“Rosa? Are you there? Pick up the phone, damn it. It’s me, Liam. ”
She threw the damp dishrag over her shoulder and raced back into the kitchen to answer. “Hola,” she said, a little out of breath.
“Have the kids left for school?” he asked.
“Sí. Bret’s bus just left. ”
“Good. Come to the hospital. ”
“Is Mikaela—”
“The same. Just hurry. ” He paused, then said, “Please, Rosa. Hurry. ”
“I am leaving. ”
He didn’t even say good-bye before she heard the dial tone buzzing in her ear.
Rosa snagged her car keys from the hook near the phone and grabbed her purse.
Outside it was snowing lightly; not much, but enough to make an old woman like her drive slowly. All the way through town and out to the hospital, she tried to be hopeful. But Dr. Liam had sounded upset. He was such a strong, silent man that such emotion from him was frightening. He had remained steady through much bad news already.
She parked in one of the vacant visitor spots and reached for her coat. It was then that she realized she was still wearing the wet dishrag across her shoulder … and that she hadn’t braided her hair yet this morning. She would look like a demented scarecrow with all that snow-white hair flowing everywhere. A woman like her, old and unmarried, could not afford to look so bad.
As she crossed the parking lot, she braided her hair. Without a rubber band, it wouldn’t stay, but it was better than nothing.
She hurried through the hospital. At the closed door to Mikaela’s room, she paused and drew in a deep breath, offering a quick prayer to the Virgin, then she opened the door.
Everything looked the same. Mikaela lay in the bed, on her back this morning. A shaft of sunlight sneaked through the partially opened curtains and left a yellow streak on the linoleum floor.
Liam was sitting in the chair by the bed. He was wearing the same clothes from yesterday—khaki pants and a black sweater. Only now the clothes were so wrinkled it looked like they’d been stomped on. Shadows rimmed his tired eyes.
“You slept here last night,” she said, frowning. “Why—” The look in his eyes was so cold and unfamiliar that she bit her sentence in half. “Dr. Liam?”
“Julian True. ”
Rosa gasped. She grabbed hold of the metal bed rail. If she hadn’t held on to something, she would surely have fallen. Her legs felt like warming butter. “Perdón?”
“You heard me. I said his name. ”
She brought a trembling hand to her chest. “Why …” Her throat was dry as ashes; she couldn’t force out another word. She let go of the bed rail and reached for the pitcher on the bedside table, pouring herself a glass of water. She drank it in three huge, unladylike gulps, then set the glass back down. At no time did she look at Liam. “Why do you say this name to me now?”
“Last night, when I was looking for Mike’s dress, I found a pillowcase hidden in the closet. It was filled with pictures and newspaper clippings … and a huge diamond ring. ” He rose from the chair and moved toward her. “I knew his name, of course, everyone does, but I didn’t know he meant anything to me. ”
She forced a smile. “Y-You must have loved a woman before Mikaela. ”
“Not Sharon Stone. ”
At last she looked at him. “Forget this, Dr. Liam. It is old news. You knew she had been married before. ”
“Watergate is old news, Rosa. This is something else—and you know how I know this?”
“How?”
“I said his name to Mikaela. That’s all, just his name, and she blinked. Now, it could mean nothing, but after all these weeks, it’d be pretty damned coincidental, don’t you think?”
“She blinked?”
“Yes. ”