
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that had shown up in the paper. Nick swore he had gotten the information from a separate source, but neither Robin nor Kathryn fully bought that. Don’t believe what he says, Robin had told Molly once too often, and lest she forget, Kathryn repeated the warning often. But Molly liked Nick. He was interesting, and he was going places. That he liked Molly enough to want to be her friend even after her sister had shafted him was flattering.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ he said now, conciliatory. ‘If you’d called me last night, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. When you didn’t return my call this morning, I started calling other people. It’s an occupational hazard.’
‘That’s what frightens me. Nick, I need your help. Can you keep this out of the paper?’
There was a short pause, then a surprised, ‘How can I do that? It’s news.’
‘You have clout there. You can get them to hold off. The more people hear, the more they call us, and we just can’t talk until we know more.’
‘What do you know now?’
Molly had been hoping for a promise. Disappointed, she didn’t reply.
‘Are we friends?’ he asked quietly. ‘Friends trust one another.’
Friends also call more than one measly time before calling other people, Molly thought. Of course, she was hypersensitive.
But she wasn’t stupid. ‘The point is my family needs privacy,’ she explained. ‘And honestly, there isn’t much to tell. Robin did have a heart event, but all her vital signs are good.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie.
‘Is a heart "event" the same as a heart "attack"?’
‘They’re just words to me right now. I’m pretty shaken. We all are. I’ve told you as much as we know for sure.’ Not exactly a lie, either.
‘Okay. That’s okay. Will you call me when you learn anything more?’
She said she would, but ended the call feeling uncomfortable. It was a minute before she put her finger on it. For all his questions, he hadn’t asked how she was doing with all this. Friends who claimed they were good buddies did that.
Telling herself that it was a simple oversight–that he knew she was upset, so had no need to ask–she closed her phone and went back up the hall. She was nearly at Robin’s door when her father emerged. He was taking his own phone from his pocket. ‘Your mom agreed to the EEG. Want to stay with her while I give Chris a call?’
The EEG wasn’t done until early evening to accommodate the neurologist, who wanted to be present to interpret the results. The machine was brought into Robin’s room. Since quiet was required for the truest reading, Kathryn was the only family member allowed to stay.
She was grateful that the nurses sensed her need to be there, but if she had been hoping to bring Robin luck, it didn’t work. She cheered silently. She repeated every motivational thought that had goaded Robin on in the past. She counted on her brain waves connecting to Robin’s.
But the news wasn’t good. After an hour of the machine’s pen scratching on paper, Kathryn could see it herself–one flat line after the next over twelve different readings.
What could the neurologist say? Crying quietly, Kathryn couldn’t think to ask new questions, and after he left, the nurse lingered, focusing not on Robin but on her, which almost felt worse. Did she want to talk with social services? No. Perhaps a minister? No.
I want that second test, Kathryn finally managed to say. The nurse nodded and replied, It’s a process, which didn’t help at all. Kathryn didn’t want a process. She wanted her daughter.
For the longest time after the nurse left, Kathryn stood holding Robin’s hand, studying her face, trying to square what the test said with the daughter who had done cartwheels at the age of three. Charlie was behind her, with Chris and Erin nearby. Molly was back by the wall. No one spoke, and that didn’t help either. It wasn’t fair, none of it–not their silence, not her pain, not Robin’s fate.
Furious, she turned on her family. ‘You all wanted this done. Are we able to help Robin more now?’
Charlie looked crushed. Chris clutched Erin’s hand. Molly was in tears.
‘I said it was too soon,’ Kathryn argued, starting to cry again herself. Charlie gave her a tissue and held her until she regained composure. ‘Some patients need more time. The doctor said that. I’m going to keep talking to her. She hears me. I know she does.’ Determined, she returned to Robin. ‘And I know how to give pep talks, don’t I. So here’s a really, really important one.’ She bent down, spoke low. ‘Are you listening, Robin? I need you to listen. We’ve faced tough fields before. You’ve competed against some of the best runners in the world and come out ahead. That’s what we’ll do this time. We’ll surprise them all. We’re going to win.’
Molly materialized at her side. ‘Mom?’ she asked in a very young voice.
Kathryn softened at the sound. Molly wasn’t often vulnerable. It was a throwback, a reminder of what Charlie had said. ‘What, honey?’
‘Maybe we should tell Nana.’
Kathryn should have been hurting enough to be immune to more pain, but there it was. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought hysteria. She wasn’t sure how much a person was expected to bear all at once, but she was reaching her limit.
Opening her eyes, she said, ‘Nana isn’t herself.’
‘She has lucid times.’
‘She can’t remember our names, much less take in something we tell her. She isn’t the Nana you knew, Molly. Besides,’ she returned to Robin with a last glimmer of hope, ‘it would be cruel to tell a woman her age something we don’t know for sure. This was only the first EEG. There’s a reason they require two. I don’t care what the doctors say; I’m not believing a thing until the second is done.’
Of the disagreements Molly had with her mother, with one the least and ten the worst, their dispute over her grandmother ranked an eight. That was one of the reasons she went from the hospital to the nursing home. Visiting hours were over by the time she arrived, but the staff was used to her coming and going. She smiled at the woman at the front desk and was quickly waved on. After running up the stairs to the third floor, though, she faltered.
‘Is she alone?’ she asked at the nurse’s station. She didn’t mind that her grandmother had a boyfriend. The staff said that they didn’t actually have sex, but Molly wasn’t taking any chances.
The nurse smiled. ‘Thomas is in his room by himself. He has a cold.’
Grateful, Molly slipped into a room halfway down the hall, closed the door and turned to the figure in the chair. Marjorie Webber was seventy-eight. She had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s five years before, and for the first two of those years had been cared for by her husband. Then his health declined, and hers spiraled to the point where she needed round-the-clock attention. Putting her in a nursing home had been the only option.
To be fair, Molly knew Kathryn had agonized over the decision. They had all agreed that moving Marjorie in with Charlie and her was impractical, what with so many stairs. Besides, Marjorie needed constant watching, and Kathryn was rarely home. A dedicated facility seemed their best hope for maximizing safety and care. They had looked at many before choosing this one. Housed in a large mansion with multiple wings adapted for the purpose, this nursing home exuded warmth the others lacked. Part of its appeal was its closeness to the Snows’ home.
Kathryn had taken her father to visit often, and after George died, went by herself. Then Marjorie met Thomas, and Kathryn flipped out. No matter that George was dead, she took her mother’s having a boyfriend as a personal affront and stopped visiting. Kathryn reasoned that her mother didn’t know whether she came or not, and Molly had no proof either way. She herself had always adored her grandmother. Even in her diminished