1
Her sister was in a coma.
Sucking in a lungful of Oregon seaside air, Devyn Lee swung into a parking space, turned off the engine of her rental car, and unclamped her white-knuckled fingers from the wheel.
How could so much change so fast?
Last night, she’d been dancing the title role inGiselleat Lincoln Center.
Now, she was sitting outside the Coos Bay hospital where her sister lay unresponsive after tripping on broken pavement.
There was only one word to describe all that had happened in the past eighteen hours.
Surreal.
As the sequence of events scrolled through her mind, she closed her eyes and kneaded the bridge of her nose.
A late-night call from a neurologist at this hospital.
A frantic online search for the next available flight from New York City to Oregon.
A midnight phone conversation with the ballet master to alert him that an understudy would have to dance her role for today’s final performance of the spring season.
A futile attempt to catch three hours of sleep before her dawn flight on this last Sunday in May.
Nine-plus travel hours from boarding to arrival, followed by a short drive from the North Bend airport to the hospital.
Hectic as her typical days were as a principal dancer with one of the most prestigious ballet companies in the world, none of them had ever been this chaotic or frenzied.
Calling up every ounce of her waning stamina, Devyn reached for her purse. It might only be two in the afternoon in Oregon, but it was five o’clock New York time. And whatever energy boost she’d gleaned from the turkey wrap she’d gulped down in San Francisco between flights had evaporated hours ago.
Yet as she slid from behind the wheel and walked toward the hospital entrance, a tingle of anxiety-laced adrenaline vibrated through her nerve endings.
Because in mere minutes, she’d be face-to-face with the sister she hadn’t seen since their father’s funeral thirteen years ago.
Stomach knotting, she walked through the doors that slid open as she approached. Stopped at the reception desk to get directions. Strode toward the elevator as the questions that had plagued her since last night’s summons looped through her mind yet again.
Why had she been listed as Lauren’s emergency contact instead of her sister’s husband?
And why had she gotten a “no longer in service” message when she’d called the number she’d long ago tucked away for Dennis?
Frowning, she pressed the up button.
What was going on with her sister’s marriage?
A call to Mom at the crack of dawn Paris time to share the news about the accident hadn’t provided any clues. According to her, Lauren hadn’t been in touch for months and had snubbed her during their last exchange.
No surprise there. Mom and her oldest offspring had never been close.
Nor had her two daughters.
Regrettable ... but understandable. It was hard for sisters who not only lived on opposite sides of the country but in two different worlds to form a close bond—especially when one of them made it clear she wasn’t all that interested in being chummy.
The elevator doors slid open, and Devyn stepped inside. Pushed the button for the second floor.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to connect with Lauren through the years. But when every attempt she made to reach out was rebuffed, it had been easier to use the hectic pace of her life as an excuse to backburner any further efforts to mend their frayed bond.
She leaned a shoulder against the wall of the elevator. Sighed.
