TWO

      Keeping watch behind and to the sides, Rachel let Kyle request admittance to the sealed-off ward via the intercom. Automatic doors swished open and her senses were assailed by pungent medicinal smells, beeping machines and an atmosphere so hushed, so heavy, it seemed tangible. If she had not yearned so strongly to be reunited with Angela, she would have turned and fled.

      Up ahead, a woman wearing a mask, gloves and a long-sleeved disposable smock gestured to them and pointed. “Ms. Fielding is in the last bed in this row. Behind that curtain. We don’t usually allow more than one visitor at a time and a neighbor brought her daughter to see her, but under these circumstances you can go ahead, too.”

      The extra strength Rachel needed came from the man beside her. She took a deep breath, steeled herself for what she might see and started forward. Off on her left and right, other patients were clearly struggling to survive. Most were elderly, but not all. Angela was barely thirty. This was so unfair.

      As they drew closer, Rachel could hear a woman speaking to a child behind the partially drawn curtain next to Angela’s bed. When Rachel reached out and pulled it aside with a trembling hand, the sight of her sister’s swollen, bruised face and emaciated arms made her gasp. Tears immediately blurred her vision. She rushed forward as an older woman carrying a little girl backed away to make room.

      “You came,” Angela whispered.

      “Of course I did.”

      “I was afraid you might not.”

      Previously unshed tears began to slide silently down Rachel’s cheeks and she noted that her sister was also weeping. What could she do or say to help? Fond memories made her revert to a long-unused quip. “I had to see my favorite sister.”

      To Rachel’s delight, the comment brought a slight smile to the badly beaten face. “I’m your only sister.”

      “Picky, picky.” Rachel’s hands were clasping Angela’s on the side of the bed opposite the IV, and she could feel bones inside the painfully thin fingers. Beeping from a nearby machine increased in frequency, and she realized she was hearing her sister’s racing pulse.

      Slowly, tenderly, Rachel reached to smooth Angela’s damp hair off her forehead. “Take it easy, sis. You need to rest so you can get better and take care of your daughter. This pretty little girl must be Natalie.”

      “Yes. Natalie, this is your aunt Rachel. Maria Alvarez is my neighbor. She’s the one who called the police when I couldn’t.”

      Not only did Angela’s weeping continue, she looked past Rachel and the others to focus on Kyle. “You’re her friend?”

      “Kyle Roark. We work together,” he said.

      “But you are friends, too?” She kept struggling to control her emotions enough to speak.

      Rachel answered for him. “Yes. Kyle and I are friends. He drove me here.”

      “He’ll stay?”

      That question made Rachel stiffen and peer behind her. “I thought I saw Peter downstairs. Is he...?”

      Attempting to shake her head, Angela winced in pain. “He’s in jail. The police arrested him for doing this to me.”

      “Thank God for answered prayers,” Rachel confessed. “He’s the last person I want to run into. Ever.”

      “That makes two of us,” her older sister admitted, sniffling and struggling to go on. “I’m so sorry, sis. I should have listened to you and left him years ago.”

      “That’s all in the past.” Rachel stroked Angela’s forehead again. “Right now, you need to worry about getting better.”

      Again, Angela focused on Kyle, then looked to Mrs. Alvarez. “Maria, can you and this gentleman take Natalie for ice cream or something? Please? I want to talk to my sister. Alone.”

      “Sí.” The full-bodied woman lowered the child to the ground and clasped one of Angela’s hands. “Hold on to Senor Kyle, too, Natalie. We don’t want him to get lost.”

      The child complied, slipping her small hand into Kyle’s and holding tight, then looking up at him in awe. “He’s real big.”

      Rachel smiled and almost chuckled until her niece added, “I think he could beat up my daddy if he had to.”

      Rachel’s heart clenched. Of course. Angela wouldn’t be the only victim of her live-in’s temper. Peter would have lashed out at anyone who displeased him. The way he had at Angela. And the way he had at her when he’d driven her out of her sister’s life that last time.

      Returning her full attention to her weeping sibling, Rachel tried to apologize. “I’m so sorry. I should have found the courage to stay with you.”

      “Nonsense.” Sniffle. “You begged me to go away with you and I was too stubborn and stupid to listen. That’s not your fault.”

      “I wrote. You never answered.”

      “I couldn’t. I just couldn’t admit what a horrible mistake I’d made. By the time I thought I was ready to leave Peter I’d lost touch with you.”

      “You knew I was close by.”

      “Not for sure. I’d had your unlisted cell number in my phone but Peter took it away. When your letters stopped coming I figured you had washed your hands of me.”

      “No way. I didn’t stop trying to keep in touch,” Rachel vowed. “He must have intercepted my letters. I was only writing once a month or so after the first year. It would have gotten easier for him to destroy your personal mail before you saw it.”

      Falling silent, Angela seemed to struggle to breathe.

      “Do you want me to call a nurse?”

      “No. No. Just give me a second.” She inhaled a little more deeply, wincing and groaning as her chest expanded. “I want you to promise me something.”

      Rachel leaned closer. “Of course. Anything.”

      “I want you to take Natalie, look after her and tell her about me so she remembers and knows I loved her.”

      “I’ll be glad to babysit. You can tell her you love her, yourself.”

       “Promise.”

      “All right. I promise.”

      Shuddering, Angela tightened her grip on Rachel’s hand. “Don’t let Peter get his hands on her, whatever you do.”

      “How can I prevent it? He’s her father.”

      “Not legally. I never put a father’s name on her birth certificate, and we never married. Besides, I have high hopes he’ll rot in jail after doing this to me.”

      “From your lips to God’s ears,” Rachel quoted, meaning every word. “Is it all right if I take her to the base with me while you’re recuperating? I can’t be away from my duties too long, and there’s a good preschool there for when I’m working.”