Did he feel things? He sure did. He just didn’t get hysterical.
Putting on his indicator he turned in at the hospital. He had barely parked at the Emergency entrance when Molly was running toward him, her blond hair flying and her eyes panicked.
‘What’s happening?’ he asked, leaving the car.
‘Nothing. Nothing. She hasn’t woken up!’
He stopped walking. ‘Really?’
‘She had a heart attack, Chris. They think there’s brain damage.’
She drew him inside, through the waiting room to a far cubicle–and there was Robin, inert as he had never seen her. He stood at the door for the longest time, looking from her body to the machines to the doctor by her side.
Finally, he approached. ‘I’m her brother,’ he said and stopped. He didn’t know where to begin.
The doctor began for him, repeating some of what Molly had said and moving on. Chris listened, trying to take it in. At the doctor’s urging, he talked to Robin, but she didn’t respond. He followed the physician’s explanation of the various machines and stood with him at the X-ray screen. Yes, he could see what the doctor was pointing out, but it was too bizarre.
He must have been looking doubtful, because the doctor said, ‘She’s an athlete. Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy–inflammation of the heart muscle–is the leading cause of sudden death in athletes. It doesn’t happen often, and the instance is even lower in women than men. But it does happen.’
‘Without warning?’
‘Usually. In cases where there’s a known family history, a screening echocardiogram may diagnose it, but many victims are asymptomatic. Once she’s in the ICU, she’ll have an intensive care specialist heading her case. He’ll work with a cardiologist and a neurologist.’
Chris knew his parents would want the best, but how could he know who that was? Feeling inadequate, he looked at his watch. ‘What time do they land?’ he asked Molly.
‘Any minute.’
‘Are you going to call?’
‘You are. I’m too upset.’
And Chris wasn’t? Did he have to be visibly shaking? Facing the doctor, he said, ‘Is this–what is she–comatose?’
‘Yes, but there are different levels of coma.’ He pushed up black glasses with the back of his hand. ‘At most levels, patients make spontaneous movements. The fact that your sister hasn’t suggests the highest level of coma.’
‘How do you measure it?’ Chris asked. He didn’t know what he was looking for, only knew that Molly was standing at his elbow taking in every word, and that his parents would ask the same questions. Numbers had meaning. They were a place to start.
‘A CAT scan or an MRI will show if there’s tissue death, but those tests will have to wait until she’s more stable.’
Chris glanced at Molly. ‘Try calling Mom and Dad.’
‘I can’t,’ she whispered, looking terrified. ‘I was supposed to be with her. This was my fault.’
‘Like it wouldn’t have happened if you’d been waiting five miles down the road? Be real, Molly. Call Mom and Dad.’
‘They won’t believe me. You didn’t.’
She was right. But he didn’t want to call. ‘You’re better with Mom than I am. You’ll know what to say.’
‘You’re older, Chris. You’re the man.’
He took the phone from his pocket. ‘Men stink at things like this. It’ll be enough when she sees my caller ID.’ With a sharp look, he passed her the phone.
Kathryn Snow turned on her BlackBerry as soon as the plane landed. She hated being out of touch. Yes, the nursery was a family operation, but it was her baby. If there were problems, she wanted to know.
While the plane taxied through the darkness to the terminal, she downloaded new messages and scrolled through the list.
‘Anything interesting?’ her husband asked.
‘A note from Chris–his meeting went well. A thank-you for the Collins’ wedding shower. And a reminder from the newspaper that the article on flowering kale is due at the end of the week.’
‘It’s all written, ready to go.’
Appreciative, she smiled. Charlie was her marketing chief, a behind-the-scenes guy who had a knack for writing ad copy, press releases, and articles. In his quiet way, he invited trust. When he suggested to TV producers that Kathryn was the one to discuss autumn wreaths, they believed him. He had single-handedly won her a permanent spot on the local news and a column in a home magazine.
Speaking of which, ‘Grow How is due at the end of the week,’ she mused. ‘It’ll be for the January edition, which is always the toughest. Molly knows the greenhouse better than I do. I’ll have her write it.’ She returned to the BlackBerry. ‘Robin didn’t e-mail. I wonder how her run went. She was worried about her knee.’ Accessing voice mail next, she smiled, frowned, smiled again. She finished listening just as the plane reached the gate. Releasing her seat belt, she put the BlackBerry in her pocket and followed Charlie into the aisle. ‘Voice mail from Robin. She had to drive herself because Molly refused to help. What’s wrong with that child?’
‘Just refused? No excuse?’
‘Who knows,’ Kathryn murmured, but grinned. ‘Good news, though. Robin got another call from the powers-that-be wanting to make sure she’s set to run New York. They’re counting on her for the trials next spring. The Olympics, Charlie,’ she mouthed, afraid to jinx it by speaking aloud. ‘Can you imagine?’
He lowered her suitcase from the overhead bin. Kathryn was lifting its handle when her BlackBerry jangled. Christopher’s number was on the screen, but it was Molly’s voice that came on saying, ‘It’s me, Mom. Where are you?’
‘We just landed. Molly, why couldn’t you help Robin? This was an important run. And did you lose your phone again?’
‘No. I’m with Chris at Dickenson-May. Robin had an accident.’
Kathryn’s smile died. ‘What kind of accident?’
‘Oh, you know, running. Since you weren’t around they called us, but she probably wants you here. Can you come by on your way home?’
‘What kind of accident?’ Kathryn repeated. She heard forced nonchalance. She didn’t like that, or the fact that Chris was at the hospital, too. Chris usually left crises to others.
‘She fell. I can’t stay on now, Mom. Come straight here. We’re in the ER.’
‘What did she hurt?’
‘Can’t talk now. See you soon.’
The line went dead. Kathryn looked worriedly at Charlie. ‘Robin had an accident. Molly wouldn’t say what it was.’ Frightened, she handed him the BlackBerry. ‘You try her.’
He handed the phone back. ‘You’ll get more from her than I will.’
‘Then call Chris,’ she begged, offering the BlackBerry again.
But the line of passengers started to move, and Charlie gestured her on. She waited only until they were side by side inside the gate before saying, ‘Why was Chris there? Robin never calls him when there’s a problem. Try him, Charlie. Please?’
Charlie held up a hand, buying time until they reached the car. The BlackBerry didn’t ring again, and Kathryn told herself that was a good sign, but she couldn’t