Exposed (Rosato & DiNunzio #5)(19)

The room had a window on the far side, overlooking the atrium, and in the middle was Rachel’s hospital bed with its vital signs monitors, computer monitor on a standing desk, and IV stalk to the left, next to a rolling night table with a pink-plastic pitcher, a yellow tub of Magic Markers, and board books. On the far side of the bed was a blue chair, a counter with a video game console, and a long purple couch with a bed pillow and an elephant print coverlet, under which Feet slept soundly in his clothes. His Mr. Potatohead glasses lay folded on top of his stomach, rising up and down as he snored.

Mary swallowed hard, touched. She admired the way Feet and Simon had stepped into the vacuum created by the sudden death of Rachel’s mother, Ellen, which broke everyone’s heart. The aneurysm had struck Ellen when she’d been shopping with the baby at Toys R Us, a story so remarkable that it made the local news. In the aftermath, they’d all been left reeling, they’d thought Ellen’s death was the worst thing that could happen. Rachel grew into a happy, precocious toddler who loved to babble away, and Mary would take her to the library to give Simon a break. They’d pick out some books and snuggle into the denim beanbag chair, and Mary had loved every minute, breathing in the sweet smells of Rachel’s dark curls and reading her whichever books she chose. The one book Rachel always wanted was Horton Hatches the Egg.

Mary forced herself to keep her emotions at bay, thinking of it now. She used to wonder how much Rachel remembered of her mother and Mary sensed that Rachel knew that her mother was gone and that she herself was their collective egg. And after Rachel’s dreadful diagnosis, Mary never stopped taking her to the library, reading Horton to her and fulfilling a silent vow to always be faithful to the little girl, one hundred percent, in Ellen’s memory.

Mary came out of her reverie when suddenly Rachel’s eyes fluttered, her dark-eyed gaze unfocused until it found Mary. A slow smile spread across Rachel’s face, and she gave a wave with her free hand. Mary waved back, and Simon turned around to see who had arrived.

“Hi, Mary!” Simon called out. “Look who came to visit you, Rach. It’s Aunt Mary. Come in, Aunt Mary!”

“Okay.” Mary opened the door, reminding herself of something Simon always said. See the child, not the cancer. Then you’ll be happy when you visit, not sad.

“Mary!” Rachel raised her arms for a hug. “Hi!”

“Hi, honey! I’m so happy to see you!” Mary put her belongings down, went to Rachel’s bedside, and kissed her on the cheek. The child smelled like Jolly Ranchers and antiseptic wipes.

“I ate my whole dinner.”

“Good for you.”

“Horton helped.” Rachel smiled sleepily.

“Good for him. What do elephants eat?”

“What Daddy says.”

“Right.” Mary smiled.

Simon smiled, too. “Everybody does whatever Daddy says. All the time. Ha!”

Rachel’s eyelids started to droop. “Horton hatched the egg.”

“I know,” Mary said, more quietly. “Because Mayzie flew away to Palm Beach.”

“Pom Beach.”

“Right.” Mary stroked Rachel’s head, remembering her hair, which used to be so rich and thick. “I think it might be your bedtime.”

“I’m not tired.” Rachel closed her eyes.

“Good night now, sweetie. I love you. I’ll see you again soon.” Mary kissed her on the cheek, backed away from the bed, and got her stuff. She went out into the hallway as Simon gave Rachel a kiss and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“Thanks for coming,” Simon said tiredly. “She saw you right away, didn’t she? That made me happy. I like that she wasn’t snowed under. Sometimes these drugs, they just put her out.”

“I bet.”

“She loves you.” Simon’s gaze met hers, and they both knew what they were feeling, so neither of them had to say anything.

“I love her, too. Anyway, I have good news.”

“Tell me. Let’s go sit there, I want to be nearby if she wakes up. My dad needs the rest.” Simon motioned to a line of blue bucket chairs outside a playroom, with a sign on the door: For the safety of our BMT patients, the playroom is open only to patients and parents/caregivers. When leaving, patients must put dirty toys in the dirty toy bin. Thanks!

“Here’s what’s going on.” Mary took a seat and told him everything, including the conflict-of-interest issue, which concerned him.

“I’m sorry if I’m making life difficult for you,” Simon said, after she had finished.

“You’re not. It’s a judgment call, and I’m making a judgment. And in any event, it looks like it’s form over substance.”

“So what’s the next move?”

“We wait and see how they respond to the complaint and our settlement demand. I’m optimistic, I really am.” Mary’s gaze shifted to the room, where Rachel had fallen asleep in an identical posture with Feet, their heads off to the left. “Look at those two. You think they’re related?”

Simon turned around, then burst into a grin. “Oh, I would say so.”

“Your dad must be exhausted.”

“He is. Yours, too.”

“What do you mean?” Mary asked, surprised. “Is my father here?”