F Paul Wilson - Novel 05 (5 page)

 
          
"She
isn't missing. She was found unconscious in her studio."

           
"Great," Julie muttered.
"Another overdose. What's the hot new drug in
Paris
these days?"

 
          
"Please,
Julie. This is serious. She's been comatose for two weeks."

 
          
"Two
weeks?"

 
          
"I
just found out about it yesterday. I rushed to
Paris
immediately. She's a very
sick girl. And it's
not
drugs
—
all
the toxicology tests were negative."

 
          
"Then
what
—
?"

 
          
"I
spoke to the hospital chief of staff. No one knows what's wrong. Every test
they do comes back negative."

 
          
"She's
been checked for encephalitis? Meningitis? Did they look for any sign of a blow
to the head? A fall?"

 
          
"Yes,
yes. And all the possible metabolic causes. It's a public hospital but they
were very thorough. They say they can't do anything else for her."

 
          
"There's
got to be something. Every coma has a cause
—
it's
not a state the body goes into just for the hell of it."

 
          
"I'm
having Dr. Elliot fly over to consult."

 
          
"The
neurologist? From Oxford?"

 
          
"Yes.
He's supposed to be the top man in coma."

 
          
"He
is." Julie knew his reputation. "No one even comes close. He'll find
out what happened."

 
          
As
usual, Uncle Eathan was pulling out all stops for Sam. Of course, Julie knew
he'd do the same for her, but it always seemed to be Sam who needed rescuing.

 
          
"If
Dr. Elliot agrees with the others
—
that
we'll just have to wait
—
then I'll have Samantha
moved to a nursing home where we'll... just. . . wait."

 
          
"Well,
I hope he can help her."

 
          
"God,
so do I. Samantha's been through so much."

 
          
Julie
didn't respond to that. The correct way to say it was that Samantha had put
herself
through so much.

 
          
A
pause, then Eathan spoke: "When are you coming over?"

 
          
"To
Europe?" Oh, no. He didn't expect her to ... "I
—
I can't. I'm right in the middle of something very
important. That memory project I've been telling you about."

 
          
"Oh."
He sounded crushed. "I thought maybe you could help."

 
          
"Me?
You're the M.D."

           
"I haven't practiced for almost
a quarter century
—
you know that."

 
          
"But
I'm not a medical doctor; I'm a Ph.D."

 
          
"In
neurophysiology. Anything you can add ..."

 
          
"I
can't add anything to Dr. Elliot. He's world class. Look, you know that if
there was something I could do, I'd be heading for the airport now. But I
can't. And I'm stuck here. The work is at a critical juncture." She waited
a beat. "You can do without me there, but I'm needed here."

 
          
"Julie...
I know you and Sam haven't been getting along..."

 
          
Getting
along? she thought. We haven't
spoken
in years.

 
          
"That's
not it. And I promise I'll come over as soon as 1 can get free. I mean
it."

 
          
"Please
do. The instant you're free. This is very serious."

 
          
"Keep
me informed of any changes, all right? I'll call you tomorrow. I'll stay in
touch. I promise."

 
          
"Very
well." She could hear the disappointment in his voice. "I'll be at
this number."

 
          
Julie
said good-bye and hung up.

 
          
Damn.
Here she was, twenty-eight years old and still allowing her uncle to make her
feel guilty. Or did she feel guilty because of Sam?

 
          
"Everything
all right?"

 
          
Julie
looked up and saw Dr. Siegal standing in the doorway.

 
          
"Family
problems," she said. She felt almost embarrassed telling him.

 
          
"Anything
I can do?"

 
          
"No.
It's my sister. Nobody could ever do much with my sister."

 
          
"The
sister you never talk about?"

 
          
She
nodded. "My evil twin."

 
          
"A
twin? How fascinating. You mean there's two of you?"

 
          
"Hardly.
She's the most unidentical identical twin you could ever do

 
          
"She's
in some sort of trouble?"

 
          
Julie
summarized what Uncle Eathan had told her, and he asked most of the same
questions she'd asked Eathan.

 
          
"Don't
you worry about a thing," Dr. Siegal said. "I'll keep things running
here. You just get over there first flight that you can. Go. Be with your
family. Take as long as
—
"

 
          
"Oh,
I'm not going anywhere."

 
          
Dr.
Siegal's eyes were wide, incredulous. "Your sister
—
your
twin
—
is
in a coma and you're not going to her side?'

 
          
"I've
got too much to do here, especially with the Bruch-meyer protocol. And besides,
she's in good hands."

 
          
He
stared at her strangely for a moment, then stepped forward and took her arm.
He pulled her toward the door.

 
          
"Come.
No argument. If you don't want to have lunch, then we'll have something
else."

 
          
"What?"

 
          
"A
talk. About priorities."

3

 
          
A
warm, sunny October day, with the trees in
Washington Square
starting to change color.
The park was crowded with people eating their lunch, drinking their lunch,
smoking or snorting their lunch, or trying to bum change off the rest so they
could buy some lunch.

 
          
Julie
let Dr. Siegal drag her along the littered walks until they found an empty half
of a park bench next to an entwined couple who appeared to be having each other
for lunch. They sat down.

 
          
In
true New York fashion Julie and Dr. S. ignored the amorous couple. Harder to
ignore were the scattered papers and empty bottles and cans and fast-food
containers that dotted the park. An unusual amount of litter, Julie thought. Even
the parks were suffering from cutbacks.

 
          
"Is
this talk really necessary?" Julie said. As much as she liked him, she
couldn't help feeling annoyed. This was wasted time.

 
          
"That's
what I mean by priorities," he said. "Nothing is as important as
family. Work is simply work. We're not saving mankind here, Julie

 
          
"I'm
convinced we might be
—
and I know you feel the
same. Besides, I don't have a family. You know that."

           
"Except for an uncle and a
black-sheep sister you now tell me is your twin. You told me your parents are
gone. Did they die when you were young?"

 
          
For
a moment she resented his probing, then remembered sitting beside him in that
stuffy little room in Saint Vincent's Hospital, watching him clutch his dying
wife's hand as if he could keep her from slipping away.

 
          
Maybe
this was important to him.

 
          
"Yes.
When we were five."

 
          
"I'm
sorry. An accident?"

 
          
"A
fire. Our house burned to the ground."

 
          
"Oh,
Lord. You were there?"

 
          
Julie
nodded. "We both were."

 
          
"Why
didn't you ever tell me? That must have been terrible."

 
          
"It
was." She said it flatly, looking at the trees, trying to take some
pleasure from the golden colors against the blue sky. Such a perfect New York
day
—
but she was beginning to
feel trapped.

 
          
She
stared at the bright red leaves....

 
          
And
then bright, clear memories of the fire flashed through her mind: choking
smoke, searing heat and flame, paralyzing fear. Then she remembered her
father's strong arms around her, the way he scooped up Sam and her and carried
them from the house, dropping them on the grass, then dashing back into the
flames to find their mother. She could feel her own arms around Sam as they
huddled on the dew-wet grass, clutching each other, chilled by the night air
but feeling the heat of the fire from so far away. She remembered screaming,
waiting for Daddy to bring Mommy out of the fire ... waiting ... and
waiting....

 
          
The
nearest she got to seeing her parents again was at the closed-coffin funeral.

 
          
A
trio of pigeons flew down from the nearby Washington Square arch and began
pecking the ground only feet away.

 
          
"Eathan
Gordon
—
Uncle Eathan
—
was my father's brother. After the fire he took us in and
raised us like his own."

 
          
"He
must be very special to you."

 
          
Julie
smiled. "He was. I mean he is. I just don't think of him as part of my
life any longer. Back then, he was an internist and a bachelor, living in the
same town as my parents. After the fire he closed his practice, dropped
everything, moved us all to
England
. He devoted his life to
raising us."

 
          
Had
there been anything else in his life during our childhood? He could have hired
nannies but he personally took on the daunting task of playing father and
mother to two little girls. A full-time job. Of course there'd been
Glyndebourne and the opera season, and he loved his gardens
—
he became the
compkat
Brit
—
but "personal" relationships? If he'd had any
_,
he hid them well.

 
          
"England...
you did mention you were raised there. But why England, do you think?"

 
          
"I
asked him later on. He said we were both so traumatized by witnessing the fire
that killed our parents that he felt we'd never be right if we stayed in a
place where we'd be reminded all the time. And truthfully, I think he wanted to
move himself away from the area too. He and my dad were very close." Julie
smiled. "So he got us as far away as he could."