* * *
Meghan wasn’t in the ICU waiting area. Annie turned in the opposite direction, walking past the elevators and the stairwell. Then she saw her curled up on a love seat in the waiting room across from maternity; someone—a caring nurse, perhaps—had covered her with a thin hospital blanket. A heavy ache pressed down Annie’s heart.
Meghan did, however, look as if she were asleep. Or perhaps in a stupor of emotion and exhaustion.
Annie quietly sat in a chair next to the love seat. No one else was there; with only three ICU beds in the hospital, she guessed it was a well-monitored place year-round, controlled by a bustling medical staff whose presence blended with the beeping of technology and the random sounds of machines that were keeping patients, keeping Kevin, alive. And might have kept Meghan awake if she’d been in the waiting room over there.
“Annie?” Meghan’s voice was small, timid.
Quickly moving to where Meghan could see her, Annie stooped and touched her shoulder. “I’m here. I wasn’t surprised that you snuck out of the closet.”
Meghan gave her a half smile. “I wanted to be close to him. I went into the ICU waiting room first, but it was noisy. And this was roomier. They let me stay.”
“How is he?”
“I saw him. He’s hooked up to monitors and IV bags, but he’s asleep. He has a breathing tube. Which is hooked up to a ventilator. But he looks comfortable enough.” She sat up; she twisted her hands together. “His hair has gotten gray.”
“That must be my fault,” Annie said with a smile. “The stress of his having a big sister.” She straightened the edge of Meghan’s blanket. “Do you think they’ll let me see him?”
“Sure. Go ask. Lorna is the head nurse on duty. Only one of us can go in at a time, and you can only stay a few minutes. And you’re not supposed to touch him. To help prevent infection.”
Annie stood up. “I don’t know what time the cafeteria opens, but it’s on the first floor . . .”
“Thanks, but the staff is wonderful—the nurses tried to wait on me all night. I had tea, but I haven’t been hungry.”
“You snuck up here early, then.”
“As soon as I figured you were asleep.” She smiled again, an inconsequential gesture but one that helped ease the heaviness that Annie felt.
Still, as she went to the ICU nurses’ station and waited to be noticed, Annie wasn’t sure that she deserved to see her brother. But when Lorna saw her, she led her to the doorway of his room, repeated the directives Meghan had already shared, then squeezed Annie’s hand and left her alone.
* * *
It was peaceful in the room; the lighting was dimmer than it would be if he were in crisis. In spite of the breathing tube, he slept, his respiration steady. Thank God, or whoever was in charge.
Annie pulled a chair next to the bed and sat. And, for the first time since she’d received confirmation in the Anglican Church of Greater Boston, Annie prayed—really prayed, not merely the “Please, God, get him through this and I’ll do anything you ask of me.” Instead, she simply asked for help. For a swift and permanent recovery for Kevin. And that she’d be forgiven.
After a few minutes, she was aware of a figure standing in the doorway. Lorna stood there, silent.
Annie got the message. She stood up and went into the hallway. “Thank you,” she said.
Lorna nodded. “The doctor will be here soon. I’m sure it’s encouraging that your brother had a good night.”
Annie thanked her again, then headed back to the waiting area and Meghan. But just before she reached the stairwell, the heavy door opened, and an imposing figure tramped out, heading toward ICU. The mane of auburn hair that bounced with each determined step belonged to Taylor. And she was on a rampage.
Chapter 27
“No one told me!” she growled. Thankfully, Taylor knew to keep her voice down in the hospital, especially in the ICU. An EMT, after all, would be well aware of protocol. “No one! I had to pull it out of my son, who apparently is more important in Kevin’s life than I am!”
“Taylor,” Annie said, grateful she was headed toward the nurses’ station and not the waiting room where Meghan was. “Please. Let’s go somewhere quiet.”
“I want to see him. I’m entitled to see him.”
“No,” Annie said, her voice as low as possible, “actually, you aren’t.” She scanned the area. “Let’s go out to the garden.” Without waiting for consent, or for an argument, Annie took Taylor by the elbow and swiftly steered her through the ICU unit, hugging the wall of windows to obscure the view inside the rooms, parading the irate woman down the hall and out the door to the rooftop garden.
They were greeted by the early morning sun, melon-colored in the dawn of day. Annie led her to a seating area, careful to take a single chair rather than a long bench made for more than one. She didn’t want to be that close to Taylor. She motioned her to sit on the other side, a small table between them. Then she noticed that, like Kevin, Taylor sported a golden tan; Annie didn’t want to think about them together on a blanket on a tropical beach.
Taylor sputtered, then sat down. She crossed her legs, her long, pink-and-white-and-orange-striped gauze skirt draping in loose folds. Her wardrobe was noticeably different from the jeans and flannel shirts that Annie was accustomed to seeing her in on Chappy. Her whole appearance was softer, more feminine, as if Hawaii had transformed her.
