How to Keep a Secret

“I came as soon as I got your message.” Lauren’s jeans were spattered with paint. “How is she?”

Nancy wondered why her daughter would be wearing designer jeans to paint a house and then saw the way Scott hovered protectively.

Interesting.

“She’s in surgery.” She saw Scott place his hand on Lauren’s back in a gesture of support and was engulfed by a wave of maternal anxiety. She loved Scott and she admired what he’d done with his life, but was he about to hurt her daughter a second time? What exactly was their relationship? Lauren was vulnerable. Too vulnerable to withstand another blow.

Nancy sat back down on one of the hard plastic chairs and reminded herself that her role wasn’t to make decisions for her daughters, but to support their decisions.

Whatever happened, she’d be there for them. That was a mother’s role, wasn’t it? And if it gave her heartburn then that was her problem.

They sat together, side by side, drinking vile-tasting coffee from disposable cups.

There was something about the sterile atmosphere of hospitals that could mak

e a bad situation feel a hundred times worse, Nancy decided.

Greg looked haggard and could barely hold the coffee cup Lauren pressed into his hand. Every time someone wearing scrubs walked past he sprang to his feet, his face bone white.

By the time the doctor arrived with news, Nancy was as jumpy as Greg.

“Mr. Sullivan?” Gail Johnson, the surgeon, walked toward them and Greg was on his feet again.

“Is there news? Is she—” His throat worked and Nancy put her hand on his arm.

“Jenna is doing well,” the doctor said. “As you know she had a small tear to her spleen—”

“Did you have to remove it?”

“We try very hard not to do that now. In Jenna’s case we were able to suture it. We’re going to need to observe her for a few days and we’ll be doing a follow-up CT scan, but we’re optimistic that there won’t be long-term problems.”

Greg sat down hard on the nearest chair as if someone had cut him off at the knees. His elbows rested on his thighs and he covered his face with his hands.

Nancy put her hand on his shoulder. “She’s going to be all right, Greg.” He was a good man, she thought. Such a good man.

Greg took an unsteady breath. “I want to see her.”

The surgeon frowned. “She’s only just woken up from the anesthetic. You should wait until—”

“Now,” Greg said hoarsely. “Please.”

The doctor hesitated but then saw something in Greg’s face and nodded. “You can see her briefly. But just you. Come with me.”

As Greg followed the doctor, Nancy remembered she’d had an arrangement to meet Ben to talk about the garden.

He’d be wondering where she was.

Should she call? No, she was already so late it was hardly going to make a difference. And Ben would understand. He was patient and unselfish. So unlike Tom in every way.

They all stayed until the medical staff relented and allowed them to see Jenna. She’d been transferred to the ward, a bright sunny room with windows overlooking fields and trees.

Greg was sitting by her side, holding her hand.

Nancy thought that the chances of the medical staff persuading him to leave at any point in the near future were zero.

Jenna’s eyes were closed but she opened them when she heard footsteps and her eyes brightened when she saw her sister and her mother.

“Hi.” Her voice was a croak, and Greg tightened his grip on her hand protectively.