Disguised Blessing (6 page)

Rick laughed. “If that’s true, I think I need a little more practice.” He took another candy.

The phone rang. She picked it up, put her hand over the receiver and mouthed to Rick, “She’s in C unit.”

He nodded and waved his thanks.

He wasn’t there to introduce himself to Lynda. He doubted she’d remember the meeting anyway. Even if she hadn’t just had her dressing changed, at this point in her recovery the pain medication was still strong enough that only odd moments would be permanently imprinted.

The curtain to Unit C hung half-closed, and Rick had to pass the door to see inside. Lynda looked as he’d expected—terrifyingly wounded to a parent, perfectly normal to an objective, knowledgeable observer. The machines and monitors were standard stuff, as were the tubes that put things in and took others out. His only surprise was the teenage boy
sitting in the corner of the room, his head propped against the wall, sleeping.

“Who’s the kid in the chair?” Rick asked the nurse when she hung up the phone.

“His name’s Brian Winslow.”

The name registered, but it took a second to connect. And then he remembered Lyn mentioning him that morning when he’d called her to make sure the appointment was still on. “Isn’t he the boy who was with her when she was burned?”

She nodded. “He’s been here every day and most of the nights.”

“Boyfriend?” Catherine had said Lynda didn’t have one, but mothers had been known to be a step or two behind their kids when it came to things like that.

“I don’t think so. At least that’s not the impression I’ve gotten.”

Rick looked at him again. He’d slept on the tailboards and hose beds of fire engines during forest fires, but he’d never been able to fall asleep in a hospital chair. You had to be bone-deep tired and young enough not to worry about a stiff neck to do something like that.

“Has she had a lot of friends come to see her?”

“She told her mother she didn’t want anyone here—including Brian. He sat out in the lobby until Catherine talked Lynda into letting him come back in her room.”

Rick admired loyalty in a friend, and hoped that was all it was. Guilt was a heavy and futile burden for someone Brian’s age. Without the years and wisdom
to know that sometimes shit just happens, the long-term consequences were devastating. Someone needed to be looking out for Brian, too.

And that someone might as well be him.

“
S
hould we go downstairs?” Gene asked. “We have to talk first.” Catherine couldn’t let him see Lynda without preparing him. She would still be drugged and unlikely to remember Gene coming in to see her, but Catherine didn’t want to take any chances. With Lynda’s face pink and swollen, her body wrapped in bandages, a feeding tube taped to her nose, her hair a crude shag on the sides and missing in the back, and her eyes wary and frightened, even Catherine had to look hard to find the old Lynda. Gene would be devastated no matter how well she prepared him; Catherine just didn’t want it to show. Lynda already had enough to deal with without worrying about upsetting her uncle.

“How about some coffee? Have you had breakfast?” He glanced at his watch. “Make that an early lunch.”

She wasn’t hungry but knew Gene needed something to do, something he believed would help her. They were alike that way. Inactivity was her enemy.
It left her too much time to think. Before her divorce, she’d spent a year agonizing over what it would be like to live without Jack and the next three years living what she’d imagined. At first the loneliness had been like a knife in her chest, reminding her with every breath that she slept alone, woke alone, and went out alone. Eventually the pain became as familiar as two place settings at the table instead of three; so familiar, she failed to realize the moment it wasn’t there anymore.

“A cup of coffee would be nice,” she said. “There’s a cafeteria downstairs.”

He picked up her purse and handed it to her. “I know I’m repeating myself, but I really am going to have to talk to Tom about taking better care of you.”

“If you can find him.” She was sorry the minute she said it.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just a little out of sorts today. Tom went up to the lake yesterday to close the cabin. I haven’t heard from him since. At least not directly. He left a message on the machine saying he wasn’t going to make it home last night. But I expected him long before now. He was here when I made the appointment to meet Rick and he knew I wanted him to be with me. At least I thought he did.”

“Did you try his cell phone?”

She nodded. “And his pager—at least a dozen times. He’s not answering either of them.”

“That doesn’t sound like Tom.”

“He’s not taking this very well,” she admitted.
“He’s disappeared on me a couple of times since we’ve been here. Turns out he’s one of those people who doesn’t like hospitals.”

“Please tell me he’s not using that as an excuse.”

“Of course not.” At least not in those exact words. Tom had found ways to keep himself busy, all of them away from the hospital and always in the guise of helping. She’d gone from being grateful to confused to hurt. She wasn’t sure what she felt anymore.

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

Confined in the sanctuary of the cherry woodlined elevator, Catherine was tempted to dump her frustration and fear on her brother as she had during her divorce. Only the promise she’d made to Gene and herself never to do that to him again stopped her. “I can take care of it,” she said.

They picked up coffee and, at Gene’s insistence, sandwiches, and took them into the atrium, settling into a window seat that faced west.

“So tell me how she’s doing,” Gene said. “I assume that’s why we’re here instead of in her room.”

Catherine took a sip of coffee and put the cup aside. Even a swallow was too much for her stomach to handle. “She has what the doctors call a twenty-percent burn. They calculate these things to figure the medications and treatment and something else I can’t remember.

“The second degree burns will heal on their own, but the third degree areas have to be grafted. The worst places are where her camisole melted and
stuck to her skin.” Catherine remembered the day Lynda bought the bright red camisole. They’d been at Sunrise Shopping Center looking for a birthday present for Lynda’s best friend, Wendy. After wandering the mall for four hours, they’d left with a new pair of pants for Catherine, the camisole for Lynda, and nothing for Wendy.

“You can actually see the outline of her bra across her back where it protected her for awhile.”

“Does she know what happened?”

“She remembers everything up to being put in the ambulance. After that it’s bits and pieces. Now she’s drowsy and sick to her stomach from the pain medication, and drifts in and out of sleep so I never know what she’s seeing or hearing.”

Gene took a bite from the corner of his sandwich and then set it aside, too. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “How long do the doctors think she’ll be in the hospital?”

“Three to four weeks. She’s scheduled for her first grafting operation in a couple of days. They want to see how much of her back is going to heal on its own before they go in.”

“Where will they get the grafts?”

“Her head and her buttocks. She’ll have to put up with being bald for awhile and having her backside sore, but this way they won’t be creating scars by taking tissue from more exposed places.” At Gene’s encouragement, Catherine tried a bite of sandwich and almost gagged.

He gave up and put her sandwich with his. “Her beautiful hair…”

“It’s not so beautiful anymore,” Catherine said softly. “She lost most of it in the fire.”

“Will it grow back all right after the grafting?”

“Eventually. They don’t take the skin deep enough to affect the hair follicles. If she were a boy and went bald as a man you’d be able to see the scars from the surgery, but it won’t affect her.”

“Does Lynda know?”

“I know she’s heard me talking to the doctors, but I don’t know how much of it registered.” Catherine didn’t mind the barrage of questions. It was Gene’s way of coping with stress.

“How is Mom taking all of this?”

“She’s getting through it, but I’m worried about her. I finally had to ask a friend to come and get her last night. She was so tired she couldn’t walk straight.”

“At least you weren’t alone,” he said cryptically.

Gene took his big brother role seriously. He’d been her protector from the time she was six months old and a neighborhood dog tried to steal her bottle.

“Tom’s been here, Gene. He didn’t completely abandon us.”

“It just looks that way, huh?”

She would have to be more careful. Gene might be slow to anger, but he was slower still to forgive. “Actually, I’ve had more people wanting to help than I have things for them to do. I had Mom answer the messages on the machine at home and tell everyone that Lynda couldn’t have flowers or visitors but cards were okay. Brian volunteered to call some friends and have them call everyone they thought would want to know.”

“Brian?”

“Brian Winslow. The accident happened at his parents’ house at the lake. If it weren’t for him, Lynda would have been burned a lot worse.”

“All right, you’ve warned me about what to expect. When can I see her?”

“Now, if you want. She should be back in her room.”

“Is there anything else I should know? Anything I shouldn’t say or do?”

“Don’t try to con her. She knows how badly she’s burned.”

“She must be scared out of her mind.”

Catherine leaned into his shoulder. “Just like her mom.” Her cell phone interrupted them. “I’d better get that,” she said, and reached inside her purse. “It could be Tom.”

He stood and picked up their plates and coffee cups. “I’ll get rid of this stuff.”

“Would you mind going downstairs and seeing if Lynda really is back in her room?” She didn’t want him listening if it was Tom on the phone.

“And if she is?”

“Come and get me.” The phone rang again, intrusive, promising, annoying. “Oh, I almost forgot. You have to put on a gown before you go in,” she called to him. “Ask one of the nurses to help you.”

She pressed the Send button on the phone.

“I’m at your house,” Tom answered cheerfully at her hello. “Is there anything you want me to bring when I come down?”

“What are you doing there?” She made no effort to hide her irritation.

“What did you think I was going to do with all the stuff I brought back?”

“Where have you been all this time? And why haven’t you been answering your pager? Jesus, Tom, you had to know that I’d be worried sick about you. You promised you’d be here this morning for the meeting.”

“I must have left my pager in the car.”

He was lying. She could tell by the tone in his voice. But why? “That’s a first. What about your cell phone?”

“What about it?”

“Why didn’t you have it with you?”

“I did. Don’t tell me it’s not working again.”

“Funny, it was working when you called about the golf tournament at the club before you left.”

“There’s been a lot going on outside that hospital, Catherine,” he said defensively. “It may seem the world stopped turning to you, but the rest of us have had to keep going despite Lynda being burned.”

“I’m aware of that.” The last thing she needed or wanted was a fight. She didn’t have the energy for the battle, let alone the reconciliation.

“You’re obviously mad at me about something. Why don’t you just tell me what it is?”

“I’m not mad, Tom. I’m worn out.”

“It’s more than that.”

“All right, maybe I am a little upset.” She walked to the window and stood in the sunlight, closing her
eyes against the brightness. She wished she’d known Tom longer. She needed him to be more than her lover; she needed him to be her best friend, the kind it took years to become. “Can you blame me? When you left for the cabin yesterday you said you’d be back by ten, no later. You should have at least called to let me know you were tied up—or whatever it was that kept you from being here this morning.”

“You’re right. I’ll try to be more considerate from now on. It’s just that I’m not used to reporting my comings and goings to anyone. Until I met you, my time was my own.”

It was such an odd thing for him to say she didn’t know how to answer. Was she supposed to forgive him or apologize for being a burden? “It’s been so long since I had that kind of freedom I guess I’ve forgotten what it was like.”

“Don’t worry about it—I understand how that can happen.”

“You asked if I needed anything. I could use a change of clothes.”

“You’re not doing Lynda or yourself any good spending every single minute in that hospital. Why don’t you take some time off and come home for a couple of hours?”

They’d already had this discussion. She sidestepped a replay by saying, “Gene is here.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t due back from Japan for another two weeks.”

“Mom told him about Lynda and he flew home to see if he could help.”

“That’s insane. The trip put him in line for a promotion.
Your mother shouldn’t have called him. I sure as hell wouldn’t have. There’s nothing he can do here. Besides, Lynda’s doing fine.”

“She isn’t fine, Tom,” Catherine snapped. “She’s a long way from being fine.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. And you know if there was something, anything I could do to make her better I would do it. I just don’t see how having a crowd of people sitting around the hospital is helping.”

It was one of those things she didn’t want to have to tell him, that she wanted him to see for himself. But she’d given up on the possibility that he ever would. “I need you as much as Lynda does.”

“Make up your mind, Catherine. Either I do the running around you ask me to do or I’m at the hospital. You can’t have it both ways.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Are you leaving the house now?”

“I have to stop by the office first.”

“I thought you were still on vacation.” When would she learn? “Never mind. Just come when you can.”

“Do you need the clothes right away? I can try to get there sooner if you do.”

“I’ll have my mother stop by and pick up something on her way.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Say hello to Gene for me.”

“I will.”

He hung up without saying good-bye.

Catherine met Gene in the hallway outside the intensive care unit where he was leaning against the wall waiting for her. “How is she?”

“Out of it. I tried talking to her but I don’t think she even knew who I was.”

“It’s the drugs.”

“How long will that go on?”

“For as long as she needs them. They believe in pain control around here.”

“Have you been able to talk to her at all?”

“Some. The worst time is after a dressing change. She’ll be more lucid later on.”

“Is Tom on his way?”

She shifted her gaze to the floor and knew immediately that it was a mistake. Gene read body language as well as he did Japanese. “He has to stop by the office first.” She’d sworn she was through making excuses for anyone. When had she started again?

“I assume he’s all right.”

“What do you mean?”

“That he wasn’t in a wreck or some other disaster that kept him from calling you.”

“He got tied up and forgot. I had him running from—”

“It’s okay, Catherine. You don’t have to explain.”

“He doesn’t like hospitals.” She’d already told him that.

“Still…”

“I know. But he’s so good to us in every other way. I feel judgmental complaining about this one thing.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve had too many stones thrown at me. I’m not about to start throwing them at someone else.” Gene put his arm around her and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Speaking of stone throwing, what do you hear from Jack?”

“He met us here the night she came in, and he was here yesterday. He’s in Dallas now and will be for the next week. One of the nurses told me he’s called several times from there.”

“Is Jack coming around a problem with Tom?”

She wished it were that simple. “The only time they saw each other was the first night, and it was pretty rough on all of us.” Gene didn’t say anything, but she could feel his disapproval. How could Tom hope to build a relationship with Lynda if he wasn’t around when she really needed him? “I’m going inside. Do you want to come with me?”

“I’m here until you throw me out.”

She put her head on his shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut against a sudden, unexpected onslaught of tears. Why was it she could be strong until someone was nice to her? “I’m sorry Mom called you and pulled you away from your meetings, but I’m so glad you came.”