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call.
 I can t. Julia turned away.  If I hear his voice, I ll lose it.
 Honey, he ll wait for you until this is over. You know it. All he needs is one word from
you. Why are you so insistent on punishing yourself? This is not your fault.
Because it s very clear to me I don t deserve any happiness.
 I ll see.
 Charles will probably be dead in six months. Claire s voice was hard. Pragmatic.  Are
you going to give up what appears to be the best thing that has ever happened to you for some
idiotic notion of wearing a hair shirt?
 And exactly how would I explain to my children that while their father was dying, I was
planning my future with another man? she snapped.
Claire threw up her hands.  I give up.
When Julia finally brought the children to see Charles, it was emotionally exhausting for
everyone. Despite all her preparation, walking into the room and seeing the reality of the
situation was a terrifying experience for Andy and Beth. The smell of antiseptic and the lingering
odor of illness permeated everything.
Their fear of the situation was palpable, and Charles, totally self-involved, did nothing to
ease their panic. Julia forced herself to keep her voice and attitude cheerful and reassuring, but
she was happy when they could all escape to the car. Beth and Andy were deathly silent on the
drive home, and not even Miranda could coax a smile from them.
She spent the remainder of that afternoon and evening at home with them. When she
called Charles to tell him she wouldn t be back until the next day, he simply growled,  Fine, and
slammed down the phone. But Julia knew the twins needed some guarantee that their lives
hadn t crumbled away and left them adrift. She would have to be their anchor, their refuge, their
source of comfort. But she couldn t do it alone, and Miranda wasn t the answer.
The next morning she called the pediatric psychologist and scheduled appointments.
Charles resented the time she spent away from him with the children and didn t hesitate
to let her know it. He dealt poorly with his situation, finding fault with everyone and everything.
Julia realized one day with sudden clarity that he was terrified of dying, that the death sentence
pronounced on him had him paralyzed with fear. She tried to convince him to seek professional
help, to have someone more qualified than she to guide him through this, but he turned a deaf
ear.
Religious support was out of the question. The last time Charles had been in church was
for their wedding, and that had been only under protest. He considered organized religion a
challenge to his self-control.
Rombauer recommended two therapists he deemed excellent who had extensive
experience with dying patients. Charles took the slip of paper with their names, tore it into
shreds, and dropped the pieces into the bedside wastebasket.
 Can they give me back my life? he asked, vibrating with anger.  Unless they can do that,
I m not interested in seeing them. It s a waste of time.
It was obvious he was looking for an assurance that wasn t there, a guarantee that he was
immortal, that he d been misdiagnosed, that he would wake up the next morning sitting at his
desk reviewing a legal brief.
His partners visited in a preselected rotation. Julia used these opportunities to have a cup
of tea in some isolated spot. Rod McGuire and Carter DeWitt were carbon copies of Charles
autocratic, dictatorial, and unmoved by the bumps and hurdles of life. The very qualities that
made them good litigators made them unlikable human beings. Each time one of them arrived,
Julia had the feeling they blamed Charles for disrupting their perfectly-oiled legal machine.
One morning, Rombauer fetched her as she approached the room and walked her down
to the lounge at the end of the hall. Three weeks had passed since Charles had been moved to the
private room and she hoped he was planning to tell her what happened next. She wasn t sure
how much longer she could keep up her routine. On the one hand, she dragged herself to the
hospital every day with her load of guilt heaped on her back. On the other, she hoped Charles
would soon be going to his parents home so she could put some distance between them. Seeing
him every day and putting up with his increasing temper was testing every bit of her personal
discipline.
Rombauer had one of the nurses bring her tea he d discovered her aversion to coffee
and sat down next to her. She watched him with nervous expectancy.
 Mr. Patterson is napping right now, he began,  so I thought this would be a good time
for us to chat.
 About?
 It won t be much longer before we ve done everything for him that we can do at a
hospital. His status will change and he ll need to be discharged.
 Discharged? Where was this going?  But& I mean, his condition& 
The doctor nodded. Yes. His condition.  He s going to require a great deal of care and his
medications will have to be monitored constantly. He needs to be in a place where he can get it.
Panic surged through her, nearly choking her.  Dr. Rombauer, despite what s happened,
Charles and I have been separated for months. Our divorce is all but final. What about his
parents?
God knows they have plenty of room and money to care for their precious son.
 I ve spoken with them, but Mr. Patterson explained to me how delicate his wife is and
what an emotional strain this would be for her.
Delicate? Eloise? Julia wanted to laugh hysterically.
 His condition will continue to deteriorate, Rombauer continued.  His organs will fail. He
will be bedridden for whatever time he has left. They feel that, even with help, it would be more
than they could deal with. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]