Kerry peeked at her. “Angela, that’s the most curse words I’ve ever heard you use.”

“Yeah, well.” Angie drew in a long breath and let it out. “I’ve been spending time on the Internet, what can I tell you?” The doors opened and she exited, followed by Dar and Kerry. They turned to the right and went to the waiting room of the critical care unit.

Cynthia Stuart was already there, alone. She was sitting in one of the chairs, her hands folded in her lap, her body in an attitude of pained patience. She looked up as they entered. “Oh, Angela…Kerrison…I’m...” Her eyes slipped past them and rested on Dar. “Oh.”

Kerry heard the elevator doors opening behind them, and she figured the entire situation was either going to resolve itself or turn into an undignified free for all more suited to the soccer field than a hospital. “Mother—”

Cynthia stood, brushed past her, and stopped in front of Dar with a serious expression. She held out both hands. “I’m so glad you came.”

It was one of the last things Dar had expected to hear. She clasped Cynthia’s hands in sheer reflex, her battle ready mind scrambling to reassess the startling attitude. “I’m sorry,” she managed to get out. “I really am,” she added in a softer tone.

“As am I,” Cynthia replied. “For many things.”

Loud voices at the doorway made them both turn. Kerry’s uncles entered with Richard and one or two others. They all stopped and stared at Dar, who stared impassively back, her hands still clasped in Cynthia’s.

The tension in the room was shattered when the inner door opened and a tall, good looking man entered, wearing a white lab coat over a set of green surgical scrubs. Everyone’s attention went to him, and he paused, collecting his thoughts before he continued.

Dar released Cynthia’s hands and stepped quietly back to join Kerry, who slipped a hand around her arm as they waited for the doctor to speak.

“Hello, Doctor Bridges,” Cynthia said quietly. “How are things this morning?”

The doctor’s lips tensed a bit in compassion before he put a hand on her shoulder and walked her to a seat. He sat next to her and rested his elbows on his knees as everyone else sat across from them.

“There’s been no change, Mrs. Stuart,” Dr. Bridges told her Thicker Than Water 71

gently. “You know we didn’t expect there to be any; we talked about that yesterday.”

Cynthia Stuart looked very small and very alone. “Yes, I know. But you live your whole life thinking prayer can change things, so you do what you can.” Her eyes searched the doctor’s face. “It seems so odd, with everything we can do these days, that nothing can be done for my husband.”

Dr. Bridges nodded, seeming to accept the gentle rebuke.

“Sometimes we can achieve what appear to be miracles, that’s true. But some things are still beyond us, and restoring energy in a brain where there’s none left is one of those things.”

Not caring who was watching, Dar put an arm around Kerry.

She could feel her lover’s whole body shivering, and she wished there were some way, any way to change the words the doctor was forcing them to hear about her father. Even if she hated the man’s guts.

“There really is no hope, is there?” Kerry asked softly. “Not even one in a million?”

Dr. Bridges hesitated, studying his hands before he looked up and met her eyes. “Ms. Stuart, in my business, I’ve learned never to quote odds. Because human beings have the damnedest way of finding a way around them.”

Kerry blinked. “But?”

The doctor sighed. “But, Ms. Stuart, I know our limitations.

Your father is beyond them.” He patted Cynthia’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Kerry’s mother nodded numbly.

“I’ll be in my office if you want to see me,” the doctor said to Kerry. He stood up and headed out the way he’d come in.

For a few moments, they were all silent. Then all hell broke loose. Both of Kerry’s uncles stood up and faced her, their voices rising in mindless outrage in counterpoint with too few voices protesting in her defense.

Finally, Cynthia Stuart simply stood up and screamed at the top of her voice, “Silence!” It shocked everyone so much, it achieved its purpose, and silence did, indeed, fall over the waiting room.

Kerry’s uncles were squared off on one side, facing Kerry, Angie, and Dar, with Richard sort of hovering off to one side.

“Cynthia, I won’t have it,” Edgar Stuart said flatly. “My brother is lying in there dying, and I won’t have that little bitch here.” He pointed at Kerry. “She put him here.”

Kerry opened her mouth to respond.

“No.” Cynthia almost spat the word out. “Now that’s enough.” She was shaking, but clearly in control. “Is it not bad 72 Melissa Good enough we’re here for this, without this nonsense? Kerry did not put Roger anywhere.”

“What are you talking about?” Edgar yelled. “You know—”

“Enough!” Cynthia out-yelled him. “Hatred put him in that bed. I won’t have it; I won’t. Now you stop this at once, or I will have you thrown out.”

“Mother.” Kerry put a hesitant hand on her shoulder. “It’s not worth what this is costing. I’ll leave.”

“Please,” her mother turned and whispered, “hasn’t there been enough anger?”

Kerry dropped her eyes and her hand fell from Cynthia’s shoulder.

Dar stepped up behind Kerry and laid a hand on her back in silent support, gazing with quiet impassivity over Kerry’s shoulder at her mother and her uncles.

“Now, let’s all sit down,” Cynthia said shakily, “and have a moment’s peace.”

Someone had to sit first, and Kerry decided it would be her.

She took a seat against the wall as Dar settled next to her, and, reluctantly, everyone else did as well. God. Kerry was shaking inside and her head ached again. She was very conscious of Dar’s presence, almost feeling the tension radiating from her silent lover.

“What I want,” Cynthia Stuart had seated herself and was now speaking firmly, staring at the opposite wall, “what I want is for all of us to come together and support each other during this horrible trial.”

“Cyndi,” Edgar broke in.

“Edgar,” she said, “that’s enough.”

Kerry just kept quiet, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. She felt chilled and welcomed the warmth as Dar put an arm across her shoulders, despite the fact that she knew if she looked up, she’d see disgust and loathing in her family’s eyes. It was so hard. She let out a breath and felt like crying.

“Mom’s right.” Angela’s voice broke the silence. “This is hard enough for all of us. Let’s not make it worse.” She reached past Dar and rubbed Kerry’s back. “Fighting gains us nothing.”

The two older men stared at her. “It gains me the satisfaction of knowing I didn’t sit by and let my brother’s memory be sullied by the likes of her,” Edgar spat. “He’d hate her being here, with that…that…”

Dar stood up. “Let’s cut to the facts. Kerry’s father’s in there dying. Kerry wants to be here.” She let the words sink in. “I’m not leaving her here to face that alone, so unless you think you can Thicker Than Water 73

physically remove either one of us, why don’t you just shut up and use your energy for something other than moving the hot air around.”

“You—”

“Heathen? Dyke? Sinner?” Dar refused to lose her temper or her acidic humor. “Save it. I’ve heard it all, and I’m not the one here making everyone sick to their stomachs.” She stared Edgar down.

“Aren’t you?” He got up and left, and Albert followed him.

Kerry lifted her head and gazed at Dar, then she slowly straightened and slumped back into the chair with a sigh as Dar resumed her seat. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly to her mother.

“Kerrison, this was God’s will, not yours,” Cynthia said.

“We’ve spent too much time railing against that. It’s time we stop and bow our heads to it and listen to His word.” She folded her hands and gazed at them.

Kerry propped her head against one hand and rubbed her temples. Her stomach was aching again, and a flash of the torment she’d gone through the night before made her shiver in pure reaction.

“Ker?” Dar leaned close, a concerned tone in her voice. “You all right?”

Kerry met Dar’s eyes. “Not really,” she murmured. “Got any ibuprofen?”

“Yeah.” Dar nodded. “Let me go grab you a drink.” She got up and squeezed Kerry’s shoulder before she walked to the door and disappeared.

Kerry exhaled heavily and closed her eyes, leaving them that way when Angie slid from her seat into the one Dar had vacated and pressed her shoulder against Kerry’s.

“Hey, sis.”

One green eye appeared. “Hey.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Angie said. “Even though I know you’re not.”

Kerry managed a faint smile. “Thanks.” She glanced at her mother, who was now whispering to her Aunt Helen. “I’m glad Dar’s here, even though I know she’s not.”

Angie smiled. “Yeah, I bet you are.” She sighed. “I’ve missed talking to you.” She patted Kerry’s shoulder. “I’ve just been so busy with Andrew.” She lowered her voice. “Brian’s coming over later with Mike. That’ll tip the scales.”

“Mmm.” Kerry closed her eyes against the throbbing. “I’ll be glad to see them.” She peeked cautiously past Angie’s shoulder.

“Bet you will too, huh?”

Angie sighed. “I was seriously considering spilling my little 74 Melissa Good secret the other day before this happened. I figured, what the hell, right?”

Kerry leaned her head against Angie’s. “What a family of rebels we turned out to be.” Her humor faded. “What are we going to do, Angie? How can we ask mom to make that choice?”

Angie’s eyes went to their mother’s face, then flicked back. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I just don’t know.”


Chapter

Six

DAR FOUND THE cafeteria and lost Kerry’s relatives with equal success. She’d spotted Al and Edgar near a bank of pay phones, busily speaking in low, angry tones. Avoiding them meant dodging into the stairwell, but that was okay too, since it was much, much cooler in there, and she appreciated the chill as she went downstairs.

She was worried about Kerry, though, and as she exited the stairs and spotted the cafeteria, she set her mind to figuring out a way to get her lover through what was turning into Hell’s own sideshow.

Dar studied the contents of the cooler case, then smiled and retrieved two cartons of chocolate milk. She knew the sweet bev-erage would serve two purposes—give Kerry something to wash the Advil down with and provide an almost food-like substance to keep her metabolism on an even keel. With the emotional overload Kerry was currently experiencing, Dar didn’t want to take any chances.

She paid for the milk, a banana, and two cookies, then opted for the stairs to regain access to the CCU floor. Halfway up, her cell phone rang.

“Shit.” Dar stopped on the stairs. She tucked the banana under an arm, dug out her phone, and opened it. “Hello?”

“Dar.” Alastair’s voice was very serious. “I have a real problem.”

Dar glanced up at the stairwell ceiling, dully lit with bland incandescence. “Yeah?”

“They’ve called me to the Pentagon,” Alastair said. “It’s no joke, Dar. Easton wants that data and he wants it today, or we’re looking at sanctions and God only knows what else. Every contract we have with them is at stake.”

Dar leaned against the railing. “Is he nuts?”

“He’s a very angry man. You need to come here and talk to 76 Melissa Good him,” Alastair said. “I had Bea book you a flight.”

“Alastair—”

“No excuses, Dar,” Alastair said. “I need you here; I need you now. This is critical.”

Dar blinked at the wall opposite her, tracing the bricks with her eyes as her mind worked. “I can’t. I’m not in Miami.”

“What do you mean yo…Not in Miami? Where are you?”

Alastair demanded. “You didn’t say you were going out of town.”

“I’m in Michigan,” Dar said.

“What? What problem do we have there?”

Dar felt the press of the cold metal against her back. “We don’t.” She exhaled slowly. “It’s personal.”

There was a momentary silence. “Dar, what in the hell’s going on? Have you lost your mind? I told you I need you here or there’ll be hell to pay!”

“I can’t,” Dar repeated.

“The hell you can’t!” Alastair spluttered. “What the hell’s going on that you can’t get on a damn plane?”