The Candidate, page 19
“What would you do to seal the Mexican border to illegal immigration?” the moderator asked Palmer.
“Enforcement first, that’s my policy,” he answered breezily. “I would double the border patrol.”
“I don’t know how you’re going to find room in that budget to double the border patrol with all the tax cuts you’re proposing,” Jane fired back. “What are you going to do, pile more on the backs of single mothers and the elderly?”
“Of course not,” the vice president snapped. “There’s enough for everyone, including more border patrol.”
“Sure,” Jane replied testily. “Tell that to the poor people of Lowndes County in Mississippi and the displaced victims of Hurricane Katrina. Or the disabled living on six hundred dollars a month. Tell them there’s enough for everyone.”
The moderator was about to interrupt with another question, when Vice President Palmer glowered, and said, “I suppose you have all the answers, little lady.”
Jane simply smiled, her anger on a simmering boil, her tone curt. “If I claimed to have all the answers, I’d be a Republican. And another thing.” Her jaw tightened. “I’m nobody’s little lady.”
A collective gasp from the small audience, followed by ensuing murmurs of delight, buoyed Jane. Oh, yes. She had him now. And she did. The rest of the debate continued with Palmer on the defensive and Jane scoring obvious points. Palmer revealed no fresh ideas and Jane easily made hamburger meat out of his administration’s current policies.
Dennis Collins greeted her with a warm handshake and a congratulatory pat on the back offstage. “You’re going to be a tough act to follow tomorrow, Jane.”
“That won’t be a problem for you, Dennis. Howard is every bit as much out of his league as Palmer.”
Her mother hugged her and told her how proud she was.
“I wasn’t too much of a bitch, was I?” Jane whispered to Alex, standing near a wall just a few feet away.
Alex smiled glowingly and Jane felt her breath catch in her throat. Alex looked as good as ever, and she still looked at Jane like she wanted to throw her over her shoulder and cart her off to the nearest motel. The fleeting fantasy nearly made Jane trip.
“I thought you were perfect,” Alex said, blushing a little.
Jane forced herself to move along and wondered if there would always be that chemistry between them. She both cherished it and cursed it.
Jane had planned to watch her running mate’s debate from backstage, just as he had watched hers. It was important to show solid support for one another, even if it was off-camera. The newspapers were sure to notice her presence.
She dined at the hotel with her mother and her closest aides, glad her turn in front of the camera was over. Jack pointed at his watch. It was time to head to the studio.
“I just need to go to my room for my coat.” The late October evening was chilly, foreshadowing another season changing.
Jane opened the closet of her suite and selected a black overcoat. It would go nicely with her black pantsuit and cobalt blue blouse. She almost always wore something blue these days to fly the colors of the party, just as Collins usually wore a blue tie or a blue shirt. It was superstition more than anything.
The door to her suite suddenly burst open and Carter thundered in, startling Jane. Far more alarming was his face, which, even for his coloring, was nearly white.
“What is it?” Jane knew something was wrong, and even as she asked the question, she mentally braced herself.
The hand clutching his cell phone shook uncontrollably. “Dennis’s motorcade has been hit.”
“What?” Jane felt the blood drain from her own face. “Dammit, what are you talking about, Carter? Hit . . . like shot or blown up or what?”
Maria Kincaid was hot on the heels of Carter, having followed him in. She looked as stunned as they did.
“It . . . they . . . It was a car accident. A—another car crashed into his limo at an intersection about twenty minutes ago. They were on their way to the studio.”
“Was he hurt?” Jane needed the facts as quickly as she could get them.
“A broken leg, I think.”
Carter still wasn’t calming down, and Jane didn’t understand. “Is it life-threatening?”
“I don’t think so. They’re being taken to Bellevue Hospital.”
The hair on the back of Jane’s neck stood up. She caught the look in her mother’s eyes and knew immediately her worse fear had come true. Alex had been hurt.
“How badly is Alex hurt?” she asked in a voice she didn’t recognize.
“I don’t know.”
Jane rushed for the bathroom, holding her stomach, hoping to hold back her nausea long enough to make it to the toilet. She did—barely. Her mother followed her in after a moment and rubbed her back reassuringly. Jane couldn’t speak. She could only shake her head over and over.
“When you’re ready, we’ll get some more information, Jane.”
Jane finally stood up on shaky legs and splashed cold water on her face.
“I’m sure Alex will be fine, dear. She’s a strong woman.”
Jane turned to her mother. “We don’t know that she’ll be fine, Mother,” she ground out, her voice thin with anger. “We don’t know a goddamn thing. Alex could be dead for all we know.”
She saw the hurt in her mother’s eyes, but now was not the time to be worried about her feelings. “You know better than to minimize something like this with me, Mother.” The Kincaid family had been through more than their share of heartache and tragedy. She thought of her brother, Joe Junior, dying so young, then her husband Dan, taken so soon from her in a plane crash. Then it was her father. It hurt that her mother would try to diminish the possibility of Alex being hurt.
“Jane, I—”
“Let’s go, Mother.” Jane led the way out of the bathroom. Her suite had quickly filled with Secret Service agents and staff members. She was so used to having people around her anymore, she barely noticed.
“Collins is down with a broken leg,” Jack reported. “He’s going into surgery soon.”
“What about Alex Warner?”
Jack looked at her like she’d just asked about the theory of relativity. “What?”
“I want you to find out how Alex Warner is,” she answered in a tone that meant she expected an answer yesterday.
“Jane, we need to talk about—”
“I’ll check,” Carter intervened before Jane blew a gasket. She blinked her thanks at him before he left the room.
Jane retreated to the sofa and collapsed into it. She didn’t know what she would do if Alex were really hurt . . . or worse. Oh, God, no. She can’t be. Please. Jane knew without a doubt that she would give it all up if Alex could be all right. But she also knew it wasn’t her decision to make right now. She felt more helpless than she’d felt in years.
“All right, Jack,” she said quietly. There was work to be done, no matter what news of Alex awaited her. “What do we need to do?”
He sat down, oblivious to the anxiety that threatened to make her ill all over again. “The debate tonight is cancelled, of course. The press are going crazy right now. They’re asking for statements from everyone, including my cat.”
Jane raised a tired hand to her throbbing temple. She’d have to get out there and perform. Tell everyone that the ticket was strong, that the campaign would go on, that she could take the wheel for awhile. And then win the election practically by herself. She didn’t know if she could do it, especially if Alex . . .
“I need to hear from Carter first.”
Jack gave her that look again. “Hear from him about what?”
“About Alex,” Jane snapped. She leveled a piercing glare at her chief of staff that could have peeled paint off a wall. “I can’t go out there and pretend everything’s okay if it’s not. I have to know if Alex is going to be all right first.” She saw her mother nod in silent agreement.
“Christ, Jane. You need to reassure—”
Carter reappeared, his mouth a thin line of worry.
“What?” Jane barked impatiently.
“Alex has a head injury. They’re running tests. She’s . . . I don’t think she’s conscious.”
Jane felt suddenly dizzy. “Fuck. What the hell happened, Carter?”
He shrugged helplessly. “Apparently some drunk ran a barricade at an intersection and they were broadsided. So far it doesn’t sound like anything more than that.”
Jane’s thoughts were still on Alex. “Tell me she’s going to be okay, Carter. She has to be okay.” They were all staring at her and she felt like wringing each of their necks until she got an answer.
“I don’t think we’ll know any more for awhile,” he answered lamely.
Jane stood and began to pace, running a hand nervously through her hair. She knew everyone was waiting for her to make a decision, to act like a leader, to be strong. And she was strong. She’d pushed herself through tragedies before, was familiar with pressure and knew how it galvanized her and sharpened her senses. This time was different, though. It felt like, finally, this was one tragedy she might not be able to withstand. She appealed to her mother with a look.
Maria moved to her, took her hand, and gave it a squeeze. “Janey, you can do this. You are the strongest person I’ve ever known, and it’s time for the country to see that, too. That’s the one quality that has propelled you here.”
Jane knew that was true. She’d sometimes been too strong for her own good. Like with Alex. Dear Alex.
“We can go to the hospital right after you give a speech,” Maria added.
“The studio is holding everything,” Jack interjected. “You can do a live speech to the country and then a short scrum to the press afterward.”
Jane stood up. She swallowed hard and found the strength she would need in the coming hours. “All right, Jack. Let’s get working on the speech on the way over. But I’m going to the hospital right afterward.”
“Of course. It wouldn’t look right for you not to.”
“I’m not talking about going there for Collins,” she hissed, then marched out of the room, her coat slung over her arm.
Chapter 12
You could almost forget you were in a hospital, Jane marveled as she took in her surroundings in Bellevue’s well-appointed VIP lounge. The hospital, as well as being a world-class trauma unit, served as the medical facility for dignitaries visiting New York City. That part was obvious. The huge top floor lounge with the expansive windows was richly carpeted and furnished with expensive, dark leather sofas and a large screen television. It even had its own kitchenette with top end stainless steel appliances, including a coffeemaker that was working nonstop.
The room was filling by the minute with Secret Service agents and a scattering of aides belonging to both Jane and Dennis Collins. Jane was thankful the media were being kept well away in a separate area off the hospital’s main floor lobby. Her live speech and the media throng afterward had gone well, but she didn’t need any more harassment right now. The energy for holding herself together had just about vanished.
Flanked on a couch by her mother and Will Carter, Jane drummed her fingers on her lap. “Maybe someone should page that doctor again. “Christ. Doesn’t she know I want to talk to her?”
“She knows, dear,” Maria supplied gently.
“Are you sure they know Alex doesn’t have any family and that we’re the ones they should talk to?”
“Yes, Jane,” Carter answered smoothly. “They’ve been briefed on the situation. They know they’re not to give any information on Alex’s condition to anyone but us and Alex’s superiors.”
Jane could barely contain herself. For two hours, she’d been the picture of cool and collected, but now she felt as though she might explode if she didn’t soon hear news of Alex. A lanky figure in dark blue scrubs and surgical cap entered the room. Carter, who seemed to recognize the doctor, stood up and briskly motioned her over.
Jane rose and forced herself to stay calm. “How is Agent Warner, doctor?”
Dr. Wong, who had introduced herself as Alex’s neurologist, told Jane in a neutral voice that her patient’s condition was guarded. Alex had suffered a linear skull fracture in the crash.
“No real damage shows on the CT scan, but we’re keeping her in an induced coma for another day or two to try to keep any brain swelling down. We’ll do another scan tomorrow for a closer look.”
“No surgery at this point, then?”
“If we need to do a craniotomy at any point, we will. But there’s no hematoma that we can see . . . nothing to repair.”
Maria clutched Jane’s forearm comfortingly. “Then she should come out of this okay?”
The doctor set weary brown eyes on Maria. “She should, yes, but I always hesitate with head injuries to forecast the future with any precision. She could have months of headaches, some memory loss even.”
Jane’s heart sank. She was relieved beyond belief that Alex was going to make it, but there was no guarantee she would recover fully. “Can we see her now?”
Dr. Wong nodded. “But please keep it short.”
Jane knew what the ICU would look like. She knew what to expect. During her medical training, she had seen inert patients connected to the machines that took care of all their necessary bodily functions, including breathing, while they recovered from grave illnesses or trauma. It was an antiseptic, impersonal environment full of medical hardware. Even the patients took on an artificial look.
What Jane was not prepared for was the icy fear and shock she felt when she walked into the small, glassed-in room. Alex lay unconscious, her head heavily bandaged, her eyes tightly closed, her left cheek bruised. A tube snaked into her mouth, connected to a ventilator. An intravenous line ran into her left hand. Electrodes monitored her heart rate and blood pressure, the steady numbers on a nearby screen offering only a small measure of comfort to Jane. Machines whirred.
Oh, Alex! Jane grabbed the chrome bedrail to steady herself. She felt her mother’s presence just inches behind her, but her attention remained riveted on Alex. She looked so vulnerable, so weak, her form so still and almost lifeless . . . it was not the Alex she knew—so strong and athletic and capable. No, this was some one-dimensional imitation of the woman Jane had come to care so deeply about, to need on such a deep level. The thought that Alex may never be that person again lanced Jane with razor sharpness.
Jane sucked in a ragged breath as she felt her fear morph into anger, then fear again, and finally into a deep sadness that made her whole body slump in weariness. She touched Alex’s arm, then caressed it lightly. Her skin was warm but unresponsive. Jane’s spirits sank to a new level as she watched Alex’s chest rise and fall with the timed precision of the ventilator.
“Alex,” Jane said quietly, bending low to her ear. “I need you to get better. I need you to do it for me.” She felt tears coalesce and she tried to swallow them back, but failed. “If you do that for me . . .” Jane couldn’t finish. She felt only despair and could not fathom the future without Alex. The realization hit her with brutal force.
“Darling,” Maria offered soothingly. “I think we need to get you out of here. Let me take you back to the hotel.”
Jane let her mother gently guide her away from Alex’s bed.
Numb with pain and a loneliness she couldn’t put words to, Jane sought solace in a large tumbler of bourbon and drank it like it were healing nectar. She curled her legs beneath her on the sofa in a protective pose, letting the alcohol warm where she felt chilled and anesthetize senses that were already dulled.
“Honey, I don’t think alcohol’s going to—”
“Mother, don’t,” Jane answered dryly, taking another sip.
The room was illuminated only by the soft light of a Tiffany lamp on an end table, and Jane was glad for the shadows and the obscurity she found in them. She knew her agony must be all over her face. She didn’t want her mother’s—or anyone’s—company, but Maria Kincaid had refused to leave her alone. In defiance, Jane decided she would sit and drink and let her sorrow swirl recklessly and silently inside her. She was good at seeking out privacy, walling herself off, even in a room full of people.
“She’s going to be all right, you know.” Maria poured herself a drink from the bottle of Jack Daniels on the coffee table.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Mother. We don’t know that.”
If Maria was shocked by Jane’s tone and language, she didn’t show it. She sat down at the opposite end of the sofa and sipped her drink. “You’re right. We don’t know that. But we can hope, Jane.” She stared until Jane turned to face her. “Sometimes that’s all there is. Sometimes . . .” Maria’s voice faltered. “Sometimes hope is the only thing that keeps you sane.”
Jane blinked back tears. She reached across the space for her mother’s hand and held it. “I’m sorry, Mother. We’ve both lost a lot, haven’t we?”
Maria Kincaid nodded, stoic again. “Alex means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”
Jane squeezed her mother’s hand harder than she intended. “I can’t lose anyone else.” The words came out strangled.
Maria slid over and put her arm around Jane’s shoulders, gently pulling her close. “I know, Janey. I don’t want you to lose anyone else, either.”
Jane felt a sob thunder through her and she gave into it, letting her emotions reign over her in a way she had not allowed since last summer, in the car after leaving Alex’s townhouse. She knew her mother’s arms were around her, but she felt almost disconnected to her body as it rocked and trembled and erupted in tears and racking sobs.
After several long moments, Maria wiped Jane’s face with a tissue, disengaging enough to look at her. She cupped Jane’s chin tenderly. “You’ve always kept too much to yourself, Jane. You’ve always been so good at sweeping your feelings aside and plodding on, no matter what the cost. You can’t always do that with love.”
Jane blinked hard to cast off the last of her tears. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that her mother knew exactly what Alex meant to her. There was no judgment, only recognition.
“Enforcement first, that’s my policy,” he answered breezily. “I would double the border patrol.”
“I don’t know how you’re going to find room in that budget to double the border patrol with all the tax cuts you’re proposing,” Jane fired back. “What are you going to do, pile more on the backs of single mothers and the elderly?”
“Of course not,” the vice president snapped. “There’s enough for everyone, including more border patrol.”
“Sure,” Jane replied testily. “Tell that to the poor people of Lowndes County in Mississippi and the displaced victims of Hurricane Katrina. Or the disabled living on six hundred dollars a month. Tell them there’s enough for everyone.”
The moderator was about to interrupt with another question, when Vice President Palmer glowered, and said, “I suppose you have all the answers, little lady.”
Jane simply smiled, her anger on a simmering boil, her tone curt. “If I claimed to have all the answers, I’d be a Republican. And another thing.” Her jaw tightened. “I’m nobody’s little lady.”
A collective gasp from the small audience, followed by ensuing murmurs of delight, buoyed Jane. Oh, yes. She had him now. And she did. The rest of the debate continued with Palmer on the defensive and Jane scoring obvious points. Palmer revealed no fresh ideas and Jane easily made hamburger meat out of his administration’s current policies.
Dennis Collins greeted her with a warm handshake and a congratulatory pat on the back offstage. “You’re going to be a tough act to follow tomorrow, Jane.”
“That won’t be a problem for you, Dennis. Howard is every bit as much out of his league as Palmer.”
Her mother hugged her and told her how proud she was.
“I wasn’t too much of a bitch, was I?” Jane whispered to Alex, standing near a wall just a few feet away.
Alex smiled glowingly and Jane felt her breath catch in her throat. Alex looked as good as ever, and she still looked at Jane like she wanted to throw her over her shoulder and cart her off to the nearest motel. The fleeting fantasy nearly made Jane trip.
“I thought you were perfect,” Alex said, blushing a little.
Jane forced herself to move along and wondered if there would always be that chemistry between them. She both cherished it and cursed it.
Jane had planned to watch her running mate’s debate from backstage, just as he had watched hers. It was important to show solid support for one another, even if it was off-camera. The newspapers were sure to notice her presence.
She dined at the hotel with her mother and her closest aides, glad her turn in front of the camera was over. Jack pointed at his watch. It was time to head to the studio.
“I just need to go to my room for my coat.” The late October evening was chilly, foreshadowing another season changing.
Jane opened the closet of her suite and selected a black overcoat. It would go nicely with her black pantsuit and cobalt blue blouse. She almost always wore something blue these days to fly the colors of the party, just as Collins usually wore a blue tie or a blue shirt. It was superstition more than anything.
The door to her suite suddenly burst open and Carter thundered in, startling Jane. Far more alarming was his face, which, even for his coloring, was nearly white.
“What is it?” Jane knew something was wrong, and even as she asked the question, she mentally braced herself.
The hand clutching his cell phone shook uncontrollably. “Dennis’s motorcade has been hit.”
“What?” Jane felt the blood drain from her own face. “Dammit, what are you talking about, Carter? Hit . . . like shot or blown up or what?”
Maria Kincaid was hot on the heels of Carter, having followed him in. She looked as stunned as they did.
“It . . . they . . . It was a car accident. A—another car crashed into his limo at an intersection about twenty minutes ago. They were on their way to the studio.”
“Was he hurt?” Jane needed the facts as quickly as she could get them.
“A broken leg, I think.”
Carter still wasn’t calming down, and Jane didn’t understand. “Is it life-threatening?”
“I don’t think so. They’re being taken to Bellevue Hospital.”
The hair on the back of Jane’s neck stood up. She caught the look in her mother’s eyes and knew immediately her worse fear had come true. Alex had been hurt.
“How badly is Alex hurt?” she asked in a voice she didn’t recognize.
“I don’t know.”
Jane rushed for the bathroom, holding her stomach, hoping to hold back her nausea long enough to make it to the toilet. She did—barely. Her mother followed her in after a moment and rubbed her back reassuringly. Jane couldn’t speak. She could only shake her head over and over.
“When you’re ready, we’ll get some more information, Jane.”
Jane finally stood up on shaky legs and splashed cold water on her face.
“I’m sure Alex will be fine, dear. She’s a strong woman.”
Jane turned to her mother. “We don’t know that she’ll be fine, Mother,” she ground out, her voice thin with anger. “We don’t know a goddamn thing. Alex could be dead for all we know.”
She saw the hurt in her mother’s eyes, but now was not the time to be worried about her feelings. “You know better than to minimize something like this with me, Mother.” The Kincaid family had been through more than their share of heartache and tragedy. She thought of her brother, Joe Junior, dying so young, then her husband Dan, taken so soon from her in a plane crash. Then it was her father. It hurt that her mother would try to diminish the possibility of Alex being hurt.
“Jane, I—”
“Let’s go, Mother.” Jane led the way out of the bathroom. Her suite had quickly filled with Secret Service agents and staff members. She was so used to having people around her anymore, she barely noticed.
“Collins is down with a broken leg,” Jack reported. “He’s going into surgery soon.”
“What about Alex Warner?”
Jack looked at her like she’d just asked about the theory of relativity. “What?”
“I want you to find out how Alex Warner is,” she answered in a tone that meant she expected an answer yesterday.
“Jane, we need to talk about—”
“I’ll check,” Carter intervened before Jane blew a gasket. She blinked her thanks at him before he left the room.
Jane retreated to the sofa and collapsed into it. She didn’t know what she would do if Alex were really hurt . . . or worse. Oh, God, no. She can’t be. Please. Jane knew without a doubt that she would give it all up if Alex could be all right. But she also knew it wasn’t her decision to make right now. She felt more helpless than she’d felt in years.
“All right, Jack,” she said quietly. There was work to be done, no matter what news of Alex awaited her. “What do we need to do?”
He sat down, oblivious to the anxiety that threatened to make her ill all over again. “The debate tonight is cancelled, of course. The press are going crazy right now. They’re asking for statements from everyone, including my cat.”
Jane raised a tired hand to her throbbing temple. She’d have to get out there and perform. Tell everyone that the ticket was strong, that the campaign would go on, that she could take the wheel for awhile. And then win the election practically by herself. She didn’t know if she could do it, especially if Alex . . .
“I need to hear from Carter first.”
Jack gave her that look again. “Hear from him about what?”
“About Alex,” Jane snapped. She leveled a piercing glare at her chief of staff that could have peeled paint off a wall. “I can’t go out there and pretend everything’s okay if it’s not. I have to know if Alex is going to be all right first.” She saw her mother nod in silent agreement.
“Christ, Jane. You need to reassure—”
Carter reappeared, his mouth a thin line of worry.
“What?” Jane barked impatiently.
“Alex has a head injury. They’re running tests. She’s . . . I don’t think she’s conscious.”
Jane felt suddenly dizzy. “Fuck. What the hell happened, Carter?”
He shrugged helplessly. “Apparently some drunk ran a barricade at an intersection and they were broadsided. So far it doesn’t sound like anything more than that.”
Jane’s thoughts were still on Alex. “Tell me she’s going to be okay, Carter. She has to be okay.” They were all staring at her and she felt like wringing each of their necks until she got an answer.
“I don’t think we’ll know any more for awhile,” he answered lamely.
Jane stood and began to pace, running a hand nervously through her hair. She knew everyone was waiting for her to make a decision, to act like a leader, to be strong. And she was strong. She’d pushed herself through tragedies before, was familiar with pressure and knew how it galvanized her and sharpened her senses. This time was different, though. It felt like, finally, this was one tragedy she might not be able to withstand. She appealed to her mother with a look.
Maria moved to her, took her hand, and gave it a squeeze. “Janey, you can do this. You are the strongest person I’ve ever known, and it’s time for the country to see that, too. That’s the one quality that has propelled you here.”
Jane knew that was true. She’d sometimes been too strong for her own good. Like with Alex. Dear Alex.
“We can go to the hospital right after you give a speech,” Maria added.
“The studio is holding everything,” Jack interjected. “You can do a live speech to the country and then a short scrum to the press afterward.”
Jane stood up. She swallowed hard and found the strength she would need in the coming hours. “All right, Jack. Let’s get working on the speech on the way over. But I’m going to the hospital right afterward.”
“Of course. It wouldn’t look right for you not to.”
“I’m not talking about going there for Collins,” she hissed, then marched out of the room, her coat slung over her arm.
Chapter 12
You could almost forget you were in a hospital, Jane marveled as she took in her surroundings in Bellevue’s well-appointed VIP lounge. The hospital, as well as being a world-class trauma unit, served as the medical facility for dignitaries visiting New York City. That part was obvious. The huge top floor lounge with the expansive windows was richly carpeted and furnished with expensive, dark leather sofas and a large screen television. It even had its own kitchenette with top end stainless steel appliances, including a coffeemaker that was working nonstop.
The room was filling by the minute with Secret Service agents and a scattering of aides belonging to both Jane and Dennis Collins. Jane was thankful the media were being kept well away in a separate area off the hospital’s main floor lobby. Her live speech and the media throng afterward had gone well, but she didn’t need any more harassment right now. The energy for holding herself together had just about vanished.
Flanked on a couch by her mother and Will Carter, Jane drummed her fingers on her lap. “Maybe someone should page that doctor again. “Christ. Doesn’t she know I want to talk to her?”
“She knows, dear,” Maria supplied gently.
“Are you sure they know Alex doesn’t have any family and that we’re the ones they should talk to?”
“Yes, Jane,” Carter answered smoothly. “They’ve been briefed on the situation. They know they’re not to give any information on Alex’s condition to anyone but us and Alex’s superiors.”
Jane could barely contain herself. For two hours, she’d been the picture of cool and collected, but now she felt as though she might explode if she didn’t soon hear news of Alex. A lanky figure in dark blue scrubs and surgical cap entered the room. Carter, who seemed to recognize the doctor, stood up and briskly motioned her over.
Jane rose and forced herself to stay calm. “How is Agent Warner, doctor?”
Dr. Wong, who had introduced herself as Alex’s neurologist, told Jane in a neutral voice that her patient’s condition was guarded. Alex had suffered a linear skull fracture in the crash.
“No real damage shows on the CT scan, but we’re keeping her in an induced coma for another day or two to try to keep any brain swelling down. We’ll do another scan tomorrow for a closer look.”
“No surgery at this point, then?”
“If we need to do a craniotomy at any point, we will. But there’s no hematoma that we can see . . . nothing to repair.”
Maria clutched Jane’s forearm comfortingly. “Then she should come out of this okay?”
The doctor set weary brown eyes on Maria. “She should, yes, but I always hesitate with head injuries to forecast the future with any precision. She could have months of headaches, some memory loss even.”
Jane’s heart sank. She was relieved beyond belief that Alex was going to make it, but there was no guarantee she would recover fully. “Can we see her now?”
Dr. Wong nodded. “But please keep it short.”
Jane knew what the ICU would look like. She knew what to expect. During her medical training, she had seen inert patients connected to the machines that took care of all their necessary bodily functions, including breathing, while they recovered from grave illnesses or trauma. It was an antiseptic, impersonal environment full of medical hardware. Even the patients took on an artificial look.
What Jane was not prepared for was the icy fear and shock she felt when she walked into the small, glassed-in room. Alex lay unconscious, her head heavily bandaged, her eyes tightly closed, her left cheek bruised. A tube snaked into her mouth, connected to a ventilator. An intravenous line ran into her left hand. Electrodes monitored her heart rate and blood pressure, the steady numbers on a nearby screen offering only a small measure of comfort to Jane. Machines whirred.
Oh, Alex! Jane grabbed the chrome bedrail to steady herself. She felt her mother’s presence just inches behind her, but her attention remained riveted on Alex. She looked so vulnerable, so weak, her form so still and almost lifeless . . . it was not the Alex she knew—so strong and athletic and capable. No, this was some one-dimensional imitation of the woman Jane had come to care so deeply about, to need on such a deep level. The thought that Alex may never be that person again lanced Jane with razor sharpness.
Jane sucked in a ragged breath as she felt her fear morph into anger, then fear again, and finally into a deep sadness that made her whole body slump in weariness. She touched Alex’s arm, then caressed it lightly. Her skin was warm but unresponsive. Jane’s spirits sank to a new level as she watched Alex’s chest rise and fall with the timed precision of the ventilator.
“Alex,” Jane said quietly, bending low to her ear. “I need you to get better. I need you to do it for me.” She felt tears coalesce and she tried to swallow them back, but failed. “If you do that for me . . .” Jane couldn’t finish. She felt only despair and could not fathom the future without Alex. The realization hit her with brutal force.
“Darling,” Maria offered soothingly. “I think we need to get you out of here. Let me take you back to the hotel.”
Jane let her mother gently guide her away from Alex’s bed.
Numb with pain and a loneliness she couldn’t put words to, Jane sought solace in a large tumbler of bourbon and drank it like it were healing nectar. She curled her legs beneath her on the sofa in a protective pose, letting the alcohol warm where she felt chilled and anesthetize senses that were already dulled.
“Honey, I don’t think alcohol’s going to—”
“Mother, don’t,” Jane answered dryly, taking another sip.
The room was illuminated only by the soft light of a Tiffany lamp on an end table, and Jane was glad for the shadows and the obscurity she found in them. She knew her agony must be all over her face. She didn’t want her mother’s—or anyone’s—company, but Maria Kincaid had refused to leave her alone. In defiance, Jane decided she would sit and drink and let her sorrow swirl recklessly and silently inside her. She was good at seeking out privacy, walling herself off, even in a room full of people.
“She’s going to be all right, you know.” Maria poured herself a drink from the bottle of Jack Daniels on the coffee table.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Mother. We don’t know that.”
If Maria was shocked by Jane’s tone and language, she didn’t show it. She sat down at the opposite end of the sofa and sipped her drink. “You’re right. We don’t know that. But we can hope, Jane.” She stared until Jane turned to face her. “Sometimes that’s all there is. Sometimes . . .” Maria’s voice faltered. “Sometimes hope is the only thing that keeps you sane.”
Jane blinked back tears. She reached across the space for her mother’s hand and held it. “I’m sorry, Mother. We’ve both lost a lot, haven’t we?”
Maria Kincaid nodded, stoic again. “Alex means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”
Jane squeezed her mother’s hand harder than she intended. “I can’t lose anyone else.” The words came out strangled.
Maria slid over and put her arm around Jane’s shoulders, gently pulling her close. “I know, Janey. I don’t want you to lose anyone else, either.”
Jane felt a sob thunder through her and she gave into it, letting her emotions reign over her in a way she had not allowed since last summer, in the car after leaving Alex’s townhouse. She knew her mother’s arms were around her, but she felt almost disconnected to her body as it rocked and trembled and erupted in tears and racking sobs.
After several long moments, Maria wiped Jane’s face with a tissue, disengaging enough to look at her. She cupped Jane’s chin tenderly. “You’ve always kept too much to yourself, Jane. You’ve always been so good at sweeping your feelings aside and plodding on, no matter what the cost. You can’t always do that with love.”
Jane blinked hard to cast off the last of her tears. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that her mother knew exactly what Alex meant to her. There was no judgment, only recognition.
