Between Sisters

“I’ve sent your films to a friend of mine. If he agrees with my diagnosis, he’ll operate. ”

“Thank you, Joe,” she said softly, then closed her eyes again.

He could see how tired she was. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Bye, Claire. ”

He was almost to the door when she said, “Joe?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

She was awake again, barely, and looking at him. “She shouldn’t have asked it of you. ”

“Who?” he asked, but he knew.

“Diana. I would never ask such a thing of Bobby. I know what it would do to him. ”

Joe had no answer to that. It was the same thing Gina always said. He left the room and closed the door behind him. With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

She shouldn’t have asked it of you.

“Joe?”

He opened his eyes and stumbled away from the wall. Meghann stood a few feet away, staring up at him. Her cheeks and eyes were reddened and moist.

He had a nearly irresistible urge to wipe the residue of tears from her eyes.

She walked toward him. “Tell me you found a way to help her. ”

He was afraid to answer. He knew, better that most, the double edge of hope. Nothing hit you harder than the fall from faith. “I’ve spoken to a colleague at UCLA. If he agrees with me, he’ll operate, but—”

Meghann launched herself at him, clung to him. “Thank you. ”

“It’s risky as hell, Meg. She might not survive the surgery. ”

Meghann drew back, blinked her tears away impatiently. “We Sullivan girls would rather go down fighting. Thank you, Joe. And . . . I’m sorry for the things I said to you. I can be a real bitch. ”

“The warning comes a little late. ”

She smiled, wiped her eyes again. “You should have told me about your wife, you know. ”

“In one of our heart-to-heart talks?”

“Yeah. In one of those. ”

“It’s hardly good between-the-sheets conversation. How do you make love to a woman, then tell her that you killed your wife?”

“You didn’t kill her. Cancer killed her. You ended her suffering. ”

“And her breathing. ”

Meghann looked up at him steadily. “If Claire asked it of me, I’d do it. I’d be willing to go to prison for it, too. I wouldn’t let her suffer. ”

“Pray to God you never have to find out. ” He heard the way his voice broke. Once, he would have been ashamed by such obvious vulnerability; those were the days when he’d believed in himself, when he’d thought he was a demigod at least.

“What do we do now?” she said into the silence that felt suddenly awkward. “For Claire, I mean. ” She stepped back from him, put some distance between them.

“We wait to hear from Stu Weissnar. And we pray he agrees with my assessment. ”

Joe was at the front door when he heard his name called. He stopped, turned.