Night Road(54)
No. I do not forgive you.
We’ll talk tomorrow.
These were the words that ran in an endless loop through her mind.
“Judith?”
She turned slightly, saw her mother standing there, tall and straight, her white hair perfectly styled, her clothes ironed. She knew her mother had been here for hours; she’d tried repeatedly to speak to Jude, but what good were words now between strangers?
“Let me help you, Judith,” her mother said. “You can’t sit here in the hallway. Let me get you some coffee. Food will help.”
“Food will not help.”
“There’s no need to yell, Judith.” Mother glanced up and down the hallway, to see who might have heard the outburst. “Come with me.” She reached down.
Jude wrenched sideways, scurrying tighter into the corner. “I’m fine, Mother. Just let me be, okay? Find Miles. Or go see Zach. I’m fine.”
“You most certainly are not fine. I think you should eat something. You’ve been here seven hours.”
Already Jude was sick of people saying this to her. As if food in her stomach would remedy the hole in her heart. “Go away, Mother. I appreciate you coming here, okay? But I need to be alone. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Her mother made a quiet sound, and then said, “Fine.” She lowered herself to her knees beside Jude.
“What are you doing?”
Her mother collapsed the last inch to the cold linoleum floor. “I’m sitting with my daughter.”
Jude felt a stirring of guilt—no doubt this was one of her mother’s self-interested gestures, a way to force Jude into bending to her will. At any other time, it would have worked, Jude would have sighed in defeat and gotten to her feet, doing as her mother asked. Now, she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to leave this spot until Miles came to get her. “You shouldn’t sit here, Mother. It’s cold.”
Her mother looked at her, and for a split second, there was an unbearable sadness in her gaze. “I’ve been cold before, Judith Anne. I’m staying.”
Jude shrugged. It was all too much for her. She couldn’t think about anything right now, and certainly not her mother. “Whatever,” she said tiredly, and the minute the word was out of her mouth, she regretted it. How could one word bring back an era, a child, in such exquisite detail? She saw Mia at thirteen, braces and acne and insecurity, saying “whatever” in answer to every question …
She closed her eyes and remembered …
*
“Jude?”
She looked up, confused by the sound of her own name. How long had she been here? She glanced sideways; her mother was asleep beside her.
Miles stood outside the OR.
“It’s over,” he said, reaching down for her.
Jude started to get up and fell back down. He was beside her in an instant, steadying her. When Jude was standing on her own, he helped Caroline to her feet.
“Thank you,” Caroline said stiffly, smoothing her hair back from her face, although no strands had fallen free. “I’ll go to the waiting room,” she said. Glancing at Jude for a moment, she almost said something more; then she turned and walked away.
Jude clung to her husband’s arm and let him lead her into the operating room, where Mia lay on the table, draped in white. Her silvery-blond hair was covered in a pale blue cap. Jude took it off, let her daughter’s hair fall free. She stroked it as she’d done so many times before.
Mia still looked beautiful, but her cheeks were pale as chalk, her lips were colorless.
Jude held Mia’s hand and Miles held Jude’s. The three of them stayed connected, no one saying much of anything, just crying, until a nurse finally came in.
“Dr. Farraday? Mrs. Farraday? I’m sorry to bother you, but we need to take your daughter.”
Jude tightened her hold on Mia’s cold hand. “I’m not ready.”
Miles turned to her and tucked her hair behind one ear. “We have to be with Zach now.”
“She’ll be gone when we’re done.”
“She’s gone now, Jude.”
Jude started to feel pain and pushed it away, letting numbness return. She couldn’t allow herself to feel anything. She leaned down and kissed Mia’s cheek, noticing how cold it, too, was, and whispering, “I love you, Poppet.” Then she drew back and watched Miles do the same thing. She didn’t know what he said; all she could hear was her own blood, rushing into and out of her heart. At first she was dizzy, but as she walked down the busy hallway and stepped into the elevator and rode down to the sixth floor, she lost even that slim sensation.
*
“Mrs. Farraday?”
“Jude?”
From somewhere in the fog, she heard Miles say her name. The impatient tone told her that he’d said it more than once.
“This is Dr. Lyman,” Miles said.
They were in another hallway, outside Zach’s room. Jude didn’t even remember getting here.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Dr. Lyman said.
She nodded and said nothing.
Dr. Lyman led them into her son’s room. Zach sat slumped in bed, his arms crossed.
“Who’s there?” he said.
“It’s us, Zach,” Jude said, trying to sound strong for her son.